The Red Chrysanthemum

by Linda Beutler

  Georgiana shook her head, trying to arrange her thoughts. “She knows what a silly, foolish girl I have been. She knows I have been stupid. She knew it when we were introduced. You knew…that she knew. And yet, she still wished to meet me?”

  “You see, Georgie? You are not so silly or foolish or stupid that a most intelligent and discerning lady would not wish to become your friend. When I asked her permission to make the introduction, she said yes without hesitation.”

  Georgiana burst into tears, sobbing onto her brother’s shoulder.

  Bingley began to feel superfluous. He caught Darcy’s attention. “Just two more comments from me, and then I’m for bed. Tomorrow, I will ask Caroline and the Hursts to leave Pemberley and travel to Scarborough immediately. No argument from you, Darcy — none. It is a family matter, and you are better out of it. Secondly, Mr Gardiner asked leave to bring his wife’s maid tomorrow” — Bingley winked at Darcy — “to make use of the Pemberley stillroom. I allowed it. I hope I have not overstepped my bounds as your guest?”

  Darcy’s heart leapt to his throat. “No, Bingley, it is no bother. I shall alert Mrs Reynolds in the morning. Thank you.”

  Bingley went to the study door and turned around. He could hear Georgiana softly crying. “And Darcy?”

  “Yes, Bingley?” Darcy looked over his sister’s head to see Bingley’s face lit by the fire, much returned to its usual jovial countenance.

  “I forgive you. I told Miss Elizabeth I would after drinking a good share of your brandy. You must tell her, when next you see her, that I have kept my word in every particular.” Laughing, Bingley slipped out of the room.

  Peppermint

  “Warmth of feeling”

  Chapter 4

  A Floral Conversation

  25 July, 1812

  Caroline Bingley, in a state of high dudgeon, stood at one of the long narrow windows in the Pemberley breakfast room, staring out on the beautiful summer morning with cold disdain. She despaired for the moment of arguing with her brother, and her sister Louisa entered the fray. Caroline had never seen Charles behave in such a recalcitrant manner. She assumed a little brandy and a talk with the sensible Darcy last evening would return Charles to his usual malleable amiability, but if anything, this morning he was cocky and imperious. He spoke of nothing but her alleged betrayal of his love for Jane Bennet. I wish we never ventured to Hertfordshire. Why did I insist he take an estate?

  She saw Darcy and Georgiana emerge from the end of the house and enter the herb garden. They seemed in fine spirits, laughing and talking. The herb garden had a low hedge, and brother and sister could be seen moving from plant to plant, Darcy occasionally picking a leaf or flower to add to the bunch in his hand. Georgiana had a book, over which they consulted and laughed. Darcy was in shirtsleeves and waistcoat, without a frock coat or hat. Caroline snorted to herself. Such country pastimes — Darcy loses all sense of himself when he comes here. His servants should not see him so unguarded.

  Bingley raised his voice, and Caroline turned to listen.

  “Louisa, I have made up my mind, and for once, you and Caroline will not change it for me. In fact, you never shall again. You have, both of you, acted in your own interests with no thought to my happiness for the last time. Until you receive an invitation to my wedding, I have no wish to see you. You must give Miss Bennet time to convince me to forgive you. And please do not attend unless you can sincerely wish us well.”

  “What about my happiness, Charles? What about my hope of an advantageous marriage?” Caroline chided him.

  “Caroline, I am firmly convinced you would not be happy if you were hanged with a new rope. Your careless disregard for my feelings in preference to your own was one thing when we were children, but now it is quite another. You have involved innocents in your lies, and Darcy is furious with you. Louisa, you are the older sister, yet you allow yourself to be drawn into Caroline’s reprehensible plans without providing the least guidance or censure. After last night’s performance and your contemptible behaviour to Jane, I cannot stomach either of you. Sorry, Hurst, but there it is.”

  Marcus Hurst had listened to the whole of the morning’s dispute with cotton-headed wonder. He wanted to eat his fine Pemberley breakfast in peace but had given that up half an hour ago. Now he chewed sullenly, wishing everyone would lower their voices as he had a head that morning.

