Like a Flower in Bloom (7 page)

She pulled me along to the Admiral who had wandered off toward the windows and was staring out into the darkness of the night as a stiff breeze flattened his hair. She tugged at his sleeve.

He turned with a start and bowed. “Miss Templeton.”

She curtseyed. “I had the most engaging conversation with your niece, Miss Withersby, and I was struck by inspiration! Mr. Stansbury has the best glasshouse in the county. I was telling her all about it, wondering if she hadn’t happened yet to see it. He sometimes gives tours to visitors, but she told me she’d never had the pleasure of an introduction.”

The Admiral was regarding the man in question through narrowed eyes. “He’s not quite a gentleman, to my way of understanding. Didn’t he have an interest in shoe black?”

The tiniest of frowns marred her brow. “Something to do with the railways, I rather thought, but considering Miss Withersby’s interest in botany, perhaps an introduction might be merited.”

The Admiral sniffed.

“
Warranted
. Perhaps an introduction might be
warranted
is what I meant to say.”

He peered at her, lips pursed for a moment. “Perhaps it is. I
haven’t been introduced myself, but I daresay if I can convince China to open her ports, then I can introduce myself to an industrialist from Liverpool.”

He marched out across the ballroom floor as Miss Templeton and I struggled to keep up with his long strides.

She clutched at my arm. “This is going quite perfectly! How alarmed your Admiral will be if he thinks Mr. Stansbury’s interest in you surpasses his interests in plants and is, in fact, genuine. You’ll be recalled to your father’s side in an instant!”

For the first time in several days, my spirits began to lift. “I’ve so longed for my microscope and—”

“You really must try to smile, Miss Withersby. You look frightfully dour the way you are just now.”

I fixed a smile to my face.

Mr. Stansbury glanced toward us, and when his gaze fixed upon the Admiral, his eyes widened. He bent at the waist in a short, choppy bow.

The Admiral nodded. “Stansbury, is it?”

“Indeed, sir. It’s a very great honor to make your acquaintance.”

“I’ve been told you have an interest in botany.”

“I do. A very great interest.”

“May I present my niece, Miss Withersby. Her father is a botanist. The entire family has an ancient affinity for the topic.”

“Miss Withersby.” He bowed, and I curtseyed in return. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Do you share your family’s interest?”

“I do.”

“Perhaps, then, you would do me the favor of viewing my collections?”

I needed to know what they were before deciding. “What is it that you’ve collected?”

“Orchids. Ferns. Palms. Anything my correspondents can get for me.”

Palms weren’t my favorites. I considered them altogether too expansive for my taste, and they didn’t much flower, but it did not seem an appropriate time to quibble. “Yes. I will.”

“Tuesday perhaps? At two o’clock?”

I looked at my uncle.

He replied on my behalf. “Very well. We shall see you then.” He nodded at the man as one would in taking leave, but he continued to stand exactly where he was.

After a glance at Miss Templeton and me, Mr. Stansbury nodded and moved off.

The Admiral harrumphed, took out a handkerchief, and patted his brow.

Miss Templeton took me by the hand and pulled me close. “Now we just have to get you introduced to the rector.”

“I’ve already met him.”

“Nobody knows you’ve met him, and if your uncle didn’t see it . . . ?”

“No.”

“So the first time might have been for nothing for all the good it does us now.”

“Then what shall I do?”

“We must obtain another introduction by way of the Admiral. That’s the way it’s done.” She pushed me toward him.

“Uncle?”

He glanced over at me. “My dear?”

“I wonder . . .”

Miss Templeton was nodding as if to encourage me.

“Have you met the new rector yet?”

“I have. Though he seems a likeable fellow, I have decided to withhold my judgment until I hear him preach a sermon. Let’s
hope he’s one of those who has sense enough to dispense with politics and satisfy himself with the Word of God.”

I lifted a brow at Miss Templeton.

She stepped forward. “I hear he brought an excellent collection of . . . of plants with him from . . . wherever it was that he came. Where
did
he come from?”

“Northumberland.” At least that’s what he’d told me.

“I am entirely besotted with the idea of the north! And I’m sure Miss Withersby would love to see his collections. I was wondering, since my father is otherwise occupied at the moment, could you make an introduction for me?”

“I would be happy to do so.”

The Admiral marched over to the rector, and once again Miss Templeton and I were left to follow in his wake. There were bows and nods and altogether too much of a fuss made of my uncle’s sordid past.

The Admiral pinned Mr. Hopkins-Whyte with a glance. “I’ve heard that you haven’t met Miss Templeton or my niece, Miss Withersby.”

