Rose Gardner's Florist

by Dee, Bonnie

  Mr. Jennings’ eyes widened at Miss Candace Sweet’s name. “The missing heiress. Good heavens! Notice of your disappearance has been in the papers.”

  “We saw no word mentioned,” Rose said.

  “Then you haven’t read today’s Times. The article included an illustration, although I must say the picture does not reflect Miss Sweet’s current appearance.”

  “Several years ago, I sat for a photograph to include in a Christmas greeting to my guardian. I was somewhat heavier then.” Miss Sweet rubbed her forehead. “So Mr. Merker is publicly searching for me. How did the article explain the circumstances?”

  “It did not hint at foul play, but suggested you had experienced a nervous interlude prior to your disappearance. Let us sit, Miss Sweet, and you may tell me your story,” Jennings said calmly. “I do not take what your guardian suggests at face value.”

  Will would have greatly liked to learn more, but this interview should remain between solicitor and client. He excused himself, saying he would wait downstairs.

  “I’ll come with you. Unless you wish me to stay, Candace.”

  Miss Sweet shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  As Rose passed Will to lead the way from the room, the hairs on his arm rose like antenna, vibrating at her presence.

  Once they reached the workroom and sat at the table, Rose filled him in on Miss Sweet’s story. “Her parents died when she was young, leaving her to the care of a family friend. Now she is approaching twenty-one and he wants to wed her before he loses control of her fortune. She might protest, refuse him, and fight, but the law can make things difficult for a woman determined to gain her freedom. It is easier to believe her guardian has her best interests at heart, and heaven knows the lengths he might go to make her comply.”

  Will shook his head. “Horrifying! It is a disgusting scheme to be perpetrated by one who is meant to treat her as if she were his own child.”

  Rose drummed her fingers on the worktable hard enough to drill holes through it. “The law may find Miss Sweet of unsound mind and put her back into the hands of her persecutor.”

  “Rest assured, if there is some loophole in the law to be found, Jennings is the man to discover and apply it.” Will attempted to sound reassuring, but the bleakness of the situation was formidable. It made him realize what freedoms he expected as his right, and how others in society were not so fortunate.

  He covered Rose’s madly tapping fingers so they stilled. “If Miss Sweet’s guardian finds her and tries to coerce her, I promise I will not stand by and allow it to happen.”

  She regarded him solemnly. “Somehow I believe it. You are the most honorable man I believe I’ve ever met.”

  The shining intensity in her eyes nearly burned him. Will lowered his gaze as he asked the question he had determined to put forth before the evening was through. “This matter is so dire that I hesitate to ask what I am about to. I had hoped to invite you to the country this Sunday. I thought it would be lovely to get away from the city’s heat. There is a stream at the edge of which we might picnic. Naturally, Miss Sweet is welcome to come with us.”

  “That sounds heavenly, and since I’ve never been out of London it would be a grand adventure for me. It might help poor Miss Sweet get her mind off her troubles for a bit. I would love to go.”

  Will bathed in her pure joy and enthusiasm. Having Miss Sweet as an additional guest may not have been his original plan, but he would gladly host both young ladies for an afternoon of leisure.

  “Excellent! I will let Mother know we’ll be out this weekend. She will have Cook make up such a picnic it will be a struggle to carry the basket.”

  Her smile froze. “We’ll be picnicking on your parents’ land. I hadn’t considered that. But how will you explain our acquaintance?”

  “I have no need to explain anything to anyone,” he informed her blithely. But mentally he added, Mother had better not dare question it or, for once, she will not find me such an agreeable son.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rose bit into another of Candace’s truffles, the bittersweet chocolate charged with sugar melting on her tongue. It was her second, no, third treat that day, but she kept compulsively eating as she waited for Will to pick her up in his motorcar.

  An automobile ride—the first in a day of firsts as she would be leaving London’s foul air behind for a country interlude and meeting nobility as well. Her beau’s parents were Lord and Lady Carmody of Carmody Hall, for God’s sake.