  Bingley continued, “I sent an express to Scarborough to forward the rental period on the townhouse since our relations already have houses full of guests for Baby James’s christening. There is no tenant, so I am sure the agents will oblige us quite willingly. So go. Go today.”

  Louisa sobbed and left the room. Hurst stood, finished his coffee, wiped his mouth, bowed briefly to his brother-in-law and followed her. Caroline looked daggers at her brother, and he reflected her countenance with every bit as much fury.

  “Why have you never encouraged Darcy to court me? To marry me? I am your sister! What could make you happier than to be able to call your best friend ‘brother’? I do not understand you, Charles.”

  “If Darcy wanted to marry for fortune and connection without love, he could have married his Cousin Anne years ago. I believe he has come to understand he will be a better man and have a happier life if he marries for love. I am sorry to say it, Caroline, but he does not love you, and neither he nor I believe you love him.”

  “You have ruined me, Brother,” she hissed.

  “You have ruined yourself. Return to Scarborough where you can still pass yourself off with some credit as a woman with a heart.” Now it was Bingley’s turn to leave the room. He did so with a spring in his step and a smile upon his lips. He could then concentrate on awaiting the arrival of Miss Elizabeth Bennet into the Pemberley stillroom, where he intended to return the favour that she had bestowed upon him the evening before. Prior to joining Darcy and Mr Gardiner at the river, Bingley planned to tell her that the man she loved — and he would brook no argument that she loved him, for he now felt confident he knew what a Bennet lady looked like when in love better than anyone else, certainly better than Fitzwilliam Darcy — was still passionately in love with her and very near the point of offering for her hand in marriage a second time.

  * * *

  When Darcy left his room to join his sister, he heard raised voices coming from the breakfast room and was relieved he and Georgiana had made other arrangements for their morning meal. The clear weather bolstered the seedling of hope planted by Bingley the prior evening and further nurtured by Georgiana as they listened to his story. His sister believed Elizabeth must at least like him, from the becoming way she had of colouring whenever Georgiana repeated any of Darcy’s compliments. Georgiana’s last words to him were, “Instead of complimenting Elizabeth to me and to Mr Bingley, you really must try complimenting her to her face.”

  Darcy had chuckled all the way back to his bedchamber over this common sense suggestion from his seemingly naive sister. He dreamt of Elizabeth, and although this morning he could not recall the exact details, he awoke with embarrassing bedclothes, befouled by his ardour. He fervently wished he could remember some detail beyond the look of love and welcome in her beautiful eyes.

  Over breakfast, Darcy told Georgiana of Bingley’s intention to move his sisters and Mr Hurst on to Scarborough that very day. “I’m sorry, Fitzwilliam, mine are not the thoughts of a proper hostess, but what a relief! Miss Bingley is exhausting. The journey to Arbor Low will be much more amiable, and now we may invite Miss Bennet and her aunt and uncle to join us whenever they can spare the time. May I do so?”

  Darcy hoped Georgiana would not take it upon herself to forward his suit in some clumsy way but said nothing of his concern. Instead, he said, “What if we send our own express to Longbourn and invite Miss Jane Bennet to join us? Perhaps, if she is able to arrive soon enough, we can ask both sisters to stay with us through August. Mrs Annesley will return in another fortnight from her family visit, so a chaperone will be in residence.”
<
br />   “Oh, Brother! What a delightful idea! I should love to have both sisters here. Then Mr Bingley will stay on. Maybe he will propose to Miss Bennet here, too.”

  “Too?”

  “Will you not renew your suit with Elizabeth soon?”

  “Not so soon as Bingley will propose to Jane. You forget, Jane is already in the practice of loving him. In Elizabeth’s case, we can only hope she has forgiven me, has quit hating me, and may soon come like me. I have dug myself into a deep hole, Georgie.”

  “Harumpf,” Georgiana murmured more to herself than her brother. “Well, at least we have persuaded you to stop digging further…”

  Darcy narrowed his eyes at her. “Nasty little gosling… you should have been left out on the peaks to be raised by wolves. Sometimes, I think you were.”

  “How many allies do you have, exactly, that you can afford to alienate me?” She smiled impishly at him.

