Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday passed without event. Rose had decided it was easier to just play into her crush on Scorpius rather than fight it. She could deal with her angst about real life consequences when they were safely returned to real life. Until that day, she was Sophie Pritchard, head over heels in love with her own husband, and Rose Weasley, who trusted her partner and watched their backs.
The rain had stopped but the mist remained, threatening to rain again. The appointments for the farmhouse improvements were interspersed with batsman's practice in the barn. After their first practice Scorpius allowed Rose to tape inch thick wads of newspaper to his shins to serve as pads—but only to get used to the bulk. Apparently Scorpius had decided that he would wear pads during the match, "because all the other lads do," and certainly not because he had heard that the best fast bowler for Freeman's Cross once played for the best league team in the county.
The WI meeting on Thursday was superfluous now that Mildred Diggle was dead. Rose knew that the window box demonstration for this week's meeting must be endured. Her subject was no longer available but to stop going after making such a point about joining the WI publicly would be suspicious. And maintaining contact with those who knew Mildred well might lead to…something, hoped Rose.
After three-quarters of an hour on the proper soil mixture for window boxes in summer, Rose felt that she could now fully appreciate what History of Magic with the ghostly Binns might have been like.
"Thank you Ann for that riveting explanation of window boxes. Your, er, rather exuberant planting schemes have certainly given us inspiration to win the Best Kept Village competition this year. We won't let those tasteless wastrels from Bishop's Otterton make off with this title this year!" said Hannah Giles.
"Hear, Hear!" was the choir of replies from the other women.
"Next meeting's topic will be baking in your solar ovens. Mrs. Maybrick will be demonstrating her wonderful fairy cakes made entirely without a conventional oven! Isn't that a wonder. And a final reminder about the trip to Eden Project. Tanith Barton will be taking over as our guide. She has visited there many times with Mildred, and using Mildred's notes she shall attempt to do Mildred justice. While we cannot expect Tanith to surpass Mildred's expertise, this will be an opportunity for many of you to see the new weather station in the tropical biome for the first time, and for those daredevils in the group, the rope bridges. Also, Tanith has one spot open if any of you change your mind and want to go after all. We shall have the motorcoach here at 7:30 Saturday morning. Everyone else, see you in two weeks."
Rose approached Tanith before she left the village hall and asked to take the empty spot.
"Yes of course Sophie. You can bring the fee for the outing on Saturday. Have you ever been to the Eden Project before?"
Rose said that she hadn't.
"You're in for a real treat."
…
Saturday morning Rose woke up feeling warm and comfortable, better than if she had slept in her own bed back in London. She did notice her pillow was a little more unrelenting than squishy. Then she notice that her pillow was not a pillow and was in fact a man. She managed to unwrap her leg from his and leave the bed without waking Scorpius. She checked the time on her mobile, turned off the alarm that was about to go off, and left the room to get ready for the WI outing.
Rose met the WI ladies at the same time that Scorpius was reaching for his missing bedmate. Her mobile was gone, so he texted her, wondering if it would ring somewhere in the farmhouse.
Where are you?
WI outing that I told you about six times
Oh nevermind
Is something wrong?
Just wondering if you could bring up some coffee
Rose shook her head and smiled to herself.
Rose felt sick. It had been a mistake to sit in the back of the mini-coach. Painful external pressures that made you feel like you were pushed through a straw until you might collapse in on yourself—no problem; forty minutes in a mini-coach on winding roads—energy-sucking nausea. Tanith and the other WI ladies seemed unaffected. Muggles really are marvelous, thought Rose.
The damp misty air at Eden Project felt fresh compared to the mini-coach's heated air tinged with carpet cleaner. She tried to settle her stomach enough to engage the others in conversation about Mildred, but she managed only keep up with the group as they walked down into the outer gardens of the Outdoor biome. Rose noticed and thought it odd to see the broad leaves of banana trees fluttering behind the clipped yew hedges. It seems like the horticultural equivalent to prim Dolores Umbridge dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and hula skirt. She dismissed her hypersensitivity to the juxtaposition—it must be quite common to see palm trees alongside neat English hedges in Cornwall. Ahead Tanith talked about different species featured in the garden. Only snippets of her lecture managed to float back up to Rose over the noise of the colorful flags snapping in the wind. The cold breeze helped Rose overcome her carsickness. Her affinity for plants had made Herbology a delight at Hogwarts, and she longed to be inside those greenhouses again. It had been weeks since she walked through the Grange's greenhouses and smelled the comfortable smells of rich dark soil. Luckily the winding paths were gradually taking them to the enclosed biomes. They looked like soap bubbles wrapped in bubble wrap, but according to Tanith, were giant geodesic greenhouses protecting tropical and Mediterranean habitats planted into the sides of the old Cornish clay quarry.