  “Are you certain you won’t come, Candace? I will be without a chaperone.”

  “You’ll certainly enjoy the day more if you’re alone with your gentleman.” Candace nudged the plate of chocolates out of Rose’s reach. “And his family cannot be so very terrifying.”

  “But you’ll have nothing other than worrisome thoughts to keep you company all day. What if…” Rose trailed off. She refused to plant the idea that one of Mr. Merker’s agents might be watching the place, awaiting the perfect opportunity to take her away without a fuss. The chances of that were slight.

  “Don’t you worry about me. Have a last tidy up, so you’re ready to enjoy your day,” Candace insisted.

  Rose did as she was told, primping in front of the mirror until she’d gotten her Gibson roll even and the curls at her temples artistically placed. At the roar of an approaching automobile, she fastened her traveling hat with pins and tied the gauze in a bow beneath her chin.

  “An automobile ride. Imagine! It will be like flying,” she exclaimed to Candace before she left.

  “Have a wonderful day,” her friend encouraged.

  Rose hurried downstairs to meet Will before he even knocked at the door. He made a handsome figure in a long tan duster that swept the tops of his boots. Goggles were pushed up onto his riding cap although he still wore spectacles. A scarf wound jauntily around his neck completed the picture of a motorist ready to roar down the open road.

  “What a pretty ensemble,” he complimented her, his gaze saying more than words as he scanned her white dress and wide-brimmed hat. “But you should put this on lest you ruin your gown.”

  He held out a duster similar to his own while Rose slipped her arms into the long sleeves. Then he offered his gloved hand to help her onto the running board. She took a breath and placed her shoe on the metal step that vibrated beneath her foot. The purring engine hummed into her very bones as she slid across the leather seat. Every inch of this finely crafted automobile bespoke wealth from the gleaming chrome to the tooled details of the dashboard and the luxurious seats. It was far beyond any motorized conveyance Rose had ridden in before.

  Rose sat back, hands clasped in her lap, as Will put the auto into gear and sped away from Prospect Street. The noise on the busy thoroughfare made it impossible to carry on a conversation, but soon they were beyond the city and passing neighborhoods then farms. The world she’d always known disappeared in the blink of an eye. She drank in the view of fields and meadows dotted with sheep or cows peacefully grazing, and she felt herself a mere speck hurtling along the road.

  “Like a dab in a painting,” she said.

  “Pardon?” Will spoke above the engine’s roar.

  “Those paintings in the impressionist style at the museum. Little dots of color that require the viewer to step back to see the whole image. The world is very large and each of us a speck upon it.”

  “But all living things of importance, I believe.”

  “How should I address your parents,” she asked abruptly. “Your lord and ladyship? Lord and Lady Carmody? Shall I curtsy? Perhaps we may take our picnic and not come across your family.”

  “I doubt that. I must stop for Cook’s basket and take a moment to speak with Mother since she is expecting us. She will want to meet you and may show you her roses, something that will be of interest to you, no doubt.”

  What did his invitation today mean? What would his mother make of her son squiring a shop girl? How deeply would she glower? Dread eclipsed the br
ight sun of her excitement for the outing.

  “William, when I agreed to go with you, I did not know it would be on your family property. I don’t belong there and can’t imagine your family will be pleased.”

  He removed one hand from the steering column and patted her clenched hands. “Do not worry. My mother should be happy I am accompanied by a female friend. She had begun to despair that I would ever bring a young lady to visit.”

  Rose stared at him. “I am the first? Do you not see how much worse that is? She will imagine I am of some import to you and that I am an opportunist stealing your affections.”

  “You are of import to me, and Mother would never view you as an opportunist.” But his expression shifted slightly, suggesting he might have overestimated Lady Carmody’s goodwill. “Everything will be fine, you’ll see. As soon as I’ve introduced you, we’ll take our lunch and set off to the stream.”

