The Signature of All Things

kitten in the woods, orphaned and tiny. She had brought it home and begged her parents to allow her to keep it. This was back in the halcyon days before Prudence had arrived, back when Alma had been given the run of the whole universe. Henry had been tempted, but Beatrix had put a stop to the plan. Wild creatures belong in wild places. The kit was taken from Alma’s hands, not to be seen again.
    Well, she would not lose this fox. And Beatrix was not here anymore to prevent it.
    “I think it would be a mistake, Father,” Alma said. “It would be a waste of Mr. Pike to send him to Polynesia. Anyone can manage a vanilla plantation. You just heard the man explain it himself. It’s simple. He’s even made the instruction drawings already. Send the sketches to Dick Yancey, and have him enlist someone to implement the pollination program. I think you could find better use for Mr. Pike right here at White Acre.”
    “Doing what, exactly?” Henry asked.
    “You have not yet seen his work, Father. George Hawkes thinks Ambrose Pike to be the best lithographer of our age.”
    “And what need do I have for a lithographer?”
    “Maybe it’s time to publish a book of White Acre’s botanical treasures. You have specimens in these greenhouses that the civilized world has never seen. They should be documented.”
    “Why would I do such an expensive thing, Alma?”
    “Let me tell you something that I’ve heard recently,” Alma said, by means of an answer. “Kew is planning to publish a catalog of fine prints and illustrations of itsmost rare plants. Had you heard that?”
    “For what purpose?” Henry asked.
    “For the purpose of boasting, Father,” Alma said. “I heard it from one of the young lithographers who works for George Hawkes down on Arch Street. The British have offered this boy a small fortune, to lure him over to Kew. He is fairly gifted, though he’s no Ambrose Pike. He is considering to accept the invitation. He says the book is intended to be the most beautiful botanical collection ever printed. Queen Victoria herself is investing in it. Five-color lithographs, and the best watercolorists in Europe to finish them off. It will be a large volume, too. Nearly two feet tall, the boy says, and thick as a Bible. Every botanical collector will want a copy of it. It is meant to announce the renaissance of Kew.”
    “The renaissance of Kew,” Henry scoffed. “Kew will never be what it was, now that Banks is gone.”
    “I hear differently, Father. Since they’ve built the Palm House, everyone claims the place is becoming magnificent again.”
    Was this shameless of her? Even sinful? To stir up Henry’s old rivalry with Kew Gardens? But it was true, what she said. It was all true. So let Henry brew up some antagonism, she decided. It did not feel wrong to evoke this force. Things had become too torpid and slow at White Acre over these last years. A bit of competition would harm no one. She was merelyraising up the blood in Henry Whittaker’s old bones—and in herself, too. Let this family have a pulse again!
    “No one has yet heard of Ambrose Pike, Father,” she pushed on. “But once George Hawkes publishes his orchid collection, everyone will know the name. Once Kew publishes its book, every other prominent botanical garden and greenhouse will want to commission a florilegium, as well—and they’ll all want Mr. Pike to make the prints. Let us not wait, only to lose him to a rival garden. Let us keep him here, and offer him shelter and patronage. Invest in him, Father. You’ve seen how clever he is, how useful. Give him the opportunity. Let us produce a folio of White Acre’s collection that surpasses anything the world of botanical publishing has ever seen.”
    Henry said nothing. Now she could hear his abacus clicking. She waited. It was taking him a long time to think. Too long. Meanwhile, Hanneke was slurping at her coffee with what appeared to be deliberate insouciance. The noise seemed to be distracting Henry. Alma wanted to knock the cup out of the old woman’s hands.
    Raising her voice, Alma made one last effort. “It should not be difficult, Father, to persuade Mr. Pike to stay here. The man is in need of a home, but he lives on precious little, and it would require nearly nothing to support him. His worldly belongings fill a valise that would fit on your lap. As you have witnessed tonight, he is agreeable company. I think you may even enjoy having him about. But whatever you do,