The Red Chrysanthemum

by Linda Beutler

  “Are you sure you should, miss?” Mrs Reynolds was worried.

  “I know what I want, and if the flowers I require are not there, I shall return directly.” Elizabeth took up the herbal and found a pocket in the cloak for it.

  Mrs Reynolds gave her directions to the garden. It was located off the southwest corner of the house in a walled area and she consoled herself that Miss Bennet would be on the opposite end of the house from any view to be had by the occupant of the music room.

  Elizabeth walked down a long dark hall, past little pantries of jarred fruit and curing meats. She squinted at the bright sun upon exiting the house and waited a moment for her eyes to adjust. To her right, was a path lined with espaliered fruit trees; she had been told the cutting garden was at the end of it. She entered a walled garden and found Sweet William and scarlet lychnis growing there. She consulted the herbal. How much do I wish to say? I would not have him think me forward, but Charlotte always said a lady should leave a gentleman in no doubt.

  Elizabeth found the first blossom on a clump of red chrysanthemums and snipped it. Dare I say so much? She walked back toward the house, feeling her nosegay would not be as eloquent as Darcy’s had been. She saw a perfect peach hanging low over the stone path and stooped to pick it. It occurred to her that fruit might have meaning and she consulted the herbal. ‘Your qualities, like your charms, are unequalled,’ it read. Hmm, she thought, I could leave the peach sitting with the vase and herbal. He would understand they are meant to be together.

  As she walked back to the house, she noticed a swath of viscaria had seeded itself at the edge of the paving stones. She stopped, turning pages. It means ‘Will you dance with me?’ How marvellous! This is exactly what we should do! We should start over. Elizabeth picked enough for a whole vase full.

  Another path lined with garden plants beckoned to her left. She could not resist a little exploration. She found betony, the flower of surprise, and decided it would do quite well. Mr Darcy was now surprising her daily. Bearing an armful of flowers, she snuck back into the house.

  * * *

  Georgiana attended to her harp in an unusually desultory manner. Her mind wandered back to the happy hour spent with her brother, picking flowers and crafting his message. She decided, since it would be just herself, her brother and Mr Bingley for dinner, it would not take much effort to contrive a vase of flowers for each place with a message of encouragement. Assuming Darcy had left the herbal in the stillroom, she descended the stairs thither and was perplexed to find evidence of activity, but the list of meanings for Elizabeth’s flowers and the herbal were missing. Had her brother kept the book?

  “Miss Georgiana!” Mrs Reynolds came into the stillroom behind her and placed a folded apron and empty bucket upon the table. “Oh! You have given me a fright. I did not expect to see you.”

  Georgiana looked askance at the housekeeper. “No…I suppose you thought me practicing. I thought my book of flower meanings might be here.”

  “Oh, oh yes, it was. I believe Mrs Gardiner’s maid has borrowed it. She is gone outside.” Mrs Reynolds was flustered, which Georgiana found uncommonly odd. A scullery maid entered with a deep soup kettle of freshly boiled water. “Just sit that on this big table, Sarah. Miss Georgiana, I shall bring your book to you as soon as the maid returns. Where will you be?”

  “I shall return to my music room, I suppose.” She took a last stealthy glance around the room. “Please see that anything my brother has written to go with the flowers for Miss Bennet is not forgotten.”

  “Oh, yes, I certainly shall ma’am.”

  Mrs Reynolds expelled a sigh of relief when she saw Georgiana’s shoes go out of sight as she ascended the stairs to the main floor. It was some minutes before Elizabeth returned.

  “Good heavens, Miss Bennet! Miss Darcy came looking for her book!”

  “Oh dear! Are we found out?”

  “I think not, or not yet, but I must take it to her soon or she will suspect.”

  Elizabeth laid the flowers and peach upon the table and handed the book to Mrs Reynolds. “Take it to her directly. The less time she waits for it, the better, I expect.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Mrs Reynolds smiled and rolled her eyes most humorously.

  Elizabeth laughed. “What a tangled web…!”

