Long ago, a very naïve, and admittedly very drunk, Thomas Bennet found himself being dragged by a friend through a small, dark entranceway. In his drunken folly, the young Mr. Bennet had been talked into paying a visit to the elderly woman who had recently arrived in town boasting the claim of being able to tell the future. He wandered into the dark room, stumbling only once or twice, and found the room empty, save a small table covered in a dark cloth and a candelabra on either side of the archway.

"Hello?" he asked, his voice, though thick from his drinking, possessed the same firm arrogance that came with youth and intelligence. "Mrs. Grey? Are you open for business?"

"Hello, Master Bennet, how may I be of service to you this evening?" A small woman appeared, as if out of thin air, sitting at the opposite end of the small table. Mrs. Grey was perhaps six and sixty, and had been widowed a few years earlier. Beyond this, very little was known about the mysterious woman who had simply appeared in town one day, greeting everyone who passed her on the street as if she had lived there all her life. Despite her age, she was still a lovely woman in the face, with long, grey hair that she wore in a braid down her back. She smiled at Thomas in a sweet, grandmotherly way that made him comfortable enough to approach the table, yet something gleamed in her eye in a way that made him hesitate to sit down. "Oh, please, sit down. I will do you no harm."

"I do not fear you, madam." Thomas replied, and he sat down immediately as him to prove it to her. "Simply intrigued by the stories of your… unique… talents," Mrs. Grey smiled at her the young man in front of her knowingly.

"Surely, an intelligent young man such as yourself does not believe every story he hears on the streets,"

"Certainly not, madam. I have come here…"

"To collect evidence, of course," she interrupted him. "Let me display my gift for you and allow you to form your own opinion, sir." She closed her eyes as if falling asleep and slowing began to foretell…

"You will marry a woman whose beauty is her most defining characteristic. Together, you will create a garden of five unique flowers. One whose kind heart will be challenged only by her beauty, another whose wit and dark beauty will melt even the hardest heart, a third whose unselfish act will make her the greatest of heroes, the next whose smile and charm with attract the bravest men, and the final whose beauty will rival even your wife's, but whose innocence and eagerness may lead to the demise of the entire family. Surrounded by these traits you will live your life, but you them you must cling. One decision control your greatest fate, either your eyes will only witness as far as the first Christmas your youngest shares with her husband or you will see more years than your father or grandfather before you. The key can be found only in the deepest love."

Years later, Thomas Bennet will have all but forgotten his encounter with the mystical Mrs. Grey. The night Lydia was born, Fanny Bennet kissed her beautiful infant's head before she turned to her husband and apologized for, once again, failing to provide him with the male heir they needed. Thomas bent to kiss his wife's beautiful cheek and reassured her that he adored each of his five flowers. Later that night, as he held the sleeping infant to his chest, he thought back over his words from earlier that day and remembered the warning of the elderly fortune teller. He pulled his youngest daughter close to his cheek as softly whispered in her ear.

"Do not grow up too fast, my flower. Your Papa is not ready to say good bye,"