Page 31 of A Botanist and A Betrothal (Gentleman Scholars #4)

“I

still can't believe you caught them with the letters." Lincoln shook his head as he examined the damning evidence Roderick had spread across the desk at the Beaverbrook property where he was doing the rest of his research.

The intercepted correspondence between Mr. Green and Doctor Horace lay before them, pages of increasingly frantic exchanges about both the medicinal research and cryptic references to treasure maps. Doctor Horace’s behavior had become increasingly aggressive, causing the innkeeper’s staff to become fearful, so he had turned over these letters along with those implicating Vesta’s stepsisters.

"Quite careless of them to use the same inn for their meetings and their correspondence," Roderick observed dryly. "Though I suppose they didn't expect anyone to be watching."

"'The white flower must lead to something more,'" Lincoln read aloud from one letter. "'Why else would they plant them in that pattern? The old papers suggest—'"

He broke off, frowning. "So they somehow learned about Lady Evangeline's documents?"

"Not all of them," Roderick assured him. "They intercepted one letter that mentioned the hunt, nothing more. But it was enough to convince them there must be treasure involved. When they realized you were studying unusual plant patterns on Caldwell's land..."

"They thought I must be following the same trail," Lincoln finished. "So they tried to steal both my research and any clues about the treasure."

He ran a hand through his hair. "The sabotage, the threats – it was all about trying to force me away so they could search freely."

"Precisely." Roderick's expression hardened. "Doctor Horace seems to have convinced himself that any scientific advancement you made rightfully belonged to him, since he'd been 'studying medicinal plants for years.' Mr. Green was simply in it for potential profit."

"And now?"

"The local magistrate is quite interested in their campaign of sabotage and theft. Particularly given the value of the research they destroyed." Roderick smiled slightly. "I believe they'll both be occupied with legal matters for quite some time."

Lincoln nodded, relief flooding through him. "But they never found what they were looking for."

"No." Roderick gathered the letters carefully. "Whatever secrets those plant patterns might hold – if they hold any at all – remain undiscovered."

Lincoln thought of the white foxglove, of the strange arrangements that had first caught his and Vesta's attention. "Perhaps that's for the best. Some mysteries deserve proper study, not theft and sabotage."

"Indeed." Roderick clapped him on the shoulder. "Now, shall we see about clearing your name with the magistrate? I believe we have more than enough evidence now."

“Thank you for your assistance in this, Roderick, now I’ll be able to get back to Vesta all the sooner.”

“That’s the plan,” Roderick said with a laugh, slapping him on the shoulder. “Now get back to your important work while the rest of us look after these mundane things.”

Lincoln managed to complete his work, but it was a close-run thing.

My dearest Vesta,

Beaverbrook and his wife are taking great care of me and Sidney. Can you believe it? The mapmaker decided he has a knack for botany and came with me even though he keeps grumbling about his maps and the next tide and all sorts of foolishness.

I should have brought you too. You’d know how to keep him in line.

There have been no break-ins here. Beaverbrook hired extra grooms while we complete our experiments. We ought to have done that at your house.

Lincoln wasn’t sure if he was being silly to write to Vesta so often. But it soothed him. He wrote a little bit every night. It felt as though it were a diary of sorts. He mailed it to her every few days, chronicling their progress.

My dearest Vesta,

The laboratory here is well-equipped, far more so than our humble greenhouse, and yet I find myself missing our makeshift workspace. This morning, I discovered a fascinating variation in the cellular structure of the white foxglove, and I turned to share my excitement with you before remembering you weren't there. The silence of your absence was rather deafening.

Beaverbrook's extraction device truly is remarkable - though not half as remarkable as watching your face light up when we made new discoveries together. I find myself storing away observations to share with you, like a botanical collector pressing specimens. When I return, I shall have quite the collection of scientific curiosities to show you.

The weather has turned pleasantly warm. I cannot help but think of our morning walks through the garden, how the sunlight would catch in your hair as you bent to examine a particularly interesting specimen. Even the most fascinating scientific breakthrough feels somehow diminished without your keen observations to complement my own.

We’re heading to London to present our findings to the Royal Society before Horace can interfere.

Lincoln’s only disappointment was that Vesta wasn’t by his side.

Even the treasure hunt is progressing, if you can believe it. Lady Beaverbrook has made friends with a woman at Oxford who is chasing down the connections between the poem and my plants. Even though we’re now quite convinced the treasure isn’t connected to our favourite school, there is still a connection with the research which appears to be soothing for some of our members.

I’ll take you with me next time.

Lincoln wished he had her by his side this time. But they weren’t wed. He might be a mad scientist and not bothered by social niceties, but he had the sense to know he couldn’t go jaunting about the country without compromising a gently bred woman, even if she were his betrothed.

Best to wait a couple more weeks.

My dearest Vesta,

The most peculiar news has reached me through Roderick — Sir Edmund has been calling regularly at your house, though not to see you this time. That must be a relief. Your stepfather apparently arranged an introduction between him and Kimberley, and from what I hear, they appear remarkably well-suited. She admires his title, and he admires her father's connections to trade. I confess I find some satisfaction in how neatly that has resolved itself.

I do wonder how you feel about the matter.

Mr. Caldwell must be pleased — a baronet for a son-in-law after all, though not quite how he first imagined it. I'm told he's already planning an elaborate wedding breakfast...

He was relieved when he finally heard back from his fiancée. Even her penmanship was delightful.

