Rose Gardner's Florist

by Dee, Bonnie

  And now there was Will to further illuminate this truth. Yesterday, she had felt a stirring of feelings she could not deny for a man whom she had once deemed awkward or snobbish. How wrong she had been. He contained so many facets—intellect, shyness, caring, trustworthiness, and gentle sweetness—that made him a diamond. He had always sparkled but she had been too blind to see it. Could she allow her heart to tumble willy-nilly into such powerful emotions?

  She would only be hurt when reality put an end to the fairytale. The prince did not marry the pauper in real life.

  When work was finished, Rose went to telephone Will as promised. Heart beating far too fast, she requested the exchange and the operator connected her. Reardon the butler answered, his stiff greeting making her even more nervous.

  By the time Will came on the line, Rose felt like glass ready to shatter. Images and feelings from yesterday robbed her of reason, as she responded to his warm, “Hello! So good to hear from you!”

  “Yes. Good hearing. To hear from you is good also,” Rose mumbled. “I—wanted to ask… That is, I, um—” What had she wanted to ask him? She couldn’t recall. Her heart pounded so hard she felt faint.

  “How may I help you?” His resonate bass instantly prompted the recollection of him reading aloud to her. She wanted more of that sweetness, and the pulsing arousal his deep tone inspired.

  She forced herself to breathe normally. “Do you recall I mentioned a friend in need of a solicitor? Her situation is quite grim.”

  “Oh.” He paused. “Of course. I shall arrange a meeting with Jennings right away.”

  “That would be of great help to her. Thank you.” She lowered her voice confidentially as if that would deter any person sharing the line from overhearing. “I also wanted to say how much I enjoyed our time together yesterday. It was rather wonderful, don’t you think?”

  “Yes! Very wonderful,” he replied enthusiastically. “I had hoped I might see you again soon. Perhaps this evening I could take you to dinner.”

  “I would like nothing better, but my sister is coming to see me. She is to be wed soon and I’ve bought a gown for her.”

  “Congratulations to the bride. I pray she will find happiness in her marriage.”

  “As do I. She is very young and her husband decades older. They scarcely know each other,” Rose confided. “He is stationed in India and will soon take her there with him. I fear I will not see her again in this lifetime.”

  The tears which made her throat ache every time she considered that, now rolled down her cheeks. The chasm between herself and Arietta would now be one of miles as well as opposing personalities.

  “That is difficult. I am sorry,” Will said softly. “But perhaps this man truly loves her despite the difference in age. Maybe he will cherish her.”

  His kind tone prompted more tears before Rose regained composure with a sniffle. “I apologize for weeping at you over the telephone.”

  “Please don’t. I am happy you feel comfortable entrusting me with your feelings. If there is anything I may do to help, you must let me know.”

  “For now, I ask only that you arrange an appointment with your solicitor.”

  “Perhaps she might feel more comfortable talking with him at your place than at his office,” Will suggested. “I will arrange something for tomorrow after the shop is closed.”

  “That would be perfect. Good night, Mr. … Good night, Will.”

  After ending the call, Rose hugged herself and twirled amidst the ferns and flowers. She had a beau! Not the sort she had ever expected, but a kind and chivalrous gentleman. She wanted to sing out her news to the world, but must be content to hold the happiness bubbling inside her.

  She went upstairs to inform Candace about the upcoming meeting to find the flat already filled with delicious cooking odors. Candace seemed determined to earn her keep by cleaning and cooking before Rose got to either task. The meals she made from simple ingredients were delicious.

  But best of all were the sinfully delightful desserts concocted from chocolate so dark it was like black velvet on the tongue.

  They had but a moment to discuss the solicitor before Arietta arrived direct from work in a patched dress with a few chicken feathers adorning the shoulders.

  Rose introduced Candace as Violet, not knowing what her sister might do if there was a reward involved for news of the missing Sweet girl. Arietta managed the greeting politely enough before announcing, “I’m starved. Are we havin’ supper?”

