Chapter Twenty-Four
Myrtle is prized as an ornamental plant for its sweet fragrance. In ancient Rome, women bathed in crowns of myrtle as a wedding ritual, and it is one of the four sacred species in Judaism. In floriography, myrtle means love.
The season ended. Autumn came. Those days were the worst. Her stomach had healed, but the rift between Elswyth and Percival had not.
By week’s end, she was to leave London forever.
The train tickets were bought and her wedding with Ficus planned for the following Sunday.
Her father’s letters sat unread on the writing desk with the rest of them.
Mrs. Rose tried more than once to excite her with the prospect of wedding planning, but Elswyth merely nodded along.
She did not care much for gowns or flowers at the moment.
Instead, Elswyth set about the business of packing up her life in London.
Her gowns disappeared into trunks, her books into boxes.
Her plant specimens could not come with her, and she fretted over disposing of them.
But some days, she could not bring herself to do a thing.
She lay in bed, not reading, not even sleeping.
Merely staring at the crumbling ceiling, thinking about the prince.
About Persephone. About how horribly she had failed.
About the life that waited for her when she returned.
It was in one of these moments that Mrs. Rose knocked on the door.
Elswyth called that she might enter, and Mrs. Rose looked fearfully around the room.
Molding plates of food sat by the doorway, boxes of soiled clothes stood half-packed in piles, and potted plants had spilled their dirt onto the floor.
Elswyth lay in bed, sweating amid crumpled sheets.
“Erm—Elswyth, dear,” Mrs. Rose said, “you have a visitor.”
Elswyth said nothing. She stared at the ceiling.
Mrs. Rose stepped toward her. It pained Elswyth to see the worried look on her face, her unfiltered pity. It made her furious and saddened at the same time, but the feelings didn’t seem to rise to the surface of her.
Mrs. Rose placed the tray she’d been carrying by the bedside. It held a saucer with tea and biscuits. Two identical plates already sat on the end table, the tea untouched, the biscuits stale. Mrs. Rose frowned, placed the hot cup down, and took the old plates away.
“Normally, I would ask if you are willing to take a guest,” Mrs. Rose said, “but I’m afraid I’m going to make that decision for you today.”
A voice called from the doorway, “Is she decent?”
Mrs. Rose sighed. “As she can be.”
Dr. Gall appeared. He looked around the room, eyes squinting beneath his spectacles. “Oh my…” he said.
Elswyth tried to straighten up in bed. Her stomach ached, but the prospect of conversation with Dr. Gall seemed pleasant, actually. He’d ceased coming as frequently since her wounds had healed.
“Dr. Gall,” she said, “I hadn’t expected you.”
“Well, I knew you were leaving. And I wanted to check on you. How is your stomach?”
“Much better. Thanks to you,” she said.
Gall smiled. Mrs. Rose left the bedside, moving toward the door. “Can I get you anything, Oleander? Tea?”
“No, no thank you, Mrs. Rose. I’ll only be here for a quick visit.”
Mrs. Rose smiled, but her demeanor was joyless. “I shall be downstairs. If you need anything, Elswyth, just ring.” With that, she left, and Elswyth was alone with Dr. Gall. He had a few small packages with him, which he seemed to remember. He offered them to her.
“A few things of yours left over at the Royal Gardens.”
Elswyth picked through them. Books and journals, mostly. There was one package, however, wrapped in brown paper and strung with twine.
“What’s this?” she asked.
Gall seemed bashful. “Oh, a thank-you. For being my assistant. Please, open it.”
Elswyth surprised herself with a weak smile. She unstrung the twine and tore into the package. A canvas book greeted her, set with intricate gold filigree in the shape of toadstools.
Elswyth read aloud. “Introduction to the Plants and Fungi of the British Wildwood. Second Edition.”
Gall twisted his hands nervously. “Because—because you are going back home. I figure, there aren’t many comprehensive texts on the botany of the Wildwood.
This one is rubbish. You could—Well, I suppose I’ve just admitted to purchasing you a rubbish book.
What I mean is, if you’re going to be spending time there…
you could write your own. A not-rubbish one.
” Gall cleared his throat. “Bollocks. That didn’t come out well, did it? ”
“Are you all right, Dr. Gall? You seem nervous.”
Gall fidgeted again. He gestured to the stool next to her bed. “Yes, I suppose I am. May I sit, Elswyth?”
