B00BKPAH8O EBOK (19 page)

32

Unexpected Holiday

When she
returned upstairs that night, Mary told the three Farnsworth children that they
were to accompany their father and his friends on the next day’s excursion. Not
surprisingly, Gwendolyn burst into raptures, thrilled at being included in such
a social highlight. Although dancing would have been better, an outing in fine
carriages would do nearly as well.

Michael cared nothing
for the society of London ladies and gentlemen; it was the adventure of the
expedition that appealed to his boyish sensibilities. “I shall ask Papa if I
may sit on the box, so that I can keep a watch out for highwaymen!” he
proclaimed.

Grace, being
shy and retiring by nature, did not wish to go at all. “All those people, and
me not knowing anyone!” she worried aloud.

Mary could well
appreciate her feelings. Had she not just plead the same excuse herself? And
how much worse at age eleven. “You shall undoubtedly ride with your father,
your brother, and your sister, and perhaps one or two others at most. Now,
there is nothing frightening in that, is there?”

“I do not see
why Papa should want us with him. He certainly would not miss me with so many
other people to keep him company.”

“He is proud of
you, I should think, and he wants to show you off to his friends a bit. So you
must not disappoint him; you must behave like two ladies and a young gentleman
in order to make a good impression on your father’s guests.” One of them in
particular, perhaps, Mary added to herself. It was only logical that Mr.
Farnsworth should wish to introduce his offspring to his perspective bride.
That, undoubtedly, was the real purpose of this outing.

After seeing
the children safely to their beds, Mary prepared to retire to her own,
beginning by placing an armchair in front of the door that gave onto the
outside corridor. She had taken to doing this the day she found Clinton in her room, watching her as she slept. It would probably not stop anybody from
forcing his way in, were he truly determined, but at least she hoped the noise
would afford her some warning.

As little as
she liked to dwell on that possibility, the next subject that sprang to her
mind was no more pleasant: Mr. Farnsworth.

Mary commenced
the nightly ritual of taking down her hair. She removed the pins that had bound
it tightly to the top of her head all day long, and braced for the painful
prickling sensation in her scalp as it fell about her shoulders. Then she began
brushing it her customary one hundred times. As she counted, however, the slow
and methodical stroking evolved into something more like passionate flailing.

It infuriated
her that she could never seem to keep her dealings with Mr. Farnsworth on an even
keel for more than a week at a stretch. One day she thought they had settled
into a comfortable working relationship, and the next it was all overthrown.
She could not make him out, which was a frustration in itself, an insult to her
intelligence. And the more she tried to decipher his behavior, the less sense
it made.

The most
maddeningly inexplicable part about it, however, was that she should care at
all what Mr. Farnsworth said, what he did, or what he thought of her. Why
should any of it matter? He did not frighten her, and she was able to avoid him
most of the time. If the situation became completely insupportable – should the
new Mrs. Farnsworth be more difficult to bear than the present acting mistress
of the house, for an example – she could always leave.

Ever since
visiting Pemberley, Mary had been turning over in her mind the idea that she
could make a very comfortable home for herself there if necessary, offering her
services as governess to her young nephews. She had every reason to think such
an offer would be welcome. Had not Elizabeth said that they should be fortunate
to find anyone half so qualified?

For a moment,
Mary imagined herself soaring free – free to fly from her current troublesome
situation and come to rest at Pemberley. But to break with the Farnsworth
family completely? To never see the children – or their father – again? The
thought was almost more than Mary could bear, and it brought her crashing back
to earth again. No, if she were to go anywhere, it had much better be Longbourn.
As mistress of that house, she could see as much or as little of her
Netherfield neighbors as she liked.

As Mary climbed
into bed and pulled the covers snugly up under her chin, she reminded herself
that tomorrow would be a holiday for her. ‘Do as you like,’ Mr. Farnsworth had
said. Very well, then. What appealed most to her was to forget her employer, at
least temporarily, and spend time in the company of someone far easier to get
along with. Mary therefore earnestly tried to replace every thought of Mr.
Farnsworth with an image of Mr. Tristan Collins.

Even before
falling asleep she had formulated her plan, and upon first waking she reviewed
it to be sure it still appeared sound in the clear light of day. The more she
considered it, though, the more excellent a scheme it seemed.

Mary could feel
a flutter of excitement building inside her chest as she dressed. She did not
own a proper riding habit, so she once again chose the gown that had served as
the most suitable substitute. Then, after breakfasting with the children and
seeing them down the front stairs to meet their father, Mary slipped out the
back way and across the lawn to the stables.

“Will you
please saddle Arielle for me?” she asked the first boy she met with there.

“Yes, Miss,” he
said and trotted off down the passageway between the double row of box stalls.

Two other young
men, one of whom she recognized as the groom who had assisted her before, then
came from the direction of the house. “Did you need something, Miss Bennet?”
the familiar face asked.

“I just sent
the boy to saddle Arielle for me.”

