B00BKPAH8O EBOK (14 page)

22

Demands of Duty

When she had
tarried with Kitty as long as she could bear, Mary pled a headache and
retreated to her bedchamber with the vague idea of finding some bittersweet
consolation in having a rare cry out. If any circumstance justified such an
indulgence, this one surely did. Hope was at an end. Although the final word
was yet to be written, her sister had left no room to doubt how matters would
ultimately be settled.

No one but she
would regret the outcome, Mary knew full well. It was what her mother had
dreamt of from the start, and probably her sisters too. Kitty so obviously
needed somebody to depend upon; whereas she…
She
had boasted to them all
that she could, and would, look after herself. With chagrin, Mary recalled her
exact words.

“I thank you
for your concern, but I believe I am not so much at a loss as to require your
assistance. I shall do very well on my own.”

“What pride!
What conceit! And what a just punishment, this!” she rebuked herself. She had
written her own sentence, and now, ‘on her own’ she always would be, without
even a sister to confide in. To be required to eat the unpalatable fruit of her
own vanity was no more than what she deserved. She, who had clearly valued her
talents too highly, who had often disdained her supposedly weaker sisters, who
had flattered herself into thinking her cousin cared for her… “Oh, what an
unappealing portrait is now before me!”

Going to the
mirror, Mary took a long, hard look at herself. Her physical image was no more
promising than the picture she had just glimpsed of her character.

Having by then
worked herself up for it, Mary fell prostrate on the bed and waited for the
tears to come. They would not. She willed, she demanded, she pleaded for them
to come. Nothing. Perhaps, she ruefully considered, all those years of forced
banishment had finally driven them off for good, and they would visit her no
more.

Ten minutes
later, eyes still dry and feeling quite ridiculous, Mary got up and sharply
tugged her clothing back into order. Very well, then, she thought, she would
return to her stoic way. Her brief departure from it had only brought her grief
in any case. The important thing now was to determine how to proceed. One must
go on; one simply had no choice.

She went to the
window and stood gazing out over the lawn and the lake for a long while. The
storm clouds had come and then gone just as quickly. Now, in the heat of the
midday sun, little stirred out of doors except the light itself, its merciless
rays breaking up every shadow and glaring off the face of the water. Nothing
could hide from their harsh scrutiny, which laid bare the real nature of every
object. Refusing to look at it would not change the truth.

It was
perfectly clear to Mary what she must do, and there would be no room for
complaint or compromise. She felt it to be her duty to try to overcome all that
was excessive, all that bordered on selfishness, in her affection for Tristan.
To call or to fancy it a loss, a disappointment, would be a presumption for
which she had not words strong enough to satisfy her own humility. To think of
him as Kitty might be justified in thinking would be insanity. To her, he could
be nothing under any circumstances, nothing dearer than a brother.

~~*~~

Now that she
had learnt what she had come to Derbyshire for, Mary would as soon have quitted
the place at once. Of course, that was impossible without explanations she
would be much too mortified to give. The best she could contrive was an early
departure on the excuse of spending an extra day at Heatheridge before
collecting her charges and returning home. Until then, she was trapped at
Pemberley, trapped in an earthly paradise that would yield to her no benefit,
where she must continually witness the happiness of others, though it meant the
ruination of her own.

It made her
heart ache to see Tristan now, not because he had changed toward her, but
because he was exactly the same – just as amiable and kind as before, both
reminding Mary what she had lost, and proving once and for all that any
partiality he had seemed to show for her was entirely in her own imagination.
Did he not demonstrate every bit as much regard for Elizabeth when she returned
the next day, and also for Kitty?

Even worse,
however, was bearing with Kitty’s exaltations as she expounded upon the
manifold attractions of the man she regarded as her future husband. It appeared
the only thing standing between her and utter bliss was that Mr. Tristan
Collins was not yet at liberty to declare his intentions to the world. Their
mutual attachment could not be officially announced until a few months hence, when
Kitty’s year of mourning had at last come to an end.

