The Botanist’s Daughter

by Kayte Nunn

  Any formality that had been between them was washed away by the mutual soaking, and Anna’s insides turned to liquid. She barely recognised the feeling. It was very much like happiness. How could she have forgotten that the world was capable of delivering such uncomplicated joy?

  She looked down. Ed was still holding her hand.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  VALPARAISO, 1887

  ‘You can do your work here. There are enough plants to last a lifetime,’ said Tomas, curling a lock of her hair about his finger. He looked so earnest; Elizabeth’s heart went out to him. The storm still thundered outside the dank and dim hut, but they lay cosy and warm beneath their cover of rough blankets. She snuggled closer into his arms, still not quite believing that they lay, skin to skin, all boundaries crossed. She had never been this intimate with another person, never imagined such tenderness, such joy. She delighted in the silky feel of his skin against her own, the lean planes of his muscular body … it had been enough to make her lose her senses, but she was completely unrepentant. She finally felt like a woman, and hugged the mysterious discovery of such pleasure to herself. Another secret to be kept from the world.

  And now, they were discussing her future. Tomas had declared that he could never live without her, would not live without her. Elizabeth readily agreed with him, but despite everything they had just shared, she held back from explaining her true purpose in Chile. Her father had been so insistent that she not tell a soul, and she didn’t want to break a promise she’d made at his deathbed. It would be dishonouring his memory somehow.

  ‘You will marry me,’ he stated, as if it were already decided.

  ‘Oh, will I just?’ replied Elizabeth teasing him but at the same time a little piqued at his assumption that she would simply fall in with his plans. ‘Well, that is a fine way to ask a woman to be your wife.’

  He was instantly contrite. ‘I apologise, cariño. I did not mean to sound so imperious, but you must know that this is our way in Chile. I will try again.’ He looked tenderly into her eyes. ‘Elizabeth, mi amor, would you honour me by becoming my wife?’

  Elizabeth’s eyes glittered as a sudden rush of emotion overtook her. Was it the right thing to do? She had never particularly wanted to find herself married, a man’s wife, his possession, never desired it, but somehow this – Tomas – was different. He was no starch-fronted, pompous Englishman, but a beauteous being of sweet flesh and hot blood, a man who made her feel more alive than she’d ever imagined it possible to be. She hungered for him, his nakedness, even when he was no more than arm’s reach from her and she could no more resist him than iron filings a magnet. She nodded in response as he gathered her into his arms and kissed her until they were both breathless once more.

  Eventually they slept. The rain continued to drum on the roof, and they woke much later as the first fingers of dawn found their way through the cracks in the walls. Elizabeth stirred, not wanting the day to come, for the light to take away the intimacy of the night. She smiled to herself as she remembered Tomas’s proposal. Heavens! What was she going to do? He was correct, in that there were enough plants in the region to keep her sketchbook filled for years to come, and though she missed home, it would never be the same there without her dear papa. She must write to her sister and tell her – Georgiana would be as shocked as Elizabeth herself was. She wondered if there was already a tiny niece or nephew sleeping in the family bassinet at Trebithick Hall. And Daisy: what would Daisy do? She could hardly expect her maid to stay on in Valparaiso indefinitely, but she would be devastated to lose her. And what of the Devil’s Trumpet? Of her promise to unearth it and bring it back to Mr Ormond at the Royal Botanic Gardens in Kew? Perhaps she might persuade Daisy to stay a little longer, until she had time to return to the Valley of the Palms, and then give her the plant to transport safely to England. She could trust Daisy with the secret. Of course, it would mean having to say goodbye to her forever – she very much doubted she would be able to persuade her maid to make the journey back to Chile again – but she would thus fulfil her father’s dying wish.

  Resolved, she shook Tomas awake. ‘My love.’ She almost blushed at the unfamiliar words but liked the way they sounded. ‘The storm is over. We must return to the estancia. Heaven only knows what your sister must think of me, staying out all night unchaperoned.’

  Tomas stretched lazily. ‘Do not be concerned. She will have seen the storm and guessed that we would seek shelter. Nevertheless, we should get back. For I have much to prepare.’

  ‘Prepare?’ asked Elizabeth.

