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Posted on Wednesday, 30 January 2008
Elizabeth stared at her phone with misgiving. Two calls from government agencies on a Saturday did not bode well. She chose the lesser of the two evils and dialled the number for the NTA. The answering machine kicked in after two rings, so she left a message.
"Hi, this is Elizabeth Bennet at Glacierview. I wasn't in when someone from your office called earlier today. I will keep my cell phone with me if you need to get a hold of me."
She debated returning Fitzsnobbiam's call, but decided that if it was important enough he'd call back. She really preferred the idea of discussing whatever it was with the NTA representative. For all she knew it would be George, and though she no longer was into him, she didn't mind chatting with him.
As she was sitting there thinking, the phone rang in her hand and she almost dropped it. She checked before answering -- it was the NTA number.
"Hello."
"Elizabeth?"
It was George. "What's up? I didn't think they worked you on Saturdays."
"All hell has broken loose. There have been a hundred nurseries with suspicious positives, and I'm sorry to say yours is one of them."
"Suspicious positives? What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that samples from your nursery tested positive for SOD. Twelve, actually."
"I don't believe it!" Elizabeth felt anger and fear run through her. Legs shaking, she pulled back her chair and sat down.
"Hold on! Let me finish." Papers rustled at the other end of the phone and then George spoke again. "It doesn't mean your plants have the disease -- not definitely. Hence the word suspicious."
"Then what does it mean? The way I understand things, either a result is positive or it isn't!"
"The FHA are questioning the testing. They don't trust our results because they weren't found at their precious lab back east."
"So -- what happens now?"
"There's a meeting in Abbotsford on Wednesday. It would be great if you could make it."
"I can't go to the mainland right now. My dad's sick and my sister Mary is doing Jane's job while Jane's taking a course in Victoria. Everyone else is laid off for the month."
"You could attend the meeting by speaker phone. I was just hoping to see you."
"Don't forget you're engaged -- and to your boss's daughter."
"Baby! You know I didn't mean anything, only that it would be nice to see you."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and changed the subject. "What can I do until then?"
"Business as usual until you hear different. Leave it with us to get sorted. Call reception at 10:00 Wednesday, and Marianne will hook you up to the meeting. Oh yeah -- keep quiet about this -- we don't want to cause a big panic in the industry. We're only contacting the nurseries with suspicious positives."
Elizabeth reflected that one hundred nurseries out of the three hundred and fifty or so registered in the certification program was a sizeable chunk. The test results were bound to become common knowledge before too long. "I'll do my best."
"And no worrying."
"Thanks George."
When the phone rang again, Elizabeth knew it would be Fitzsnobbiam.
"Sorry to disturb you on the weekend, Elizabeth," he said, "but there've been new developments in the P. ramorum program that I think you should know about. We've received quite a number of questionable results."
"Those suspicious positives?"
"So, you know already?"
"I just now got off the phone with George."
"Wickham?" His voice had changed subtly -- it sounded almost wary.
"Yes. He told me that Glacierview had twelve samples test positive. But he also told me that the FHA doesn't trust the lab results."
"We don't."
"Simply because they weren't done in your own lab?"
"Is that what George told you? I'm glad I called, then. The last thing we need is that kind of back biting remark to send tempers flaring again. There isn't some sort of Federal/Provincial petty rivalry going on. We're in on this together -- we all have the same goal at heart. The problem isn't with the lab, it's with the kind of tests performed. And possibly it goes even deeper than that -- but that's speculation on my part."
Elizabeth grabbed the one thing he said that she felt needed addressing over all the rest. "What was that about the kind of tests performed?" She didn't really expect a straight answer.
"There's more than one test to determine P ramorum. One is much quicker than the other. Both the US government and our federal government have agreed upon using the slower test because it's considered more reliable. Because of the volume of tests being performed and the time restraints, the lower mainland lab opted for the quicker tests."
"So, does that mean the results are wrong?"
"We are taking these positives only as an indicator of probability."
"So, my suspicious positives could turn out to be negative?"
"It could go either way -- we could have a very serious situation on our hands."
Elizabeth sighed. "So you're retesting all the samples that came out positive?"
"That would certainly simplify things, but we think the samples may be tainted. The results are way out of proportion. We'll have to go to each nursery involved and take new samples from the suspect plants."
"What do I do in the meantime?"
"That's going to be discussed at Wednesday's meeting. Will I see you there?"
"No. I'm doing it by phone. Could you at least tell me which of my plants tested positive?"
"We're not disclosing that to anyone yet."
"What? I'd say the growers with suspicious positives have a right to know."
"We don't want any plants disposed of before we can get there to retest them."
"I would never do anything so irresponsible."
"I'm not saying you would -- I know how seriously you take the P.ramorum threat. It's simply FHA policy, besides I don't have the list in front of me."
‘Like heck you don't.' thought Elizabeth. "Thanks for the information you were able to give me."
Elizabeth sat at her desk for a long time after the two phone calls. She stared blankly at the walls, worst-case scenarios playing through her head. If her buffer zones weren't organised right and there truly were diseased plants, it could create a domino effect. The result would be catastrophic. The only thing that gave her any hope for a better outcome was the knowledge that they'd passed the spring testing with flying colours and since then they hadn't brought in any stock from outside sources. She didn't see how the disease could have entered her nursery and spread so widely with the safety precautions she'd been taking.
Telling her dad seemed unfair. His cold had put him in bed for a week -- something unheard of for the man who'd always worked through whatever ailed him. Talking to her mom about the problem would be pointless. And Jane had enough troubling her right now. Elizabeth kept everything to herself. By Wednesday she was overwrought. She hoped the meeting would ease her tension and eliminate her fears.
The phone connection to the meeting wasn't very good. Even with the volume up it was difficult to hear all the speakers. And when more than one person started to speak at a time it was impossible to tell what anyone was saying. Some of the questions she wanted to ask were raised, but the answers were inconclusive. The lab supervisor spoke, the NTA project manager, even Fitzsnobbiam himself. It seemed the main focus of the meeting was to keep the growers calm and put off answering the hard questions.
All Elizabeth really learned was that the FHA would do the sampling as quickly as they possibly could, using all the manpower at their disposal. The NTA's role would only be as a liaison. In the meantime, no plants were to go in or out of the nurseries affected. Unaffected nurseries would finally receive their certification papers. Everyone in the program was to continue on with the workshops, which would run in February and March, depending on the area.
The next day Elizabeth got a call from George.
"The word is that the FHA will be sampling in your area starting Monday. This whole thing is such a fiasco. Do you know they are sending out fisheries inspectors and dock inspectors -- people who know nothing at all about plants? We have trained samplers they could use, but no dice."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"The feds never make sense, baby. I'm glad I'm outta there. Anyway, I'm up to my eyeballs in this liaison crap -- their big concession to the NTA -- we get to do their phoning for them."
