A letter from the Linnean Society awaited her there. She had written to them weeks ago with news of several marvels she had discovered during her travels, each more wondrous and spectacular than the last – far more impressive than anything Sir James Edward Smith could possibly have conceived when he first founded the society. She had also sent a package containing dried specimens and sketches, two envelopes of seeds and an entire Wardian case of live plants as examples.

How excited she had been to show her discoveries to others who shared her interests – botanists, mycologists, ornithologists and lepidopterists. She’d asked permission to present a paper of her findings and also offered to bring back specimens for the society to put on display, alongside her highly detailed botanical illustrations. It had been months since she sent the package, but Beatrice knew the international post was notoriously slow and felt a small glow of excitement now as she tore open the envelope.

It was a flat rejection. Not only that, but it took pains to make clear that Beatrice would never be considered a peer, and that membership was quite out of the question. They would not put her findings on display, they would not allow her to present her paper and, furthermore, she was denied access to the research library and would not even be permitted to attend the presentations of scientific papers given by the society’s learned male members. She was absolutely barred, the door slammed and locked in her face, affixed all over with padlocks and chains. They seemed quite outraged that she had ever sought admittance in the first place.

She put the letter down. The hotel would be serving dinner in the dining room downstairs by now, and Beatrice hadn’t eaten anything except the pineapple since breakfast, but she had no appetite. She could not even bring herself to move from the chair. Suddenly she found herself wondering what on earth all this was for? The scandal, the reprobation, the uprooting of her life, the social disgrace. Perhaps the adventure simply was not worth the candle.

She was no closer to finding the Winter Garden. And no matter how many wondrous discoveries she made, she would not be able to share them with the people back home. She was barred from making any meaningful contribution to her country’s knowledge and learning, as she so earnestly desired to do. How stupid and naïve she must be, to have travelled to the other side of the world when she did not, and could not, have a free hand to work at the things she cared about most. She was suddenly struck with the fear that when she reached the end of her life, she would look back on it all and think only, It was a waste of time. For she had made all the wrong choices and taken all the wrong paths.