  Candace assured them she had already eaten, then excused herself and went downstairs, allowing them time alone.

  “How are you feeling?” Rose enquired. “Not queasy I hope.”

  Arietta patted the slight bulge of new life visible when her dress pressed against it. “Naw. Fit as a fiddle and ‘ungry as ‘ell. Mum says that’s a sure sign of a boy.”

  “Sit then, and I’ll—”

  Before Rose could make the offer, Arietta already occupied a chair and had begun serving herself a bowl of stew.

  Rose sat and watched her sister dig in, her own appetite subsiding. “Is your intended happy he might have a son?”

  “Gus says this’ll likely be our only kid as he’s gettin’ on in years. He don’t mind that it’s another chap’s or that I ain’t a virgin, which is ’ow I know he loves me,” Arietta said. “What luck, eh?”

  This was perhaps the most pitiful part of Arietta’s thinking, the manner in which she assessed Gus as a worthy partner for her entire life. Rose wanted to enquire about the boy who had gotten her pregnant, but it seemed there was no point in it now. Instead, she asked, “How do you feel about Gus? Do you love him?”

  “I like ’im well enough, an’ that’s better. We’ll get on like people do, and I’ll be livin’ in comfort so…”

  Arietta’s pragmatism sounded exactly like Mum’s, and Mum had made the mistake of marrying Raymond Gardener and falling in love with gin.

  “You done right well for yourself, ain’t ya?” Arietta took a look around the flat, Rose having already shown her the shop after letting her in. “Good for you, Rosie. Don’t let Mum and Dad bleed you dry. You know they will if you let ‘em. Already tried to get Gus to loan ‘em money, the greedy blighters. And they won’t pay a lick for my weddin’. Gus ‘ad to cover that.”

  “Speaking of the wedding. Are you ready to try on the gown? I chose one with tucks at the waist to hide your condition.”

  Rose brought the dress out from her bedroom. Arietta gasped at the sight of the shiny pink satin dress, gaudier than Rose would have chosen, but she knew her sister’s taste.

  “Cor, I’ll look like a bleedin’ princess in that! And I can wear it at any parties the officers throw in Inja.”

  Did Arietta understand a sergeant was not on a par with commissioned officers? There would be no ballrooms in her future. Rose held her tongue.

  As Arietta tried on the gown and Rose showed her how she might arrange her hair, it felt as if they were sisters in the truest sense of the word. The bickering and fisticuffs of their childhood belonged to Spitalfields. For the moment they might behave as friends without the pressure of living together in tight quarters.

  After Arietta removed the dress and Rose placed it in a tissue-lined box, her sister asked, “What about you, Rosie? Do you never feature yourself wed to some chap? ’Ave you been romanced by many?”

  Rose thought of William, but replied, “A few, but there’s never been a lad I care about enough to marry.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of bein’ a spinster? You’re already so old!”

  “I’m only just twenty-two, hardly a crone.” She refrained from pointing out that Arietta was too young to be wed, then found herself admitting, “Recently I’ve begun seeing a man who is…” How to describe Will in terms Arietta would understand. His intellect would not impress her. His money would. “He is kind, generous, and soft-spoken—all the things Dad and the boys are not. He would never yell or lift a hand in anger.”

  Arietta c
licked her tongue dismissively. “What sort of man don’t show some temper? Sounds like a limp-wristed dishrag.”

  Once again, Rose recalled why she and her sister had nothing in common. “He is not weak, and he treats me with the respect I deserve.”

  “Does ‘e own a shop too? Can ‘e set you up so you don’t ‘ave to work no more?”

  “I like to work. I love managing my store. If you don’t understand that, then you don’t know me at all,” Rose said crisply, then drew a breath. “I expect you had better get home now. I’ll see you on your wedding day.”

  “Awright. Ta, then.” Arietta held the dress box under one arm as Rose saw her to the door. Her sister left without a “thank you” for the gown.

  Rose was not surprised.

  Candace had been removing dead leaves and flower heads and now joined Rose. “Your sister seems nice. I always wished I had a sibling.”