"I don't envy you."
Monday. Elizabeth hung up the phone and got out her day timer to check what was already on her agenda for the following week. At least they were getting right down to it. Usually her little corner of the island was left until close to last. From the looks of things she'd have the time to go out with the FHA inspectors, whichever day they came. She wanted to supervise the sampling procedure every step of the way. If they didn't like it, too bad for them.
After lunch she drove around the nursery, familiarising herself with the locations the forty samples had been taken from. It would have been easier if she'd known which twelve to target, but that kind of openness from the FHA was obviously too much to ask. She had asked and been denied, after all.
The weather was mild for early January. Dull grey clouds hinted at rain to come, but for now were content just to skulk over the distant sea. Down below the nursery on the waterlogged flats, she could see large patches of white: trumpeter swans wintering in the wet fields. A faint opalescent glow in the sky reminded her that the sun was up there somewhere. Even in its dismal dreariness, there was beauty to be found in the afternoon.
Elizabeth's cell phone rang, sending her running back to her truck where she'd left it on the dash.
"Glacierview," she said, not bothering to check the display.
An all too familiar voice said, "Hi Elizabeth. I'll be at your nursery tomorrow morning to take the samples."
"You? Tomorrow? But, I just spoke to George this morning and he told me the inspectors were coming up island on Monday."
"I have family plans in your area so I thought I'd get started a day early. I'll see you at 8:00 am."
Why did it have to be him?
She was having no luck at all. Now Fitzsnobbiam would be nosing around in her nursery again. With his damn superior attitude he'd be certain to find fault with something. Sure, he'd been almost nice the last two times she'd dealt with him on the phone, and he had told her that stuff about the tests -- they hadn't mentioned that alternate test thing at the meeting -- but she knew it had been a strategic FHA ploy to lull her into submission. And it had worked too.
She'd been planning to shadow the FHA inspectors when they came, and Fitzsnobbiam or no Fitzsnobbiam, she wasn't going to change her mind about that.
Elizabeth started up her truck to head in for the day, when her phone rang again. She was tempted to throw it out the window, but instead she checked the display. It was Charlotte.
"Char! What a treat to talk to a friend and not some government flunky. This sodding P. ramorum problem is giving me nightmares."
"The SOD thing has flared up again?"
"With a vengeance. You wouldn't believe the hell I've gone through the last few days worrying about the latest crisis -- and no one to talk to about it."
"Sounds like you need a night out to relax and totally take your mind off things."
"You can say that again. I need someone to come and save me."
"I'll save you -- that's what I'm phoning about."
"Charlotte -- you're a Godsend! I'd love to hang with you."
"Here's what's planned for tonight. Bill's boss is having this thing at the Rose and Ring. Just us and some of her family. Maria's coming too."
In her overwhelmed state Elizabeth had all but forgotten the existence of Bill, but it would be awkward to back out now, though an evening spent with Bill Collins and his boss, Catherine Dubarry was an ordeal she could do without. She'd barely seen Charlotte since that evening she'd announced her engagement, and she'd really put her foot in it that night. The fact that Charlotte still wanted to be friends with her was something worth protecting. As much as she'd have liked to, she was in no position to renege.
"I won't be able to stay late, Char. I'm so tired and I've got that jerk Fitzsnobbiam coming to inspect the nursery first thing in the morning. I just got off the phone with him and he said he'd be here at eight."
"That explains your mood."
"I know you don't think he's so bad, but don't even try sticking up for him. You know he said I was ignorant and clueless and that the disease was so widespread because of people like me."
"He never said that to your face."
"He knew I was close enough to hear him."
"Isn't it about time you got over it? In my opinion his attitude to you changed pretty damned quickly -- you're just in denial."
"Char -- if you get like that with me I might change my mind about coming."
"Forget him. Forget plant diseases. In fact forget that plants were ever invented. Unwind and break loose -- God knows you need to. How about Maria picks you up so you don't need to drive and you can drink strawberry daiquiris all night."
"And face Mr I'm-Perfect-and-You're-a-Loser Fitzwilliam with a hangover tomorrow? Yeah, right."
Charlotte laughed. "He might be easier to take like that. I'll let Maria know you want a ride. See you at the Rose and Ring at seven!"
Elizabeth was relieved when they finally pulled into the pub parking lot. Charlotte's little sister Maria had talked about nothing but how excited she was to be meeting Mrs Dubarry at long last. She'd heard a lot about the lady from Bill and she'd gushingly regurgitated every overblown fact he'd ever spouted. A neon sign flashing in the pub window dampened Elizabeth's relief, however.
Karaoke Thursdays.
"Oh my Lord!" she sighed as she got out of the car.
"Karaoke's fun," said Maria. "You should see Bill. He usually does My Way, but he doesn't sing as well as he thinks he does."
Elizabeth could well imagine. He probably sounded like a sick cow that needed to be put out of its misery.
They entered the pub and looked around. Elizabeth always hated that feeling she got when she entered a pub alone -- or virtually alone, as she was with a bubblehead like Maria. She was happy to immediately spot Charlotte waving from the far end of the room, close to the fireplace. Nice and cosy and away from the draughts. Good choice. The cashmere sweater she'd got for Christmas wasn't all that warm. It was a little fancy for a Thursday evening at the pub, but she hadn't had a chance to wear it yet.
"Why do we have such a big table?" she whispered to Charlotte, after being introduced to Mrs Dubarry. Bill had launched into his first rambling joke of the evening.
"Remember, I told you," said Charlotte, looking a bit cagey. "Mrs DuBarry's nephews and her daughter Anne are coming."
"Oh yeah -- I forgot. Are you up to something? You've got that look on your face."
"No -- I, um -- it's just -- oh, you'll find out soon enough. They've arrived."
The look in Charlotte's eyes was now saying, "Don't kill me."
Elizabeth turned slowly. The first person she saw was a slim girl in a black dress. Short, pale hair cupped a sallow face livened by large mascaraed eyes. Behind her was an athletic looking man with rough-hewn features. Elizabeth's gaze slipped easily beyond him and froze.
"Tell me he's not with them."
"Darcy Fitzwilliam is one of Mrs Dubarry's nephews. Sorry."
"You are evil incarnate -- you knew all along!"
"I thought you wouldn't come if I told you."
"That's the one thing you got right today. How could you do this to me? You know he's the last person on earth I want to see. You expect me to sit here and make small talk with him when he's probably going to close the nursery down tomorrow?"
Charlotte grabbed a glass of wine and shoved it into Elizabeth's hands. "Here. Drink this and try to be nice."
Mrs Dubarry began busily introducing everyone.
"Elizabeth and I already know each other very well," said Darcy. "In fact it's her nursery I'm going to first thing tomorrow morning."
"I didn't know you were a nursery owner," said Mrs Dubarry, resting her steely eyes on Elizabeth with more interest than she'd previously shown.