  Elizabeth went to work. Mrs Reynolds had provided a small bowl of jasmine blossoms. Elizabeth selected and set aside the most perfect ones. She poured a little boiling water into the remaining jasmine, and mashing the flowers into the sides of the bowl with a pestle from the tool drawer, made a watery paste. She had found an attractive empty bottle and stopper in the cupboards, which she washed in the hot water. She strained the water from the mashed jasmine into the bottle with a funnel and cheesecloth, then added attar of damask rose to the jasmine water until she had what she thought a pleasing scent. The reserved whole jasmine blossoms were dipped in the rose oil and added to the bottle, and Elizabeth fixed the stopper. She set the bottle aside with a label written out in her most careful hand and adhered with mucilage from a little jar.

  Elizabeth turned to the flowers she had picked. She slipped the nosegay from Darcy into her pocket. It would be wilting before she reached the inn but she intended to press the individual stems. No matter what the future brings, I will have these flowers and his letter from Rosings to keep by me in my spinsterhood.

  Elizabeth composed a nosegay of plants representing Darcy’s best qualities and placed it in the iris-painted china vase. She had withheld the red chrysanthemum, but at last tucked it into the middle of the posy, its stem too short to be securely bound into the twine. It was partially obscured by the other flowers. She opened the cupboard of vases and selected a taller one painted with a gentleman and lady dancing in the out-of-doors. She smiled to herself, arranging the viscaria in the vase. She had seen the little pile of cards with pen and ink on the long counter at the back of the room and created a little vignette similar to the one she had found upon her arrival. The tall vase had a card reading, “May I have the honour of dancing the next with you, Mr Darcy? E. Bennet” — these were similar to the words he had used to ask her to dance at Netherfield, as best she could remember. The nosegay note read the same as the card she had received, with sender and recipient reversed.

  Now that her stated purpose, as well as her clandestine one, was complete, Elizabeth cut a square of cheesecloth to use as a cleaning rag and began dusting shelves. She poured stale vials of scented oils into the formerly empty bucket, using the hot water to peel off old labels so the bottles could be refreshed. As needed, she wrote new labels to replace faded ones. She tossed tired bunches of dried flowers into the waste bucket. The room wanted a thorough clearing and it made her feel happy and useful to be contributing something of her own interest to the smooth running of Pemberley.

  Elizabeth had opened the tool drawers and started to make a tidy pile of broken tools on the big table when Mrs Reynolds announced her return with an alarmed gasp. She quickly grasped what had been keeping Miss Bennet so occupied. “Oh, Miss Bennet! Oh dear! I am mortified to find you toiling so. At Pemberley, we are not in the habit of putting our guests to work, I assure you.”

  Elizabeth turned to her with a laughing smile, revealing dust and smudges upon her apron and forehead. “You see before you no lady of leisure, Mrs Reynolds. Once I finished making the scent for Miss Darcy, which is here” — she handed the bottle to the housekeeper — “you should hide it — I could not sit idle, for I brought nothing to read and I could not go for a walk, given the nature of my visit. Organizing a stillroom is one of my few domestic talents.”

  “Oh, but Miss, I could have spared a maid to help you, to do the sorting and bottle washing under your direction. Mr Darcy will have me drawn and quartered should he learn of this.”

  “He shall not hear of it from me.” Elizabeth’s eyes twinkled.

  “I could have ordered you refreshments, ma’am.”

  “I am not so frail as to need
constant nourishment, Mrs Reynolds, and why disturb the kitchen staff unnecessarily? Pray, do not alarm yourself. Besides, I take no joy in drinking tea alone. Since my uncle is not yet returned, I have time to dust the cupboard of vases, and then, may I come and take tea with you in your room?” Elizabeth looked into the old woman’s eyes with her best smile and a little nod of encouragement.

  Mrs Reynolds shook her head in wonder and involuntarily returned the charming smile that was fixed upon hers. “I would be delighted, Miss Bennet. I shall order it now.” She turned from the room feeling a little dumbfounded. I have not had a lady take tea in my workroom since Lady Anne was alive. Could this be the next mistress of Pemberley?

  * * *

  Georgiana sat with her herbal in the window seat of her sitting room, wondering at the strange behaviour of the rarely flustered Mrs Reynolds. Since Georgiana was now in possession of her book, it must mean the maid had returned to the stillroom. The whole affair smacked of secrecy. Georgiana decided to yield to curiosity and return to peek into the stillroom. If she was caught, she thought she could say she was returning the book in case it was needed again, that her research could wait until the Gardiner maid was gone.