They entered the tropical biome first. The air was humid but fresh. Floral scents wafted from all directions, but no one scent overpowered. Tanith kept a brisk pace through the humid jungle, but no one moved with her. At first all anyone could do was stare at the translucent honeycombed ceiling. They all ignored Tanith speaking. Her voice did not carry well over the noise of the water falling from the top of the cliff side to the floor of the biome. The overwhelming impression was a fecundity and diversity of greens surmounted by a huge bubble. Tanith paused after a bridge over the crashing water at the enormous lily pads floating in a calm pond. Rose remembered seeing an old illustration of a young girl standing on one of these floating wonders. On the pond bank behind the lilies, was a sight more extraordinary: Platanthera maritima. The stature of the orchid was small and unobtrusive, but if in flower, it would have a showy cluster of fuchsia florets atop the short stem. It was the ostentatious fuchsia petals with the fringed edges arranged in florets all over the stem on the cover of the WI Life that caught Rose's eye and started her undercover investigation. Without the flower one could pass this orchid by without a second glance. But Rose could see across the pond another distinguishing feature of this species, the thin stripe of fuchsia along the center vein of the long fleshy leaves.
Tanith moved the group along. As Rose followed, she thought over how a rare magical orchid had come to be planted in a muggle educational center. The central problem to answer was whether this Platanthera maritima was connected to Mildred and the smuggling ring. Eden Project is so well known and so public but still such a perfect place to house tropical plants that it could be coincidence. Perhaps someone on staff is magical and uses the biome as their own personal greenhouse, she thought, and disregarded it. It wasn't as if P. maritima was a dangerous species and it was planted well away from the visiting muggles. At most the species might cause a mild skin irritation when handled by a muggle or squib. Its rarity in the wild only came from the fact that the most reliable reproduction method for P. maritima required aged dragon manure, and its remote habitat was seldom visited by dragons anymore. She would refer the transgression to the MLE and out of the Auror's Office when she returned.
Tanith had moved the group along, taking a path towards leading to the canopy. They passed a plant which had leaves that fold together when touched, the insect eating pitcher plants—a sort of parasol above a striped rim of the mauve colored tubes that narrow and bend like an old-fashioned pipe at the bottom before ascending to parts unknown—and a huge dark purple flower that smelt of decomposing flesh; all non-magical. Tanith continued to lead the group to climb up the stairs along the cliff-face to the weather station. Rose stopped at a turn in the steps to wait for elderly Mrs. Maybrick when two blue flowers caught her eye. The blooms were spent: dried out and dangling from a straggly stem from the leaves above. The leaves were in better condition and disguised the pseudobulbs that Rose knew may have held blue syrup that was used in a rare Argentinean love potion. She wasn't certain, but it looked very similar to the illustration of Stanhopea caeruleata she had seen in Myrtilla Airey's Extraordinary Epiphytes. The illustration of Stanhopea caeruleata also had blue colored specks on the leaves, but the leaves were in shade at the moment and just looked dark green.
Rose ran up the steps to catch up to the WI group. She caught up to them while they were still on solid ground. Now the group began to ascend the steel steps that seemed to float above the canopy of the enclosed rainforest. As she looked over the treetops of the rainforest canopy Rose thought, Platanthera maritima and Stanhopea caeruleata! Did I miss a Wiggentree in the Outdoor biome? Rose admired the new weather station and rope bridges with the WI ladies while trying to look for more magical plants. The problem was that she could not stand in place and scan the vegetation without clogging up a pathway and becoming separated from the WI ladies, things that Sophie Pritchard would not do. Instead, she dutifully helped Mrs. Maybrick cross the rope bridge and organized group photos at the weather station, and could not spot another magical plant, though she felt certain that there must be a dozen more tucked into the trees.