"It's a family business. I manage it for my father."
"Oh, one of those small ma and pa businesses. How quaint."
Elizabeth put the wine glass to her lips and tried to look inconspicuous, but with Fitzsnobbiam's eyes still on her all she could do was wish she hadn't worn her new sweater -- the neckline was cut a little lower than what she was used to wearing.
"We have met before too," said Bill to Darcy, taking his hand and pumping it.
"Yes -- at the Blackfin last April. I remember."
Mrs Dubarry had enough of the niceties. She took Darcy's arm and steered him towards a chair. "You must sit beside me and tell me all the latest news from Victoria."
"You may have missed it, but I'm Colin Fitzwilliam, Darcy's cousin. Well his other cousin, because Anne's our cousin too, only she has the pleasure of being Mrs Dubarry's daughter," said the other man as he took a seat beside Elizabeth.
"Elizabeth Bennet," she said, holding out her hand.
"Her friends call her Beth," Charlotte said helpfully, a look of contrition upon her face, then she turned away as a nudge from Bill demanded her attention.
"Beth." Colin grinned broadly. "So you're who Darcy has come all this way to see in such a secretive manner. I understand now. I didn't think he'd rush up here just for an exciting night of karaoke."
Elizabeth blushed. "It's simply business."
"Really? He wouldn't tell me where he was going or what he was doing. How do you explain that, then? Top secret espionage? He works for the FHA, not the CIA. Or are you a master spy too, with sealed lips?" He made a gesture like a zipper closing his mouth.
Elizabeth laughed. "It's a confidentiality issue. Everyone is so freaked out about this disease, if word gets out in the industry that we are even suspected of having diseased plants it could ruin our business completely."
"And Darcy doesn't mix business with pleasure?"
"I don't think he knows how."
Colin glanced up the table at his cousin. "You don't say! So tell me -- how does he act when he does an inspection? Does he resort to the old third degree?"
"Worse. I think he's one of these people who lets power go to his head. Last time he was totally unreasonable."
"So he goes all Gestapo on you? Hmm -- sounds like his technique could use a bit of work. I'll take him aside and teach him a few lessons if you like." His eyes crinkled with humour.
"No. I can deal with it." Elizabeth took a sip of her wine and sighed. "Actually, the last thing I want to talk about tonight is work. I came out to get away from my problems."
"Sorry. Drink up your wine and I'll buy you another one. Where is that waitress?"
"It's okay -- I'm good."
"I need to order a beer anyway. I'll be right back."
He got up and walked over to the bar. Charlotte turned her head and whispered to Elizabeth. "You've got to admit he's nice, at least. Forgive me?"
"Don't worry about it, Char."
Darcy looked over from his conversation with his aunt. His eyes met Elizabeth's and stayed for a few moments. He half smiled and then returned his attention to his aunt.
‘What was that all about?' Elizabeth asked herself. ‘And why didn't I look away?' She was glad when Colin returned, a jug of dark amber liquid in one hand and two glasses in the other.
"This was easier than waiting. I brought you a glass, in case."
"Thanks, but I don't drink beer."
"Suits me fine," he grinned. "Now I don't have to share."
Elizabeth took another small sip of her wine. "What is it that you do?"
"I've got a couple of boats up in Campbell River. I run a little sport fishing business."
"That sounds like fun."
"Reeling in a big salmon is always a thrill, but I work hard for my money, not like Darcy with his cushy government job and all the benefits he gets. I love being my own boss, though. So what if I can't afford to go to Hawaii every winter?"
"I know what you mean," said Elizabeth. "The nursery is hard work too, but at the end of the day I only have myself to answer to, and my dad, of course. But he and I see pretty much eye to eye on everything."
They continued talking on just about every subject, from hiking to skiing to movies and books, as comfortably as if they'd known each other for years. Their conversation was punctuated with outbursts of laughter. Elizabeth couldn't help but reflect on how different Colin was from his cousin. He wasn't anywhere near as good looking but he had an affability that was far more attractive than Fitzsnobbiam's aloof manner."
Elizabeth noticed Darcy looking over at them from time to time. "Why does you cousin keep staring at us?" she asked.
"He's probably wishing he could trade places with me. I get to talk to a beautiful, vivacious young woman and he's stuck with crusty old Aunt Catherine."
"It's more likely that I'm doing something he disapproves of."
"Yeah. Talking to me rather than to him," Colin said smugly. "Don't look now but the karaoke is about to start. Bill's going first."
"Oh joy!"
"Why don't you sign up for a song?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "No way. I'd rather sit here and be subjected to the torture of listening to those exhibitionists than go up there and make a fool of myself."
"Oh Beth," cried Charlotte, leaning over towards them. "I've put your name down for the next one so you can't get out of it."
"Some kind of friend you are!"
"I want to listen to at least one person who can sing on key," said Charlotte. "Bill loves the limelight but he can't carry a tune in a bucket."
The music started and Bill ripped the microphone from its stand. Elizabeth burst into a fit of giggles as she watched him strutting across the stage like Tina Turner, belting out, "Rollin', rollin', rollin' on a river."
"There should be a law against that," said Colin. "I just spewed beer out my nose."
"Be glad he's not dressed like her," responded Elizabeth, causing Colin to go into a choking fit at the idea.
Elizabeth looked up the table and noticed that Anne was trying hard not to laugh and even Darcy had a barely controlled smirk upon his face. Mrs Dubarry was nodding her head to the rhythm with every appearance of enjoyment. When Bill returned to the table she patted his arm and told him he was a born entertainer. Elizabeth decided that either Mrs Dubarry had no taste whatsoever, or she could make a sarcastic comment and keep a straight face with the same level of expertise as her own father, Mr Bennet, could.
Elizabeth was announced as the next performer but it took Colin agreeing to accompany her to get her onto the stage. She sang Gordon Lightfoot's version of Bobby McGee in a clear, light voice, and Colin joined in on the chorus. During the song, Darcy got up and walked close to the stage. When it was over he put his hand out to help Elizabeth down the steps in the poor light.
To cover up her astonishment at this unexpected act of gallantry, Elizabeth said, "Good attempt at intimidating me by coming up so close, but I managed to get through the whole song without messing up the words."
To her surprise, he laughed. "I know you don't mean that. I liked your singing." He turned to his cousin. "Yours I could do without."
"Are you going to sing us a song, Mr Fitzwilliam?" asked Elizabeth tauntingly.
"I can answer for him," said Colin. "He may enjoy putting down my singing, but there's no way in hell you'd get him on this stage, or any stage for that matter."
"Colin's right."
"Why? Do you think you're better than this? I know I'm not a great singer but at least I came up here and sang when my friend asked me too, and so did Colin."
"It's not that he thinks he's better," said Colin. "It's just that he can't be bothered to do it, no matter who asked him."
