Page 25 of Hearts of Briarwall

The girls sobered as Mr. Dupree waved them to four velvet-cushioned chairs gathered around a narrow table set with various bottles and small squares of thick paper. As they each took a seat, he pulled a glass stopper from a bottle and touched the tip of it to a small paper card. Then he waved the card under his nose, inhaling softly.

“White Rose,” he said. “Sparkling carnation and greens, with heart notes of iris, rose, jasmine, and violet.”

Lydia glanced at Violet, who narrowed her gaze menacingly at the piece of paper.

“As you test each fragrance, we suggest closing your eyes and allowing yourself tofeelit,” Mr. Dupree instructed. “Note the emotions and memories it conjures, and how you relate to those sensations.”

He passed the card to Florrie, who closed her eyes, sniffed, and passed it to Ruby.

“Base notes of amber, musk, and powder,” he continued. “A classic scent of the ages, yet light and feminine.”

The card passed from Ruby to Violet and then to Lydia.

Feeling a bit silly but buoyed by her friends’ obedience, she closed her eyes and sniffed. The scent was pleasant and reminded her of Florrie’s mother’s rose garden in late summer. But it was not a deep connection, and she passed the card back to Mr. Dupree, who placed it in front of its corresponding bottle.

He was already describing the next fragrance as one made for Queen Victoria for her wedding day. It included black currant buds, something called bergamot, and peach. As he listed the supporting fragrant notes, Ruby opened her eyes. “Oh,” she exclaimed. She closed her eyes and wafted the card under her nose once more and sighed. “I like this one. I do.”

“Excellent, Miss Burke. Remember ‘Bouquet de la Reine.’The Queen’s Bouquet.”

Ruby looked pleased and passed the card on. Florrie bounced in her chair with glee at Ruby’s choice.

Several more fragrances passed under Lydia’s nose. They were all pretty in their way, but nothing that struck her “emotions and memories” enough to warrant claiming one as her own.

“What was this one called again?” Violet asked next to her, suddenly sitting up straighter.

“Special Number Twenty-Seven, Miss Whittemore. Specially created in 1890 for Russian Prince Orloff. But a popular fragrance for women, as well, with its geranium and orange notes and the subtle sweetness of ylang-ylang.”

Lydia didn’t know what ylang-ylang was, but Violet was nodding vigorously, pushing the card toward Lydia for inspection, and, Lydia suspected, approval.

“No violets,” her friend said pointedly.

Lydia smiled, then closed her eyes and wafted the card beneath her nose. It did smell wonderfully of orange and fresh geraniums, with an underlying musky scent that gave it some depth. She opened her eyes. “I think this would be lovely for you,” she told Violet.

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

Violet beamed. It seemed the others had been won over by this experiment.

“We have several more to try, ladies,” Mr. Dupree said.

Florrie gave Lydia an encouraging nod, as if she were about to meet her handsome prince and need only match the glass slipper with her own.

Lydia shook her head, smiling.

The next card smelled of jasmine and gardenia and made Lydia’s nose tickle until she released a dainty sneeze in her handkerchief. The one after that was Florrie’s Lily of the Valley, which smelled wonderfully and exclusively of her friend. She passed it on.

Florrie reached across and took her hand. “I know there is a match for you,” she whispered.

“I shall survive if there is not.”

“No, you shan’t.”

Mr. Dupree was still speaking, but Violet was already handing her the next fragrance. Her eyes were wide. “Smell this, Lydia. It’s wonderful.”

All silenced, even Mr. Dupree, as Lydia waved the card beneath her nose. She breathed in the scent of spring hyacinth and a bit of orange, but more appealing than those were how they blended with the undeniable fragrance of woods. Of moss and sandalwood. Of walking under laden branches, between rays of sunlight and over spongy paths, catching hints of something deep and sweet and ... alluring.

“What is this called?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

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