B00BKPAH8O EBOK (24 page)

42

Surprising News

Mary had
sufficient warning of their coming, since the plan for again gathering a large
family party to Pemberley for Christmas had been proposed more than two months
before the day arrived. The Gardiners from London and the three from Longbourn
were all to spend at least a fortnight, and the Bingleys would drive over from
Heatheridge some once or twice for a few days at a time. This number would
naturally be augmented on occasion by the Thorntons and other local friends.

Darcy and
Elizabeth had been to visit all the Fitzwilliam clan in early October and had
hoped to entice those they held dearest to return the visit at Christmas.
However, owing to the joyously anticipated arrival of their second child before
the year was out, Georgiana and the colonel were forced to decline.

Lydia, made newly unwell by the same cause but with a far less cheerful outlook, was also
obliged to send regrets on behalf of herself and her expanding family.

“So, Denny has
caught up with her at last,” said Elizabeth with a mischievous grin upon
reading the letter that announced this news. She and Mary were alone in the
breakfast room, finishing their meal. “I am glad for him. And at least Lydia has a doting mama-in-law to help her, so perhaps she will not be so cast down this
time as she was the first.”

“Do you hope
for more children yourself, Elizabeth?” asked Mary.

Elizabeth smiled wistfully. “I would not trade my three boys for anything in the world, but
I do sometimes wish for a daughter as well.” After a pause, she continued.
“Mary, would you mind it very much if I asked you something of a rather
personal nature?”

Mary looked
sideways at her sister. “It depends entirely on what exactly you wish to know.
You may ask questions which I shall not choose to answer.”

“Fair enough.
And you must know that only sincere concern would prompt me to ask in the first
place. It is just that I have often wondered if you are much grieved by the
fact that you do not have a husband and children of your own? I know you find
your work fulfilling, and you have always seemed so fiercely independent that I
hoped you were not regretting it in the least. And of course, it may yet
happen.”

Mary did not
respond at first, being entirely occupied with cutting the crust off from her
bread in a very precise manner. Then she said, “No, I am not much pained by the
lack of something I have never possessed. I believe it is only the loss of
something one has become very much attached to that has the power to break a
person. The same would be true for you, I am sure. Although you may harbor some
regret over not having a daughter, the loss of the three children and the
husband you already adore – or any one of them – would be a thousand times
worse. Do not you agree?”

Elizabeth shuddered. “Have mercy, Mary! Do not even speak of it! I cannot bear to think of
such a calamity. I should never survive.”

“I disagree,”
said Mary, with a distant look in her eyes. “You would suffer terribly, yes,
yet you would go on living day by day because you had no other choice. People
do it all the time.” She then remembered herself and gave her sister an
apologetic smile. “But God forbid
you
should ever be faced with such a
trial, Elizabeth.”

“Yes, pray God
forbids it indeed! Now, may we please talk of something more cheerful?”

Although the
conversation had subsequently taken an upsetting turn, Elizabeth was at least
tolerably reassured by her sister’s answer to her original question. It seemed
there was no need to worry for Mary on that head. Only later did Elizabeth realize that, far from being the disavowal of serious pain that she had initially
taken it for, Mary’s statement could just as easily have been a veiled
declaration of a profound grief.

~~*~~

If Mary
regretted having had no opportunity for a husband and children of her own, as
her sister had feared, the situation was soon unexpectedly altered.

Monsieur
Hubert, who had at last been coaxed to Pemberley by Mr. Darcy’s persistence and
generosity, had been astonished on his first visit there that November to find
not one but two students awaiting him. “Ah, Miss Bennet!
Quelle surprise
!”
he exclaimed upon his first seeing Mary. “You cannot imagine how extremely
delighted I am to find you here. You disappeared without a word, and no one at
Netherfield could tell me where you had gone.”

“Yes, I am very
sorry for having had no chance to inform you, Monsieur. The change came about
rather abruptly,” Mary explained. “But now I hope we can go on just as before.”

And they had
from that day. Monsieur Hubert came once a fortnight, just as Mary was
accustomed to at Netherfield. Bennet always had the first lesson and Mary the
second. As in the past, the music master was warm and solicitous in his manner
to her. As in the past, Mary enjoyed their time together more than almost
anything else. And now there was the added possibility of hearing news from him
of the Netherfield family. Although Mary had quickly sworn him to silence as to
her whereabouts, the silence did not apply in both directions. In fact, she
encouraged him to speak of Netherfield at every reasonable opportunity.

“Well, you
perhaps have not heard, Miss Bennet,” he told her one time. “The boy Michael
has nearly recovered his strength. He came in to listen to his sisters’ lessons
when I was there a week ago, and we shared a few words together. I would not be
surprised if he should return to the instrument when he is fully recovered. It
often takes something shocking, even grave, to teach us what is important.”

Another time he
said, “That Miss Lavinia Farnsworth! She is hopeless! Even
I
can do
nothing with her. Always I am saying to her, ‘Why cannot you be more like Miss
Bennet?’ But it does no good. She has no taste and no true feeling for music. I
think Mr. Farnsworth is wasting his money on that one. The daughters, I can be
of use to, not the sister.”

By far the most
startling communication he ever related, however, carried no news of
Netherfield at all. On his most recent visit to Pemberley, in the middle of
December, he spoke purely of his own sentiments. Then it was that, at the close
of Mary’s lesson, Monsieur Hubert had flung himself at her feet and grasped her
hand as desperately as if it were a lifeline thrown a drowning man.

