Darcy doubted that very much, but the deed was done. He surveyed the abundance before him with growing dismay. There were far too many blooms, and some whose meanings he suspected might be too forward.
“Miss Bennet was kind enough to locate the book.” Bingley gestured to Jane. “The Thoughtful Gardener’s Companion, I believe it’s called.”
Jane stepped forward, her expression containing the same quiet intelligence that animated her sister, though without Elizabeth’s fire. “Charles mentioned you wished to express gratitude for Lizzy’s care. Perhaps you might like guidance in selecting the most appropriate blooms.”
“Yes,” he said. “I would be grateful.”
“Then we might begin by setting aside those that speak most clearly to your sentiments.” She moved to the table, her hands hovering over the abundant collection. “The purple hyacinth, of course, conveys a request for forgiveness. A most humble sentiment.”
Darcy nodded, not trusting himself to speak as she selected several elegant purple blooms.
“White tulips suggest worthiness,” she continued, her voice neutral though her meaning was clear. “Ivy speaks of friendship and fidelity.”
She worked methodically, selecting some blooms and setting others aside. Among those chosen were sprigs of delicate forget-me-nots, a few stalks of lily of the valley, and pink camellias.
“And the roses?” he asked, noting she had left them untouched.
Jane’s eyes met his, gentle but knowing. “That would depend, Mr. Darcy, on the precise nature of your gratitude.”
He found himself unable to look away from her steady gaze. “I wish to convey my sincere apology for past misunderstandings, my appreciation for her care, and my hope for… continued acquaintance.”
“I see.” Jane selected the light pink roses. “This speaks of unconscious beauty—a quality few would deny my sister possesses, though she herself remains unaware.”
She left the red roses—those that might declare passionate love—untouched. Darcy found himself both relieved and disappointed by her discretion.
“There,” Jane said, stepping back to reveal a bouquet of surprising harmony. “I believe this arrangement will convey your sentiments clearly, without presumption.”
“Thank you, Miss Bennet. You have been most helpful.”
“I shall fetch a ribbon to secure them,” Jane offered. “And perhaps locate a suitable vase.”
As she departed, Bingley lingered, a poorly concealed smile playing about his lips. “Well, Darcy, this is certainly a development I did not anticipate.”
“It is merely an expression of gratitude,” Darcy replied stiffly.
“Of course,” Bingley agreed. “Just as my daily visits to Longbourn are merely neighborly courtesy.”
Darcy fixed him with a warning look, but found it impossible to maintain in the face of his friend’s genuine pleasure. There was no malice in Bingley’s teasing, only the good-natured delight of a man who wished happiness for those he cared about.
“I am not entirely certain what I am doing,” Darcy admitted.
“The best of us rarely are, when it comes to matters of the heart. But I will say this: I have observed Miss Elizabeth these past days, as she has tended to you. Whateverhappened between you at Hunsford, whatever scandal Wickham attempted, she has shown a dedication that goes beyond duty.”
The observation settled in Darcy’s chest before Jane returned with a blue ribbon and a crystal vase.
“There,” she said, setting the neatly tied arrangement on the bedside table. “I believe this will please her greatly.”
“And the book?” Darcy asked, suddenly anxious that Elizabeth might not understand his intent.
“Here,” Jane said, placing it beside the flowers. “We should leave you to rest before Elizabeth returns. She went to refresh herself and change her dress, but knowing my sister, she will not be absent long.”
“Thank you,” Darcy said again, feeling the inadequacy of the words. “For everything.”
After they departed, Darcy consulted the book as he considered his message. The blooms seemed to shimmer as fever affected his vision, but their message remained clear:Please forgive me. I am worthy of you. True love, remembrance, return of happiness, longing for you, loyalty, friendship.
The pink rose gave him pause:Unconscious beauty. He had not specified this, but Jane’s inclusion seemed perfectly chosen. Elizabeth’s beauty was not of the conventional sort that society praised, but it was undeniable to him, and all the more powerful for her apparent unawareness of it.
A soft knock at the door pulled him from his contemplation. He closed the book and set it beside the flowers, his heart suddenly racing in a manner that he was unaccustomed to.