  “You’re welcome to mine.” After only a few days, Rose already felt closer to Candace than to her actual sister. “I shouldn’t complain. Soon enough she’ll be gone, and I suppose I might miss her then.”

  “It is still early,” Rose continued. “Would you care to meet my friend Hattie? We might walk over and see if she is at home. I promise you may trust her with your true identity, and she can be a great comfort.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Why didn’t you talk to me sooner? I’ll get Rumsfield on the case and he’ll find some solution.” Guy paced Hattie’s sitting room with his usual boundless energy, making it feel as if he were already getting things accomplished. “This fellow sounds like the very devil, so there’s bound to be something to uncover about him.”

  “Detective Rumsfield is quite remarkable.” Hattie offered a plate of biscuits to her guests and explained to Candace, “On our behalf, he learned the whereabouts of a missing young woman earlier this summer.”

  Candace regarded Guy Hardy nervously, clearly uncomfortable at meeting not only Harriet Glover but her fiancé as well. Guy had wheedled her story from her, and now was on a tear to resolve the situation.

  “Rumsfield can dig up dirt on most anyone. You might be able to use what he finds in a court case.” Guy barely paused in his pacing to snatch up a biscuit.

  “Court case?” Candace repeated faintly. “I do not desire that sort of publicity. I simply wish to quietly earn my independence.”

  “Sometimes these things get messy. You may be in for a fight, so you should have all the facts.” Guy spoke through a mouthful of biscuit, gestured emphatically, and scattered crumbs.

  “Darling, you are not setting Miss Sweet at ease,” Hattie pointed out gently. “This is her life. You’ve presented an option, now allow her the courtesy of considering it and making her own decision.”

  Guy swallowed, choked and seized a cup of tea. “You’re right, of course. Pardon my overbearing nature, Miss Sweet. I often become too enthusiastic.”

  “Which is not always a bad thing,” Hattie murmured.

  Rose snorted with laughter, while Candace seemed oblivious of the double meaning.

  “Well, you’ve got Will’s solicitor anyway,” Guy continued. “Perhaps you won’t require more aid than that. I can’t imagine why you did not call me right away. I have a solicitor too, you know,” he scolded Rose.

  “I didn’t think of it. Mr. Carmody was uppermost in my mind.” She hastily amended, “Because we have been working together in his conservatory.”

  “How is that project going, by the way?” Hattie’s eyes asked a different question over the rim of her teacup.

  “Quite well. We are nearly ready to begin bedding,” Rose replied. “The plants! Bedding the plants.”

  Hattie pressed her lips tight to suppress a grin. “I’m certain you will both be happy with what you create together.”

  Rose glared at her while Candace and Guy weren’t looking.

  But Hattie seemed to be in an irrepressible mood tonight. “Mr. Carmody is a dear soul. If anyone may be counted on for support and faithfulness, it is he. I believe he has great depths one must deeply plunge into in order to fully know him.”

  Guy paused in his pacing to stare at his beloved. “What on earth are you talking about? We are discussing solicitors, not Carmody.”

  “Yes, darling. Of course.” Hattie changed the subject. “Miss Sweet, do you have everything you require since you left home with nothing but the clothes on your back? I sympathize with your situation, my dear, as I long ago left my aunt and uncle with very little but my pride. Would you care to view my wardrobe and see if there are any gowns you might use?”

  “I fear nothing of yours would fit me.” Candace regarded Hattie’s thin form. “But I thank you deeply for the offer and admire your courage in changing your life. If it were not for Miss Gardener’s friendship, I would not have been brave enough to flee.”

  Hattie touched Candace’s hand. “Perhaps another day we might speak at length. I know it is difficult to discuss such personal matters with others present.” She nodded toward Guy.

  His eyes widened. “Oh! I am interrupting lady time. I am sorry. Shall I go home and leave you to it?”

  “It is rather late now and I have much to think about. Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Hardy and Mrs. Glover.” Candace politely ended their meeting. “You are great allies to have on one’s side.”