The rector bowed once more. As he straightened he looked at me. “Your . . . your niece?”

“My sister’s daughter.”

The rector was beginning to look apoplectic.

“We’re ever so happy to have you here, Mr. Hopkins-Whyte.” Miss Templeton’s words were spoken with a smile.

“Thank you?”

“I’ve heard you’ve come to us from Northumberland.”

“I . . . I have done so. Yes. From Northumberland.”

“I’ve also heard there are ever so many beautiful . . .” She was kicking me in the shins. “So very many beautiful flowers such as . . .” She gave me another kick. “Oh, do help me, Miss Withersby. You’re so much better at flowers than I am.”

“I’m sure you must have seen many specimens of privet, Mr. Hopkins-Whyte.”

His brow furrowed. “I’ve rather . . . an uncollected collection at the moment, you see, but yes. I did collect many specimens during my time in Northumberland. I’m sure privet must be among them.”

Miss Templeton sighed. “I do so love the exotic. Don’t you, Miss Withersby?”

“Certain exotics.” Others I found entirely too foreign.

“I was thinking of local exotics. Specifically the sorts of flowers from the north that we don’t often get to see here.”

Mr. Hopkins-Whyte was trying not to smile. “Northumberland being in the north, I must say . . . Rather, I suppose one might
wish
to say, that altogether it would be expected that you would have a much greater variety of flowers here in Cheshire.”

“But you seem to be saying your collection isn’t worth seeing!” Miss Templeton was practically chiding the poor man. “Your modesty becomes you, but Miss Withersby and I consider ourselves devotées of flowers, and we’re avid collectors ourselves, and I do hope that you might someday be persuaded to share your own collection.”

“Of course, I would be happy—”

“How generous you are! We wouldn’t want to interrupt your sermon writing, but could we possibly prevail upon you to entertain us Tuesday afternoon? Around four o’clock?”

“Tuesday? Well, of course, Tuesday is—”

“How perfectly splendid! We’ll see you then.”

We both dropped curtseys, and as the rector stared with wide eyes at my uncle standing beside him, Miss Templeton took me by the hand and pulled me away. “Good gracious! And the man has eight children. It’s a wonder he ever gathered his thoughts long enough to get married.”

“He’s not so bad as all that.” In fact, he was better than I had remembered. “And really, he was quite right about there being so many more flowers here in the south than he had access to in the north.”

“I don’t care about his flowers, Miss Withersby!”

“Then why did you provoke him into showing us his collection?”

“So that you can be seen going to the rectory. No one will suspect that he has any designs on
me
. Papa would never entertain his suit! But you, Miss Withersby, are a different matter entirely. I shall let it slip that we are going to visit Mr. Stansbury
and
Mr. Hopkins-Whyte on Tuesday and we’ll just see how long it takes for tongues to start wagging!”

M
rs. Bickwith came up to us not twenty minutes later. “I hear the new rector has
eight
children
.” The tops of her cheeks had gone red, and now they matched her gown.

Since she seemed to be speaking to me, I answered. “I’ve heard the same.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t make any difference to you, however.”

“To me? Why would it?”

“It doesn’t pay to be discriminating at your age.”

“Discriminating? I suppose it depends upon what the question is. In terms of microscopes, for instance, I should think it most definitely pays to be discriminating. My father and I have always held that German lenses, though they’re terribly expensive, are a better purchase because—”

“Microscopes?” She turned to Miss Templeton. “What do microscopes have to do with—”

Miss Templeton smiled at her. “Miss Withersby is enamored of flowers. Her father is quite well-known in botany.”

“Oh?” Her gaze fluttered back to me. “Then you must become a member of the King’s Head Field Club.”

“I don’t think so. I—”

“You
must
join us. There’s nothing more uplifting than flowers. We meet on Sunday afternoon.”

As the woman left, I confided my objections to Miss Templeton. “I don’t want to become a member of a field club.”

“But why not? I’m a member of the field club.”

“I object to the very idea of field clubs, because most of the time they destroy the very fields they’re meant to be viewing, and by the time a true botanist comes along, there’s nothing left to pick!”

“Hush now. You shouldn’t speak so loudly. People are beginning to notice.” She deployed her fan and began to sweep it back and forth.

“They ought to notice!”

“My gracious, Miss Withersby, it won’t do to hold such strong opinions. Not when you’re supposed to be bent on marriage.” She patted my hand as she looked around the room. “I wonder who we’ll be seated next to at dinner. I’m going to be very bold and hope you’re a pair for Mr. Stansbury. I daresay he has the
makings
of a gentleman. It’s such a shame he made his fortune in railways. There’s just no way for that to sound appealing. Pity.”