“In the
meantime,” Kitty explained, “we are obliged to be discreet. We must hide the
real extent of our affection, although I believe that at least Elizabeth may suspect it. But with you, dear Mary, I may be entirely open. What a blessing
it is to have a sister who shares my secret and can rejoice with me in my
private happiness!”

Mary told
herself that it was not Kitty’s fault; she had no clue that every word in
praise of Tristan or in celebration of their love grated like a sharp stone
ground into her already wounded soul. Oh, why had she ever been so foolish as
to put off her armor, to lay aside her shield? Now it was too late; the damage
was done.

Mary found some
refuge from these assaults in the familiar world of the schoolroom and nursery.
There she could both escape Kitty’s triumph and distract herself with the
antics of Elizabeth’s three sons. After all, getting better acquainted with her
nephews had been a secondary goal for coming north.

No governess
had yet been engaged, since the eldest, Master Bennet, was not yet six. A nurse
and an under nurse had the charge of the children when they were not with
either of their parents. Mary willingly volunteered her services as well. If
her family members thought it odd that she should prefer spending so many hours
with her nephews rather than with them, they did not say so.

Little James,
at the tender age of two, needed only to be held and have stories read to him
to keep him happy all the day long. Four-year-old Edward could not sit still
for reading or codling of any kind. He was constantly in motion, and constantly
making his younger brother cry by stealing away his toys. He would not mind the
nurse, and Mary had little success with him either.

However, she
discovered young Bennet Darcy to be a quiet, serious boy, bright and eager to
learn – so different from Edward and from her own reluctant pupil Michael. Mary
therefore took it upon herself to advance his knowledge of numbers and words,
the basics of which he had already mastered, and to teach him such little songs
and rhymes as she had attempted to impart to the Netherfield children at a
similar age.

These, Mary had
the satisfaction in hearing the boy recite for the company of an evening. On
the third night after her arrival, Bennet stood before them in the drawing room
and, with a little prompting from his aunt, produced the following in a small,
yet confident voice:

The Grand old Duke
of York,

He had ten
thousand men.

He marched them up
to the top of the hill,

And he marched
them down again.

When they were up,
they were up.

And when they were
down, they were down.

And when they were
only halfway up,

They were neither
up nor down.

The five
adults, friends and relations all, applauded the boy’s efforts
enthusiastically. Mary nodded her approval.

Mr. Tristan
Collins cried, “Bravo!” and Kitty echoed the same.

“That was
delightful,” exclaimed Elizabeth. “What a clever boy you are, Bennet, and your
aunt is a very clever teacher. Well done, Mary.”

Mary smiled.
“It was nothing; he is a clever boy, just as you say.”

“Have it your
way, Mary, but I think we will be very fortunate to find someone half as
qualified when we go to hire a governess.”

“Come here,
son,” said Mr. Darcy, and Bennet obeyed. “That was a very good rhyme. Do you
know what it means?” The child shook his head. “It is about a battle that took
place a very long time ago.”

“Really now,
Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth censured him mildly. “Do let the boy enjoy his rhyme
without making a dull, old history lesson out of it. He is only five, after
all.”

“Never too
young to learn,” Darcy said. “Mary will support me. These old nursery rhymes,
many of them have some basis in history. I believe this one refers to the
defeat of Richard – the War of the Roses, fifteenth century. Is it not so?”

“Yes, you are
correct, Mr. Darcy,” said Mary, “although I had not attempted to impart all
these details to Bennet. Learning the rhyme seemed challenging enough for the
moment.”

“Precisely,”
said Elizabeth, with an arch look at her husband. Turning her attention to the
boy again, she continued. “Bennet, dear, you have entertained us well. Now it
is time to say your good-nights.”

Accordingly,
the boy shook his father’s hand and Mr. Tristan’s, and then he kissed his two
aunts and mother on their offered cheeks.

Elizabeth would not be satisfied with that, however, and she bundled her first born into a
tight embrace. “Off you go, and sleep well,” she then said, sending the boy to
the nurse, who waited to one side. Elizabeth’s eyes followed him till he was
out the door and gone. She then turned to her companions. “So, who shall we
hear from next? Mary, do save us by playing something. Otherwise, I fear Mr.
Darcy will insist on resuming our history lesson, and that would never do. I
feel far too gay for lessons of any kind tonight.”

