Natalya kisses their foreheads in turn, saying goodnight to each of them, before turning in for the night. As she wraps herself in a blanket before the fading kitchen fire, she fizzes with a mix of fear and excitement about what the morrow will bring. Her cousin Benjamin, the talented young apprentice, the scandalous upstart found in bed with his master’s wife in Kirkwall – Natalya has not seen him for years, wonders if he might even recognise her. ‘Mathematical instrument maker’ the card had said. Compasses, telescopes, navigational devices. He must surely help her to gain a foothold in the city, to start afresh. Her family had disowned him as they had her. If anyone will understand, it must surely be him. It was by chance she had seen his trade card before it was thrown out. Chance that she had tucked it away and kept it safe. It is engraved in her memories, etched in her dreams – 438 The Strand. And tomorrow, she thinks, hugging herself, she will finally be there.

She hopes the letter she sent her cousin some months back, forewarning him of her arrival, reached him safely. Her journey south has been difficult, challenging her far beyond anything she could have imagined. It has been irregular too, full of unexpected stops and starts, weeks shifting to months and passing seasons, impossible for any reply to reach her. Besides, she thinks, with not a little pride, Benjamin must be so busy with his business right in the heart of the capital.

One of the children cries out in their sleep and Natalya feels her heart tug. This could have been her life. Children and bedtimes and stories. Washing and cooking and mending. A young family to feed and love and cherish. This should have been her life. She shakes the thought away.

Tomorrow is a new start.

Tomorrow is a new story.

Elton, Shropshire
7th October 1840

Dear Sir,

My dear Reverend Grant, I am afraid your letter has only this moment reached me. I was out on my observations yesterday and my maid only saw fit to pass me your missive this morning.

Thank you for your considered and most detailed response to my recent finds although, in all honesty, I feel your advice that I should simply draw and paint the plants I note is perhaps a little misplaced. I am, as you know, a tolerable rather than gifted artist. I do, however, believe that my observations as a botanist may be more valuable than my sketches. Henry Underwood certainly agrees and, as I mentioned previously, is incorporating some of my recent discoveries in his countywide study of both Shropshire and Herefordshire.

I am sure you will be most interested to know that I recently sighted Pinguicula vulgaris at the neck of Mary Knoll valley, not far from Ludlow, one of only several recent discoveries I have recorded in the local area. I have taken the liberty of correcting your own list for Shropshire in which, as you will see, I have found a handful of omissions, no doubt the result of an errant printer’s lack of attention.