It was almost midnight by the time Rose completed arranging a batch of new trays in the greenhouse. She began to wander the aisles of plants. It was as if the seasons had tangled. Some things were in full bloom and would be moved into the conservatory when they were reaching their peak. There would be peace and prayer lilies for the Christmas season and tumbling cascades of creeping wintergreen, then surprise clematis, which normally only bloomed in summer. But as her gran would say, Why restrict these starry blossoms to just July? July has fireworks, January has nothing.

And now she found herself in front of the damask rose, a rose for December, and yet, she thought, it was only October. She looked at the tight buds of the rose and touched her locket. She crouched down to observe it more closely. Was there a tiny seam of red, bloodred? She heard the soft meow of a cat. The rose seemed to unfurl as she felt a brush of fur against her calf. “But it’s not December yet,” she whispered to the cat. What was happening?

Chapter 10

“She Stole It!”

Suddenly she could feel the cold stone under her feet. And Rose knew she was back. She had been told to always remove her shoes when stealing into the princess’s chambers to open the curtains in the morning. Mrs. Dobkins had trained her well. “Gently, gently. You must wake up Her Royal Highness quietly. You slip into her chambers like a ghost. Tiptoes and stocking feet.”

Maybe I really am a ghost, Rose thought, reversing her earlier idea that they were the ghosts and she the real living person. For she had a sense that not only had she been here before in Princess Elizabeth’s chambers, but she felt as if she had done this before as well. There was nothing unfamiliar about it. She knew the routine but wasn’t sure how she knew it. Perhaps she had dreamed it while asleep in her own bed in her own century. But it was not unknown to her. She had lived it in some way.

She heard the princess yawn, then sit up in bed under the brocade canopy fringed with gold tassels. Elizabeth tipped her head to one side and felt a place on her chin. She groaned. “Oh no!”

“What is it, milady?”

“A spot!” She brushed her fingers across her chin. “I can feel them coming before they get here. Rose, when you put the lavender in the face-washing bowl this morning, put a half cup more in. I think I might vanquish the spot before it arrives.”

Vanquish a zit? She makes it sound like a military operation! Rose mused. “Certainly, milady.” She slid her eyes toward the princess. When she had last been here, first been here, actually, the princess was just about eleven years old. But she was clearly a bit older now, and unfortunately entering the acne zone.