  “Anything we may do to help, Miss Sweet. You are not alone,” Hardy pronounced.

  “Indeed,” Hattie nodded. “You have friends now.”

  *

  “Professor, I still don’t understand. Please, explain it again.” While Jasper Harkins had been floundering through algorithms, Will’s mind had drifted into daydreams of Rose.

  With a sigh, he drew himself back to the session and explained the particular formula for a third time. He had been tutoring long enough to know when a student simply wasn’t equipped for a particular subject. Harkins and quadratic equations would never get on together. The young man was more interested in stagecraft, which naturally his parents were not pleased about.

  “All right. I understand that, and that.” Harkins pointed to sections of the problem. He pushed back his long bangs, the current mode for university students, which happened to make Will’s always floppy hair suddenly stylish. “But what about that?” he stabbed his finger.

  Will bit back his frustration. “Sometimes, Harkins, it is best to put aside a lesson when one grows too frustrated. Shall we rehearse your lines?”

  “Yes, please!” The youth slammed his textbook shut, pushed his papers aside and offered Will a copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. “I’m on pins and needles about my upcoming performance.”

  Harkins dove into Shakespeare’s dialogue like a happy fish returned to a river. He played Demetrius rebuking his once-beloved Helena. Will took the part of the scorned maiden. He did not need to prompt his acting partner since Harkins knew every line of both parts.

  When they’d finished the scene, Harkins sighed. “Why couldn’t life actually be a stage and all people actors like Shakespeare says? Acting is all I care about, but my father has other plans for me.”

  “It often seems as if our roles are dictated to us,” William agreed. “But you must get your marks, graduate, and then think about setting your own course.”

  “An actor doesn’t need this sort of education. I should seize the day while I am still young. You are a lucky man to have the freedom to do exactly as you wish and love whomever you care to.”

  The last part was out of the blue, but struck a chord, since all Will could think about was Rose and what she might be doing at any given moment. “Are you enamored then, Harkins?”

  The youth rested his head on folded arms and sighed again. “I am, but I don’t wish to talk about it. Ours is a secret adoration. What about you, sir? You seem to have a new aura about you, and a look in your eyes as if your mind were miles away. Is there someone?”

  “Not a suitable conversation for pupil and teacher, Mr. Harkins.” Will found himself wan
ting to proclaim his feelings about Rose. The novel sensation of being in love was too heady to keep to oneself.

  Harkins sat up, eyes aglow. “Inconceivable! A fellow of your age has found romance at last.”

  “Quite a presumption.”

  “Yet I am right, aren’t I, and why not? Summer is the perfect season for it. Perhaps a private assignation in the woods just like in the play.”

  Rose would enjoy a spot full of natural beauty. He could whisk her away from the odorous city to enjoy some fresh country air. A vision of picnicking by a stream dissolved into a fantasy of moonlit woods and a grove blessed by fairies. A perfect setting for passion, as Harkins had said.

  “Enough. Let us review your lesson once more then end the session. I have other tasks awaiting me.”

  With a groan, Harkins faced his eraser-smudged papers once more. Will led him through the process and by the end of a quarter hour his pupil seemed to have a marginally better grasp of the equation. After that, Will nearly shoved the chap out the door in his hurry to ready himself to meet with Rose that evening.

  Hours passed with aching slowness as Will supervised the builders putting beds in the conservatory and cared for some plants delivered too early from the nursery. Tea passed his lips untasted, and at last he counted down the final minutes until Jennings arrived. The tall, thin man could have easily passed for a stereotypical undertaker from a Dickens story. His bony face and sunken eyes suggested mourning even though he was actually a genial fellow.

  At the rear door of the florist’s, Rose greeted them with a smile and an intoxicating whiff of perfume. Or perhaps it was merely the flowers she worked with, Will thought, as she ushered them up the stairs to her flat.

  Inside, a doe-eyed brunette stood holding a plate of truffles, the chocolate sort rather than the earthy fungi considered such a delicacy. Rose ushered her forward and introductions were made.