April 8th, 1894 - Wildflowers

Twenty-four hours. She had been home for twenty-four hours and this is what she came back to! The shop had been in her mother's very capable hands while she was away and so it was in pristine condition, which Daff expected no less, but to read this garbage less than halfway through her first day back as beyond infuriating. It was not often, rare even, for her to get this riled up about something but for Witch Weekly to continue to drag her poor sister and the Greengrasses through the mud was something Daff had never thought she would read! The rumor mill was bad enough, but for it to be put into print! If she had a subscription, she would have cancelled it immediately, no matter how flattering a portrait they painted of her.

And so Daffodil stalked back to the greenhouse, wand out and whipping around, summoning her revenge fodder with ease while she muttered under her breath about people needing to mind their own business. She was not naturally good at these things, but she was Laurel Potts' daughter and she knew very well how to say fuck you in flowers.

Yellow, lots of yellow. One of her favorite colors and therefore a delightful detail in her desire to give them a piece of her mind without expressly doing and putting it to words. Daff started with a base of yellow carnations, another lovely perk; her favorite flowers could so very well say what she wanted to start with; disdain and disappointment. She then pulled a few stalks of lavender (sorrow) from their bucket, and despite inhaling the normally calming scent, she was too angry to let it work its magic. She stuck them in, taller than the carnations and therefore adding some more character to the bouquet. It would say what she wanted it to, but it would still be lovely; because Daff could be both petty and pretty. The dichotomy of the purple and yellow was very springy and typically not a color combination she got to do too often. Purple hyacinths came next, distrust clear in their proud placements.

The tansy was the most straightforward of the bunch, dotted in around the edges; there was no alternative meaning, no misreading the declaration of war on the gossip rag. For good measure she added some borage, careful to use her wand and not her ungloved hands lest she get jabbed with the prickly hairs and earn herself a nasty rash in the process.

She was huffing and puffing, mostly from being fired up and less from he exertion of making the bouquet. Daff stepped back to admire her work and a spark of inspiration struck her. She plucked a lone daffodil from a nearby bucket, enlarged it and stuck it right in the center. There would be no doubt about where it came from. "Take that." She said triumphantly to herself, brushing her hair from her face, without realizing there was someone standing in the doorway of the greenhouse from the shop surveying her madness.

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The following 3 users Like Daffodil Grimstone's post:3 users Like Daffodil Grimstone's post
   Elias Grimstone, Gus Lissington, Noble Greengrass

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It had been nearly two weeks since Ford had determined he ought to buy his wife flowers for her bedroom and he was only now getting to the flower shop... but in his defense he had never been married before, and it turned out the day-to-day attentions, balanced against everything else he had to consider day to day, weren't something that came easily to him. Perhaps if he had been properly in love with her it might have been different — but he had never lived with a lover before, so maybe not. Even in the weeks leading up to his wedding day, where he'd been trying to see Tycho as often as possible, Ford had find himself surprised more than once when Tycho engaged in some romantic gesture and Ford had nothing to reciprocate with. Maybe he just wasn't a very thoughtful person, when it came down to it — or maybe being thoughtful was a skill that needed to be learned and practiced, rather than a character trait one either had or didn't.

Well, better late than never he'd determined, and headed to Wildflowers... where he seemed to have surprised Miss Potts (or Mrs. Grimstone, he internally corrected himself) in the midst of another project. One she seemed quite worked up about— he had the distinct feeling that he was intruding, even though it was only a bouquet and she had no reasonable expectation of privacy in a shop during its open business hours.

"Ah... custom order?" he asked, nodding towards the yellow and purple flowers.

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Set by Lady!

The voice at the door startled her and Daff visibly jumped. She must have forgotten to close the curtain next to the till that led to the greenhouse. Typically customers didn't come back here without supervision, but as she was here and it was just Fortitude, Daff supposed it wasn't a big deal. She hadn't seen anyone in the Greengrass family since their wedding, except for the seamstress cousin to had cleaned up and changed her wedding gown color, so this was a bit of a surprise. Of course Fortitude didn't know her own wedding had closed and locked a door between them in every respect.

Passing him a wry smile, she chuckled. "Ah, of sorts." Daff brushed her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She wasn't sure she should tell him what it was for, considering she had put it together partly on his behalf? It all seemed a little too personal to share, given that Fortitude also didn't know they were more connected than he could imagine. "Was there something I could do for you?" Daff briefly worried that he might be here about their wedding flowers, but she and Noble had settled that easily enough.

"How is Mrs. Greengrass?" The concept of that title felt foreign on her tongue; had always thought that would be her future, and while she did sport the Mrs. part now, it most certainly wasn't followed by Greengrass. It was odd to her, when these sorts of thoughts struck her, that it wasn't nearly as painful as it used to be. It just came in a short wave of nostalgia, before she was able to refocus. Idly she toyed with her wedding band, spinning the ring as a comfort mechanism, thinking about how she as going to tell Elias all about this bouquet later tonight over dinner.