  ‘For the woman who is to become my wife. Do you think I want to wait a moment longer than is necessary?’ he asked, gathering her to him and kissing her with renewed passion.

  Dressed in clothes that were much the worse for wear, still damp and now smelling strongly of sheep, Elizabeth ventured outside. Trees had been blown to the ground, their bare roots extending skywards, but more worryingly, only one of the horses remained. Tomas was unperturbed. ‘She will have bolted for home,’ he said. ‘Come, we can ride together on this one. We will have to be bareback; one saddle will not be comfortable for both of us. Are you up to it?’

  Elizabeth grinned at him. ‘Of course. I used to sneak out and ride the horses at home when I was little. Never bothered with a saddle.’

  ‘May you continue to surprise me, corazon.’

  Elizabeth loved the feeling of riding behind Tomas, her arms gripped tightly around his waist, and was almost sorry when they reached the path that led to the estancia. In the distance she could make out a tall, dark figure walking towards them.

  ‘Father!’ Tomas called out as they approached.

  ‘Oh good lord,’ muttered Elizabeth, aware of her dishevelment.

  ‘I did not expect you back so soon,’ said Tomas.

  ‘I finished my business in Santiago earlier than I thought. I was lucky to miss the storm but it does not look as though you were so fortunate.’

  Tomas laughed. ‘Indeed. We sheltered in the old hut along the Valle de Casablanca.’

  ‘Very good,’ his father replied.

  ‘But I am forgetting myself,’ Tomas said as he dismounted and then helped Elizabeth down. ‘May I present Señorita Elizabeth Bligh. She has been staying in Valparaiso, arrived on the Corcovado some several weeks ago. She is an artist of great talent. Elizabeth, this is my father, Señor Mateo Flores.’

  Elizabeth noted that he did not introduce her as his intended bride, and for that she was thankful. One thing at a time.

  ‘Señor,’ she said, embarrassed, ‘I must apologise for my bedraggled state.’

  Tomas’s father brushed away her concerns. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear. I am happy that you are safe. Sofia informed me that the two of you had ventured out yesterday and not returned. Please, don’t let me keep you, for I am sure you wish to put on some dry garments.’ He turned to Tomas. ‘Son, we have much to discuss. Not least of which is that you ventured out unaccompanied with a young lady. I hope you have not caused irreparable damage to her good reputation.’

  Elizabeth didn’t want to stay to hear any more and hurried towards the house, where Daisy was waiting for her.

  ‘Oh, Elizabeth, I was so worried for you. What a terrible storm. You must have been sorely frightened.’

  ‘I’m fine, Daisy,’ Elizabeth reassured her. ‘Look at me, no harm came to me.’

  Daisy looked closely at her but did not comment on the sparkle in Elizabeth’s eyes or the flush in her cheeks. ‘Well, let me draw a hot bath for you and see if I can get the mud out of that gown. It will need a good brushing, that’s for certain.’

  ‘So will my hair, Daisy,’ laughed Elizabeth, running her fingers through her tangled locks.

  Once Elizabeth had bathed and dressed in clean clothes, Daisy brought her breakfast. She devoured the hot coffee and warm rolls, slathering the bread with a sweet, thick jam, before spooning up some of the olla, a type of meat stew that she had become quite accustomed to,
even at breakfast time. ‘No dinner last night,’ she mumbled to Daisy through a mouthful.

  As she ate every last crumb, she pondered her situation. She wished her sister were there to consult with, for she would have welcomed her wise counsel. She would write to her, but decided to wait until things were a little more settled. She still couldn’t quite believe it herself – was she really to be married? Was this insanity brought on by a night spent out in the elements in a foreign land? Would Tomas’s father agree to such a match?

  Several months ago she would have vehemently denied she could ever fall in love, let alone so suddenly, but then several months ago she had not imagined a man like Tomas.