  Brother and sister grinned and drank their coffee and tea in companionable silence until Darcy’s heart became uneasy at the thought of Elizabeth’s impending arrival. He could not immediately formulate a way to see her; he must play host to Mr Gardiner’s fishing as Bingley, no doubt, would be involved with bustling his sisters off to Scarborough. As he contemplated this problem, his eyes fell on a little posy of flowers in a china vase on the mantle over the unlit fireplace.

  “Georgie?” He broke her reverie. “How learned are you in the language of flowers?”

  “I have studied it a little and have a thorough herbal that sets out the meanings of many plants. Are we to compose a message?” She was excited by the very notion.

  “When Mr Gardiner arrives today, he is bringing his wife’s maid. I am allowing her the use of the stillroom to concoct something or other needful to Mrs Gardiner. We could make up a floral message for her to take to Elizabeth.”

  “How delightful! I have a little vase painted with iris, the flower of messages. Let me fetch it and my herbal. We should start in the herb garden.”

  Darcy finished his coffee, and presently, Georgiana returned wearing a bonnet. She looked out the window. “Hmmm, the herb garden is in the sun already and it is only nine o’clock. I do not think I need a spencer. Have you been outside?”

  “Yes, I have. The day is warm.”

  Georgiana placed the little vase upon the table. It was not tall but the opening seemed generous enough to hold many stems. “Here, Fitzwilliam, you take the flower shears, pick what you like, and I shall carry the book and translate. We may be a bit limited by what is in bloom now. Some of the sweetest sentiments are expressed by the earliest spring flowers.”

  They walked out into the morning sun from Georgiana’s sitting room, crossed a narrow terrace and descended the few steps to the herb garden. “What do you want to say?” Georgiana asked.

  “I have taken your words of last night very much to heart. I would compliment her. She said something yesterday that rather disturbed me, along the line that she does not think herself beautiful. Her family always refers to Jane as the prettiest Bennet but Elizabeth has far more liveliness in her looks and those lovely eyes. Jane is fair and Elizabeth dark. Jane is a little taller, but Elizabeth’s countenance overflows with an air of health and good humour.”

  “Oh my…well, you can be eloquent. Start showing me flowers and do not forget foliage, Brother, for leaves have meanings, too, and I will start looking through the book. Would you speak of love?”

  “Will it not be obvious?”

  “Why leave room for doubt?”

  Darcy straightened from picking a flower and smiled at his sister. “When did you become so wise?”

  Georgiana raised an eyebrow, clearly indicating she had merely been waiting for him to notice. She looked at the flower in his hand, a shaggy pink blossom, something that had seeded itself amongst the paving stones. “Ah! That is ragged-robin. It signifies wit.”

  “We want that,” Darcy said. He then took a few steps further, looking around. “What is that plant with the very fine green leaves?”

  “Southernwood. It signifies jest and banter.”

  “That is delightful. Our whole acquaintance is founded upon her propensity to jest and banter.”

  “Wait. It is also known as ‘maiden’s ruin’.” Georgiana blushed and extended the book for Darcy to see.

  “…‘and lad’s love… It increases…’” He stopped himself from speaking the word ‘virility’ and laughed. “Yes, we shan’t alarm her.”

  They moved on.

  “Here’s a little garlic-chive already in bloom. That’s for courage.” Georgiana pointed to the plant with her toe.

  Darcy picked its flowers, wrinkling his nose at the smell. “She is courageous. What is this frothy little white flower? It smells pretty. Perhaps it will counteract the smell of the garlic?”

  “That is sweet alyssum.” She flipped a page or two, looking for it. “How lovely! It means ‘worth beyond beauty’.”

  They continued for some little time, both thoroughly entertained. The herb garden was not large and not all the plants flattering in connotation. At last, they stood before a patch of marjoram just running to flower. When Georgiana read its meaning, she insisted her brother pick several stems. She would not tell him what it meant and he snatched the herbal from her hand.

  “‘Blushes,’” he read and blushed himself.

  “You may not have noticed, Brother, but she blushes a great deal when she is with you or when you are spoken of to her. I do not think she likes that her emotions are so revealed, but it is charming.”