  On entering the marbled hallway, Georgiana heard the tapping of her heels and reversed direction to scamper to her dressing room. She quickly exchanged the low heels for soft-soled slippers and padded back downstairs. She slipped past Mrs Reynolds’s door, which was ajar, and looked into the stillroom through the glass door. The maid was half concealed by the open cupboard doors. An apron was tied behind her back, and her gown was of pale cream cotton printed with little bouquets of violets — rather nicer than a maid would wear. She was humming, a rich mezzo-soprano. The song was Mozart. Georgiana’s eyes darted to the long counter at the back of the room. There were two vases of flowers, each with a note card, and a peach sat next to a nosegay, which had been situated in the iris-painted vase. Why is the maid not taking the vase? It is part of the gift. Why are there new flowers? Surely, Elizabeth has not arranged with my brother to carry on a floral conversation through a maid. It only began this morning.

  Suddenly, Georgiana recognised the voice. It was Elizabeth. Why is she here, and why has her presence been concealed? Georgiana slipped away from the door, leaning against the wall. She was confused, to be sure, but also intrigued. She heard footsteps approaching and turned to skip silently up the stairs when she noticed a scullery maid with a china tea service set for two, emblazoned with the initials H. R. — Harriet Reynolds — enter the housekeeper’s workroom. Georgiana could not hear what was said until the maid came out, turned and replied, “Yes, ma’am,” and then crossed the hall and entered the stillroom.

  “Excuse me, ma’am. Mrs Reynolds bids me tell you the tea is ready.”

  The response to this confirmed the speaker was Miss Elizabeth, both by the pleasing timbre of the voice and the kind words expressed to the maid. “Thank you…” Elizabeth paused, and must have nodded encouragement to the maid.

  “I’m Sarah, ma’am. Sarah R. We have many Sarahs here.”

  “Thank you, Sarah R. If you have time and it is no imposition, this bucket should be taken away, dumped, and rinsed. Also, these tools are broken and should be removed.”

  Sarah picked up the bucket and tools. “I can do it now, ma’am.” She curtsied and left the room.

  Georgiana stepped up into the hall of the main floor before being seen.

  Elizabeth bathed her hands in the cooled water and wiped them clean on the hem of the apron, which she folded and left upon the table. She picked up the hooded cloak and tapped on Mrs Reynolds’ door.

  There was a knock at the Pemberley front door as Georgiana passed through the entry hall, and Grayson, the butler, opened it. “From the Rose and Raindrop Inn, sir. I have a message for Mr Gardiner, sir.”

  “Does it require a response?”

  “No sir, I was told I needn’t wait.”

  “Thank you.” Grayson slipped a shilling into the young man’s hand and, with a precise bow, closed the door. Georgiana proceeded upstairs as a footman was sent to find the gentlemen and deliver the message.

  * * *

  The footman, in his elegant Pemberley livery, was more formally dressed than the fisherman he found a half mile up the trout stream. The day continued warm, and the men had removed their coats, angling in shirtsleeves. Mr Gardiner caught the most fish while Darcy managed to catch four fine trout. Bingley, being excitable and yanking his line about, brought in only two.

  “It seems I am unable to think like a fish today,” he complained.

  The footman appeared, and Mr Gardiner read his note.

  Dear Edward,

  I am returned to the inn and await your arrival. Since we are very much a visit in debt to Mr Darcy and his sister, perhaps you would ask them and their guests to join us for dinner tomorrow afternoon after matins.

  We have no fixed engagements until Monday dinner with the Aspinalls.

  Yours, M.

  Bingley, Darcy and Mr Gardiner repacked their tackle and combined their fish into one creel. The footman was dispatched to take the fish to the kitchen and order the Gardiner carriage, which he was told should call at the kitchen door to collect Mrs Gardiner’s maid before meeting Mr Gardiner at the front door. They started back up the slope to the bridle path where Bingley’s horse waited. Bingley mounted and rode to the stables.

  Mr Gardiner cleared his throat. “My wife would have me invite you and Miss Darcy to join us for dinner after church tomorrow. You know, ladies are very much aware of these things, social debts and so on. Mr Bingley would be more than welcome to join us. My wife is not aware his family is gone.”

  “We would be delighted to join you after church, Gardiner, delighted. My sister and I have favoured the church at Kympton but merely because my parents started us in that habit. I have been thinking we should attend at St. Swithin’s occasionally.”