  By dinner that evening, Elizabeth had begun to fret. She had not seen Tomas all day and feared that she might have imagined the events of the previous night. That he might have changed his mind or, quite possibly, that his father might have changed it for him. She almost confided in Daisy, but became suddenly superstitious about mentioning Tomas’s proposal to anyone, at least until he had discussed the matter with his father, and once a suitable ring was on her finger. ‘Keep still, please Miss Elizabeth,’ Daisy pleaded as she fastened her bodice. The ivory dress was affixed with tiny seed pearls at the neck and sleeves and featured a row of pearl buttons down the back. The material itself was embroidered with several of the plants and flowers that grew in the gardens at Trebithick – wisteria and fern, passionflower and ivy. It had been made for her just before her father died and she had not yet had occasion to wear it.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised. ‘I am unsettled and out of sorts. Are we nearly finished?’

  ‘Yes, all done,’ Daisy replied, standing back to look at her mistress.

  ‘Thank you. I do not wish to keep Tomas’s father waiting. I fear he got quite the poor impression of me this morning and I must do whatever I can to repair it.’

  Elizabeth entered the dining room to see Sofia, Tomas and their father standing looking out over the valley, deep in conversation.

  Mateo turned at the slight sound Elizabeth’s shoes had made on the stone floor. ‘My dear, there you are. My son was not mistaken, you are indeed a beauty!’ he said, giving her a warm smile.

  ‘Now I am cleaned up again, Señor,’ Elizabeth replied.

  He laughed in response. ‘A little bit of dust and dirt never harmed anyone, but yes, in your case, I can see you all the better for the lack of it about your person.’

  Tomas moved to her side, taking her hand. ‘I have been speaking to my father about you,’ he said, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  Elizabeth looked up at him, her heart skipping a beat as she gazed into his blue eyes. She hadn’t imagined it, then – he really did love her with the same unquestioned devotion that she did him.

  ‘It seems we should be congratulating you both,’ said Sofia, coming over to embrace her. ‘Tomas has told us that you intend to marry. While it is sudden indeed, I cannot think of anyone I should like more as a sister-in-law.’

  ‘Oh,’ Elizabeth gasped, ‘he has shared the news already. I find it all a little hasty myself, but I could not be happier. That is most kind of you, Sofia. And yes,’ she glanced sidelong at Tomas again, ‘he has convinced me to stay in Chile and be his wife.’ After a beat, she added, ‘Of course, I am honoured to be welcomed into such a warm and highly respected family.’

  ‘I am very pleased,’ said Tomas’s father. ‘You both have my blessing. Tomas tells me that your father and mother are no longer living.’

  ‘Yes, that is right. I have only a sister; she resides with her husband in the county of Cornwall.’

  ‘Tomas also tells me that you both wish to be married as soon as possible, is that correct? Though I cannot understand the rush, he has convinced me of his intentions. I certainly have no wish to stand in your way.’

  Elizabeth was confused. Though she and Tomas had discussed being married in very general terms, they had not talked about a ceremony or a date. ‘Well …’ she began, playing for time. ‘If that is what Tomas wants, then who am I to tarry?’

  ‘Good, good. We shall have the celebration in Valparaiso. In what, say a month from now? Will that give you enough time to make the appropriate arrangements?’

  Elizabeth’s head spun. Was she really to be married in four short weeks?

  Chapter Thirty-four

  LONDON AND CORNWALL, SUMMER 2017

  When she woke up, Anna just had time to call her mother – it was late evening in Sydney – ‘Yes, I’m fine, Mum. No, I don’t have any more information yet. I should know more by next week,’ she reassured her. ‘Sorry but I’ve got to rush. I’m on my mobile anyway and it costs a fortune from here. Don’t forget to water my plants. Love you.’ As she rang off – feeling only a brief pang of homesickness – a horn sounded outside. She opened the window and peered down to the street to see that a dark-green sports car had pulled up in the middle of the road. She hurried down the stairs, dragging her suitcase behind her, saying a quick goodbye to her host before tumbling out of the front door just as the horn sounded again. A long arm extended from the car window, waving on a car that had stopped behind him, and then saluted her as she appeared. Ed hopped out and lifted her suitcase into the boot. ‘Jenkins! All set?’

  ‘Yep, I reckon so.’ A frisson of excitement ran through her as his eyes met hers.

  ‘Good. An early start will see us miss most of the city traffic,’ he said, confidently easing the car onto a main road. ‘It’s a bit of a hike to get down there, at least four hours, maybe five.’

  Anna laughed. ‘That’s nothing,’ she said. ‘A day trip.’

