Page 1 of Familiar Things New

Chapter One

Edwin

November 1887

Sunlight streamed in through the ceiling and west-facing panes of the conservatory as Edwin moved to pluck the first of many brown papery seed buds from one of the begonias. Despite it being November, the plant’s bright-pink flowers were still in bloom thanks to the continuous warmth emanating from the cast-iron pipework. Edwin paused to fan himself by tugging on the front of his shirt several times, having already parted with his tie hours before. Sometimes the heating system made the large octagonal room a little too balmy, which only became more noticeable whenever Edwin was hard at work harvesting seeds or pruning shrubbery.

Over the next fifteen minutes, Edwin continued to remove pods from the begonia plants, placing them on a metal tray while he moved from one plant to the next. After he was finished, he set the tray on the end of the long metal table next to the pruning shears and turned to face the six caladiums near the center of the room. Resting his hands on his hips, Edwin sighed as he scrutinized the pretty heart-shaped leaves, their color still a vibrant pink, the shade even more striking than the petals of the begonias. Anticipating that their leaves would soon shrivel, he’d brought the caladiums inside earlier that week to give himself the opportunity to prepare them for the cold season. So far, though, the temperature in the conservatory had remained relatively high because of the erratically behaving steam heat. Consequently, it seemed like the plants would take longer than expected to be ready for winter.

In truth, Edwin couldn’t be sure whether they’d ever be ready.

It was Edwin’s first season working as a nurseryman at the Whitney Estate, and while he had been briefly trained that summer by Mr. O’Brian—the elderly fellow who had previously been caring for the plants here—he hadn’t learned about the caladiums. Everything Edwin knew regarding their care he’d learned from a book that his sister had purchased for him.

Edwin raked a hand through his blond locks as he wondered how to handle the situation. Surely the leaves ought to have started to brown by now if they required a sort of “rest” period, like he thought he remembered. But perhaps that wasn’t right. Instead, it was possible that, like a lot of the other plants in the conservatory, the caladiums would remain lush and vibrant throughout the winter months.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Edwin fanned himself with his shirt again before unfastening two more of the buttons, enough to reveal the very top of the long strip of cloth he’d wound around his chest that morning. How he hated that he could feel some sweat pooling there.

Before Edwin could refasten the buttons of his shirt, William Whitney—the only son of Albany’s Whitney family and Edwin’s closest friend—strolled into the conservatory wearing a beige morning suit and a boyish grin, his thick brown curls bouncing the slightest bit with every stride.

“Good morning,” he said cheerily, even though it must have been well past noon. He looked at the potted caladiums and tilted his head. “Such strange plants, aren’t they? I bet they cost my parents a fortune.”

“I think they only had the seeds brought over from Europe, not the entire plant,” Edwin said. “Years ago, too, probably. I can’t imagine that being so expensive.”

“Mmm . . . no, I think they’re new. And they look like they’ve been alive for a while. I mean, they couldn’t have sprouted up from seedlings only a few months ago.”

Shutting his eyes, Edwin thought back on his tour of the gardens in the spring. Had the caladiums been around back then? Perhaps not. Was that why he hadn’t learned how to care for them from Mr. O’Brien?

He reopened his eyes as William lifted his chin, gesturing toward the pots. “Will they stay like that in the winter?”

Edwin shrugged one of his shoulders. “I’m not sure. I thought the book said that they’d start to brown once they were brought in for the season. But they’re still so vibrant. Maybe I’m watering them too much? Or maybe it’s the heat?”

“It is a bit warm in here, isn’t it?”

Edwin frowned. “Dammit, I’m so worried I’ll kill them. In fact, I’m worried I’ll kill most of these plants somehow. I can’t let your parents see how unqualified I am for this position.” Letting out a forceful breath, Edwin spun around in a small circle. “Will, they asked you to find someone to replace Mr. O’Brian. And you picked me. Even though I have no experience caring for plants. If I ruin their conservatory, they’ll be livid with both of us.”

“Not if I tell them why I picked you,” William retorted. “If they learn who you are, and if they therefore learn why I had no choice but to hire you, then they’d probably blame themselves for purchasing so many finicky plants instead.”

Edwin’s cheeks warmed. He hated the thought of either of William’s parents finding out who he was. Or, more precisely, who he had once been.

Before Edwin had begun living as, well, as Edwin—as himself—he’d been known by another name. He’d been someone (and, he supposed, still was someone) whom the Whitneys had known for forever. Edwin’s father had been employed by the Whitneys as their tailor before he’d passed. And Edwin’s mother had sometimes taken custom orders for them as a seamstress as well, though the storefront that Edwin’s father had owned on North Pearl had been focused solely on men’s clothing. And so, Edwin had met William back when they were children. He and William had practically grown up together, seeing each other constantly as the years passed.

Wonderfully enough, William hadn’t batted an eye when, only one year prior, Edwin had, with the help of a few fingers of whiskey, confessed that he was a man. He’d only barely come to that conclusion himself when he’d blurted out his truth to his oldest and closest friend. What a surprise it had been that William had accepted it—had accepted him—so easily. Edwin still had trouble believing it sometimes.

But now, even though William knew the truth, William’s parents were still none the wiser. As far as either of them knew, their son had continued to visit the eldest of the Beasley sisters on occasion over the last year, not a man named Edwin. And certainly not a man who had recently become their conservatory’s nurseryman.

Edwin shook his head.

“Will, your parents, they’d never understand,” he said. “They’d probably hate me if they knew the truth. I can’t imagine they’d let our friendship continue. And surely, they wouldn’t allow me to keep working for them. I know you like to believe they’d look past this, but it’s not a risk I’m willing to take. I need the money right now. We’ve spent every penny my father managed to save while he was alive, and my mother’s hands hurt too much now for her to keep altering clothes. Agnes works, but she could never earn enough on her own to support the three of us. Hell, even the two of us together as seamstresses wouldn’t be able to. And—”

“Edwin.” William smiled sympathetically. “Don’t worry so much. I’m not really going to tell them. In fact, even if you killed every single one of these imported plants, I wouldn’t tell them. I’d sooner blame myself for the plants’ failure to thrive than betray your trust like that. I’d set the conservatory on fire if I had to.” He placed a hand on Edwin’s shoulder and squeezed. “But it won’t come to that. I have faith in you.”

Edwin wrinkled his nose. “I can only hope your parents will continue to have faith in me as well. Enough to continue letting me care for these plants without either of them interfering. I know how lucky I’ve been to be able to keep my distance from them. I mean, I’ve barely even seen either of them since I started working here. But I’m still so worried they’ll recognize me eventually, especially if I’m ever forced to spend any real time with either of them.”

“Nah, I can’t image they’d ever recognize you. Before your father’s funeral—during which you were wearing a veil I might add—neither of them had spent more than fifteen minutes with you since you were . . . seventeen?”

“Sixteen. I think.”

“Even better,” William said before removing his hand from Edwin’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine, Edwin.”