Mrs Reynolds stepped out to her workroom at the bottom of the stairs. She returned in a moment with a short stack of blank cards, a pen and some ink. “I am finished here, sir. If you have no need of me, I shall assist Mr Bingley’s family as they prepare to leave.”
Darcy met his housekeeper’s eye with a smirk. “By all means, Mrs Reynolds. Extend them all the assistance they need.”
She grinned and curtsied.
Darcy mused, I shall wager my entire staff is relieved Caroline Bingley is quitting the place. I hope it will be years before they meet her again.
He wrote on a card: “To Miss Elizabeth Bennet, A bouquet of your admirable qualities, from F. Darcy,” and tucked it carefully behind the open red rose in the posy. He placed the herbal next to the vase and smiled as he quitted the room.
* * *
When Mr Gardiner and his niece rode from Lambton to Pemberley, the hood of the carriage remained up, though it was a fine day. It had taken nearly an hour for the inn to produce a cloak for Elizabeth’s disguise, it being much the wrong season to easily locate such a garment. After depositing Mr Gardiner at Pemberley’s front door, Elizabeth was driven to the servants’ entrance.
She alighted from the carriage promptly at eleven o’clock, pleased to see a deep awning over the servant’s door, evidence that the cloak was a formality only. Mrs Reynolds awaited Miss Bennet’s arrival and showed her into the stillroom. “My workroom is just here, Miss Bennet.” Mrs Reynolds indicated a room near the stairway up to the main floor with its half-windowed door ajar. “Once I have seen to the departure of some of the guests, I shall be there, and you may ask me for anything you need.”
“You are very kind.” Elizabeth untied the cloak and laid it over the back of a chair. “I may have need of this,” she said when Mrs Reynolds moved to take it away.
The housekeeper smiled. “Oh yes, you might. I have been instructed you have leave to harvest anything you may find needful from the Pemberley gardens. We also have some very fragrant plants in the conservatory, such as jasmine and tuberose, but if secrecy is of the essence, you may need me to harvest them for you as the entrance is quite near Miss Georgiana’s practice room.”
The tiled counters and broad wooden table were clean and gleaming, but the bottles in the cabinets showed discoloured contents, bearing witness that the room was rarely used. On a long counter under a high window and against the far wall, stood a little vase of mixed flowers with a book bound in soft leather beside it. When Elizabeth saw it, she instantly felt a flush of warmth suffuse her cheeks. Mrs Reynolds, who made it a point to be observant, nodded to herself.
“Shall I leave you to it, ma’am?” she asked.
“Thank you so very much, Mrs Reynolds.” Elizabeth smiled at her.
What a lovely young lady — such lovely manners. The housekeeper found herself humming as she returned to the departing guests and wondered at her behaviour. I have not hummed for years…
Mr Bingley passed her in the hall. “Mrs Reynolds, would you tell me where the stillroom is, please?”
As if it were the commonest thing in the world for a gentleman guest to ask, she replied, “At the bottom of the stairs to the kitchen, Mr Bingley. The second door on the left with mullioned glass on the upper half.”
“Thank you, Mrs Reynolds,” replied Mr Bingley, with a courteous brief bow.
* * *
Elizabeth picked out the card from the flowers and recognised the handwriting even before reading the words. Her chest expelled its air, just as if Darcy himself had stepped into the room. Her heart thumped so strongly, she felt as if she could hear it. She picked up the book, ‘An Herbal and Legend to the Meaning of Flowers’. I am meant to decipher this. Oh…! Her knees grew unsteady. She moved the posy and book to the broad table in the middle of the room and sat in the chair where her cloak rested on the back.
She looked at the posy more particularly. Mrs Bennet had encouraged all her daughters to garden and know flowers. It pleased her to have guests see the girls dressed in summery gowns, discovered at work amongst the flowers at Longbourn. With her younger daughters, it was merely a pretty conceit, but Jane and Elizabeth truly loved the tasks inherent in gardening and flower arranging. Elizabeth understood the red rose meant love but knew not all herbals agreed as to meanings and opened the book.