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Ford felt there was a good deal she wasn't saying about the innocuous-looking bouquet on the table, but if she didn't want to share that was her business. They'd always gotten along well enough when they'd interacted at parties, but they were hardly what one could consider familiar; he didn't have any particular rights to know what had her agitated if she didn't want to share.

"She's well," Ford answered, not because he thought it was true but because this was the stock answer that he gave to everyone who asked the question. Lots of people did ask — some out of genuine interest, some because it was marginally more interesting than remarking on the weather. The ones in the latter half didn't require a more in-depth answer, because they didn't really care. Most of the ones who were interested were probably only interested because they'd heard some bit of gossip, or wanted their own gossip to report later — for them he didn't dare reveal anything that might be used against them. He didn't think Mrs. Grimstone fell into either category, so he briefly considered whether he ought to say something else about it — but he didn't know what to say, and didn't want to presume Jemima would feel comfortable with him sharing anything about her life with Mrs. Grimstone only because Ford had always liked her. He didn't know Jemima well enough yet to trust her judgement in character; why should the opposite be true?

After a slight hesitation, he decided to press on, tone now slightly sheepish. "She said her bedroom would be better with flowers." He had never actually courted anyone before, but even when he'd been faking attachment for Miss Chang buying flowers for women had always left him slightly shy; he always suspected he was doing it wrong.

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Set by Lady!

Daff waited him out for a moment after the short reply, but when nothing else came, she simply smiled and said, "I'm glad to hear it; I feel like it is going to be more of a change than I anticipated." Not in a bad way, but Daff had never truly lived with anyone other than family. Even having Delly for a roommate felt wildly different than the prospect of sharing a home and a bedroom and everything with Elias. Only time would tell, she supposed. They had only come home yesterday and most of her things were still in boxes and she'd hardly had time to even unpack her suitcase before real life had settled over them once again. Getting up to come to work this morning had been a different experience after having all the time in the world to lounge in bed while away on honeymoon.

"Every room is better with flowers," Daff agreed with a chuckle. At least in her opinion, but her house growing up had always had fresh flowers in nearly every room and she suspected that would be a tradition she would continue in her own home now. Once she got her hands on that back garden, it would certainly be over. "Was there something specific I could put together for you? Her favorites? A preferred color?" Daff wiped her hands on her apron and gave her revenge bouquet a narrowed glance before stepping farther away from it. As cathartic as it had been to make it, she was still debating on sending it. Perhaps with a little distraction she would be able to make the decision with a clearer head.

"I've got some lovely tulips and lilies that have just bloomed." Tulips were one of her favorites, like daffodils, that popped up each spring with renewed vigor and color. Plus they smelled heavenly.

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Ford hesitated when asked for Jemima's favorite flowers, or favorite color. He really ought to know at least one of those two things, he thought, if he was trying to keep up the illusion that he had liked her before marrying her. Men could generally be forgiven for knowing nothing about flowers, but a suitor ought to at least have a sense of someone's favorite colors, probably. What colors did she wear most often? He wasn't even sure he knew that — when he pictured her, her dress was one of those pale non-colors that debutantes wore when they didn't want to wear white. Ivory, beige, something — but was he actually thinking of any dresses she owned in particular or just filling in blank spaces with a generic gown he'd seen at dozens of season parties?

Fortunately Mrs. Grimstone saved him by making a suggestion. "Tulips sound lovely," he agreed. The lilies probably were, too, but he always thought of lilies as funereal — he thought he remembered there being lilies at the funeral they'd had for Papa, though he didn't remember ordering them. Everything following Papa's death was a vague blur at this point, though. "Something bright, maybe? A happy color."

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Set by Lady!

"Tulips it is." Daff clapped her hands together, glad for the distraction. It was a little weird to head right back to work, she probably would have happily stayed on her honeymoon for months on end, but real life could only wait for so long. They each had a business that couldn't be neglected and responsibilities to tend to. At least real life looked much more agreeable these days.

Bright colors she could do and so she pulled her wand out of her apron and summoned a piece of brown paper, laying it on her workbench. She tended not the move flowers around magically, they were too delicate, but she could get all of her supplies ready. Then she tucked her hair behind her ears again and moved over to her buckets of cut flowers, pulling a dozen of the brightest tulips. It was hard to resist giving inhaling the sweet scent, so Daff did so as she bundled those up into one arm before moving onto the next bucket. A couple of ranunculus in equally bright hues would go, so she plucked some and added them to her arms. It would be a nice springy bouquet— and if Mrs. Greengrass was familiar with the language of flowers, would send a nice message.

Daff didn't think it needed to be outrageous, so she took the dozen and a half flowers back to the bench so she could add some accoutrements and arrange it all neatly. She hummed quietly to herself as she settled it all down to get to work. "How's it going, married life?" It might be a tad forward of a question, but she was a little more attached to the situation that Fortitude knew of, so she couldn't help herself. "I enjoyed doing the arrangements for your wedding." She added, looking over at him, giving the option for that route of conversation if he preferred.