  * * *

  Elizabeth was contemplating a second cup of tea as she sat companionably with Mrs Reynolds in the housekeeper’s workroom. The two women engaged in a lively conversation about the youths of Fitzwilliam and Georgiana Darcy. Mrs Reynolds’s opinion of Miss Elizabeth Bennet continued to rise, and it became increasingly apparent that this gently bred young lady, while evidencing no impropriety, had a ready wit and deep intuition, which would make her an ideal companion for Miss Georgiana. Elizabeth asked more about Darcy’s sister than about the man himself, but had just determined to inquire further when Sarah R. tapped on the open workroom door.

  “’Scuse me, miss, but the carriage is come for ye.” She smiled with a curtsy.

  Elizabeth sat her cup and saucer upon the tea tray with sigh. “Thank you, Sarah R. Just when I had talked myself into a second cup, Mrs Reynolds.” Elizabeth stood and donned the cloak. “Please let Mr Darcy know my mission here has been accomplished and that you are in possession of Georgiana’s gift. I hope they both like it. It should not be unsealed until her birthday; the scents must meld to form one perfume. And thank you, too, for your hospitality. You have been most gracious to have a stranger in your midst.”

  Mrs Reynolds stood and made a slight bow to Elizabeth. “It has been no inconvenience to me, ma’am, I’m sure. I have been delighted to get to know you. And I should be thanking you for setting our stillroom to rights.”

  “About that…” Elizabeth blushed a little and looked down. “There is a little vignette of flowers and fruit I should very much like Mr Darcy to see, if he will. If you have a chance for a private word with him, you might let him know it is there.”

  Mrs Reynolds smiled gently. “Yes, ma’am, I shall.”

  A little embarrassed, with nothing else to say, Elizabeth left the kitchen and had only to walk a few steps to her uncle’s carriage. It stopped at the front entrance to Pemberley, and she overheard Mr Darcy’s and her uncle’s adieus. She was surprised and pleased to learn the Darcys and Mr Bingley would spend the afternoon and take dinner with them the next day.


  * * *

  Darcy was met in the hall by Bingley. “I say, Darcy, we must rescue Georgiana from her instruments. I promised her.”

  Darcy laughed. “Let us have some refreshments. Grayson?”

  The noble butler appeared quickly from a side hall. “Yes, sir, Mr Darcy?”

  “Mr Bingley and I would like something cool to drink, and I’ll wager my sister would like some tea. And whatever fruit and cheese and such as the kitchen staff have quickly to hand. They needn’t cook; no sense heating up the kitchen until dinner on such a warm day. In my sister’s music room, if you would, Grayson.”

  “Of course, sir.” Grayson disappeared down the kitchen stairs.

  The two men entered the music room laughing about the fishing prowess of Edward Gardiner. Georgiana was leaning against the windowsill, wondering how she could manoeuvre her brother to the topic of Elizabeth Bennet.

  She turned and smiled at them. Perhaps Mr Bingley knew of Elizabeth’s visit? “Mr Bingley! When do you suppose we will have the pleasure of seeing Miss Elizabeth Bennet again?”

  Bingley blushed anxiously, which Georgiana took to be a statement of some secret closely held. “Not being the host, Georgiana, I am afraid I cannot say.”

  “I can,” Darcy spoke up brightly to relieve his friend. “We have been invited to dine at the inn with the Gardiners and Miss Bennet tomorrow. I thought we might attend church in Lambton for a change. You are to be included, Bingley. I suspect the Gardiners want to give you a thorough looking over before any response arrives from Longbourn. They may be asked to render an opinion of you, you know, so you had better make the most of these opportunities to impress.”

  Bingley chuckled. “I will not have impressed Mr Gardiner with my fishing today.”

  “You were too nervous with your line, pulling and jerking. What was the matter with you?”

  Bingley smiled absent-mindedly. “I believe, I hope, I am soon to be a very happy man, Darcy. Although I was furious with you last night, this morning I find myself comforted to know Jane’s regard for me is as stout and enduring a thing as mine for her. Miss Elizabeth was kind enough to calm my concerns. Yet, I am agitated. I imagine where the express might be on its journey. I do hope Mr Bennet will send an express in return and not dawdle about making a reply.”