Clematis, she turned the pages, means ‘cleverness’ — yes, he thinks me clever; corncockle means ‘gentility’ — he thinks I have good manners, then, even if my family does not. Yarrow means ‘healing’ and heliotrope means ‘devotion’ — ah! These two refer to my attentions to Jane, I think. Her fingers flew through the little book, her breathing becoming more shallow. He thinks me witty and courageous, and oh, teasing man…he admires my blushes. What a rogue! She saved the two roses for last. Roses, hmmm, so many listed…burgundy means ‘unconscious beauty’. Elizabeth sat back. She held up the book, reading the words again. He means I do not know I am beautiful but he must think me so. He never used to. Or did he? She picked up the bouquet again, scanning the list of rose meanings. An open rose means ‘I still love you’.
Elizabeth leaned her head forward and tears fell unbidden onto the flowers.
Bingley entered the room. “Lizzy? Are you unwell?”
She looked up at her beloved’s best friend. “Can this be true?” she asked through her tears. She jumped to her feet and waved the posy at Bingley. She had taken it out of its vase and it was dripping on her gown, the table and the floor.
“What? Can what be true?” Bingley leaned solicitously over the table.
“I rely on your honesty, Mr Bingley. Has Mr Darcy told you he still loves me?”
Bingley smiled and straightened, happily full of himself. “That is precisely what I have come to tell you!” Bingley handed her a handkerchief and Elizabeth wiped her nose and cheeks. She returned the nosegay to its vase, dried her wet hands and sat down, the hand holding the handkerchief resting upon her bosom, and smiled.
“May I assume, once again, these are happy tears?”
She looked up at him with a little nod and then recalled Mrs Reynolds’ words. “Mr Bingley, are you leaving for Netherfield today?”
“No, I am not quite so impetuous as that. I will wait for an answer to my express to Longbourn. Why do you ask?”
“Mrs Reynolds said some of the guests are leaving.”
“Yes, so they are, thankfully.”
Elizabeth grew serious. “You must know, sir, Jane will not be happy to believe she has caused you to break off relations with your family. Such a report will render her sad indeed.”
Bingley continued to smile. “I very much look forward to your sister appealing to my better nature to reunite with my family, and I firmly intend to allow her to talk me into it whilst we prepare our wedding invitations.”
Elizabeth started to laugh. “You think of everything!”
“It seems, in matters of love, I have rather more common sense than in other aspects of my life. I am learning to trust my inclinations.” Bingley paused and fixed a friendly eye upon Elizabeth. He longed to ask her outright whether she was in love with Darcy but stopped himself. Although he had always felt a sisterly regard for Elizabeth Bennet, and now called her Lizzy as her family did, he felt such a question would be presuming too much. “I am trying to teach my betters to follow my example.”
Elizabeth looked at the posy. “When you see him, please thank him for these on my behalf. After I blend the scent for Georgiana, I will contrive to respond to him in the same dialect.”
“I must see my sisters off; then I shall join your uncle and Darcy at the river.” Bingley picked up the now abandoned hankie, thinking what sport he would have in explaining to Darcy Lizzy’s response to the flowers before giving him a second, tear-soaked handkerchief. With a slight bow and a wide smile, he left Elizabeth to her work.
Damask Rose
“Brilliancy of complexion”
Chapter 5
A Flower Unseen
25 July, 1812
Half an hour later, Georgiana was interrupted at her practice by Bingley, who beckoned her into the hall. “May I impose upon you, Georgiana, to see my sisters on their way? Darcy, in his current mood, may be counted upon to be less than civil, which is all they deserve, but he will not want to part from Mr Gardiner.”
“Of course, Mr Bingley. Has Mrs Gardiner’s maid arrived?”
“Yes, I believe so.” Bingley smiled to himself as he followed a pace or two behind Georgiana.
“My brother created a nosegay for the maid to take back to Miss Elizabeth. It describes the attributes he finds most admirable in her, and it most particularly says he still loves her. Isn’t it romantic?”
“I’m certain it will have the desired effect. Miss Elizabeth is very partial to flowers, as is her sister. We must find out which flowers ask forgiveness. I shall heap them at Miss Bennet’s feet the very next time I see her.”
“About that, Mr Bingley…”
“Yes?”