"I can't just get up and sing in front of people I don't know." Darcy stood in thought for a minute and then continued. "I don't really have to make excuses about it. But I think it's great that you came up and sang here for everybody, Elizabeth. I'm sure you don't normally perform for strangers either, but you did, and you did it very well."
"What are you all talking about?" asked Mrs Dubarry, even though they hadn't quite made it to the table yet.
"I was just telling Elizabeth that she sang well," said Darcy.
"Your voice is untrained, Miss Bennet, but you weren't too pitchy," said Mrs Dubarry, taking on the air of a connoisseur. "My Anne has a lovely voice. If she weren't so prone to throat infections she would have had classical training. And I could have had a career in the opera if I had learned."
Elizabeth mumbled something and got away as quickly as possible. When she sat back beside Charlotte, she hissed in her ear, "That old crow! If she had learned! She's got a high opinion of herself, doesn't she? I can see where Fitzsnobbiam gets it from."
Charlotte chose to ignore the remark. "What are you going to do?" she asked instead.
"About what?"
"Two hot guys after you. That's what you get for wearing such a sexy sweater." She smirked.
Elizabeth put her hand to her neckline self-consciously. She'd forgotten about it. "Get real!" she said. "They're not after me."
"They are. Darcy was drawn to the stage by a tractor beam. What did he say to you?"
"Just that getting up on the stage was more than he would do, but I sang well."
"See!"
"He was only being polite."
"He didn't have to go over there. He likes you!"
"In your dreams. Anyway -- I can't stand him, so it doesn't matter one way or the other." She hoped that would shut Charlotte up.
Luckily Colin came over and sat beside Elizabeth again, so Charlotte had to lay off teasing her.
"Have you ever met Darcy's sister Gina?" he asked. "She's an incredible singer."
"No, I've not met her, but I've heard she's a lot like her brother."
"Gina? She's a shy sweetheart, not a workaholic recluse. Who've you been talking to?"
"When the sampling team was at the nursery last spring they talked a bit about her. I guess I got the wrong impression. Do you know any of them -- Charles, Carrie, Lou, or Hurst?" Elizabeth thought it best not to mention George.
"I've seen Carrie in action -- poor Darcy -- but actually, he's a damn sight more patient with her than I'd be and he fends her off quite tactfully. Charles I know very well -- they're best friends. The other two I haven't a clue."
"You cousin seems to take the responsibilities of friendship seriously. He takes great care of Charles," said Elizabeth acidly.
Colin appeared to have missed her tone. "Funny you should say that. He did get Charles out of a real jam last year sometime."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I don't think it matters if I tell you. I don't know how well you know Charles, but he's always in and out of love with some pretty girl. He usually falls for the ones that are the least suitable for him too. Anyway, there was this girl Charles met when they were doing those nursery inspections. She was connected with some rinky-dink nursery they were taking samples at. You know how it went -- they were stuck there for a whole week. She was always hanging around him, distracting him from his work. Charles fell for her hard, but it was obvious to Darcy her feelings didn't run as deep. Maybe she wanted him to turn a blind eye to some of the many infractions in the place. Maybe she'd heard the guy was rich. Anyway, he kept seeing her even after they'd finished with the area, but Darcy knew it wasn't a healthy relationship for Charles."
Elizabeth could feel her anger rising. It was obvious the girl was Jane, though the situation had been completely misrepresented. "Really? So what did Darcy do?" She'd always known he'd had a hand in the break-up, now she was being given proof.
"He didn't want to see his best friend hurt, so he got him transferred back to Victoria, out of harm's way. Charles would still have kept seeing her, even at that distance, if Darcy hadn't convinced him the girl was only using him."
"That seems pretty damned interfering." Elizabeth took a couple of breaths to calm herself. "How did he know for sure she was only using Charles? What if she was in love with him?"
"Most people don't fall in love that quickly. Anyway, I'm sure they're both over it by now."
"I guess," Elizabeth managed to say. "But that sort of lessens Darcy's victory, doesn't it?"
Colin shrugged. "It sounded better when he told it." He took a swallow of beer and then looked back at Elizabeth. "Hey -- are you okay?"
"Suddenly I've got this blinding headache. I think I'd better go." She reached for her jacket from the back of her chair and at the same moment remembered that she'd come with Maria. "Damn!"
"What's up?"
"I didn't drive here and I don't want to make Maria leave when she's having so much fun with Anne." Both girls were on the stage pretending to be The Supremes, giggling more than they were singing. "I'll have to find a quiet corner where I can sit it out."
"You shouldn't have to do that. If you don't feel well, I can give you a ride."
"But you don't want to leave this early."
"If you're going there's no point in me staying," he said graciously. "Just give me a couple of minutes to say goodbye to my aunt."
"Thanks. That's really kind of you. I'll go outside to wait, if you don't mind. The cold air will be good for my head."
Elizabeth said goodbye to Charlotte, waved to the rest of the people at the table without making eye contact with any of them, and pulled her jacket on as she got up from her chair. She needed to get out of the room and away from Darcy as fast as she could. It was bad enough that he'd done all he could to separate Jane and Charles, but bragging about it to his cousin, and who knows who else, just made what he'd done that much worse. Saying that Jane was only interested in Charles so she could get him to look the other way on his inspection, or because she was interested in his money, was totally outrageous. Elizabeth had never seen two people more in love. Dealing with the aftermath that morning after Jane's ill-fated trip to Coombs had been heart wrenching. Even now Jane was just a walking shadow. She had sounded so low the night before when they'd spoken on the phone. It was painfully obvious that she couldn't get Charles out of her thoughts.
Elizabeth slammed the front door as she walked out of the pub and onto the long front porch that overlooked Comox harbour. The cold enveloped her like a cloak -- holding in all the anger and resentment that was building within. "I could kill him!" she muttered as she leaned upon the railing and drew in a few deep breaths of the salt tinged air. The sky was dark over pewter water. Stars sent their light spiralling down to reflect on the still surface. There wasn't a breath of wind. At any other time she would have relished the tranquility of the scene, but her thoughts were in a turmoil that even the beauties of nature could not soothe. Once she got home she would probably pace the floor until dawn. The worst thing was that she was going to have to face Fitzsnobbiam in the morning. He was probably going to impose a quarantine, or worse yet, have thousands of her plants destroyed. She bit back a sob and then a voice spoke from behind, proving that there was something even more horrible in store for her than she'd already imagined.
"Elizabeth? I told Colin I would drive you home. He's had a couple of beers already tonight so I'd rather he didn't drive you, besides there's something I'd like to talk with you about before we have to deal with all the P. ramorum issues in the morning."
Posted on Monday, 4 February 2008
Elizabeth wondered if she should call a cab, then walk back into the Rose and Ring, and sit down at table to wait for it to arrive. She'd only just met Colin Fitzwilliam, so she could hardly go up to him and demand he drive her instead of letting his cousin do it. Anyway, he'd been drinking. In her anger she hadn't even considered that. In the end, she followed Fitzsnobbiam to the car park and got into his car. It was the simplest thing to do, especially as her head had begun to throb in earnest.
