this,” he said suddenly. “He would love the idea of taking back the land, even just symbolically. And he’s a great gardener, you know.”
“Frank!” cried Mrs. Carrillo in a scandalized tone.
A look passed between husband and wife. “Well, it would be something constructive,” said Mr. Carrillo defensively.
“But would it be legal?” asked Mrs. Carrillo.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” replied her spouse. Then, remembering their guest, he added decisively, “I’ll tell George about your idea. I’ll bet he’d be happy to help you. I can donate mulch and seeds if you get it off the ground.”
Well satisfied, Lizzy headed off to Mr. Gardiner’s nursery to solicit a donation of hoses, shovels, and work gloves.
Chapter Eleven
In the days that followed, a variety of Lambtown residents proved unable to resist the appeal of Lizzy’s enthusiasm, even the practical Rose finding herself drawn into a supporting role. As predicted, Jorge was delighted with the scheme, and if he was rarely available to provide material assistance he was always willing to offer moral support and an attentive ear to tales of the project’s ups and downs. Taking seriously the warnings she had been given, Lizzy tried to be discreet, but it was impossible that the plan should fail to become known beyond her immediate confidants. She learned that the secret was out after church a few weeks later, when Morris Collins came striding through the chattering congregants so purposefully that there was no time to conceal herself. Taking her arm in a proprietary manner that she found odious, he drew her a little apart from her family.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, “I’m glad of the opportunity to speak with you. You’re a very elusive young lady, always flitting here, and flitting there, and never at home when I call. I would think you were avoiding me—” he chuckled indulgently—“had I not been hearing from all sides about your many and varied activities. If it isn’t helping to decorate Mr. Bingley’s Chocolate Bar, it’s doing renovations on your aunt’s house—though if you would allow me to offer some advice on that score, as a person who has lived here all my life, and owing to my position as the mayor may be thought to have my finger on the pulse of the community, so to speak—it would be wiser to hire a local carpenter instead of bringing one in from Lompoc. It gives a secretive impression, which I’m sure you didn’t intend, but people will place their own construction on your actions, however innocently you meant them.”
Lizzy had nothing to say on this subject, of course, as she could scarcely reveal that the out-of-town carpenter was engaged to build bookcases for the secret library; but mercifully, Morris was moving on to his next grievance. “And I even hear that you’re doing good works among the poor, with the staff of Our Lady of Guadalupe—though of course here at All Saints’ there are opportunities to satisfy the charitable impulse, so it might not be thought necessary to stray among the Catholics. But I’m glad to have this opportunity to venture a humble suggestion to you, if I may be so bold as to give you some guidance, about some of your activities in the, shall we say, horticultural arena? The leadership of the Enclave is very interested in your family, your aunt having been a respected member of the community, and your brother John being so popular with Charles Bingley and his friends, and, I might add, I myself having made a point of mentioning you to Catherine de Bourgh! I think I’m not saying too much if I just mention that they’re considering extending to the Bennet family a most flattering invitation. But if I might just drop you a little hint, nothing could be more harmful to your chances of joining the Enclave than working in other people’s gardens, especially for such city types as the Winiarskis—well enough in their way, I’m sure, but not true Lambtonians—”
“But Mr. Collins, I’m a gardener,” interjected Lizzy as he drew breath. “I must have something to live on just like everyone else, and how am I to do so if I don’t pursue my profession?”
“Yes, yes, of course, it’s important to be an active person, and gardening—such as your aunt pursued, growing flowers on her own property—is a very genteel activity. But these stories I’m hearing, of plans for a public garden, for illegals to grow vegetables somewhere right in town—! That would be a disaster! Trust me, the Enclave families won’t tolerate any such goings-on. For you to entangle yourself with an undertaking of that kind would ruin everything for you here. I must beg you to think about what you’re doing. You’d be shunned; nobody will speak to you!”
“Might I interrupt?” asked Charlotte Lucas, approaching with a look of demure amusement that said she had overheard at least some portion of this speech. “I’m sure you’ll forgive me, Morris, but I need to speak with Lizzy.” Mr. Collins had no choice but to bow himself away, disgruntled.
“Thank you,” said Lizzy.
Charlotte laughed. “Did I hear him right, was he warning you about your community garden plan?”
“Does the whole town know about it?”
“Pretty much. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself so thoroughly, watching all the gossip and hand-wringing. You and your family certainly are livening things up around here. Personally, I think it’s a great idea: helping people to help themselves. Why not? Folks would love the plan if they had thought of it on their own; all the old rancher families hate welfare, and worship hard work and self-sufficiency. You don’t strike me as being particularly the social butterfly type, but if you ever want to meet some of the so-called leading families, I’d be happy to take you along to one of their shindigs. They’re just nervous because they don’t know you.” Without waiting for any polite expressions of gratitude, she continued, “And you could do me a favor. I’m dying to be the first to get a peek inside The Chocolate Bar, and I hear your brother is close to Charles Bingley. Any chance—?”
“John is going to be working there,” said Lizzy. “We were just heading over to do some last-minute work before the opening tomorrow. Why don’t you come along?”
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