  Couldn’t we skip to the second part? Rose wanted to beg. But she would not belabor the point. She must put on her best manners and behave the way she guessed one ought to in such august company. Still, she could not stop wondering why William Carmody seemed determined for her to meet his parents.

  When the car passed through open gates between columns of granite, Rose’s pulse drummed in a rapid tattoo. The automobile followed a curving gravel drive without a rut or a bump to mar its course, then rounded a bend where Carmody Hall stood in all its glory. Now Rose’s heart nearly choked her. Blimey! The place was not a country house, but a bleedin’ castle with turrets and crenelated walls. A princess might be standing up there fluttering a hanky. She would not be surprised to see a fire-breathing dragon rise up from behind the sprawling stone building.

  “You never said,” she accused Will.

  “Never said what?”

  “How grand it is. I could not have imagined this.” The place was too much. The people inside would be far too grand for the likes of her and she’d make a fool of herself. She wanted to ask Will to turn the automobile around and head right back to the city. “I don’t know what to say or how to act.”

  “Behave just as you normally do, and my family will find you as loveable as I do.” Will’s reassurance did little to put her at ease.

  He drew up in front of the portico and hurried around to help Rose from the auto. She shook dust from the folds of the coat and pulled back the veiling of her hat so she might better view the stunning reflecting pool in the middle of the lawn.

  Several servants erupted on the scene; a chauffeur claimed the keys from Will and drove the car around back to service it, and a butler welcomed them.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Carmody. I did not know the precise time of your arrival or I would have had the staff ready to greet you.”

  “Truly, Albertson, there is no reason to make a to-do. This is but a casual visit.”

  “I shall seat you in the drawing room and inform Lady Carmody of your presence. May I enquire as to your guest’s name.”

  “Yes. Of course. This is Miss Rose Gardener. Albertson, our family butler.”

  Rose held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Albertson stared at it before nodding curtly. “Miss Gardener.” He led the way inside and to the drawing room before disappearing through the door.

  “I’ve stepped in it, haven’t I?” Rose asked Will. “It ain’t…It’s not correct to shake hands with servants.”

  “Not generally. But don’t worry.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “It does not concern me if you don’t follow the so-called rules to the letter. Please, sit down while we await my mother.”

  She smiled at him because she could not help but do so when he looked at her with those concerned eyes, but inside the words await my mother chimed a death knell. There was no bloody way the woman would view Rose with anything other than contempt.

  As Will removed his spectacles and wiped away the dust of their journey, Rose examined the elegant room that could have held her family’s entire flat inside it. Family portraits from past generations decorated the damask covered walls. The heavy wood furniture was well polished but underneath that gloss a patina of great age bespoke hundreds of years standing in those precise spots. Had Lord Carmody received his baronetcy from William the Conqueror? How far back did the Carmody lineage extend? She wished she had looked up the family in Debrett’s peerage.

  “Good afternoon.” A cool, cultured voice interrupted the moment.

  Rose stood to face a short woman with a ruddy complexion and eyes as intent as her son’s. Rose dropped a curtsy she’d been practicing. “Lady Carmody, I am ever so pleased to meet you.”

  “No need for such formality.” The woman glided into the room, her carriage erect and her stance patrician. Yet Rose noted the cuffs Lady Carmody’s simple day dress were stained with soil as if she had come in directly from the garden.

  “Mother, this is my guest, Miss Rose Gardener. I thought I might introduce her to you before we set out on our picnic.”

  Her ladyship nodded. “Good afternoon, Miss Gardener. Welcome to Carmody Hall.”

  Rose’s knees refused to unlock so she might straighten from her curtsy. William silently took her elbow and helped her up. “I understand you raise prize-winning roses. I would greatly love to see them if it is not too much trouble,” Rose blurted, since she could think of absolutely nothing else she might have in common with this woman.

  Lady Carmody shot a glance at her son as if to ask who or what have you brought home with you, but she replied graciously. “Certainly. I am always pleased to show my Lucinda Mays.”