They drove up the hill from the pub and turned left on Comox Avenue in silence.
"I thought you had something you wanted to say," Elizabeth said finally. He'd have her home in a couple of minutes -- when was he planning on having this important talk?
"I do, but I can't talk and drive at the same time. Would it be okay if I pulled over somewhere?"
"Sure, but I do want to get home soon -- that was the point of my leaving early."
"I understand. This should only take a couple of minutes." He pulled off to the side of the road after rounding the turn onto Glacierview Drive. "I just want to clear things up about us before this SOD business makes everything go crazy."
"Us?" Elizabeth was at a total loss. What on earth was he talking about?
"Us." Darcy's face was illuminated by the streetlamp he'd parked under. He looked tentative and almost vulnerable -- something Elizabeth had never seen on his self-assured face before. "I know I'm crazy to have let this happen . . . it's unprofessional . . . and full of potential for conflict of interest, but I can't help it and I really need you to know that whatever happens tomorrow -- whatever results are found with this next set of samples -- whatever conditions I see at your facility -- whatever repercussions there may be -- whatever actions I may be forced to take -- it's just business, completely separate from our private relationship."
Elizabeth shivered where she sat, as the outside cold began creeping into the parked car. She stared into Fitzsnobbiam's eyes, trying to determine whether he'd had too much to drink. Nothing he had said made any sense so far. Her temples were in a fog of pain, adding to her confusion. "Our private relationship?"
Darcy gave her a crooked smile. "I know -- not much has happened yet, but I'd like us to go out together and get to know each other better. Though I feel I know you quite well already, even if most of what has gone on between us has been on a business level. I want you to understand that I've never done this before -- asked someone out who I've dealt with professionally. That first week when I met you and started to feel attracted, I told myself I was being an idiot letting a quick mind and a pretty face distract me from my work. And it appeared so wrong -- so senseless to get caught up in something with someone from a run-down nursery I was inspecting. Like I was opening myself up to being used. But the more I saw you, the harder it was to try to stop thinking about you. About the possibilities between us. Even though your mother is a complete ditz and your younger sisters act like little tarts, and your father seems content to let everything fall down around him -- you rise above all that. I've stopped fighting it -- in fact, I've let myself fall pretty badly."
Elizabeth finally got it -- he was trying to tell her that he liked her. That he wanted to go out with her despite the fact that she was all wrong for him and it was a totally stupid thing to do. "How incredibly flattering."
Darcy had been looking at her expectantly, as if assured of a positive reception and only awaiting confirmation that she understood exactly where he was coming from. Her cryptic answer took him aback. "What? I've just told you that I'm practically putting my job on the line because of you, and that's the answer I get?"
"You insult me and expect me to jump into your arms?"
"I'm being honest with you. Am I supposed to be happy that you manage a suspect nursery I'm inspecting? That I've already gone against my ethics a couple of times by sharing confidential information with you? That your family isn't exactly my idea of the world's most perfect in-laws? Did you want me to act like this situation was a dream come true, like some sort of fairytale? I never thought flattery would be the way to your heart, and anyway I'm above that kind of smooth talk."
Her eyes flashed. "Fairytale? It's more like a nightmare. I leave the pub because I have a headache, and you subject me to this load of BS. And then you have the nerve to say you're just being honest! If you like honesty so much, I can be just as brutal as you. I do not want to go out with you, and I never have. I don't even like you the least little bit. How could I? What have you ever done to make me like you? First you put me down because there're weeds in my nursery and I'm dressed like a hick. Then you go around the place with your nose in the air like there's a bad smell. You're so Goddamned superior all the time." Elizabeth stopped for a breath in order to control the sobs that would surely follow her burst of anger.
"So that's what you think of me," he said in a hard voice. "I can see I've made an impression."
"What do you expect? I don't know anything good about you. When I think of what you did to George . . . !"
"Wickham? What lies has he been telling?"
"Lies! Right! You got him to take the fall for your own mistakes, just because you wanted your precious friend Charles to have the job instead of George. Luckily he's finally found work again, no thanks to you."
"There's a guy whose smooth talk has paid off."
"But that's not the worst of it. How could I like the person who has destroyed my sister's hopes? Can you deny that you deliberately separated her and Charles?"
"Why should I deny it? I went easier on him than I did on myself."
"And tore Jane's heart to shreds! Just so you could keep Charles for your sister. You are the most uncaring, arrogant, self-important person I've ever met. I wouldn't go out with you if my life depended on it."
"I'm glad we've got all this out of the way before tomorrow, just like I wanted to," he said coldly, turning the keys and starting the engine. The car jerked forward as he roughly threw it into drive. "Forget I ever said I was falling in love with you."
They were silent as he drove down the road, a little faster than the speed limit. A minute or two later he stopped at the bottom of her drive, skidding a bit in the gravel.
"I hope your headache is better in the morning."
Elizabeth said nothing. She jumped out of the car, slammed the door, and walked up her steps without looking back. She opened the front door hurriedly and closed it with a thud of finality. The tears she had been holding back broke loose then, and she ran straight to her bedroom.
Her night was spent sleeplessly as she lay in bed with the conversation in the car revolving in her head. Tylenol had dulled the pain, but nothing could take back the cruel words Fitzsnobbiam had thrown at her face in the name of love. How could he say those things about her family and still think she'd want to go out with him? What made him think he was better than her, just because he had a big deal government job and all she did was run a small nursery? And he didn't even care that he'd hurt Jane so badly -- he was happy about it.
What was even harder for her to understand was how he'd fallen in love with her, like he said he had. They'd barely spent any time together -- a few confrontations at the nursery, a few evenings in the same company, and a few phone calls discussing SOD issues. How could that lead to love? She looked back on all those times, all their conversations, trying to figure out what she'd done to prompt his attraction. She didn't think she'd ever been especially nice to him, and she'd never noticed him treating her with any more interest than he'd treated anyone else. Sure, Charlotte had teased her that Fitzsnobbiam liked her, but she'd never taken her seriously. Now it turned out to be true.
But love? From someone so . . . distant and reserved? Did he really know what love even was? Not that it mattered. His supposed love for her, which he'd so grudgingly given, would soon fade. Love couldn't last without encouragement -- and she certainly hadn't shown him any. In fact, after all the things she'd said to him, she imagined his feelings of love must already have turned sour. It was just as well: they'd have to face each other in the morning.
She was dreading that.
A shower had done a little to refresh her, and two cups of strong coffee had substituted for the lack of sleep. Elizabeth sat in her office with nothing to do but wait as the minutes ticked by. It was 7:00 am. He would be meeting her at 8:00. It was an inevitable evil that couldn't be avoided -- she had to go through with it, and there was really nothing that could prepare her for that.