By the time we arrived at the table, I was famished. The assembly as a whole was quite colorful. It resembled nothing so much as a field of wild flowers in July.

At dinner, I was seated across from the Admiral and next to both Mr. Stansbury and Mr. Hopkins-Whyte.

I must confess that at first I paid much more attention to the food being served than to my dining companions. The bread was like nothing Mrs. Harvey had ever made for us. I didn’t even have to dunk it into my tea to be able to eat it. There were oysters, which I didn’t eat, and transparent soup, which I did.
There was a boiled fish of some sort and stewed cardoons and then some collared pig, which wasn’t at all dry or even tough. It was enough to make me wonder why it was that father and I had to eat like sailors when some people appeared to eat like kings.

As I ate, Mr. Hopkins-Whyte kept apologizing for the state of his collections, while Mr. Stansbury attempted to persuade me to the merits of something he called a stumpery.

It wasn’t until the cheese was served that I could devote my attentions to a reply. As a rule, I didn’t really much care for cheese. “When you say
stumpery
, Mr. Stansbury, what is it exactly?”

“Finally! Some interest in my undertaking.” I liked the way he smiled as if he really meant to. “I can tell you, Miss Withersby, that the rest of the county’s population considers it a folly.”

“I know what it is to have your life’s work discounted. Or dismissed and considered a hobby.” Or treated as nothing at all.

“You do understand.” Mr. Stansbury had a very frank way of gazing at me through moss-colored eyes. His hair was dark, and he had combed it back to reveal a triangular point. His face had been fashioned with a firm hand, which had left behind a decided chin and a broad brow. Something about him reminded me of an invasive weed that has crept its way into a flower garden, trying to insinuate itself among the other plants. He looked harmless enough, he probably was harmless enough, but somehow he didn’t quite belong.

“To answer your question,” he said, “a stumpery is simply a collection of stumps.”

“Stumps. As in . . . ?”

“Tree stumps.”

“So you’ve taken a parcel of woodlands and cut down all the trees? Is that what you mean?”

His bark of laughter rolled across the table, making me almost wish I could understand the humor of my words.

“Excuse me, Miss Withersby, for laughing. Anyone will tell you I’m not the most couth of men. I’ve simply had tree stumps brought in and planted, stump down, in one of my gardens.”

“So . . . the roots are exposed?”

“Exactly.”

“You’ve a garden of tree roots, then?”

“Precisely.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

The Admiral drove me home and accompanied me to the door. When I bid him good-night, instead of returning to his carriage, he came into the house with me.

Although Father must long ago have gone to bed, at least I hoped he had, Mr. Trimble was still hunched over my desk, working. He stood when he saw us.

The Admiral nodded and then proceeded to pace in front of the fireplace for several long minutes. “I don’t know how to put this to you delicately, Charlotte,” he finally said, “so I shall simply come right out and say it.”

“Please do.”

“Mrs. Bickwith inquired as to whether your trunks had not yet arrived.”

“My trunks? We’ve been here for nearly four years now. Of course they’ve come!”

“That’s not what she meant to say. What she meant was . . . Well, I think . . . That is . . . I think . . . you should pay a visit to a dressmaker.”

“Why?”

Mr. Trimble cleared his throat.

The Admiral transferred his gaze to him.

It took me a moment to realize my uncle was waiting for an
introduction. “Admiral Williams, this is Mr. Trimble, a correspondent from New Zealand, come to work for my father. You might remember him from before we left for the dinner. He was speaking of petticoats and . . . and other things.”

Mr. Trimble stepped forward, hand extended. “Admiral
Williams
?” He spoke the words almost reverently.

My uncle nodded. “Her Majesty’s Navy.”

“I consider it a very great honor, Admiral. Though I may not be the first, I wish to offer you my congratulations on the reopening of China to trade.”

My uncle took his measure from head to toe and finally nodded. “So noted.”

“Forgive me for intruding upon your conversation with Miss Withersby, but may I offer my observations?”

“If you think them relevant.”

Mr. Trimble addressed himself to me. “You are lacking the appropriate attire in which to find yourself a husband, Miss Withersby.”

“Why would it matter what I’m wearing? Are we not taught from the cradle to look beyond appearances?”

“Appearance does matter, and quite a bit to some people, I assure you.”

I considered his words for a moment. “I suppose . . . I put on my shooting jacket and boots when I go for a ramble in order to better facilitate the collection of specimens . . .”