23

No Reprieve

The next day
being Sunday, they all made the trek from Pemberley to the church at Kympton,
the parish for which Mr. Darcy had the patronage. There they heard the sermon
of Mr. Thornton, and afterward spoke outside the church with him and with his
wife Ruth, Mr. Tristan’s sister.

“How good to
see you again, Miss Bennet,” said the woman with a gentle smile. She had a very
pleasing aspect, an infant in her arms, and a shy toddler hiding behind her
skirts.

“And you as
well,” said Mary. “Your family has grown since last I saw you.”

“Very true. Our
bashful boy Duncan is now three, and this is our little Bess, born only two
months past.” She leant forward and uncovered the child’s face for Mary to see.

“My
congratulations. She is a fine, healthy-looking infant, Mrs. Thornton.”

“Yes, God has
been very good to us.”

Had Mary still
been imagining a future with Tristan, meeting his sister and her husband again
would now have taken on special significance, in the expectation that these
would one day be her relations as well. A fresh pang coursed through her, for
Mary felt instinctively that she could have liked this lady very much.

Kitty then
joined them, and, by her familiar manner of greeting Mrs. Thornton, it was
immediately apparent that a relationship of some degree of intimacy existed
between them, as was to be expected. At once feeling like an intruder, Mary
invented a reason to move on, slowly making her way toward the carriage.

“Are you quite
well, Sister Mary?” said Mr. Darcy, coming to her side and placing a supporting
hand at her elbow. “You do look rather done in.”

“Thank you for
your concern, Mr. Darcy, but it is nothing. I am only a little over warm in the
sun. I will just wait in the carriage, if I might.”

“Certainly.
Allow me to escort you.” They walked on toward an oak tree, in the shade of
which the carriage and horses rested, and he presently said, “I fear you are
not enjoying your stay with us as much as your sister and I had hoped. Is there
any exertion we can make for your comfort? Anything at all? You have only to
say the word and it is done.”

“You are too
kind, sir, and your hospitality is flawless, as usual. Please do not worry
yourself on my account. I assure you, I am quite content.” Mary was on the
verge of confessing to him her desire to depart a day early, when Kitty came
dashing up on her other side.

“What do you
think, Mary?” she began cheerfully. “I have just hit upon an idea that you are
sure to like exceedingly. I cannot imagine why no one thought of it before, for
it is quite clearly the best plan in the world.”

“Is it really?
Then do tell me.”

“You leave
Pemberley in two days’ time. Is that not so?”

Mary hesitated.
“Yes… that was my original plan.”

“Well, then,
what say I return to Longbourn with you? And Mr. Tristan too. What could be
more perfect? We shall be such a cheerful party!”

Mary’s mind
raced to find a way out. “It… It is an excellent plan, Kitty, to be sure,
although far too generous. I know how you love it here at Pemberley. I have no
choice other than to go, but you and Mr. Tristan must not cut short your stay
on my account.” Grasping at straws, she added, “Besides, I am not at all
certain there will be room in Mr. Farnsworth’s carriage. As it is, I have Gwendolyn
and Grace, all their luggage, and two maids as well.”

“Oh! You think
Mr. Farnsworth would object, then?” Kitty asked, as if she had heard nothing
else her sister said. “I would not wish to be seen as taking unfair advantage.”

It was a
tempting excuse, and yet Mary could not in good conscience make Mr. Farnsworth
the villain of the piece. “No, Kitty, I am quite certain he would not see it as
an imposition.”

“Then it is
settled! Mr. Tristan will ride his own horse or sit on the box, and that great
coach you came in will certainly hold the other six of us. Why, the Farnsworth
girls are not even full grown. So unless the second maid – whom I have not seen
– is prodigiously fat, one can only imagine how comfortable we shall be. As for
leaving Pemberley, I believe it is high time I took myself out from under foot.
Do not you think so, Mr. Darcy?”

“You are
welcome to stay as long as you like,” said he, “both of you, and Mr. Collins as
well, of course.”