Out of habit she turned on her computer and checked her email. There were a few business memos and some spam, but one email alone caught her attention.
dfitz@telus.net Please Read This
What did he think he could write to her that she would want to read? She moved the mouse indicator over the delete button and was about to right click, when she changed her mind. If it was more of what she'd got the night before she could delete it quite easily after skimming it over. It was best to know his mood before seeing him -- she'd prefer not to have another confrontation.
She checked the time of the email -- it had been sent in the wee hours of the morning. Apparently Fitzsnobbiam had been unable to sleep too.
With a certain amount of trepidation she double clicked his name to open the email, and began to read.
Elizabeth.
I'm not writing this email to bother you by repeating things you clearly have no interest in. We can forget all that. I do feel it necessary, however, to set matters straight on a couple of misconceptions you have. I know you are fair enough to give me the opportunity and not delete this at once.
‘So, he's going to guilt me into reading this,' she thought. ‘See if you can set me straight, buddy, but I doubt anything you have to say can change what I believe.'
You accused me of two quite different things. One, if I understand correctly, that I broke Charles and your sister up so that he would go out with my sister. And two, that I got George Wickham fired to hide my own incompetence.
I freely admit that I separated Charles and your sister. I didn't want to see him hurt, and he'd fallen for her in a big way. From what I could see, she had no deep feelings for him. I won't repeat here what I said last night about other members of your family. Though I don't place Jane in the came category, I still felt associations of that kind were best to be avoided. I also suspected that she might have encouraged Charles to please her mother.
"I'm not reading this crap!" Elizabeth muttered. She shoved her chair back and walked over to the window to stare out across the parking lot. Dark was giving way to a grey morning. ‘How dare he say things like that about Jane? She's the sweetest . . . and what made him think he could tell how she feels?' She leaned against the cold glass for a few minutes to calm herself down before going back to the email.
If I was wrong about this, I'm sorry, but I assure you I only acted in Charles' best interest. He's been hurt badly before and I admit that I have a tendency to be overprotective of him. As for my sister -- she is still very young. She's not quite eighteen and in her first year of university. Charles is twenty-five. I wouldn't promote a relationship between them, other than their friendship. If in the future it develops in a romantic direction, that's up to them. I have no idea where you got the idea I was trying to get them together.
As for George Wickham, what I have to say about him isn't pleasant. I'm not telling you any of this with the intention of hurting you, if you do feel something for him, but if that is the case, it's better that you know the truth about him. He is very good at making friends and gaining trust, especially with women. He does have trouble maintaining the charade, though.
He got his job at the FHA mainly through the use of his powers of persuasion. His credentials aren't worth the paper they are written on. His first supervisor was completely infatuated with him and he was able to cover up his ineptitude by blaming most of his blunders on other people. When he became a member of my team he wasn't so lucky. He continually took short cuts in his work, stretched his lunch breaks, and overused his expense account. He didn't get much accomplished, but what work he did do was slip shod. There was no care and attention taken, and no interest in accuracy. Because of his bad work habits, I kept a close watch on him.
He was not fired in a cover up or because I wanted Charles on my team; he was fired because I discovered that he often wrote phyto-sanitary certificates for exports without making proper inspections of the plants in question. It was his way of making a little extra money on the side. He was charged with fraud and served a suspended sentence because it was a first offence. There were also incidents with female employees and clients. To my knowledge he never went beyond legal limits, but he used these women as it suited him.
When you told me he was working for the NTA, I was surprised they had hired him, given his track record. I probably should have told them about his history, but I know they had a hard time staffing the recall and the certification program on such short notice. I hoped that he'd learned his lesson, and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and not hold his past against him. I might have made a huge mistake.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. I'm sorry for any distress I may have caused you. When we meet in the morning I promise to keep to business and not bring any of this up.
Darcy
As Elizabeth continued to read the email, she went from doubt, to incredulity, to disgust with herself for being so easily beguiled. When she finished reading, her mind still dazed, she began again, and found her reaction to the first half of the email to be less volatile. The second half just made her want to curl up and hide from embarrassment.
She should have noticed the warning flags about George's behaviour from the beginning, but she had been oblivious to them. And why? Simply because he had warm, honey-brown eyes and an appealing smile. She'd been flattered by his obvious interest. Flattered by his little trick with the clippers. And all the time he'd been using the tools of his trade to manipulate her. And later, when she'd got over her infatuation, she'd still made excuses for his flirting. She'd dismissed his familiar attitude as him just being George. He was engaged to someone else and flirting with her -- she really should have been appalled. And she didn't doubt that if she'd ever shown her willingness to continue their relationship, he'd have been all too ready to oblige -- fiancée or no fiancée.
As for Darcy Fitzwilliam, her mind was in turmoil about him. She couldn't forgive him for dismissing Jane's feelings the way he did, or for his interference. But she knew she had misjudged him in many other respects. Reserved he might be, and officious -- but he wasn't unfair or dishonest. He'd been open in his dealings with her, and not manipulative. He really had passed confidential information on to her, and not for some governmental subterfuge. But because he'd wanted to set her mind at ease, just like he told her. And maybe he was too much of a stickler for rules, but he'd pushed the rules to the limits out of kindness -- not to get anything from her.
Elizabeth felt bad for some of the unnecessarily hurtful things she'd said to Darcy. And ashamed that she'd been such a poor judge of character; that she'd decided to hate one man because she'd felt insulted and like another because she'd been flattered, only to be blinded both times to each man's real worth. She still didn't like Darcy and certainly didn't want to go out with him, but she no longer had such a strong antipathy for him. And she had no interest in referring to him as Fitzsnobbiam anymore.
She looked at the clock. It was 7:55, and she knew Darcy would be absolutely punctual. She had five minutes before she had to face him, and now, after reading the email, she felt it would be even more of an ordeal than she had previously anticipated.
Posted on Thursday, 7 February 2008
Elizabeth decided that rather than sit inside and wait the last five minutes, she would go outside and meet Darcy in the parking lot. The air was misty and damp, but it wasn't actually raining. She wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck and tucked the ends into the collar of her jacket. She held a clipboard in one hand. Upon it was the nursery map marked with all forty sample locations.
Darcy's car pulled into the parking lot a moment later. He got out and put on his white disposable overalls before going over to greet her. His glance slipped across her face without making contact as he said good morning.
"I read your email just now," she said.
"Well, I'd better get started then. I'm going to have to take samples from these twelve locations." He held out a list.
It was obvious he'd meant what he said about sticking to business only and not bringing the subject up. Elizabeth felt relief rush through her, but she was glad she had taken the first opportunity to at least let him know that she'd chosen to be fair. She took the list from his hand and checked it against her map.
"This doesn't make sense. I don't think you'll find the same plants tagged at all those locations."