The group walked slowly through the Mediterranean biome, admiring the striking pairings of bright flowers against the silvery blue-greens of the agave. Tucked behind a particularly large gray agave was a cactus that had pimples in place of sharp spines. Those pimples are filled with stinksap, thought Rose. That'sMimbulus mimbletonia. What the hell is going on here?
"Tanith, there's an odd looking cactus with pimples instead of spines. Do you know what that's called?"
"That sounds like something Mildred has. It had the silliest latin name. I'll remember it once I've seen it. Where is it?"
"There, behind that big gray agave."
"Yes, oh dear I think it is time we all took a break, yes." And without waiting for anyone to respond Tanith disappeared into the crowd. Muggle-repelling charm—the charm must be designed to be weak to work within the tourist attraction; just a trip to the lavatory when the Mimbulus mimbletonia is spotted. That must be how the perpetrator is keeping his or her plants secret from the staff here.
Later that evening after Rose had recounted her observations at Eden Project and her suspicions, Scorpius turned the conversation to the cricket match on the following day.
"Rose, where are my cricket whites? Have you done something with them?"
"Last I saw of them they were in your trouser drawer."
"Oh, yes, here they are." Scorpius tried them on and returned to the kitchen to ask for Rose's opinion. He spun in the kitchen. "What do you think? Not too new, are they?"
"No, the trousers don't seem like they just came from the store. The style is a little older, there are a few loose threads, and the trouser crease is off center, all very respectable. But the waistband of the trousers seems too tight. Didn't the housekeepers take your measurements?"
"Yes, they must've made a mistake with the measurements."
"Or you've put on weight."
"Nevermind. What's for dinner?"
…
Sunday was deceptively beautiful. The Gothic mists of Saturday had cleared overnight into a bright blue sky. Not a single cloud threatened to darken the village's plans for cricket. It would have been perfect weather for a picnic, however it was unseasonably cold for the first weekend of May. The world and his wife may not come to watch village cricket, but at least the fixture would go ahead. Munro Dudgeon oversaw rolling the pitch and surrounding field on Saturday but persuaded two men from the pub to help him roll the pitch again. Near the pavilion a man wearing cricketing whites and Panama hat stood watching. The silk band of the hat had purple and green stripes. Scorpius ambled over to meet this strange wizard.
"Look at that fatuous old bastard, parading the thing out so everyone can comment on how generous he was to purchase the new roller for the club—even though that was five years ago. And he never does any of the work himself, he only supervises. I can't believe Soole allows him to play. Sorry, I ought to have introduced myself. Magnus Fawcett."
"A name I know as well as any. I'm glad to meet you at last. Jai Pritchard. I did begin to think that you were a complete invention and did not exist, so much I had heard of you without meeting!"
"I hope I can live up to the legend," said the stranger.
"You're just the man I want to talk to actually. My wife, Sophie, that gorgeous blonde over there by the teas, loves plants. Our anniversary is soon, and I should very much like your opinion about what to buy her."
"Well, I couldn't say, what type of plant does she seem to like best?"
"Tropical things, I think. It is difficult to know more, because I always seem to kill off whatever she's brought home before she can even tell me what the blasted thing is called. She went with the WI to that greenhouse place in Cornwall yesterday and hasn't stopped talking about the marvelous whats-its since. I've already sworn to myself that I will not touch the new plant and hopefully that means I won't set it alight like the last one. Sophie said that you and Mildred Diggle were the local horticultural experts, and poor Mildred's kicked the bucket, so you're my last hope. What should I get her?"
"Why buy her a plant at all? It's hardly the most romantic of gifts."
"Sophie goes more for the large thoughtful gesture than what she calls the trite unimaginative gifts that men usually buy for women."
"So that's jewelry and perfume out then."
"Quite out. I'd like to get her something rare, you know, to show her how rare and wonderful I think she is, but I haven't the foggiest."
"Rare often means expensive, even with plants."
"I've done quite well for myself, and things between us haven't been smooth lately. I'd buy her a car if I thought it would be something she liked."