“Johnny,” the
first young man told the other groom, “you had best check on Charlie and then
saddle another horse for me.” Turning back to Mary, he continued, “I must ride
with you, Miss. Master said you was never to go off unescorted.”

“I see,” Mary
replied coolly, although it was not this man that annoyed her. It was the one
who had given the order. It appeared that even his ‘do as you like’ had its
limitations. “Very well,” she said. “I suppose I ought to know your name then.”

“It’s William,
Miss.”

“So tell me,
William, have the carriages got off all right?” she inquired, supposing that to
be the reason he had been needed up at the house.

“They have
indeed. It looked like a very merry party. A pity you could not go along, if
you will excuse me sayin’ so.”

“I have my own
little excursion planned. You can see me as far as Longbourn. I am meeting a
friend there, and he will bring me back safe. That should satisfy Mr.
Farnsworth’s requirements.”

In a few
minutes more they were underway, and the distance itself was only three miles.
Upon arrival at Longbourn, Mary rode past the house. Seeing no one there to
either help or greet her, she continued on to the small stables – a fraction of
the size of those at Netherfield – whereupon she dismounted with William’s
help, and then promptly dismissed him. Although he was none too willing to go,
Mary was so firm that she gave him no choice.

Mr. Jeffers –
the man who served as Longbourn’s single coachman, groom, and stable hand – was
nowhere to be found. And then she noticed the vacant carriage house with its
door standing ajar. Leaving Arielle in an empty box, Mary hastened to the
house.

“Oh, Hill,
there you are,” she said, meeting the housekeeper immediately upon entering. “I
saw the carriage was missing. Have they all gone out, then?”

“Yes, Miss
Mary, all except Miss Kitty, I believe. Mrs. Bennet and the others left for
Meryton, oh, it must be an hour past by now. But Miss Kitty, who was feeling
unwell, took herself off to bed instead.”

“Do you know if
Mama intends to be gone long?”

“I shouldn’t
think so. Mrs. Bennet wished to give Mr. and Miss Beam a tour of the village,
and how long could that take? There is not much to it, after all. I should
think they will all be back within the hour, if you should care to wait, Miss.”

Mary sighed.
“Yes, there is nothing else to be done, I suppose.” Thinking a minute, she
added, “I shall just go up to my old room, Hill. There was something I had
meant to look for in that trunk of mine, and I might as well do it now as
another time.”

“Very good,
Miss.”

With the last
puff of wind now fully escaped from her sails, Mary mounted the stairs in no
particular hurry. This was not at all the way she had pictured the day going
forward. She was to have glided gracefully up to Longbourn, alone. Mr. Tristan,
perceiving her presence, would have observed her approach, remembered his
promise to go riding with her, and dashed out to meet her. Before any of the
others could even think of joining them, they would have been off on another
delightful adventure together. It would no doubt have been hours before they
returned, having become entirely caught up in the pleasure of each other’s
company, and perhaps by then an understanding between them would have been
secured. Now, though…

Passing the
closed door to Kitty’s bedchamber, Mary paused, deciding she should look in on
her ailing sister. Not wishing to wake her, she omitted knocking and
noiselessly eased the door open. Though the curtains had been drawn, and the
room was dark, Mary at once sensed something was not as it should be. There
were murmurings where there should have been silence, movement where there
should have been none. As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Mary saw –
not Kitty asleep in bed as she had expected, but Kitty in a state of partial
undress and standing in the passionate embrace of a man. The man was none other
than Tristan Collins.

33

Elucidation

Mary cried out
in horror and then fled down the stairs and out of the house. She ran not
knowing where she was going, her only thought to escape the dreadful picture
now seared into her brain. It was a nightmare; it had to be. The only other
explanation was that Kitty – dear, vulnerable Kitty – had gone the way of their
sister Lydia, not waited for benefit of marriage to part with her maidenhood.
That it should be to Mr. Tristan and not some other man that Kitty had chosen
to sacrifice all now seemed of limited importance.

If only time
could be wound back an hour, Mary’s addled mind suggested by way of a solution.
If only she had never taken it into her head to make a surprise visit to
Longbourn! She turned toward the stables. She must undo what had been done; she
must get back in the saddle and return to Netherfield before anything else
occurred to verify that what she had seen was real.

Although
Arielle was ready and waiting, there was no one to help Mary mount. She was
looking about for something to climb on top of when she heard her name being
called out. It was Kitty’s voice, and it threw Mary into a state of panic. She
had to get away; the last person she wished to confront at that moment was her
fallen sister. She did not know if she would ever be able to look her in the
face again, much less so soon.

“Oh, Mary! There
you are,” said Kitty flying into the stables out of breath.

Mary looked
past her for a way of escape, but there was none.

“Dear, Mary,”
Kitty continued, coming toward her with her arms outstretched. “What a shock I
have given you! You must allow me to explain.”

“I want none of
your explanations. Now let me pass.”

“I will not!”
said Kitty, taking hold of Mary’s arms. “You shall not go away thinking there
was anything improper in what you saw. Tristan and I… well, it is not what it
appeared.”