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"Mmm. The flowers were lovely," Ford replied. He was more comfortable talking about the flowers than answering the question about his marriage, but unfortunately he didn't know if he had much to say about flowers when it came down to it. He remembered what the flowers at the wedding looked like, but he didn't know that he could conjure up the names. He'd left the actual selection to someone else — maybe just to Mrs. Grimstone herself, for all he knew.

And it wasn't as though married life was actually going that poorly, to be honest. His life generally was an absolute disaster, but it had been before Jemima had entered it, and it had not become much worse because of her. If anything she was often a welcome breath of fresh air, when he took time out of his day to go and visit with her — and it was not her fault he was spending so much time missing Tycho, after all. But Ford didn't know how to talk about his marriage and convey it's not so bad as I expected without giving the context that he had expected it to be very bad indeed.

"It's a big adjustment, for both of us," he said diplomatically. "And the circumstances could have been better. But —" he hesitated, wondering if this was too earnest for casual conversation... but it was true, and he'd been thinking it often in the weeks since his wedding day. "— I wouldn't want to do it with anyone else."

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Set by Lady!

Daff smiled, at least a little amused by his comment about the wedding flowers. She hadn't gotten a ton of input, but poor Mrs. Greengrass had seemed a little overwhelmed, so Daff had taken the reins with the best vision she had gleaned from the conversation, simple and understated, but still elegant. Or at least that's what she'd hope for. It was more than they could have afforded, but since she and Noble had made different arrangements, price hadn't been a concern.

His answer to her first question had her turning to look at him again, leaning a hip on her workbench, pausing her work on the bouquet. "I'm glad to hear that." Her smile was genuine as she looked over at him. Something about the way he said it told her that he meant it. Of course Fortitude didn't know that she knew more about the whole situation than he likely wanted her to, but it seemed they were making the best of a sticky situation. She would never be able to get the look of sheer panic on Noble's face out of her memory, but she hoped that now, after the fact, things might settle down some. "It is a big adjustment, but time will smooth out the rough edges." Even being grossly in love with her own husband didn't change the fact that she had moved into his house; had no idea where to put her things; sharing a space full-time with someone you only got to see for a few hours at a time previously was a wildly different sort of adjustment.

She loved it, loved Elias, but it was a lot, even if she wasn't letting on.

Daff turned back to finishing up the bouquet, cutting the stems a little shorter, adding in a little texture, and a bow in the same ribbon she had use for Mrs. Greengrass' wedding bouquet. "Would you like to set up a regular delivery for Mrs. Greengrass? I can have them sent however often you like." It was a small, simple touch some people appreciated. Daff was still of the mind that those Just Because Bouquets were the best, but she did a lot of business this way.

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"Mm," Ford murmured, chewing over her comment about time smoothing over the rough edges. "I hope so." The rough edges in his marriage probably weren't like the ones in any other relationship, but maybe her comment still had merit. It seemed like a more plausible future than hoping they would someday fall in love with each other — but of course most people expected that they were already in love with each other. Or at least, that was the story... Ford suspected most people probably thought they were a pair of stupid, lustful young adults who had gotten carried away and gotten caught and were now paying the price for it, not that they had some sort of secret romance for the ages. Clementine had essentially accused him of as much, while they were engaged; Verity knew that in the immediate aftermath of the event he'd been planning not to do the honorable thing and marry her, until her father had hunted him down and convinced him otherwise. Grace was maybe the only person in the world who might believe they were actually in love, and that had more to do with her blind faith in the goodness of the world and the power of true love than it did with any of the facts of the situation.

He looked surprised at her question; it had never occurred to him that this was a thing people did. It sounded nice, and he was sure Jemima would appreciate the gesture — but, as with all things, he considered the cost. "Oh, that's — what's the, uh, rate for something like that?"

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Set by Lady!

Daff finished up the bouquet and wrapped it in some brown paper for the trip back to Hogsmeade. Daff liked to believe the best in people and so she hoped she was right. Knowing what she did, it was harder than it had to be, but maybe things would work out in the long run. It was going to be bumpy for a little while at any rate, but she suspected the situation would be alright.

"Oh," Daff tried to play nonchalant about the cost question. She probably shouldn't have offered and put him in that position. He didn't know the Greengrass family had never once paid for flowers from her business and that wasn't about to change. Of course this was the arrangement she had with Noble, not Fortitude, so now she had to work her way around it. That last thing she wanted to do was embarrass him, or let him know that she knew about their financial situation. "They're charmed to last a while, once a month would probably suffice." It wasn't the answer to his question, but now she didn't know how best to skirt around the issue.

"It would depend on what the arrangements include, why don't you see how she likes these and we can go from there?" Daff held out the completed bouquet to him and smiled. "I'll have a better idea of what to make and how much it would cost." Dealings by owl were far easier to finagle, invoices "got lost" either in the shop or on their way back and forth.

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