Page 16 of A Botanist and A Betrothal (Gentleman Scholars #4)

T he next day, as they began their work, Vesta glanced anxiously at the house. She'd informed Kimberley and Nancy just that morning that she would no longer be handling their domestic tasks. Their shrieks of outrage still rang in her ears.

"Is something wrong?" Lincoln asked, noticing her distraction.

"Just wondering how long before my stepsisters come storming out here," she admitted. "I told them I wouldn't be doing their mending or arranging their social calls anymore. They didn't take it well."

Lincoln's eyebrows rose. "How did they respond?"

"'You can't refuse!'" Vesta mimicked Kimberley's shrill tone, then smiled at Lincoln's surprised laugh. "But I did. They'll have to either do things themselves or convince their father to hire another maid."

"Won't that cause trouble for you?" Lincoln asked, concern evident in his voice.

Vesta shrugged, though her stomach churned with uncertainty.

"Probably. But I can't be both a scientist's assistant and an unpaid servant. Besides," she added with a slight smirk, "perhaps we should introduce them to Sir Edmund. They're so eager to make advantageous matches — let them deal with his endless stories about sheep shearing."

Lincoln chuckled but returned her attention to his work.

They spent the remainder of the morning documenting the unusual plant combinations, with Vesta carefully noting each location in a small notebook she'd brought from the house. Lincoln's enthusiasm was contagious, and she found herself growing more fascinated with each discovery.

"See how the soil changes colour here?" Lincoln pointed to where two vastly different species thrived side by side. "It's almost as if someone deliberately mixed different types of earth."

"Could that be possible?" Vesta asked, leaning closer to examine the subtle variations in color and texture.

"Possible, yes, but it would require extensive knowledge of both botany and soil composition." He frowned thoughtfully. "Not to mention considerable effort. Who would go to such lengths?"

"And why here?" Vesta added, gesturing to the seemingly random location of the plants. "These aren't even in the formal gardens."

Lincoln nodded eagerly. "Exactly! These placements feel deliberate, yet they're hidden away where most people wouldn't notice them."

He glanced at her with obvious admiration. "Except for particularly observant young ladies who pay attention to their surroundings."

Vesta felt her cheeks warm at the praise. "Perhaps we should expand our map to include the entire property? There might be more unusual combinations we haven't noticed yet."

"An excellent suggestion. Though it will take considerable time..." He trailed off, looking uncertain.