Darcy took both the list and the map from her and did the same cross check she had done. "May I take this with me? If I can't locate all of the plants, where will I find you?"
"Right beside you," answered Elizabeth. "I'm coming out with you."
Darcy turned to Elizabeth suddenly and his eyes met hers for a millisecond before dropping. "Are you sure you want to? I can manage on my own."
"Before I even knew who was coming to do the sampling I'd decided I was going to go along with them. This affects the nursery's future and I want to be as involved as I can. The fact that you are the sampler makes no difference to my decision. I've got a business to run."
Darcy nodded without looking at her again. "I'll get my sample bag."
They walked to greenhouse number three in silence. Elizabeth led Darcy to the red flagging tape that was tied to a branch at the corner of a block of plants, half way up the bed.
"Sample seven was taken from here, according to this. It's the first one on your list."
"But this rhodo is Unique, not Bow Bells. Could the tape have been moved?"
"No - everyone working here knew not to move the flagging tape. And the only Bow Bells we have are in greenhouse two, not here. I think it's more likely that George got mixed up with the names."
Darcy nodded grimly. He sanitised his hands and pulled on a pair of gloves, then he took a zip lock from the side pouch of his cooler bag. He leaned over and examined the rhodos and then randomly picked ten leaves from the block of plants. "I'm supposed to look for symptomatic material," he said. "But these plants look nice and healthy to me."
"Positive results have come from plants showing no symptomatology, haven't they?"
"It has happened a few times in the case of rhodos." He sanitised his hands again before zipping the bag closed, then he removed the rubber gloves and put them in a disposal bag. He treated his hands one more time, took a permanent marker and made some notes on the zip lock, then placed it in the cooler compartment. He gave the block of plants a cursory glance over and said, "Where to next?"
"Greenhouse four, over there." Elizabeth pointed.
They went to all twelve sites and followed the same procedure. Generally, the names on the list did not agree one hundred percent with the name of the plants flagged. And in a couple of cases they were different plants entirely.
"Why was George doing this job when he doesn't know his plants at all?" Elizabeth cried in exasperation, as the last block of plants on their list turned out to be maples instead of oaks.
"He has no scruples," said Darcy. "But I'm afraid that the problem is more complex than George not knowing his plants."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't say until I know for sure. Just leave it to me." He didn't look at her but studied the branches and stem of the young tree in front of him.
There was that secretive attitude again. Elizabeth grit her teeth and looked heavenward. Then she asked, "How are you going to take a sample from leafless trees?"
"I'm looking for cankers and lesions in the bark. I can take a scraping." He walked along the row of trees, eyes trained. "There's nothing," he called from the end of the row, but I'll take a few scrapings anyway, if you don't mind. I'll be careful not to damage the maples."
"Do what you need to do," said Elizabeth. "As long as there's something you can test. I don't want to be slapped with a quarantine till spring."
"That's what I'm trying to avoid." Darcy worked his way down the row. When he was back beside Elizabeth he held up the zip lock bag and said, "See, they are quite small. All the lab needs is ten different leaves or, in this case, bark samples that are big enough to take a hole punch to."
"So that's the last sample. You're finished now?"
"I should be but . . . I don't want any mistakes. With all the naming problems we've encountered today, I'd like to take samples from the rest of the sampling locations. He might have mixed all his numbers up too."
"I'm for doing the job right, no matter how long it takes," said Elizabeth.
"Isn't this keeping you from other things?"
"Nothing's as important as this."
Elizabeth looked at the map, and they worked their way back, Darcy sampling while she found the next batch of plants marked by red flagging tape. They worked in near silence, only speaking when necessary. Every so often Elizabeth would watch Darcy when he was intent upon his work. He looked strained. There were times when she thought his eyes were on her too, but whenever she turned to see if it were the case, he was looking somewhere else. It took a little more than three hours to finish sampling.
When they returned to the parking lot, Elizabeth offered Darcy a coffee. She wouldn't have been surprised if he refused, but he accepted. She went into the office to prepare them both a cup while he went to his car to complete the sanitation process and put the samples on ice in a large cooler in his trunk. When she brought out his steaming cup, he was rinsing his hands under a hose.
"Getting rid of the Purell build-up," he said, drying them on a towel. He took the proffered coffee and sipped it. "Thanks."
"Thank you for going to all that trouble. You did much more than you needed to."
"I'd have done the same anywhere I had the same concerns," he said dismissively.
"Yes, I can see that you would." She felt awkward, standing there in the parking lot, not knowing what to say next as Darcy silently drank his coffee, looking off somewhere in the middle distance. "So -- what happens with the samples now? Do you ship them by Purolator?"
"Nothing can go by Purolator on a Friday -- it could get stuck somewhere over the weekend with no refrigeration. No -- I'm driving them back to the Victoria FHA office today. They'll be shipped by air to our lab in Ottawa as soon as possible."
"You're going back to Victoria? I thought there were other places up island you had to sample after the weekend."
"No. I only came up here to take your samples."
She turned and stared at him. "Just mine?"
"Yes -- I wanted to be sure they were handled correctly. I'm actually investigating a different aspect of our current P. ramorum problems instead, and have to make a trip to the mainland." He passed his empty coffee cup to her. "Take care."
Before turning towards his car he looked into her upturned face. His grey eyes held hers for a few painful moments. Elizabeth felt her breath catch in her throat.
"As soon as we know anything you'll be informed," he said. He got into his car and was soon driving out of the parking lot and up towards the road.
Elizabeth stood watching the driveway long after he'd gone. All morning she'd only thought about her own feelings -- how difficult it was to have to deal with Darcy after all the words that had passed between them the night before and the revelations of the email she'd read in the morning. She'd only regretted her spiteful reaction for the embarrassment it had caused her. She hadn't taken his feelings into account at all, besides thinking that his anger might make the situation that morning even more difficult for her. But his pain was just as real as hers. And that one look had shown her how deeply he was hurting.
The next two weeks Elizabeth spent most of her waking hours caught between wondering about the progress of the new tests, and going over that awful conversation in the car with Darcy, and the surreal three hours she had spent sampling with him the following morning. It was difficult to admit how fully she had misjudged him, but as she became more accepting of the fact, she found that her new insights cast every aspect of his behaviour in a different light.
She could now see that what she had taken as arrogance and a superior attitude was just his serious focus on doing his job as diligently as possible. His reserve she had interpreted as snobbery, his pride as vanity, his humour as mockery. She'd taken pleasure in mistrusting his kindnesses. She'd been completely blind to every one of his good qualities.
And with this new, clear-thinking approach, she realised that he was the kind of person she could like. It hurt when she remembered his words, so hollow and stark, forget I ever said I was falling in love with you. She felt awed that she could unwittingly have instilled feelings of love in him, and though she didn't want his love, or love him in return, she was saddened that she'd cast it aside so harshly. She was sorry that it was something that needed to be forgotten. She thought about him, somewhere on the mainland, doing whatever top secret investigating he was doing, and hoped that he still cared a tiny bit for her.