Elswyth nodded, examining the man. His cheeks seemed thoroughly flushed. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead, which he dabbed at with a kerchief. He cleared his throat again and tugged at his collar.
“Elswyth, I’ve been thinking. I was looking over your designs for the engine, and well, I think we’re very close to something monumental. You have such a brilliant mind. I became so worried that, if you left, we would not be able to finish it.”
“That is kind, Dr. Gall. But I’m afraid that nothing has changed. I still must leave London.”
Gall frowned. He removed his glasses, wiping them with his kerchief. “That is… such a shame, Elswyth. For one such as you to give up their career in scholarship. When you have so much potential.”
“I’m afraid I do not have a choice,” Elswyth said.
Dr. Gall said nothing. He paused for a moment, as if considering, and stared at the floor.
“Is something wrong, Dr. Gall?” Elswyth asked. “You look grim.”
“No, no, I simply… Well, I simply must ask you something. I know this may seem strange, and perhaps I am entirely the fool. I do hope you’ll tell me if I am.”
A knot formed in Elswyth’s stomach. “Is everything all right?”
“I’ve just been thinking about your predicament.
Your father insists that you marry instead of going to school or pursuing your research.
You want to attend Oxford, and I want you to keep working for me.
Your father’s demands disappoint me greatly.
I wish that the world was not organized in such a way that you need permission to be brilliant.
But after some thought, I believe I have found a solution to your predicament. And mine,” he said.
“Oh,” Elswyth said.
Dr. Gall took off his hat and wrung it in his hands.
“I know it is not ideal. And feel free to reject me outright—I shall think nothing of it—but you are in need of a husband to pursue your scholarship. Furthermore, a husband who will actually allow you to pursue those studies and that can support your family financially. I… Well, I have no wife, not anymore. And it occurred to me… It occurred to me that you should—Well, that you should marry me.”
For a moment, the only sound was gentle rain on the window.
“Marry…”
“I know—now, I know. I am an old man, far past the handsomeness of youth. That is not what a young bride wishes for. But Miss Elderwood, our marriage needn’t be that.
I have no living children, that is true, but that is not important to me.
No, ours could be a marriage of the minds.
I would help you with your work, and you with mine, and I would be content with that.
I would never interfere with your studies.
I would never force children upon you. But if that is something you—if that is something you want, then I could be of, well…
assistance. But that is by no means necessary or implicit in the arrangement… ”
“Dr. Gall—” Elswyth started.
“And as for your family’s situation, as the physician royal, I have plenty of funds. Your family would never go wanting again, I promise. I could secure your ancestral estate, if you wish, and we could split time between there and Oxford. Your father could even come and live with—”
“Dr. Gall,” Elswyth said, “I need a moment.”
His eyebrows jumped. “Oh? Oh! Of course. Would you like some water?”
Elswyth nodded, and Dr. Gall handed her a glass.
She drank, and her mind swam. The bed seemed to rock, although she was quite sure it wasn’t moving.
Logic fought through the confusion. Why, yes—it was perfect.
In all ways but love, it was perfect. A marriage to Gall would allow her to continue her studies forever.
He could gain her admittance to Oxford, fund her degree…
She looked at him: portly, balding, timid, with his hands wringing his hat. He wore an expression of sheepishness, as though embarrassed. But he believed in her, in her work, and wanted her as an assistant. He would even go so far as marrying her to make that happen.
His face dropped. “You are repulsed,” he said. “I can see it. I am sorry to have offended you so grievously. I shall take my leave.”
Gall began to stand.
“No!” Elswyth said suddenly. “No. Apologies, I… I am merely surprised. It is a fine offer, Dr. Gall, and you are kind to think of me, and my family. I simply need… time. Time to consider. And I will have to confer with my family before I accept.”
Dr. Gall perked up. His eyes shone behind his spectacles. “Really?”
“Yes, Doctor. I am honored. But I cannot give you an answer today.”
“Of course,” he said, “of course. Take all the time you need. And I really do mean it, Miss Elderwood. I will be as good to you as an old man can. I’ll allow you all the resources I myself have for research, experiments, publication…
You will find no better partner in this city than I, I promise it.
But neither will I be gravely insulted if you say no. The choice should be yours.”
Elswyth smiled weakly. Dr. Gall kept talking, but the words seemed to pass through her. Her eyes went to the window, where rain ran down the glass in rivers.
And she thought of Silas.