"Leave it with me, I'll pick something out and you can pay me later."
"Magnus Fawcett, you're a brick."
Scorpius turned away from Fawcett and walked toward the pavilion to find Rose. Seeing she was not alone, he was not free to tell her his good news.
"Sophie, could you sneak me a bit of that cake before the match starts?"
"Jai, no, the cake is for lunch, either between innings or at half one, whichever comes first." Chloe Braithwaite entered the pavilion carrying the tea urn. "Chloe, help, please. My husband won't listen to me. He wants to have his cake now, before the match has even begun."
"Listen to your wife. It'll taste even better with a cup of good strong tea after playing. Now get out, I don't have time to keep an eye on you and set up." Scorpius left.
"He will eat everything in the house if I don't watch him. He nearly got started on this Victoria sponge this morning and I would have killed him if he had!"
"Justifiable homicide, I'd say."
"His trousers are more than a bit tight, bless him. I don't know what to do, but keep less food in the house. But then I'm always going to the shops for something. I can't win." Rose and Chloe laughed. "Well, I know how I got roped into feeding the village, who guilted you into this?"
"Oh, well, I started doing it to help my brother Dennis. He was on the village team, when he lived here. I guess I've just kept it up all these years."
"Oh, couldn't he come back to the village for cricket from time to time? Surely he must get time off from working."
Chloe was pained and began to cry.
"Oh, dear, I've put my foot in it and upset you, I'm so sorry."
"No, it's alright. You didn't know." Chloe pulled out tissues and blew her nose. "Dennis ran off with Philippa, Magnus Fawcett's wife. That's what everyone else says. But that was seventeen years ago. And I've not heard from him since that day. I think—I think he must be dead. We were close, I cannot believe that he would just bung off without even a text. I used to come to the cricket matches hoping that he would just turn up again. I think I've done the tea all these years as a way to remember him by. Silly cow, eh?"
"Not at all, shall we go sit? It is such a beautiful day, I think Dennis would have wanted you to enjoy it."
"Yes, you're right, but I'll take a moment to dry my eyes before I come out."
The wind was picking up. Rose wrapped the wool shawl over her waxed cape. Rose sat in a deck chair and pulled a tartan wool blanket over her lap. Scorpius looked dashing in his cricketing whites. Rose found herself clapping proudly when he managed to stop a ball that looked as though it would clear the boundary, despite the fact that he threw the ball well over his teammate's head and allowed two more runs. Rose decided that Scorpius was much more attractive with latte-colored skin and dark hair. And with sunshine. Like a photograph in an old magazine; Scorpius Mal—no, Jai Pritchard, seen here, enjoying cricket near his home in Devon.
After the long inning (during which the visiting team from Freeman's Cross scored 201 runs) Scorpius leaned against the beer garden fence in back of the Cat and Custard, apart from the other spectators and waited for Rose to bring him tea and cake.
"Have you something important to tell me, or are you being sulky?"
"I couldn't say earlier because of Chloe, but you must be a little less adoring of me and more your usual harpy self—before you take my head off, I told Magnus Fawcett that I wanted to buy you a present to help our relationship go more smoothly.
"Magnus Fawcett? You spoke to Magnus Fawcett? Here? Well, point him out, I've got to start talking to him about—"
"Already done Ducky, I've arranged a buy. I'll finalize the details later at the pub."
"But you've set it up, already? He trusts you after one meeting? How did you accomplish that?"
"I'm a natural. Method, baby. Now, go complain a little bit about me. Mind you don't over do it. Your eyebrows always hide in your hair when you're telling a huge lie."
Rose took offence. "They do not." Scorpius smiled. She realized that she had been taken in by his teasing. Still guillible Rose, she thought to herself. "Besides, being annoyed about you is hardly lying. I'm sure I'll managed be convincing. I've been thinking."
"A rare occasion."
"Shut up. I think that we ought to search Eden Project tonight."
"Can't tonight."
"Why not? We need to move quickly."
"Tonight the cricket teams go to the pub. I cannot miss that." Scorpius saw Rose's frown. "Magnus Fawcett is likely to be there, I need to maintain that relationship."
"Fine, what about tomorrow night?"
"It's a date Ducky."