“What would you say if Fitzwilliam and I asked Miss Bennet to spend August with us at Pemberley? And we will ask Miss Elizabeth to stay on after her aunt and uncle depart.”
Bingley thought it the best idea he had ever heard. “How marvellous! How delightful!”
They reached the entry hall. The front doors of Pemberley were open and the Hurst’s carriage stood waiting. Caroline and the Hursts milled about awaiting their outerwear.
“What is so delightful, Brother?” Caroline asked scornfully, then turned to see Georgiana was with him. A creamy smile transformed her countenance. “Dear Georgiana! Is my brother not a brute to send us away? I do so apologise for any breach of manners you may have perceived in me.”
Georgiana calmed herself. “Your apology is, of course, accepted, Miss Bingley. I wish you all a safe and easy journey to Scarborough.” Georgiana began walking behind the guests as if to herd them forward. Bingley handed Caroline into the carriage without either saying a word; he stood back as Mr Hurst did the same for Louisa, and they were off. Bingley and Georgiana watched the departure without waving and then re-entered the house.
“Well, Georgiana, I suppose you will go back to your music room?”
“Yes, I shall. I have given an hour’s annoyance to my pianoforte, and now I shall attack my harp.”
Bingley laughed. “I’m for the trout stream. Shall we rescue your instruments from you when we have finished harassing the fish?”
“Yes, please!”
* * *
Darcy and Mr Gardiner stood some twenty yards apart on the spur of the river Derwent, which had been diverted to create a trout stream by the great gardener Lancelot ’Capability’ Brown when Darcy’s father had been still a young man. The present Mr Darcy and his guest spoke amiably on every topic except Mr Gardiner’s two eldest nieces.
Mr Gardiner was reeling in yet another fine brook trout — his third — when he called to his host. “I say, Darcy!” They now considered each other as friends, and both had adopted the less formal mode of address.
“What? Another?” Darcy caught a fish on his first cast, but for the last three-quarters of an hour, his line had been quiet.
“I do not say this to be proud of my prowess,” Mr Gardiner said, laughing. “But I am wondering if you would like to try this new rod of mine? Just for curiosity’s sake?”
Darcy smiled and began to reel in his line. “I was hoping you would ask. Had you caught no fish and I twenty, I still hoped you would ask.”
The two men approached each other upon the bank. In the distance, Darcy detected a movement upon the carriage road and watched briefly until the Hurst’s carriage was lost in the trees again. “Well, Bingley’s conniving sisters are off to Scarborough. I am sorry to speak so, but surely your niece has told you something of them.”
“Yes, indeed. Let us just say Elizabeth told us many things when we returned to the inn last night.”
Darcy was silenced, and a little embarrassed.
Mr Gardiner cleared his throat. “My wife was the only one who could handle Elizabeth when she was a girl. I think she was about eight and Jane ten or so when we married. Lizzy was too clever for her own good and such an energetic child. She ran circles around her mother, and indeed, she still does!”
Both men laughed. It delighted Darcy to hear of Elizabeth’s girlhood. Mr Gardiner went on, “I went to bed before the ladies. It was all I could do to wait for my wife without falling asleep, and I, a night owl!”
“You wanted to know what she heard from your niece?”
Mr Gardiner looked down and abstractedly studied the reel on Darcy’s pole, which he now held. “No, no, not necessarily. I heard the gist of Lizzy’s tales before I went to bed. Let us simply say for the sake of delicacy that love was in the air at the Rose and Raindrop last night…”
Mr Gardiner turned away, returning to the place where he had been fishing. He thought his comment rather ingenious, and he was smiling to himself. Darcy gaped at his companion’s back. It usually annoyed him when married men spoke, even so subtly, of conjugal relations, but the idea that Elizabeth had spoken of love in such a way as might inspire her uncle to lose a little sleep, confused and excited him.
“How is the fishing?” Bingley yelled down to them from the bridle path above. He had chosen to join them on horseback.
“Gardiner is cleaning out the stream again today, Bingley. I am now trying his new pole, hoping it changes my luck. Your sisters are off, I see.”
“Yes, Georgiana did the necessaries and went back to practicing. And I looked in on the stillroom.”