  Rose nodded vigorously and felt her hair slipping from its pins. She reached to steady her hat. “Might I freshen up, please?”

  “Of course,” Will said. “I apologize for not suggesting it right away.”

  Before he could summon the butler, Albertson appeared as if he’d been hovering in the hallway. He directed Rose down a corridor to a powder room.

  Once inside, Rose collapsed against the door until she had brought her heart rate under control. She faced her reflection in the mirror. “You are meant to be a proper young lady, for heaven’s sake. Don’t behave like a bloody nincompoop!”

  With her coiffure refreshed and her composure somewhat regained, she returned to the drawing room to find Will and his mother discussing some social event.

  “You should ask Lady Smyth’s permission if you wish to attend with a guest,” Lady Carmody was saying.

  “I will notify her soon. I promise.”

  At the sight of Rose, Will stood and directed her to a seat. Rose had hoped they might skip from uncomfortable conversation to walking in the rose garden. At least there, she and Lady Carmody might find some common ground.

  “My son tells me you are a good friend of Guy Hardy.”

  “Yes, that’s true. He invested in my floral business.” No point in pretending to be anything better than she was.

  “Ah, you own a shop,” her ladyship said, as if that explained much. “William told me he had hired someone to help plan the conservatory. I am most anxious to see what plants you’ve chosen.”

  “Early days yet,” Will said. “We have yet to begin planting, but I will hold a grand unveiling when we are finished.”

  Rose made an attempt to break free from the drawing room prison. “I had hoped to gain some inspiration from viewing your beautiful gardens here. Would you give a tour?”

  “On the condition that you stay for dinner,” Lady Carmody countered. “The rest of the family is hither and yon just now. I’m certain William would like for them all to meet you.”

  “That would get us back to the city far too late,” Will said firmly. “Miss Gardener has but one day off. She must be at work in the morning.”

  “Yes, of course. I did not consider the rigors of being in trade. Perhaps another time.” Lady Carmody stood. “Come then. While Cook readies your picnic, we will take a brief stroll.”

  Rose nearly sighed in relief as she
fell in step with William, following behind his mother. She was not quite certain what to make of her ladyship, who on the surface seemed to accept her son bringing home a flower girl. But the comment about “being in trade” suggested her civil demeanor masked contempt and displeasure.

  Annoyance at William for putting her in this situation bubbled up, but just as quickly quelled when he offered his arm and leaned to whisper, “Well done. We’re nearly free.”

  Once Rose stopped fretting and took a look at her surroundings she nearly forgot her concerns. The Carmody gardens were breathtaking with terraced steps led from one area to another. As they passed through, Rose noticed some gardens were manicured to orderly perfection, while others flourished in a more natural state. She recognized many of the plants from the horticulture book, but there were varieties with which she was unfamiliar.

  “What is that vine with the white flowers?” She pointed out the one in question to Lady Carmody.

  Will’s mother offered a litany of vines, groundcover, and ivies that lasted until they reached the rose garden by a circuitous path. “I’m afraid you’ve missed the very best blooms. This heat has brought the season to an early close.”

  The many species of bushes and climbing roses hanging over arches made this floral bower to delight a gardener’s heart. “This is paradise,” Rose exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Not even in a park.”

  “Thank you, my dear. My gardening staff does the physical labor, but I spend time pruning as well. Heirloom varieties are my special passion, particularly as hybrids are now favored over them. I do not wish the old styles to fade away and be forgotten. History and lineage matter.”

  This comment seemed aimed directly at Rose. Inside, she shrank to the size of a Japanese beetle burrowing into one chewed blossom.

  Lady Carmody noticed the intruding insect, plucked it from the petals and crushed it underfoot. “They’re a menace.” If she meant any personal attack by her words, it was not obvious as she now pointed out a bush of white roses with bright pink edging. “Here is what is left of my Lucinda Mays. They are mostly blown now, but there a few still blooming.”