Mary pulled free
of her grasp. “A man and a woman alone, behind a closed door in a darkened
room, with… I need not go on; you know what you were doing. How can that not be
improper?”

“Because, my
dear sister, Tristan and I are husband and wife. We are married.”

“Married!”

“Yes, I am
sorry for your finding out in such a way. Still, it is better you should know
the truth now than to continue in ignorance and misapprehension.”

Mary leant back
against the wall that formed the outside of Arielle’s stall and slid slowly
down to sit in the hay at its base. She was too weak to stand, and too stunned
to speak. She simply gaped at her sister and waited helplessly for whatever
would come next.

Kitty lowered
herself to sit alongside Mary. “We eloped, you see, to Gretna Green when everybody
left us alone at Pemberley for three days to attend Jane. We snuck off and back
again, and no one the wiser. You will think it imprudent, I daresay. And
perhaps we should have waited for the year of mourning to be done and then
married at Longbourn Church in front of all our friends. We had planned it so
ourselves, until we found that we loved each other too ardently to keep apart
for all those months. So we were secretly married instead, with the intention
of waiting until the proper time to announce it. Now you know all, Mary. Can
you forgive us?”

Mary could not
answer. She needed more time – much more time – to adjust her disordered
thinking, to extract this hard new truth from the agreeable fiction she had
been used to believing.

“Say something,
Mary. I know this has come as a shock, but you did tell me at Pemberley that
you would wish us happy when the time came.”

“And
you
said at Pemberley that you were not engaged!”

“It was the
truth, for we were not engaged but married when you asked.”

“Too late,
then,” Mary muttered with hands to her face. “It was always too late.”

“Too late?”
Kitty repeated. “Too late for what?”

Mary trembled
with pent-up emotion. She wanted to scream at her sister or rage at the world
in general. Instead, she was obliged to sit sedately and produce a plausible
response. “I was thinking about… about poor Miss Beam,” Mary finally choked
out. “She came all this way and tried so hard, but she never had a chance, did
she?”

“Miss Beam! You
must not feel sorry for her. She
did
have her chance, in truth, and
squandered it.”

“Oh, I see.
Tristan has told you this?”

“On Sunday,
when you did such a fine job of distracting the others. He said there was a
time when he liked her very much, and he might have married her then if she had
given him any encouragement. Miss Beam, however, had set her cap at a richer
man, one who has apparently since thrown her over. So now, upon her brother’s
urging, she has come crawling back to Tristan. Although, as you say, it is too
late, and so Tristan has privately told Mr. Calvin Beam. They are to clear out
tomorrow and back to America. I say good riddance to them too!”

“You have won
the prize, Kitty. You could afford to be a little more charitable to the
losers.” Another thought struck Mary. “Does Mama know any of this?”

“No! We dare
not tell her.”

“Why not? She
might be angry to have been cheated out of another wedding, but she would
forgive you soon enough when she realizes that both Mr. Collins and Longbourn
are secure.” 

“I daresay she
would! No, it is not for fear of her anger; it is for fear that she will be
incapable of keeping our marriage to herself. First it would be our aunt
Phillips, and then Lady Lucas. Before the week is out the whole parish and
beyond will know it. And we should still like to wait until January before
announcing anything. We thought we could visit my aunt and uncle in Gracechurch Street this winter and return home married, as if the ceremony had taken place
in London. For my part, I would as soon tell the world this minute, but Tristan
is anxious to establish a good name for himself in this neighborhood. He wishes
everything to appear right and proper, with no disrespect to the memory of our
late, honoured father, may God rest his soul.”

Calmer now,
Mary advised, “That being the case, you had better pray not to be blessed with
a child too soon. The common folk round about may not be exceptionally bright,
but I would wager they can, every one of them, count to nine.”

Kitty blushed
profusely and laughed. With bittersweet feelings, Mary embraced her sister and
wished her happy. There was clearly nothing else to be done.

“Now, dearest
Mary,” Kitty continued, after they released each other. “If you are
sufficiently recovered from your shock, you must come back into the house.
Tristan is as worried about you as I was. So, let me intreat you to say and
look every thing that may set his heart at ease, and incline him to be
satisfied that you are pleased with the match.”

“You must allow
me a few minutes alone to compose myself first.” Mary got to her feet, and her
sister did likewise.

“Very well, if
you promise not to fly off again.”

Mary offered a
reassuring smile. “I will be along presently, Kitty. I might just take a turn
in the garden first.”

With a look of
pure contentment, Kitty scampered off – back to her house and to her husband,
their ownership being now irrevocably established.

Mary’s own
smile faded as soon as her sister left her and cold reality came home. It was
over. The time had come to face that truth squarely. The impossible dream she
had been clinging to had proved genuinely impossible after all. She had
resolved once before to give Tristan up, and now it had to be done in earnest.
Henceforth, he was her brother and nothing more. And there was an end to it.