She had never come across these scents before, had never even dreamt such incredible combinations could exist.  A hand tucked in the crook of Patrick's arm, Violet turned her head to encounter yet another fascinating scent and new with sudden clarity that this was the most wonderful day of her life.

After waking to Patrick's love making, she had assumed he would leave her and go about his business. Instead, her thoughtful Lord had brought her here; the Botanical Gardens. Never had it occurred to her to come to this place, she had not even known it existed, and now amongst hundreds of foreign flowers and trees, she was in heaven.

"How come there is no one else here?" She thought to ask as they walked passed what Patrick told her was a palm tree.

"The gardens are closed to the public today, but the director is a good friend."

"Oh?" Violet smiled, wondering if there was anyone Patrick didn't know.

"Rather, I used to be close to his father, Joseph Hooker. A brilliant man, Joseph lectured at Glasgow University for many years. I met him at a lunch with Darwin one afternoon... well, some people make an impression."

Violet could feel him shrug and nodded. Some people did make an impression, though not always good ones.

"Tell me." Patrick stopped suddenly and took her hands.

When he did not continue, Violet was confused, "Tell you what?"

"What you were frowning about just then." Patrick repeated seriously. "Tell me."

"I..." Violet tried to think what to say and found she wanted to be honest. No harm would come of it and the memories were so distant now. "I was thinking that you are right, some people do make an impression, but it's not always good one."

"I hope you are not thinking of me," he said with such a dry tone that Violet laughed.

Pulling her hands from his, she continued walking on the path, taking in the soothing scent of some roses close by. She had never spoken of the tavern, it was a nightmarish part of her life that was short lived. Violet thought of it now, only as a transition between the house she was born in and the gypsy camp.

"After my parents died, I was put to work in a tavern," Violet began. Patrick did not need to know how she had gotten there. He did not need to know that she was half starved when the tavern owner found her in the woods or that her mother, who wanted her dead, was actually still very much alive. "I was too young to do much and I couldn't see, so the owner, a gruff woman, would sit me in the corner of the kitchen to peal potatoes. 'You can't use your eyes, so use your hands to work' - she said that often.

Patrick walked beside her silently. If he had made a comment, maybe she would have stopped talking, but he didn't so she continued.

"At first I cut my fingers a lot which didn't please the owner. She got angry at me for bloodying her potatoes and needing too much care. On those days I would go hungry, so I peeled slowly. The punishment for being slow was a beating, but that was better than starving."  

Fingers wrapped around her hand and Patrick stopped her, pulling her down to what felt like an  wooden bench. He tucked a stray hair behind her ear, eliciting a shaky breath, then waited for her to go on.  

"One evening as I was peeling potatoes a man who smelled like cheap whisky came to stand beside me. He didn't say much, just stood around, but I knew he was....evil... if there is such a thing."

She remembered his hands, how she had woken up to them tugging on her ankles.

"I realised quickly that he liked little girls more than women," a shudder ran through her. Human beings were a violent race; she had learned that a long time ago. She knew also that if someone thought you were weak, it emboldened them.

That was why she never let anyone believe she was weak. 

Violet forced a smile to her lips.

"I got away from him, so none of it really matters. But I do know what you mean when you say some people leave an impression."

Violet remembered how scared she had felt, running from the drunkard in the middle of the night, into the dark woods where she had gotten lost. If the gypsies hadn't turned up when they did she didn't know what would have happened. But, they did turn up, she reminded herself. The Seer had saved her.

"You are so beautiful." Patrick's hand rubbed her cheek and she turned into his palm. She loved having him touch her, she realised. 

"And so strong." His fingers tipped her chin up and he kissed her. His lips took away the bad memories, leaving her feeling uncharacteristically shy.  Why did this man make her feel so warm, so comfortable? The realisation that she was getting too close to him, too caught up in his embrace had her pulling back.

"We haven't seen the orchids you promised to show me."

Patrick laughed, "But of course, how remiss of me. Let us see the orchids."