“Thank you,
kind sir,” said Kitty, bobbing a slight curtsey in a spirit of fun. She then
glanced over her shoulder in the direction of Mr. Tristan. “I believe I already
have what I came for, though.”

~~*~~

Mary thought no
more of quitting Pemberley early. Now it would make no difference if she stayed
or went, for her troubles were determined to cling to her either way.

Craving at
least a brief respite, she came downstairs early the next day, mindful that
Kitty and Elizabeth rarely made an appearance before ten o’clock, and even Mr.
Tristan was inclined to breakfast late. She counted Mr. Darcy, should she
happen to come upon him, as the least problematic, for he would likely be as
reluctant for conversation as she was herself.

Had she not
known where to go, her nose could have easily been her guide, for the spicy
smell of baked ham and the aroma of fresh biscuits wafted in the air. Mary
inhaled deeply and, picturing herself sitting down blissfully alone to an
enjoyable meal, she entered the breakfast room. She then drew up short just
inside the doorway, arrested by the sight before her. For there was Tristan
Collins, smartly dressed and standing at the sideboard, dishing a serving of
kippers onto his plate.

He looked up
and smiled. “Would you like some?” he asked, offering the portion to Mary
instead.

Retreat was
impossible.

“Ah, Mr.
Tristan, I had not thought to see you here so early.” She waved off the
kippers, took a plate, and turned her earnest attention to the selection on the
sideboard.

He laughed.
“You cannot be more surprised at it than I am myself. It was Mr. Darcy’s idea,
you see. He promised me a spot of fishing, but only if I can be ready by eight.
Trout breakfast early too, apparently.”

“Then that
explains it.”

“What is your
excuse, Miss Mary? I thought all fashionable ladies insisted on sleeping until
at least nine.”

“I suppose they
do. I cannot say, for I am not to be classed amongst them. I must be up early
every day, ahead of the children in my charge.”

“Yes, but there
are no children in your charge at Pemberley, Miss Mary. You are on holiday, and
you might indulge yourself in the decadent luxury of an additional hour’s
sleep, if you wished.”

Mary replaced
the lid to the silver porridge tureen with a clatter. “It is, perhaps, more
prudent not to indulge oneself too much with pleasures one has no right to
keep. It only makes it more painful when those pleasant things must be given
up. Surely, you must see that,” said Mary, with a tone of challenge.

Their eyes met
and held for a long moment. A look of consciousness crossed Tristan’s face. His
customary jocularity fell away, replaced by a somberness of countenance that
Mary had seen him take on some once or twice before.

“There is some
truth in what you say, Miss Mary. Yet to never experience the good, for fear
that it will one day be taken from you – what kind of way is that to live?” 

They were
clearly, neither one of them, any longer speaking of something as trifling as
an extra hour’s sleep. Mary was certain of thus much. She was far less certain
what exactly he
did
have on his mind, or whether he could read hers.

With Tristan’s
question still hanging in the air betwixt them, she saved herself the trouble
of responding by deciding it was rhetorical – that he had asked it without
wanting or expecting an answer. As she had none to offer in any case, she
returned to the business of breakfast.

They continued
in silence some minutes, sitting six feet apart at the same table and both
entirely focused on dissecting and rearranging the food on the plates before
them.

Presently,
however, Tristan set down his fork and glanced sidelong at Mary. “I am sorry,”
he said in a low voice.

Mary steadied
her nerves and schooled her features into an expression of mild curiosity
before looking at him. “Sorry? What do you mean, sir? Have you done something
for which you need to repent?”

“I believe I
must have, for you do seem displeased with me. I noticed it almost as soon as
you arrived at Pemberley. My esteem for you is most sincere, Miss Mary, and I
place a high value on your friendship. So, if I have offended or injured you in
any way, I am truly sorry.”

Mary stood
abruptly, nearly knocking over her chair. “I thank you for your compliments,
Mr. Collins. I also thank you for your apology, although it is entirely
unnecessary, I assure you. Now, you really must excuse me; I could not possibly
eat another bite.” Leaving her breakfast unfinished and her companion
unenlightened, Mary quit the room.