There are some who believe that perfume is magic. The fragrance of a thing is its purest essence. And certain scents can awaken phantoms of past love, of sweetest reminiscence."
"Phantoms?" Daisy repeated, intrigued, and the other girl replied impatiently.
"He doesn't mean it literally, dear. Perfume can't summon a ghost. And it's not really magic. It's only a mixture of scent particles that travel to the olfactory receptors in your nose.

I want to hide somewhere. I don't want to bear this. I don't want to be strong."
"You don't have to be," Lillian said quietly.
"Yes I do. Because the only other choice is to let myself break into a million pieces."
"I'll hold you together. Every single piece."
A paper-thin smile touched Daisy's lips as she stared into her sister's concerned face. "Lillian," she whispered. "What would I do without you?"
"You'll never have to find out.

Despite the sisters' pretend rivalry and occasional squabbles, they were each other's staunchest ally and closest friend. Few people in Lillian's life had ever loved her except Daisy, who adored the ugliest stray dogs, the most annoying children, and things that needed to be repaired or thrown out altogether.
And yet for all their closeness, they were quite different. Daisy was an idealist, a dreamer, a mercurial creature who alternated between childlike whimsy and shrewd intelligence. Lillian knew herself to be a sharp-tongued girl with a fortress of defenses between herself and the rest of the world- a girl with well-maintained cynicism and a biting sense of humor.

Smiling wistfully at the thought of her beloved sister, Daisy felt a wave of loneliness sweep over her. She and Lillian had always been together, arguing, laughing, getting each other into scrapes, and rescuing each other whenever possible. Naturally she was happy that Lillian had met her perfect match in the strong-willed Westcliff... but that didn't stop Daisy from missing her terribly. And now that the other wallflowers, including Evie, had found husbands, they were part of the mysterious married world that Daisy was still excluded from. She was going to have to find a husband soon. Some nice, sincere gentleman who would share her love of books. A man who wore spectacles, and liked dogs and children.

I wonder why it is that so many light-haired women smell of amber..."
"You mean amber perfume?" Daisy asked.
"No-their skin itself. Amber, and sometimes honey..."
"What on earth do you mean? the younger girl asked with a bemused laugh. "People don't smell like anything, except when they need to wash."
The pair regarded each other with what appeared to be mutual surprise. "Yes, they do," Lillian said. "Everyone has a smell... don't say you've never noticed? The way some people's skin is like bitter almond, or violet, while others..."
"Others have a scent like plum, or palm sap, or fish hay," Nettle commented.
Lillian glanced at him with a satisfied smile. "Yes, exactly!"
Nettle removed his spectacles and polished them with care, while his mind swarmed with questions. Was it possible that this girl could actually detect a person's intrinsic scent? He himself could- but it was a rare gift, and not one that he had ever known a woman to have.

A pity that she gets so upset about little things, isn't it?"
"Like the time we sneaked the greased piglet into Mrs. Astor's parlor."
Smiling reminiscently, Lillian knelt before the door and worked the pin into the lock. "You know, I've always wondered why Mother didn't appreciate that we did it in her defense. Something had to be done after Mrs. Astor wouldn't invite Mother to her party."
"I think Mother's point was that putting livestock in someone's house does little to recommend us as future party guests."
"Well, I didn't think that was nearly as bad as the time we set off the Roman candle in the store on Fifth Avenue."
"We were obligated to do that, after that salesman had been so rude.