She was contemplating this quixotic attitude one morning as she checked her email. There were promotional fliers from suppliers trying to sell new and improved products, queries from buyers wanting to know how long they would have to wait for orders, and a few emails from other nurseries suffering under the same restrictions as Glacierview, airing their grievances. She'd just finished reading one of these when a new message popped up. It was from dfitz. She clicked it open, her heartbeat quickening as she did so.
Elizabeth
If he should contact you, I would advise you not to have dealings with George Wickham anymore. He has been fired by the NTA for intentionally falsifying samples, cover ups, negligence and incompetence. His actions put the entire project at risk. Our findings at your nursery helped uncover and prove exactly what he had been up to. We believe that most of the suspicious positives were the result of his actions; he was the sampler for almost every one of the nurseries affected.
As far as I can determine he never bothered to follow proper sanitation procedures. When the weather was bad, he collected samples as quickly and easily a he could, often in advance, and then falsified the information on the bags and flagging tape. He operated with complete disregard for everyone and everything. His only goal was to make as much money as he could with as little effort a possible.
I'm confident that the results of the latest samples I took at Glacierview will turn out to be negative and your current worries will be over.
Darcy
Elizabeth didn't know what she had expected to read in the email. Possibly the results of the sampling or an explanation for another delay. But certainly not this. She was amazed at George's total irresponsibility -- for him it seemed nothing was sacred. The disease threat hadn't been taken seriously. Didn't he understand the magnitude of destruction that could have resulted from his actions? Blocks and blocks of nursery stock destroyed and businesses ruined, livelihoods shattered? The spread of a disease that had the potential to devastate native species in the wild? It was unbelievable that he could have been so callous and selfish. Then she remembered that there were a few times when he'd made comments that showed he thought the whole program a farce and a waste of time. He'd corrected himself every time -- made it seem like a joke. He'd always been ready to commend her on the way she took it all so seriously. She hated all this further proof of how easily he had duped her.
‘Never again, buster,' she said to herself.
The next day she received a call from Lou at the FHA.
"Hi Elizabeth, remember me?"
"Sure, Lou. Please tell me you have my results."
"I do. Darcy just put them on my desk and asked me to call you ASAP."
Elizabeth was surprised at how disappointed she felt that Darcy hadn't phoned her himself. In the past all she ever wished was for someone else from the FHA office to call her. "Is it good news?"
"Yes! All the tests were negative. Your quarantine is lifted. The NTA will be sending you your certificate as soon as they get their paperwork done. Which shouldn't take too long now that George Wickham doesn't work there anymore. Did you hear about him?"
"Thanks. That's wonderful news." Elizabeth felt like a huge weight had fallen and she was floating free. "I heard about George too. What he did was . . . terrible . . . incredible."
"Yeah. What a rotten creep, eh? All the time he came on like he was so nice. I always knew what a sh*t he was, though, because he'd been fired from here a couple of years ago. His fiancée dumped him right away, of course. Anyway I'm glad I could give you the good news. Nice to talk to you again."
"Bye."
Elizabeth could hardly believe that her month of ordeal was finally over. Her plants were healthy and the business was safe. And to top it all off, Jane was arriving home that afternoon. She got on the phone and called Mary at the florist.
"Celebration time!"
"Because it's my last day working here and I'm coming back to the nursery on Monday?"
"Not that. Because we're disease free! No more quarantine! We can sell plants again."
"So, where're we going?"
"Jane loves Tita's."
"Tita's it is, then."
Elizabeth ran up to the house and shared the news with her parents next.
"I told you all along things would work out Beth," said her father, kissing her on the cheek. "But it's good to see my cheerful Elizabeth back. You were dragging yourself around here with such a hangdog expression on your face that if I hadn't've known better I'd've sworn you were crossed in love. But that's your sister Janie's area of expertise." He sighed.
Mrs Bennet was ecstatic. "We need to have a grand season opening sale! We could hang streamers and serve punch and have balloons for the kiddies, and a free pair of gardening gloves with a twenty-five dollar purchase. Those really cheap gardening gloves that we ordered so many of a couple of years ago. You know -- the tacky ones that no one wants to buy. But we should wait till my new shipment of Italian bird baths comes in."
"We're opening Monday, mom, with no fanfare."
"Thank God those ugly Closed for the Season signs will come down at any rate," said Mrs Bennet, disappointed. "They brought on my depression you know. And my insomnia. I haven't been able to sleep a wink the entire month."
"You should have a good sleep tonight then, dear," said her husband.
"Tonight? Are you crazy? How will I be able to sleep knowing all the work I'm going to have to do to get the garden centre ready to be open on Monday?"
Even her mother's mood swings couldn't spoil Elizabeth's happiness. She drove around the nursery removing all the flagging tape George had put up and rolled it into a tight little ball which she threw into the garbage with as much force as she could. Jane arrived and they hugged each other tightly, tears and smiles on their faces simultaneously.
"Damn I missed you," Elizabeth whispered in her sister's ear. "Such big worries and you weren't here to give me moral support."
"Serves you right for not telling me all about it on the phone."
"I want empathy and all I get is smart remarks!"
"That's because I know you," said Jane. "I'll save the empathy for someone who actually does want it."
They giggled and hugged again, then got ready to go out for dinner. They picked Mary up from work on the way to the cozy Mexican restaurant. They were seated by the fireplace; the ochre walls glowed like burnished gold in the warm light. The food was perfect. The three sisters talked happily over their meal and drank toasts to freedom, fresh starts, and good prospects.
Afterwards, when Mary had called it a night and gone to bed, Jane and Elizabeth sat together in the darkened living room, talking on a deeper level. Jane swore that she had come to terms with her loss and wasn't going to think about Charles anymore.
"He'll always be the ideal I judge other men by," she said, "but I'm over being sad. I've got no regrets. He didn't back down on any kind of commitment to me. I'm glad we had that spring and summer together -- it's something I'll always cherish."
Elizabeth told Jane a little of what had passed between herself and Darcy. She didn't mention anything about Charles and how Darcy had interfered with their relationship.
"I always knew he was nice," Jane said, "I'm glad you can admit it now too. I'm sorry for him -- telling you he loved you and finding out you didn't like him."
"I was b*tchy and I'm not pleased with myself, but don't feel too bad for him Jane. He's over me now. This morning he could easily have called me himself to tell me the news, but he got Lou to do it instead."
"Do I hear a tinge of regret in your voice, Beth?"
Elizabeth had to admit to herself that she did feel regret. But what was it she regretted the most? That she had caused Darcy pain? That he had proved her a bad judge of character? That with all his good qualities he still had a major flaw because he'd hurt Jane? Or was it mainly that he had got over her so quickly?
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven