Chapter 7
Seven
Ellie
“Endless champagne, massages by the pool, and a private chef—I think we’ve stumbled into heaven on Earth.” Aubrey waves one
of the waitstaff over and smiles as he pours champagne into her flute. “I think I’ve been wine-drunk all weekend. If you don’t
join The Society I will, El.”
I laugh. “I’m definitely joining—I was hesitant when we arrived but after this weekend, I’m all in.”
“You’d better be—we couldn’t be friends otherwise.” She smiles. “I want to be your plus-one for everything, got it? Whatever
events they send you to, I’m your wing woman, do we have a deal?”
“I promise,” I say. “The weekend went fast—I can’t believe I have to go back to work tomorrow.”
“Have you talked to Jack at all?”
“We’ve texted a few times. He called last night but I missed it. I’m surprised he even noticed I was gone—he’s been camped
out at the office all weekend. I think he’s just happy I’ve found a hobby and other people to spend time with so he doesn’t
feel bad for leaving me alone so much.”
“Bleh—men.”
“Elyse,” Kat appears then, her eyes tracking between Aubrey and me. I get the sense she’s been listening; I get the sense
that this woman is always listening. “Take a walk with me.”
My eyebrows lift before I catch myself and smile. “Sure.”
I stand and she holds her arm out for me. We loop at the elbow and she guides me away from the pool and out of Aubrey’s earshot.
Most of the other women have left already—only Susan remains as she waits for her car to arrive to take her back to the city.
“I’m so glad we had the chance to connect this weekend,” Kat finally says.
I nod. “Me too.”
She trains her eyes on the woodline in the distance. “I wanted to have a word with you privately before you head home. I hope
you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.” I smile. We walk down a worn path that leads between two fields of wildflowers. A few cows graze in the distance,
shaded by the trees that line one of the fields. Honey bees hover between blooms of tulips and violets and lilies. “It’s so
beautiful here, like something out of a movie.”
Kat hums quietly, eyes focused on the path in front of us as a soft smile lifts her lips. “Isn’t it funny how beauty and deadliness
can coexist so peacefully?”
“Excuse me?” I think maybe I’ve misheard. “Deadliness? What do you mean?”
“Well, get too close to some of these flowers and it could be deadly.”
“Really?” I scan the fields of beauty surrounding us. “Which ones?”
“Almost all of them.” She catches the look of shock that crosses my face.
“Oleander, snakeroot, the flower of the castor bean, even hydrangeas—so common in weddings—actually contain trace amounts of cyanide. And bleeding hearts contain properties capable of causing breathing problems and seizures. Even tulips have a poisonous sap that can cause rashes. The weaponization of plants is one of the few ways women have been able to wield power and exact revenge—especially within relationships—throughout history. Wives in India used a lovely white flower that had the nickname ‘the devil’s trumpet’ for its deadly and hallucinogenic properties.
All around us toxins are hiding in the pretty and the ordinary. Have you heard of Aqua Tofana?”
“No, I haven’t.” I watch a fat bumble bee bob and weave around a group of crocuses.
“During the Italian Renaissance, a woman named Giulia Tofana made makeup and perfumes, and one of her products, called Aqua
Tofana, was a poison made with arsenic and belladonna—a beautiful purple flower with striking black berries. She sold her
specialty to women in abusive, arranged marriages, which were so common at the time. She was eventually caught and tortured,
and she admitted to killing more than six hundred men over the span of twenty years—wives would only need to add a few drops
of the tasteless liquid to wine or soup and their husbands would get progressively sicker over the days from an ailment that
seemed totally natural—post-mortem exams showed no sign of the poison.”
A shiver courses through me. “Do you grow belladonna?”
“Of course, it’s a member of the nightshade family—one of the most common plant species in the world.
Tomatoes, eggplant, peppers—all are in the nightshade family.
Most home gardens have at least a few nightshades.
It’s fascinating, isn’t it? So many different flavors of evil and sometimes what’s dismissed as simply pretty is really concealing the most sinister ingredients of all. ”
I nod, at a loss for words. These women aren’t just regular, run-of-the-mill garden society women like they let on. Their
focus on women’s issues runs deeper than I anticipated. I hadn’t considered all the ways women exacted justice throughout
the course of history. Of course poison would have been one method, given their access to kitchen items and gardens and cooking,
but it’s especially chilling to think of it included as a tasteless addition in everyday soups and wine.
“I feel like I’m honoring all the women who came before me by growing these beautiful, toxic flowers. We don’t need them anymore,
of course—we have a justice system that’s set up on the grounds of equality. Well, it’s supposed to be, anyway. Plus, few
of these flowers would escape a toxicology report now. We live in such an advanced world.” Kat stops at the end of the path
that leads to the fence that keeps the few dairy cows enclosed. She notices me watching them grazing in the distance. “We
have goats too—there’s nothing better than fresh goat cheese and raw milk. It’s a shame it’s not more widely available. Such
a treat.”
“Do you harvest honey, too?” I ask, thinking of the bees.
“We have a beekeeper who comes a few times a year.” She smiles.
“Tempsford Manor is so self-sufficient.”
“Well, not even close, but it is nice to have the freshest ingredients. It’s why I wanted to move to the country to begin
with. I have a bit of a green thumb; I just don’t have the time to nurture these things like I wish I could.”
We remain silent for a few long moments.
“Well, enough of gardening talk—I wanted to touch base with you on something. The Society thoroughly vets all prospective members. I’m aware that you see a therapist on 57th for anxiety and sleep issues—I’d like to respectfully request that you keep all interactions and communications you have related to The Society confidential.
This is crucial to our success and discretion is the first requirement for all members. ”
“Oh.” Anxiety spirals through me as I realize that somehow, despite the fact that my records with my therapist are supposed
to be confidential, this woman knows more about me than she should.
“I need your verbal confirmation, Elyse,” Kat nudges.
“I’m sorry, of course The Society’s secrets are safe with me . . .” I trail off because I can’t help but wonder if my secrets are safe with The Society. “Forgive me for saying so, but I’m a little shocked that you know about . . . my private
counseling sessions.”
“I’m not sure why. It’s effectively a background check—we need to know our members are dependable and stable. It’s not any
different than any other prestigious position in this city.” She casts me a sideways glance. “Trust me when I say we learned
the hard way that background checks and health assessments are a necessity for our organization.”
My curiosity reaches a fever pitch but I don’t ask any questions.
“We would like you to attend a black-tie event this week with the aim of getting to know the Columbia professor who raped
Joan’s daughter.”
“Oh.” Shock vibrates through me. “I don’t know how I could be of help.”
“Your access is all the help we need. You’re young, attractive, smart, I’m sure you realize by now that that opens doors, Elyse.”
I don’t respond because I don’t think she wants me to. When she doesn’t go on, I finally say: “What am I supposed to do when
I get there?”
“Befriend him. That’s it. We’ll take care of the rest.”
I continue to walk alongside her in silence. Of course this weekend comes with a price—the question is whether or not I’m
willing to pay it. “That’s it? Just befriend him?”
“For now.” She smiles sweetly, but hidden behind her upturned lips is something more sinister. A chill ices my veins as her
eyes hold mine an extra beat. “I can see your concern. You’re sweet, Elyse, and men like him open up to women like you. We
just need you to befriend him—The Society will handle the rest. If you’re going to join us, you must trust us.”
I nod, feeling all of the implications in her statement. If I don’t do this, I won’t be invited back. I will lose this network
of supportive women. I’ll be alone again, just me and that apartment and the ghost of my husband as he drops in for an hour
a day before leaving again.
“Okay,” I say, sucking in a breath. “I’ll do it.”
“Perfect. We’re so thankful to have you with us.” Kat pats my forearm, slowing her steps and then turning to face me fully.
“You’ll be such an asset to our team.”
The Columbia event will be fun—if nothing else, having something on the horizon to break up the loneliness sounds nice. No
more begging my husband for dinner dates and weekends away: I have my own plans now. And besides, I’ll have Aubrey as a plus-one.
Already hope is ballooning in my chest at the promise of our budding friendship. She lifts me up, gives me the backbone that
I lack.
“Well, Paulo should be arriving to take you back to the city any time. On behalf of all of the women here this weekend, I want to thank you for coming. We are so happy to welcome you into our little society. We’re turning over a new leaf and we’re thrilled that you’re a part of it.”
“You’re sweet. I owe you a thanks for the invitation.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, dear. You don’t owe us a thing—the pleasure is all ours.” She pulls me in for a hug then, holding me
tightly for long minutes, so long that my stomach prickles with the awareness of her closeness. The scent of her expensive
perfume. The beat of her heart against mine.
Whatever I’ve stepped into this weekend, I’m beginning to think my life will never be the same. But I know more than ever
that it’s just the kind of change I need. If Kat believes that I can help them on their mission to empower women, then that’s
all I need to hear.