The Blake Adventures: New Bloom

December 1959

Lucien Blake came home one afternoon to a very quiet house. He paused, curious as to where everyone could be. As he hung up his hat, he found a note on the hall table. Mattie was going to help a friend pick out a dress and she wouldn't be home for dinner. That explained that. Charlie was on duty, but he would be back soon. Which just left Jean.

But Lucien knew exactly where she would be. He made his way out to the sunroom. Sure enough, there she was, obsessing over her plants. He watched her quietly for a moment with a small smile.

"You've been at this for weeks. Should I be worried about you?"

Her head whipped around, startled by the sound of his voice. "Lucien! You know I want to win this year! And I refuse to let that damned Noel Ross beat me again," she grumbled, barely taking her eyes off her work.

"Jean, I know you're looking forward to the Begonia Festival, but I do think this is a bit much. Noel Ross is a nice enough chap. And he's a professional gardener. Your plants are just as marvelous as his, to be sure, but you do have other things in your life beyond fussing with a begonia plant," he pointed out.

"Noel Ross has beaten me at everything my entire life, and he's never let me forget it. His parents had a farm neighboring ours. We grew up together. Always in the same class at school. You know he got married just a week before Christopher and I did? I think he heard Christopher proposed and he went out and found himself a wife just so he could beat me to a wedding." Jean's voice had a bitterness in it that was unfamiliar to most who knew her. She knew she was letting her competitive nature get the better of her. Usually, she could hide it better than this.

Lucien raised his brow in surprise. He wasn't used to Jean acting this way. It was a level of rivalry he would expect from himself with Patrick Tyneman, but Jean was usually above such petty things. "Come here, leave that be. Darling, you're going to drive yourself crazy."

Jean reluctantly took off her gloves and fully turned her attention to Lucien. The term of endearment had broken through her bad mood and made her smile. She went over to the small settee where Lucien had sat down. It was then that she realized what he was holding. "Where did those come from?"

He handed her the magnificent bouquet of flowers. "I did some reading in preparation for the festival this year. Did you know that begonias are symbols of warning and foreboding? Can't imagine why on earth Ballarat seems so enamored with the blasted things. They are quite pretty, and I know they are difficult to grow properly, but I must say I wasn't surprised to find that they carry such negative connotations."

Jean narrowed her eyes at him. She'd just been handed a bouquet of exquisite flowers and then told that the one flower she'd spent the majority of her free time cultivating was a dark omen and apparently a waste of time. "I see," she said simply, not wanting to get cross at him.

Lucien could feel the change in the mood, and that certainly wasn't what he intended. He quickly continued, "After that I decided to look into the meanings of other flowers. And when I did, I wanted to go out and get some for you. The florist on High Street didn't have everything I wanted, but I think these go together nicely."

That explanation brought Jean back to a smile. "They're beautiful, Lucien. Now, are you going to tell me what they all mean?"

"Yes, now, let's see…the peonies are revered in China as symbols of honor and prosperity. The dahlia here is the one I knew I had to get for you. They represent elegance and dignity, and there is no one with more elegance and dignity than you." He paused, appreciating the beaming smile on Jean's face. "Let's see, the daffodils are for new beginnings. And then of course the red roses are for true love." Lucien couldn't help but lean over to place a gentle kiss on her cheek as a small expression of the true love he felt for her.

"What a lovely sentiment. I quite like all of that." She pointed to each of the different red, yellow, and pink varieties and recited the meanings he'd told her. "Honor and prosperity, elegance and dignity, true love, and…hang on, you said daffodils are for new beginnings? Is that you and I?"

Lucien looked into her big, bright turquoise eyes and suddenly his mouth was dry. "I…yes. You and I. And I was going to wait until after the festival, but…" He reached into the pocket of his trousers for the small box he'd been keeping with him at every moment, just in case an opportunity like this presented itself.

Jean saw what he was holding and had to stifle a gasp. She couldn't allow herself to think he was…dear lord, yes he was!

"My darling Jean," Lucien began, taking her hand in his. There was something about holding her hand that made him feel safer and more at home than anything he'd ever experienced. "This last month together, our romance of sorts, the honor of courting you…I've fallen more in love than I ever thought possible. You are perfection in every way, and before you, I didn't think miracles and blessings could possibly be real. But here you are. And somehow, I suspect you love me, too."

Jean nodded in assurance. She swallowed hard, trying to press her lips together to keep from crying out with the overwhelming emotion of the moment.

Lucien chuckled. "Good, I'm glad. And because we love each other and because I never want to live a day of my life without you and because I want to be able to make you happy forever…Jean, will you marry me?" He opened the small box to reveal the diamond ring nestled inside.

Though the proposal was an utter shock—Jean hadn't imagined he'd get the sense to marry her for quite some time, that she'd have to be the one to nudge him toward propriety, as usual—she didn't have a single doubt about her answer. "Yes, Lucien, I will marry you." She leaned forward, rumpling the bouquet slightly, in order to kiss him.

They broke apart with giddy smiles. Lucien placed the ring on her finger. It fit perfectly, as he'd sent it out to get resized nearly two weeks earlier.

"Oh, Lucien, it's beautiful!"

"I'm glad you like it. It was my mother's. Neither Dad nor I liked to look at it for the longest time. But after we got back from Adelaide, I couldn't stop looking at it. It seems it was meant for you," he told her adoringly. He began to kiss her again, this time taking more time with his passion and ardor.

Jean allowed the indulgence for a moment. It seemed rightfully celebratory, but she soon pulled away. "I should arrange these flowers in a vase before we crush them to bits."

He cleared his throat, blinking back to reality. "Right. Yes."

As she stood up, Jean broke off the bloom from one of the daffodils and put it in the buttonhole of his lapel. "New beginnings," she murmured, giving him one final peck on the lips.