Chapter 10
Alexander arrived at the office determined to cross a few things off his to-do list. Staying busy would keep his mind where it belonged—on the expedition and ensuring he was ready for it.
The prospect of the expedition left Alexander feeling restless, as if he needed to immediately be in motion.
Six months in the jungle would break up the monotony of lab work nicely.
His last expedition had been more than a year ago.
It was time for another. He’d managed to convince himself—or rather, his mother had convinced him—that staying in London was a sound decision.
The guilt of her worry and heartbreak over him, during and after his service, meant he found it next to impossible to deny her.
In the end, he was relieved that he’d been asked to step in.
He enjoyed the single-mindedness of an expedition; one was there to do the job, and that’s all there was to it.
First among his tasks was ordering equipment.
Dr. Henry’s assistant, Snyder, had provided him with instructions for gear and the dates of the voyages and a rough itinerary, being sure to point out on multiple occasions that it was likely to be dangerous and uncomfortable.
Between his previous travels and his experience in the army, Alexander was used to both, so he didn’t find Snyder’s wide-eyed warnings disconcerting.
Alexander spent an hour going over the study designs from various professors and jotting down notes on what he’d need to order. He followed this up by going to each professor and double-checking everything before turning in the equipment forms to Richard Blake’s office.
Of course, all this took longer than it should have because Saffron Everleigh and her determination to save Dr. Maxwell would not leave his mind.
Even though she’d seemed fine yesterday, apart from when her flatmate had thoroughly scolded her, the urge to make sure she was all right hovered in the periphery in his mind all morning.
Rather than climb the stone steps into the library as he’d planned, Alexander crossed the Quad, deciding it was time for a break.
Clouds skittered across the sky as a stiff breeze swept through the city.
Alexander cut through the Wilkins Building and down the street beyond, toward the greenhouses.
He entered, not wanting to admit that he was curious about the vine that had caused so much trouble.
Distracted by the rush of color and humidity upon entering the glass structure, Alexander walked into an elderly man with dirty trouser knees leaving the greenhouse.
A terracotta pot shattered on the ground, and the dark earth scattered, exposing white, spidery roots.
Apologizing, Alexander knelt down and helped him scoop the dirt back up.
“And why are you bustin’ into my greenhouse, mister?” the man growled. He was old and wrinkled, his red face weathered by years spent outdoors.
“I came in to take a look,” Alexander said, a little taken aback by his tone and a lot taken aback by the filth layered under the man’s fingernails. He must be the caretaker. “Miss Everleigh suggested examining some of the species found here.”
Eyes narrowed, he asked, “You with University College?”
“Yes, sir, biology.”
“Everleigh sent you, you said?”
Alexander nodded.
The caretaker studied him another moment before huffing and muttering, “Fine,” before slouching off.
Alexander carefully picked up the little plant with his handkerchief.
It was a vine, with heart-shaped leaves.
He recognized the noxious shade of yellow.
He examined it until the man returned, wondering which part was the most dangerous.
He had barely been able to look at the xolotl leaves when he found Saffron in the office, and had quickly disposed of them without any observation.
The caretaker returned and knelt next to him with a muffled groan. He dropped the vine into the man’s hands, which Alexander was grateful to see were now covered with gloves. With a brush and dustpan hanging from a nearby hook, Alexander swept up the rest of the spilled dirt.
The older man set the plant on the top of a worktable, then began shuffling things about beneath.
Eying the plant as he dumped the fallen dirt into a garden bed, Alexander said, “I’ve heard that plant is particularly poisonous.”
“Hm!” the caretaker grunted again. He straightened with a groan and set another pot on the table.
“The blasted police want a sample of it. Then they’ve gone and asked me all about it.
Who can get at it, if anyone’s been around askin’ questions about it …
not my job to know. I just have to keep ‘em alive.”
“Of course,” agreed Alexander, suddenly wanting to know the answers to those questions, too. Summoning the appropriate manner for a chat, he added, “They can’t expect you to keep up with what isn’t your responsibility.”