  ‘Yes, well I forgot that you’re probably used to travelling further. I took the liberty of booking us into a pub down there, not far from Trevone. It’s nothing flash, but it’s got a few rooms and the grub’s supposed to be not too bad either.’

  Anna nodded in thanks. ‘Gosh, you are organised; I was going to wing it and see where I ended up. I’m really very grateful. It makes the trip a lot less daunting, having some company. Was Ella okay with you going away?’

  ‘She was so excited about spending the weekend with her cousins that me not being there hardly registered. I’ll call her tonight, though. We’ve become a pretty tight team since her mum died.’

  ‘Was it long ago?’ Anna ventured, stealing a glance at him.

  ‘Five years. An age, but then again no time at all.’

  Anna knew exactly what he meant.

  ‘Ella still talks about her a lot; she was seven when Lucy died. Cancer. Very sudden. Harder on us, but a release for Lucy. I hated seeing her suffer.’ Ed fell silent.

  ‘Shall we talk about something else?’ said Anna gently.

  ‘Like why you’re wearing peacocks on your legs?’ he asked, his lips twisting in an amused grin.

  Anna looked down at her tights, which were indeed vibrant shades of blue and purple. ‘My sister gave them to me. She’s got a thing for activewear. I thought they’d be comfy for the drive,’ she said, protesting at the incredulous look on his face.

  ‘I’ll have to warn you, you might give the natives heart failure, Jenkins. I don’t think Cornishmen are used to activewear, whatever it is.’

  ‘And you won’t?’ she said, indicating his khaki shorts, brogues and fawn ankle socks.

  ‘Oh no, absolutely not. This is the national dress of the British male in summertime, if you don’t mind.’ He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, as if assessing how seriously she took his comments.

  ‘I stand corrected,’ she laughed again. ‘And the British female?’

  ‘Well, obviously not peacock leggings. No. A twinset. A twinset and pearls. Even with shorts,’ he said teasing her further.

  ‘Now I know you’re pulling my leg.’

  ‘Quite possibly. You’ll have to find out for yourself.’

  Ed continued to amuse her with his descriptions of the various types of Englishmen she was likely to encounter on her travels, and by the time they pulled up at
a slate-roofed, whitewashed pub several hours later, Anna’s sides ached from laughter. As they drove deeper into the countryside she’d noticed with alarm that the roads narrowed until they became barely wide enough for a single car to drive along, let alone pass another coming in the opposite direction. The first time they did meet a vehicle, Ed good-naturedly backed up until he reached a passing place. She held her breath as the other car inched past.

  At the pub, she climbed out of the car and stretched her legs. The sky was blue, the air warm on her face and clean-smelling, and birds chirruped softly from nearby hedgerows. It was pretty much a perfect summer’s day.

  ‘Are you hungry? Shall we see if they’re still serving lunch?’

  ‘You bet.’

  They walked through the pub’s front door, Ed ducking his head to avoid the low-set lintel. The pub was busy – it was a Saturday lunchtime, if a little late – but Anna found a table by a window and before long Ed returned with two pints. ‘Doom Bar. Local. Named after a treacherous sandbank near here. I think you’ll like it. The beer that is, not the sandbank.’

  ‘Cheers,’ she said, raising her glass.

  ‘Here’s to mysterious missions,’ he replied.

  ‘Indeed. How far away did you say Trebithick Hall was from here?’ Anna’s stomach flip-flopped at the thought of seeing the house from the photograph in person, of touching its walls and imagining the people in the photograph living there.

  ‘Just past the next village. We’ll check our bags and then head over after we’ve eaten.’

  They both ordered pasties from the bar menu, and fell upon them as soon as they arrived. ‘Did you know they originated as food for the miners to take to work with them in the tin mines of Cornwall?’

  Anna shook her head, her mouth full of pastry.

  ‘They say a good pasty can survive being dropped down a mine shaft.’

  Anna gripped hers tightly. She was too hungry to risk dropping it anywhere. They ate quickly, neither of them leaving more than a few crumbs, and then Anna went to the bar to order them another drink while Ed spoke to the landlord. ‘We’re in the two rooms at the far end, up the stairs and along the corridor,’ he said when she returned to the table. ‘He’s given me the keys – I’ll take our bags up.’