Page 16 of A Season for Scandal

She was not wrong. It was a curious thing, full of greenery and flowers that didn’t quite go together. Not unless you spoke their language anyway. I lingered for a moment, cataloguing the contents in my mind:

Laurel.Laurus.Meaning: victory, success.

Edelweiss.Leontopodium.Meaning: courage and daring.

Clematis.Clematis.Meaning: ingenuity and cleverness.

Fern.Adiantum.Meaning: secrecy.

And finally: Dahlia.Dahlia.Meaning: commitment.

A laugh escaped my lips at the message. The Aviary were celebrating a job well done, and now they wanted to know if I had considered their job offer.

“Weighs a bloomin’ ton,” Scout huffed, and I rushed forward to take it from her, but she pulled back out of my reach. “No, no.” She shook her head. “She said first I have to ask if you’ll take it with your right hand or your left.”

Grandfather frowned. “Whosaid so, Scout?”

Scout’s eyes darted to mine. “Lady from the other night. She gave me a shilling to bring these to you, but she said I have to go back and tell her if you took it with your left hand or your right.” She rolled her eyes at this and muttered something under her breath about toffs and their strange ways.

“What lady is this, Mari?” Grandfather looked increasingly baffled.

“Just a friend,” I replied. “It’s a little joke of ours.”

But it wasn’t really. It was a proposal and, in the language of flowers, taking the flower in your right hand meant yes, and your left hand meant no. I appreciated the attention to detail.

I also appreciated what the Aviary had done for me and my family. I thought about that overwhelming rush of relief I had felt only minutes ago. I could help someone else feel that way.

Beyond that, something else stirred too. The same feeling I’d had in the garden, a feeling of space to grow and trulybe. It was adventure, the promise ofmore.

“Thank you, Scout,” I said, finally taking the bouquet from her. I felt the smile spreading across my face. “You can tell the lady I took it with my right hand.”

CHAPTER TEN

The third time I arrived at the Aviary in the space of a single week, I felt a curious mixture of nerves and excitement. The summons I had received from Mrs Finch had been brief and to the point, asking me to come late in the afternoon – this was usually my free time when I would sleep before going to the market. I supposed that running a secret agency of female detectives meant the task of working out my schedule was fairly easy, but I was still impressed by her efficiency.

On this visit I found myself taken even higher up in the building – to the floor above the salon and into a well-ordered office that felt warm and inviting, lined with shelves full of books and various interesting objects – vases, paintings, a red jewel in a small glass case. An iron ring hung from a hook in the wall, and while I wasn’t an expert, I’d guess that the long thin pieces of metal hanging from it were lock picks.

Mrs Finch sat behind an enormous desk, sifting through a stack of important-looking papers. The red-headed shop girl I had met before perched in a tall, straight-backed chair, and jumped to her feet when I entered.

“You’re here.” She grinned. “I’m glad you said yes. I thought that you would. I’m Maud, by the way; I should have introduced myself earlier.” She held out a hand to me, and I shook it.

“You’re one of the Finches too?” I asked.

“Oh yes, everyone who works in the shop is a Finch,” Maud replied. “It makes life much easier, having an employer who doesn’t mind about you coming and going.”

I was relieved to hear that not everyone who worked for the Aviary was a duchess – that some of them at least were more like me, and that they had to balance the Aviary with other work.

“I’m in your charm, actually,” Maud continued. “They explained the charms to you?”

I nodded. “Four people who work together.”

“That’s right. We’ve been down to three since Izzy started running her own group, and it’s a relief they finally found someone to fill in.”

“Why don’t you take Marigold through to the lab and see if you can extract Winnie while we wait for Sylla to arrive?” Mrs Finch said, not lifting her eyes from the papers in front of her.

Maud scoffed. “Wish us luck with that. Win has been muttering something about electrical pulses all morning; I haven’t got any sense out of her yet today. Still” – she turned to me – “might as well give you the tour, now that you’re going to be one of us.”

Before she could herd me back through the door, I stepped towards the desk and dropped the small bouquet I was carrying next to Mrs Finch’s papers.