“Humph! Too right!” the caretaker said, huffing as he patted dirt into the pot. “Who bloody cares about those pointy, poisonous things? Plenty of nice green outside, things that actually flower or give fruit you can eat.”
“Indeed. But still, this place is full of odd people with odd interests. I have a colleague who studies the insides of horses. He goes on and on about what different kinds of grass do to their digestion,” Alexander said, feigning disgust. He didn’t enjoy hearing about horse excrement, but it was a sound way to get information about their intestinal flora.
“I’m sure you’ve seen all sorts of bizarre things in here. ”
The caretaker took the bait, giving Alexander a dark look.
“Don’t get me started! Between Maxwell and Berking and the lot bringin’ back strange foreign cuttin’s and tellin’ me the dreadful things that happen to people who look at ’em funny, and random characters walkin’ in askin’ about this or that—enough to drive me to drink! ”
The caretaker apparently didn’t consider him a random character. “This one, for example.” Alexander gestured to the little yellow vine in the caretaker’s gloved hands. “I’m sure it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”
“This thing …” The caretaker scoffed as he glared down at it. “Been very popular these days. Don’t know why. It’d been growin’ in the corner of Greenhouse Five for years, nobody payin’ it no mind. Then the past few weeks everyone suddenly wants it.”
That was very interesting. “Those botanists are mad for all plants, of course.”
“Aye, they’re an odd bunch, that. But they know not to mess about with it.
” Alexander opened his mouth to ask who exactly had been asking about the plant, then, but the caretaker snapped his gloves onto the table and growled.
“Now, I have to give the blasted thing to the blasted police. Don’t touch nothin’ in there, young man, unless you want to get pricked or cut or poisoned.
” He made a long-suffering face and stumped off.
Mindful of the caretaker’s words, Alexander moved deeper into the humid greenhouse.
Giant sheaves of green swayed in the warm, moist air as he passed by.
The xolotl vine had been a popular plant recently.
That wasn’t very helpful. Anyone could suggest a member of the botany department had sent them in, as Alexander had.
It didn’t seem like the caretaker kept track of the members of the botany department visiting.
He paused next to an array of massive leaves segmented by many holes. Why exactly was he cataloguing helpful information about the poisoning investigation?
Shaking his head at himself because he knew exactly why he was thinking about it, Alexander took out his lengthy list of specimens the botany department wanted from the . Because he was in the greenhouse, he could practice identifying plant features.
Alexander searched among the endless green for anything matching the insufficient descriptors until his head grew fuzzy and frustrated.
How could he find these plants in the vast, chaotic jungle if a mere roomful of unorganized potted ones flustered him?
He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.
Then another. He forced himself to focus on nothing but taking deep pulls of the stifling, warm air.
“Alexander?”
He spun around, embarrassed to be caught deep breathing in the greenhouse. It was Saffron, looking timid in a lavender coat, with a matching hat covering her dark hair. She stood beneath a tree so tall it brushed the glass ceiling.
“Hello,” he said, attempting to sound nonchalant.
He was still a bit unsure of their nascent friendship, especially after so abruptly leaving her flat the previous day.
Was he angry with her? Was she with him?
He didn’t feel angry on seeing her, not like he had when he’d had half a chance to consider the full short-sightedness of her experiment and his own foolishness in allowing it to move forward. “I was just practicing.”
“Practicing breathing?” She smiled at him, still a little uncertain.
He held up his notebook. “No, identifying plants. Apparently I’m no good as a botanist.”
She smiled more fully now and crossed the crowded, leafy room. “I happen to know a few things about plants. Perhaps I can help?”
“By all means,” Alexander said. “But if you came to work—”
“Oh no,” she said quickly. “I was going to speak with Mr. Winters, the caretaker. You haven’t seen him, have you?”
“You just missed him.” Alexander paused, wondering if it’d be churlish to keep back his whereabouts. “He was taking a sample of xolotl to the police.”
Saffron’s mouth formed an “O,” her eyes widening to match.
“He mentioned that it’s been rather popular recently,” he found himself adding.