“You did?” Darcy was surprised and moved to join his friend while Bingley dismounted and arranged his tackle.
Bingley tried, and fairly well succeeded, in looking as superior as he possibly could. “I did. And what do you think I found there?”
“Bingley,” Darcy lowered his voice, “you insolent pup. I will box your ears if you aren’t careful. In the last twenty-four hours you have grown monstrously insufferable.”
Bingley took a large step backward before replying, “If I did not know you were fond of me, I would be highly insulted. I know something you do not, and trust me: you wish to know it, so there will be no boxing of my ears, sir.” With a flourish, Bingley produced a second, soggy handkerchief, redolent of lavender. “The lady in the stillroom was in a state of tearful astonishment at what she had just read in a bouquet of flowers — tears of joy if I am any judge, and I am.”
“Bingley! I will not have you harassing Miss Bennet!” Darcy snatched the handkerchief and glared with a nod upstream towards Elizabeth’s uncle.
“Someone has to provide a lady with a hankie when she needs one.”
“Do not sport with me, Bingley, I pray you. Was she truly happy?”
“She had already sorted out the message when I arrived and asked me to verify her findings, which I happily did. She shed tears of joy, hence the hankie, and then laid her hand holding it very prettily upon her…” He thought better of saying bosom as Darcy seemed a trifle more tightly wound than usual. “…chest. It would have made a lovely miniature. She wishes me to tell you that she thanks you and will contrive a reply, in kind, before she leaves. You may now say, ‘Thank you, Charles, you are a good and true friend.’”
Darcy smiled at Bingley. “You are a good and true friend. You are a better friend to me than I have been to you.”
Bingley slapped Darcy on the arm. “Good man! Excellent response.” Then Bingley dropped his voice. “When will you make her an offer?”
“If I am bold, I will assume she has left off loathing me and moved to, perhaps, a wary warming of her regard. I will not risk proposing until I know that she might, some day in the future, like me enough to be willing to try to love me.”
Bingley rolled his eyes. “That’s asking a lot of her.”
Darcy’s dark eyes narrowed. “Bingley…”
Bingley grew serious. “Darcy, listen to me. I am not joking and I am not wrong. She alre
ady loves you. You have given her no reason to, but there it is.”
Darcy could see over Bingley’s shoulder that Mr Gardiner was angling another fighting trout toward the bank, preparing to net it. He hissed in Bingley’s ear, “Did she say so?”
“She did not have to.”
“Did she say it?”
Bingley shook his head. “No.”
Mr Gardiner called, “That’s four! How many more do you want?” He was laughing with delight. He turned to look at Darcy and Bingley, and noticing them tarry, called out, “It has been my experience, gentlemen, that it is impossible to catch fish without putting a line in the water.”
Bingley looked at Darcy with raised brows. “Truer words were never spoken, Darcy.”
* * *
Elizabeth marshalled her wits and began looking through the shelves and cupboards of the Pemberley stillroom. She found some attar of damask rose in a brown bottle that had not lost its perfume. Generally, the room was clean, but the cupboards were a fright with drawers housing broken shears as well as those still useful. Open shelves were full of dust and grimy bottles with contents no longer fresh, most with faded labels. One cupboard was devoted to vases of all shapes and sizes, and half a dozen were sparkling clean as though recently used. She developed an idea for a scent and started making a list of the items she would need just as the housekeeper returned to the stillroom.
“May I be of service, Miss Bennet?” she asked.
“Mrs Reynolds! Yes, I was just putting a short list together. I need an apron and some boiled water, and if I could impose upon you, is there Arabian jasmine in the conservatory?”
“Yes, ma’am, shall I pick some?”
“Yes, please. Just blossoms that are open, as one would use in tea.” Mrs Reynolds nodded as Elisabeth continued, “And an empty bucket?”
Mrs Reynolds wanted to ask Elizabeth just how much scent she intended to make but knew such a question was impertinent. “And that is everything?”
“Yes, thank you. I am going to don my cloak of secrecy and venture out for some flowers whilst you are picking jasmine. Where is the cutting garden?”
The Red Chrysanthemum Page 8