  Darcy grew wistful but said nothing aloud. Her blushes always leave me wishing to kiss her, he thought as he stooped to harvest several more stems.

  After briefly surveying the posy, Darcy sighed. “Our bouquet does not have roses. Might we have some?”

  “Come to the rose garden with me. Some of the most specific may be finished blooming, but there are a few that bloom all summer or are later in their habit. We must be careful with roses, as not all are kindly in their meaning,” Georgiana warned.

  The walk to the rose garden followed a fence festooned with honeysuckle and Georgiana looked for it amongst the pages as they strolled. “Ah, honeysuckle,” she said when she found it in the list.

  “Even honeysuckle?” Darcy was amazed at the thoroughness of the book.

  “‘Generous and devoted affection.’” Georgiana read aloud. Darcy picked a large handful, making her laugh.

  “Do you want to give her only that? You will not have room for roses.”

  Darcy laughed at himself. “Perhaps we can put a vase of this in the drawing room?” Georgiana smiled.

  In the rose garden, Darcy gravitated to the last yellow blossoms on a large shrub. For this, Georgiana did not need the book. “No, Fitzwilliam, yellow roses signify the sender has a jealous nature.”

  He huffed a little to be so thwarted then chuckled at himself. “I own, it seems I do have a jealous nature, but we are finding her attributes, not mine.”

  The old velvet rose bush still carried some dark burgundy blossoms and Darcy was most pleased to learn the colour meant unconscious beauty, exclaiming it perfect for Elizabeth.

  Georgiana read the list of rose meanings, one after the other. “‘The bridal rose is happy love.’ That puts the cart before the horse. ‘The cabbage rose is the ambassador of love.’ — which would be apt if they were still in bloom. ‘The China Rose means beauty always new.’”

  Darcy interrupted her. “Do we have that?”

  “No, I do not believe we do.”

  “Have the gardeners find it and order two dozen.”

  Georgiana smiled and returned to her litany. “‘The damask rose is brilliancy of complexion.’”

  “Have we that?”

  Georgiana went to where the bushes were. “No, they are finished.”

  “Damn.”

  She began again. “‘The deep red rose is bashful shame. The dog rose is pleasure with pain. The hundred-petal rose is pride.’�
�

  “Definitely not that.”

  “‘The Rosa Mundi means variety. The musk rose means capricious beauty.’ Oh! Oh, Fitzwilliam, the next is perfect! ‘The open rose means I still love you.’”

  “Which colour?”

  “It does not say but let us find a red one, since red is love.”

  With two pairs of eyes scanning the bushes, it was quick work to find the most perfect, open red rose after comparing several specimens. Georgiana handed the book to Darcy and took the flowers and leaves from him, and as they walked back to the house, she began to arrange them in her hand. She placed the open red rose directly in the middle of the nosegay. Back in her sitting room, she poured water into the vase and finished the arrangement, tying it with a bit of string as Darcy watched. An unlucky thought crossed his mind.

  “What if Miss Elizabeth does not know the language of flowers? How many ladies travel with an herbal?”

  Georgiana stood, considering, leaving Darcy to wonder how much subterfuge could be borne until the secret of Elizabeth’s coming and its reason would be revealed. He finally said, “Let me take the herbal, and I shall write a list of the contents of the vase with their meanings. I had intended to add a note in any case.” His sister agreed, and he set off below stairs.

  The housekeeper was in the stillroom when Darcy arrived. She eyed her master as he stood with vase and book in his hands.

  “Mrs Reynolds!” Darcy was surprised to see her.

  “No one uses the stillroom much, Mr Darcy. It was too dusty to receive a guest.”

  “Ah…good, yes.” Darcy looked at the contents of his hands a little chagrined. “I appreciate that you have seen to it yourself.”

  “You have something there for the lady, sir? How very nice. We have some little cards if you want to place her name upon the flowers. You will want her to know who gives them to her.”

  Darcy seemed relieved, although he felt himself grow hot under his cravat, and Mrs Reynolds could be counted upon to notice. “Yes, a card. That will do nicely.”