"I have nothing but time," Vesta assured him, though she knew it wasn't entirely true. Her stepsisters would surely have tasks for her, but somehow this felt more important than their endless demands.

~~~~

The past three days had been tense in the household. Kimberley and Nancy had taken to following Vesta around, thrusting torn garments at her and leaving lists of tasks outside her door each morning. She ignored them, though their increasingly angry whispers behind her back made her shoulders tight with anxiety.

"You think you're better than us now?" Nancy had sneered at breakfast. "Just because you're engaged to some mad scientist?"

"At least I am engaged," Vesta had retorted, immediately regretting the sharp words when she saw the fury on their faces.

She'd hurried from the breakfast room without quite finishing her repast, eager to escape the stifling atmosphere of the house.

Vesta lengthened her strides across the grounds toward the greenhouse, her arms full of the detailed maps they'd been working on. They had discovered several more unusual plant groupings, and she was eager to show Lincoln how they might form a pattern when viewed together.

The morning air was crisp, and dew still clung to the grass, dampening the hem of her dress as she walked. She'd grown to love these early morning hours working with Lincoln, before the rest of the household stirred and her other duties claimed her attention.

She stopped short at the sight of the greenhouse door standing ajar. Lincoln always latched it carefully when he left each evening — he was meticulous about his equipment and instruments. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she approached, her steps slowing instinctively.

The acrid smell hit her first — something chemical and wrong that didn't belong among the usual earthy greenhouse scents. Then she saw the destruction, and her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a cry.

Glass containers lay shattered across the wooden worktables and floor, their contents forming murky puddles that seemed to eat into the wood. Lincoln's carefully arranged equipment lay scattered and broken, some pieces looking deliberately smashed rather than merely knocked over. The morning sun streaming through the glass panes illuminated the devastation in harsh detail.

But worst of all were the plants. Several specimens were missing entirely — including the white foxglove they'd been studying so intently. The remaining plants had been brutally damaged, stems snapped, and leaves torn. Even the carefully labeled soil samples they'd collected had been mixed together or dumped out completely, destroying weeks of meticulous documentation.

"No, no, no," she whispered, careful not to touch anything as she surveyed the damage. Her feet crunched on broken glass as she moved deeper into the greenhouse. Lincoln needed to see this exactly as it was. She turned and ran toward the house, her maps clutched forgotten to her chest, nearly colliding with one of the gardeners.

"Fetch Doctor Welby immediately," she commanded, surprising herself with her authoritative tone. The words came out stronger than she felt. "And tell John from the stables to come as well. We may need to track whoever did this."

While waiting for Lincoln, she paced outside the greenhouse, her mind racing. The maps fluttered in her trembling hands until she set them carefully aside. Was this connected to Mr. Green's strange visit? Someone in the household must be involved! How else could the culprit gain access? The sense of betrayal made Vesta’s stomach churn.

When Lincoln arrived, his face went pale at the sight of the destruction. His usual composed demeanor cracked as he took in the damage. "The specimens—" he started, then stopped, his hands clenching at his sides. She could see him struggling to maintain his scientific detachment, but the loss in his eyes made her heart ache.

"I'm so sorry," Vesta said softly, fighting the urge to take his hand.

Every instinct urged her to offer comfort, but she wasn't sure her touch would be welcome. Instead, she focused on the practical.

"But Lincoln, this proves something important, doesn't it? Whatever you've discovered here, someone clearly doesn't want you to continue your research."

He turned to her, and she could see him visibly pulling himself together, the scientist reasserting control over the man. "You're right. And they knew exactly which specimens to take."

His gaze sharpened suddenly, fixing on her face. "Did you tell anyone else about our work?"

The question stung, but Vesta kept her voice steady.

"No. No one." She hesitated, then added, "Though I suppose anyone could have been watching us these past few days."

She glanced toward the house, wondering how many eyes might be observing them even now.

Lincoln ran a hand through his hair in frustration, a gesture she'd come to recognize as a sign of his agitation. "I should have been more careful. Should have taken better precautions after Mr. Green's visit..."

"We'll figure this out," Vesta said firmly, surprising herself with her conviction.

She picked up the maps she'd set aside, smoothing their crumpled edges. "These might help — I think I've found a pattern in the plant placements."

His expression softened as he looked at her, and for a moment she thought he might say something more. Instead, he nodded and turned back to the greenhouse.

"Let's document everything exactly as we found it. Whatever their purpose was, they've only succeeded in proving we're on the right track."

Vesta followed him inside, stepping carefully around the broken glass. Her heart ached at the destruction but warmed at his use of "we." The morning sun caught the glass shards, making them sparkle like diamonds among the ruins of their work. Whatever came next, they would face it as partners.

The sound of approaching footsteps announced John's arrival from the stables. Now they could begin the work of understanding exactly what had happened here — and more importantly, why.

Vesta hesitated to follow as the men got to work, glancing toward the house.

“Lincoln, do you think we ought to tell Mr. Caldwell?” she called softly, not intending to involve the servants in their difficulties.

Lincoln frowned in her direction and shrugged.

“He hasn’t much cared about our work, he isn’t likely to care about its destruction.”

“But what of Mr. Green’s claim to know him?” Vesta argued.

“Did you not say that Mr. Caldwell said he didn’t know the man?”

Vesta nodded but continued to watch Lincoln. Lincoln shrugged again.

“There’s not much we can do at this point about any of it except to take precautions to protect our work.” Lincoln glanced back at the house. “If you think you ought to tell your stepfather, then go ahead, this certainly isn’t a secret.”

Vesta bit her lip but then nodded in agreement. “He hasn’t been terribly interested up until now, as you said. If anything, he will start to think this is more trouble than is worth his time and could put a stop to your studies.”

“Perhaps that was his intention all along,” Lincoln said. “If Mr. Green is an associate of your stepfather, perhaps this damage is his way of ridding himself of my presence.”

“That’s quite ridiculous,” Vesta countered.

She regretted the impulsive words as soon as they were out of her mouth but Lincoln didn’t react other than turning his back and resuming the work of cleaning up.