She felt rather light-headed. It felt strange to have a stranger openly acknowledge some part of herself that had remained hidden for so long. “Very much.”
“She did not tell me anything,” said he, seeing the anxiety on Charlotte’s face. “I merely guessed by your face when I mentioned Miss Carlisle that you and Miss Bennet might be…close. Though I already had some idea when she specifically requested flowers for you.” He leaned in slightly, looking apologetic. “I do hope I have not upset you by mentioning the lady.”
“I am not…that is to say, that I have never met her.” Charlotte forced a smile. “You are most astute, sir.”
“Well, that reminds to be seen.” He winked again. “You must come to visit my estate and view my roses, Mrs Collins.It is not too far from here. I shall insist that Miss Bennet bring you before you leave town.”
“Oh, I—”
“Bring her where?” Mary asked, materializing at Charlotte’s elbow and offering them each a glass of sherry
“To view my collection.”
“Of course! We shall come whenever it is convenient for you. I say, have you seen Miss Highbridge anywhere?”
“I believe she sent her regards to the Wilberforces. A sudden head cold, though nothing serious.”
“Poor thing,” Charlotte said, feeling rather guilty. She’d been so busy suspecting Mary of being in love with Miss Highbridge that she hadn’t spent as much time getting to know the girl. “Ought we to send her something? It is dreadful to be sick abed with nothing to entertain you.”
“What a wonderful idea.” Mary smiled at her, though she still looked pale. “I shall have Pitt arrange something tomorrow morning.”
After a few sips of sherry, the warmth of the drink began to relax Charlotte’s nerves; apart from Mrs Tremaine, no one seemed to mind at all that she was there, and visiting such a vast floral collection was an exciting prospect. However odd and anxiety-provoking it had been to be acknowledged by Mr Mellor, it had also been rather nice—like becoming a member of a secret society, existing in plain sight. They were soon joined by Mr Cromley and the gentleman in the blue tailcoat, who struck up a conversation about the latest theory of strata. Charlotte was glad that Mary had explained at least the basics to her, though she could not follow the more complicated references they made. Likewise, Mary seemed to be having trouble paying attention—she spoke when spoken to, but otherwise appeared distracted, her gaze wandering off into the distance.
“I say, Mellor,” Mr Cromley said, “it’s been a glorious season for my roses. Perhaps this is the year I finally best you, eh?”
“It might well be,” Mr Mellor admitted. “I’m having trouble with some of the flowers, though I cannot for the life of me work out what to do about these confounded insects. They’ve already eaten their way through my pink lilies, which as you know I was breeding apart in the hope of—”
Mrs Tremaine had sidled into the group, a simpering smile plastered onto her face. Mr Mellor hesitated before continuing. “Anyway. The blasted creatures are everywhere, and my gardeners claim they’ve never seen anything like them. No idea where they came from, either. If I do not find a solution, then indeed, Cromley, you may have me beat this year.”
“Then I shall beg everyone not to help you,” Mr Cromley joked, raising a laugh.
“Have you tried poison?” Mrs Tremaine asked.
“Of course.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Tried everything.”
“Dill,” Charlotte said, without thinking. All eyes turned to her.
Mr Mellor blinked. “What was that, Mrs Collins?”
She swallowed. “Those kinds of insects seem to love dill.”
“We’re not trying to feed the creatures,” Mrs Tremaine smirked. “We’re trying to eradicate them. That meansdestroy, you know.”
Temper rising, Charlotte met Mrs Tremaine’s eyes coolly. “That’s the beauty of this approach. They love dill so much that they’ll leave your other plants alone and congregate there.” She smirked back. “That meansgather, you know.”
Mary choked on her sherry, hiding a splutter of laughter behind a hastily raised handkerchief.
“What’s this?” Mr Mellor cried, his forehead furrowed with surprise. “Is it really that simple? Have I wasted half a fortune employing horticultural specialists who could not cure the problem, and never thought simply to move it elsewhere?”
Charlotte blushed. “It has worked many a time in the gardensI have known. Some insects are staved off by the use of mint or basil, but some cannot be dissuaded by any means except death, and they often reproduce in numbers so great that extinguishing them entirely is a lengthy and time-consuming endeavour. In such cases, encouraging them to withdraw to a dill plant at least has the advantage of leaving your other flowers alone. You could use marigolds too, but those would take longer to grow.”
“What an excellent military tactic. Draw the enemy to a particular point—a point which they believe to be most advantageous, then strike once they have gathered in numbers.” Mr Mellor stroked his white whiskers, thinking the idea over. “Yes, I see how it might work. My, my. You ought to have been a military commander, Mrs Collins. The enemy would have been shaking in their boots after such a manoeuvre.”
Charlotte laughed while Mrs Tremaine slunk away into the crowd, scowling. “I do not know about all that. It is a simple enough remedy, and one which ought to work, though I make no promises.”
“Now I must insist that you come and visit my collection. If what you say works, then I shall be in your debt forever.”
“Very well,” said she, delighted by the invitation. “If it’s not too much trouble, Miss Bennet?”
