Summerset Abbey by T. J. Brown

studying plants, growing them, and cataloging them. Watching seeds burst into a plant that would flower and reseed was to watch a never-ending cycle that both reassured and delighted her. She wondered whether there were any woman botanists. She should have asked her father.
    Her dream seemed very far away today.
    She found a large moss-covered rock near a small creek and sat, wishing Prudence were with her. Prudence’s comforting presence always made her feel better, more so than having Rowena by her side, especially now. Since they’d arrived at Summerset, her sister had barely spoken to her. She just looked at her, sadness buried in the depth of her great green eyes. Why wasn’t she fighting for Prudence? The whole situation was appalling.
    She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she hadthought to wear more than a tweed jacket. Suddenly, she heard a crackle of movement to her left. Her head jerked around and she stared into the dim forest, looking for an animal. Nothing. The sound came again and she thought she saw movement behind an old elm tree. “Who’s there?” she called, wishing she didn’t sound so young and unsure.
    An old woman stepped around the side of the tree. She wore a long, old-fashioned black dress and had a shawl wrapped around her head and shoulders. Her face was wrinkled like a crone’s, straight from fairy tales.
    “Are you a witch?” Victoria asked. “Because I warn you, I don’t think I would taste very good.”
    The woman laughed. “I’ve been called a witch and worse by my young charges, but I have yet to eat any of them.”
    Her voice was strangely girlish for one so old, which didn’t comfort Victoria at all.
    “Then who are you?”
    “Who are you?”
    “Do you always answer a question with a question?”
    The woman smiled, her face breaking into wrinkles. “Do you always avoid telling people who you are?”
    Victoria laughed at that and settled herself more comfortably on the rock. “I could have you charged with trespassing, you know. This is my uncle’s land.”
    “You don’t say? Then you must be one of Philip’s girls. I’m so sorry for your loss, child.”
    Victoria nodded, unable to speak for the lump that had suddenly risen in her throat.
    The woman stepped closer and held out a burlap bag. “I’m gathering some mallow. My niece has a bit of a cough and I’m making her some tea.”
    “So you are a witch, but a nice one.” Victoria scooted off the rock. “ Althaea officinalis from the Malvaceae family. I saw some on my way here. Come, I’ll show you.”
    “Oh, you are your father’s daughter,” chortled the old woman.
    They walked back the way Victoria had come. “How do you know my father?”
    “I changed his nappy, paddled his bottom, and taught him his letters.”
    Victoria stopped. “You’re Nanny Iris!”
    The old woman nodded solemnly. “I am.”
    “But you can’t be Nanny Iris! Nanny Iris was beaut—” She clapped her hand over her mouth, but the woman just laughed.
    “Beautiful? Your dad always did have a silver tongue. But believe it or not, I was quite lovely in my day.”
    They continued walking while Victoria’s mind whirled. “But what are you doing here? Father said you disappeared after his parents hired their tutor.”
    “I hardly disappeared. I took my pension and traveled. I’d always wanted to see the pyramids and the Greek islands and so for twenty years I lived the life of a nomad. I married a number of times and had a great many adventures.”
    “That must have been some pension.”
    Nanny Iris snorted. “I was frugal and when the money ran low I taught English to all who could pay. Whenever I felt the urge, I moved on.”
    It was a most fascinating tale. “So how did you end up back here?”
    “I decided I needed to finish out my years in a place where loved ones could take care of me.”
    Victoria looked ahead and pointed. “I give you Althaea officinalis .”
    “Perfect. Could you gather the seed pods so I