Mr. Trimble raised a brow as if waiting for me to go on.

“So the corollary is that I must put on some other sort of costume when I go to these dinner parties in order to better facilitate the collection of a husband?”

The Admiral let out a breath in a great
whoosh
of air. “Quite so, quite so. The right uniform for the job. Just like I always say.”

“I’ve got to have one of those gowns? One of those with all
the . . .” I moved my hands about my skirts to try to gather the words to describe those massive dresses I’d seen.

“I daresay you’ll need more than one.” Mr. Trimble spoke in the most benign way, but his eyes made me think him quite serious.

“
More
than one?”

“They’re like day lilies, Miss Withersby. A new bloom, a new gown, each day.”

This pretending to find a husband was going to require an extravagant amount of money. It’s a good thing I had never done it in earnest before. But that didn’t get me out of the bind I was in at the moment. “Surely I can make do with what I have.” It should only take a few more days for Father to realize my worth and after that no one would care about my gowns any longer. “We’ve hardly money enough to pay Mrs. Harvey, and if I’m not going to write that book on wax flowers, I don’t see where we’ll get the funds for—”

The Admiral harrumphed. “You can tell the dressmaker I’m good for it. Haven’t got the expense of children because I left it too long and now I can’t live with anyone but myself.”

I blinked. Had he . . . had he just offered to pay for new gowns? He’d never done anything of the sort before. He’d always seemed almost as embarrassed on our account as we were on his. I wanted to tell him to save his money, that new gowns were hardly required, but I’d perpetuated a deception and had no choice but to continue in it. “Thank you. When shall we go, then?”

“Go where?”

“To the dressmaker.”

His brows rose in apparent alarm. “You’re asking
me
to go with you? I don’t know anything about frills and furbelows.”

It was apparent to me that he knew more about the subject
than I did. “I suppose I shall go by myself, then. Although . . . I don’t really know what to ask for.”

“I can write it all down for you.” Mr. Trimble returned to the desk, which had formerly been mine, seeming intent upon doing just that.

I followed him. “I can’t think how it is, being just a sheep farmer from New Zealand, that you know about this sort of thing.”

“A general knowledge of this and that comes in handy even in the wilds of the empire, Miss Withersby. And when you’re raised with sisters, you can’t help but come by a knowledge of fashion and its modes.”

The Admiral snorted. “I had my own sister.” He glanced over at me. “Your mother always hated this sort of thing. Said it took too much time away from what was important.” He frowned. “Though I can’t go with you, my dear, you must go with someone—otherwise, they’ll talk you into all sorts of fripperies that aren’t needed. You’ll want what’s appropriate and useful, but no more than that. No point in putting a mast on a dory. I could send a message to Mrs. Bickwith and ask her to accompany you.”

Not Mrs. Bickwith. She reminded me too much of broad-leaved dock. Some admired its flowers, but I had always found them to be too drooping and waxy for my taste. “What about Miss Templeton?”

“Brilliant idea,” the Admiral said. “I ought to have thought of her myself. I’ll write out a note and have it delivered tomorrow. Ask her to accompany you on Monday.”

“Could you make it on Tuesday morning?” Miss Templeton seemed to have a need for contemplation. “But don’t make it for any earlier than ten.”

Mr. Trimble passed him a sheet of paper. The Admiral cleared a place atop the mantel and composed his message.

“There!” He signed it with a flourish and slid it into his pocket. “I’ve asked her to accompany you on Tuesday morning. I’ll send my carriage for you both.”

As I sat in church the next day, I realized the rector had not lied. His true calling was to the pulpit. I had never heard a finer sermon. One point followed upon the other in such an orderly manner and with such clear logic that his thesis could not be called into question. And far from the wandering, dubious conclusions of the previous rector, this rector’s sermon called for moral courage and immediate action.

I fairly pledged myself to clean and virtuous living.

The next day after I had woken far too early with nothing to do, after wandering about the house and refraining from all things related to flowers, I took myself off on a ramble. Again I encountered the rector around the region of Cats Clough.

“Miss Withersby.” He tore his hat from his head and clasped it to his chest.

“I must say, Mr. Hopkins-Whyte, that I quite enjoyed your sermon yesterday.”

His shoulders eased. “Thank you.”

“I had no idea that you were so . . . that you . . .”

“That I could speak so eloquently?” He smiled as I began to laugh. “That’s what my wife always says. Said. She claimed I courted her through psalms and visions of heaven instead of bouquets of flowers, with the stuff of paradise rather than earthly jewels.”