Dear Lincoln,

Congratulations on finding a cure for heart disease. You will save lives to be sure. You must be so proud of yourself. Mr. Caldwell is thrilled. If you can believe it, he has commissioned more fencing for the property. He says he has to protect his investment. I do hope your contract with him covered some sort of protection for the income you will be sure to earn with these discoveries.

You are quite correct. The household is in an uproar over the possibility of two weddings this year. Mr. Caldwell is delighted at the prospect of having Sir Edmund as son-in-law. He has already commissioned a new wardrobe for his uplifted position.

Lincoln chuckled as he read Vesta’s note.

Thank you for letting me know you’re not going to be able to travel back for the final reading of the banns. I understand your work is very important. There’s no rush to wed.

Vesta’s latest letter gave Lincoln pause. Was she not as anxious to wed as he was? He should have arranged for a special license as he had originally planned, then he could have brought her with him. At the time, he hadn’t wanted to delay a moment in his research for fear of the assailants returning. But now he was regretting that decision.

His scientific discoveries were all terribly thrilling but really meant nothing to him if Vesta decided she won’t have him. He wanted to drop everything and rush back to the scholarly institute but there was far too much to do. He would stop in to see her on the way to his next meeting with the Royal Society. They were reviewing his research and would have a decision for him within a se’en-night.

Another of their mysteries were solved in Vesta’s next letter:

My dear Lincoln,

The most extraordinary discovery has come to light! While sorting through some old documents in Mr. Caldwell's library (he has become remarkably accommodating since you left), I found a deed to the property that mentions it was once part of St. Augustine's monastery lands. The monastery was dissolved during Henry VIII's time, but what's fascinating is that there are references to their famous physic garden.

According to these records, the monks were known throughout England for their ability to grow plants that typically shouldn't thrive together. They had some secret method of preparing the soil that they passed down through generations. When the monastery was dissolved, the last brothers supposedly buried their manuscripts detailing their cultivation methods somewhere on the grounds.

Don't you see? This explains everything — the unusual plant combinations, the coded references, even why the white foxglove flourishes here when it shouldn't! The monks must have engineered these growing conditions centuries ago, and the effects still linger in the soil.

I can't help wondering if Lady Evangeline's late husband had somehow learned of this. Perhaps that's what the treasure really is — not gold or jewels, but ancient botanical knowledge.

I hardly slept last night thinking about it. I do wish you were here to investigate further.

Yours truly,

Vesta

P.S. Mr. Caldwell was quite impressed when I explained about the monastery connection. He's already talking about how he can use this history to enhance the property's value. Some things never change!

That note nearly had him rushing back to his betrothed, but he knew he needed to finish this before they could carry on with his life. He needed to ensure he had a life to bring his new wife to, after all.

Another of her letters almost made him quit his studies and dash off to share the supper table with his betrothed.

Dear Lincoln,

Your latest letter arrived just as I was examining the new growth in the garden. The monks' old physic garden is flourishing in the spring weather - I believe I've identified three more unusual plant combinations that would interest you. Though I confess, studying them alone lacks a certain spark of excitement that your presence always seemed to provide.

I've taken to reading in the greenhouse during the quiet hours of morning, surrounded by your empty workbenches and carefully labeled specimens.

Sometimes I imagine I can still hear your voice explaining some fascinating botanical principle, and I find myself turning to ask you questions before remembering you're away. How strange that science itself seems to have dimmed slightly in your absence.

Mr. Caldwell was discussing profit margins at dinner again, and I caught myself smiling, thinking how you would have cleverly turned the conversation to the monetary value of botanical research. The house feels rather too quiet without your scientific enthusiasm to enliven it.

Yours truly,

Vesta

Lincoln was examining a delicate sample under his microscope when Roderick burst into his laboratory, grinning broadly.

"It's done," Roderick announced without preamble. "The magistrate has dismissed all charges. You're officially cleared."

Lincoln straightened slowly, hardly daring to believe it. "You're certain?"

"Completely. Once we presented the evidence of Doctor Horace's sabotage and false claims, along with testimonials from the Royal Society about your original research, the magistrate saw reason quite quickly." Roderick's expression turned wry. "The fact that Doctor Horace couldn't produce a single document supporting his claims of prior research didn't help his case."

"So it's truly over?" Lincoln asked, still processing the news.

"The legal threat is, yes. Doctor Horace won't be troubling you again – he's far too busy defending himself against charges of sabotage and attempted theft." Roderick settled into a chair. "Though I must say, watching him try to explain his actions to the magistrate was rather entertaining. Particularly when he had to admit he'd been chasing fairy stories about treasure maps."

Lincoln chuckled despite himself. "I suppose that did sound rather far-fetched to official ears."

"Quite. Though we know better, don't we?" Roderick raised an eyebrow. "The patterns you and Miss Lowell discovered... they're still worth investigating, once things settle down."

"Yes," Lincoln agreed, thinking of the careful notes he and Vesta had made. "But properly this time. No more sabotage or suspicious characters lurking about."

"Speaking of Miss Lowell..." Roderick's tone turned sly. "Now that your legal troubles are resolved, perhaps it's time to think about making good on certain promises?"

Lincoln felt his cheeks warm. "I've been writing to her daily. But yes, I believe it's time I returned to collect my bride – assuming she'll still have me after all this chaos."

"I rather think she will," Roderick said softly. "Now go pack your things. You've got a wedding to arrange."