“Monsieur!”
Mary cried in alarm at being thus attacked. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Oh, my
darling, do you not know? Have you failed to perceive how much I admire and
love you? You alone have captured both my heart and my soul, and I can hide my
true feelings no longer. I am a lost man, Miss Bennet, unless you will save me.
Will you not take pity on me now, I beg you, and agree to be my wife?”

Mary was
dumbstruck by so violent and unexpected a declaration. She could not utter a
single syllable for fully half a minute, during which time her mind raced to
assess this new information. Simultaneously, Monsieur Hubert’s lips rushed to
further his suit.

“We will be so
happy, my dear Mary. I know it. We think alike, you and I. We speak the same
language. Together we will make beautiful music and poetry – only music and
poetry… and perhaps children who will inherit the best of these abilities.”

“Wait,
Monsieur,” interrupted Mary, regaining her power of speech. “You forget that I
have made no answer, nor indeed can I at this minute. Your declaration has
taken me completely by surprise.”

“
Mais, oui
!
The surprise, it is a welcome one,
non
?”

Mary hesitated.
“No, I mean yes. Certainly I am flattered, Monsieur, flattered and honoured.
More than that I cannot say at present. It is an idea I never before
considered.”

“Ah, yes of
course, my angel. Your modesty, it has naturally prevented such a happy
possibility from entering your head. But now you must think of it. You must
take all the time you need to decide. I trust that then you will come to the
right conclusion. One can only see how content we shall be together. I am not a
rich man, it is true, and yet I can give you a good home – in London, or
Hertfordshire if you prefer – and the benefit of some of the best society
available.

“One thing
more, my dearest Mary. I see that you value your independence, and I admire you
for it. That need not change so much when we are married. You shall be free to
manage the household as you see fit, to accompany me on my travels or to stay
at home, just as you please. I think you will find that I make very few demands
on you. Only say yes, and I am the happiest man that ever lived.”

Mary could not
help being moved. “You pay me a very high compliment indeed, Monsieur. I am
overwhelmed by your generosity. Still, I must have time to carefully consider.”

“But, of
course. I am also a patient man. You will give me your answer when I return in
January, yes?”

“Yes, I will,”
promised Mary.

At this, he
smiled the smile of a confident man and tenderly brushed his lips and moustache
across the back of her hand. He bowed his way from the room and left the house.
Then looking back and espying her at the window, he kissed his own hand to her
as a parting salute before entering his carriage and driving away.

It was
impossible, of course, or so she thought at first. She did not love Monsieur
Hubert – not in a romantic sort of way at least – and it was only out of delicacy
of feeling that she had promised to think about his proposal at all.

That he should
love her was astonishing… and also highly gratifying, Mary had to admit. One
could not help feeling much for such a man, the first (and apparently the only)
who had ever conceived the notion of choosing her for a wife. What was it that
he saw in her that all the others had missed? Had he been able to look past her
plain exterior to an inner landscape that was pleasing to his esthetic eye? Was
he truly able to prefer the qualities of the mind over the more base
attractions of the physical form? That must be the case, Mary reasoned, which
proved him a man superior to most… and perhaps the best man for her, in the
end? What would life be like being married to a music master?

“It is likely
to be the best offer I ever receive,” she told Elizabeth the following day,
when she decided to confide in her. “Very possibly my
only
offer. I am
now eight-and-twenty, and I must be practical.”

“Ask Charlotte about making the practical choice, if you must. See if she regrets compromising
everything for the sake of a comfortable home. You must not ask me, Mary, not
unless you wish to be talked out of it. You know my sentiments – that there is
nothing more loathsome, more repugnant than the idea of marrying a man one does
not love. Do anything rather than marry without affection!”

“But I
do
have affection for Monsieur Hubert,” replied Mary, prompted to argue the other
side of the case out of a sense of fairness. “Perhaps love would follow, as it
often does, I believe.”

“Will you stake
your happiness, your entire future on it?”

“I only said I
would consider his offer, and that is what I am doing – considering all the
possibilities. You can trust me to behave rationally, Lizzy. Have I not always
done so?”

“Be that as it
may, Mary, your rational mind might not be your best counselor this time, for
who can by power of reason alone account for the ways of love?”

43

Christmas Guests

The entire
company from the south arrived at once, the Gardiners having traveled first
from London to Longbourn, and then from there on to Derbyshire in tandem with
the Bennets’ carriage containing Mrs. Bennet, Kitty, and Mr. Tristan Collins.
Hearing the commotion, Mary prepared herself and then came downstairs to face
them.

The four
Gardiner children, now more than half grown, issued through the door first,
followed by their parents. All these were warmly received by Elizabeth. “Mr.
Darcy has ridden off on an errand of business,” she was saying as Mary arrived
on the scene. “But he will be delighted to welcome you when he very shortly
returns. And here is Mary.”

Mary was soon
swallowed up by the little band of travelers and their cheerful greetings. When
she emerged again, the others had come in as well.

“So, there you
are, Mary,” said Mrs. Bennet. “I had begun to despair of ever seeing
you
again. You seem well enough, though, for all your dramatics and ill-judged
exploits. We have carried your trunk with us from Longbourn too, just as you
asked, though I could little understand your need of such trifles as it
contains when you have your sister’s hospitality and this entire estate at your
disposal. I daresay the library here has a copy of every book ever printed, and
yet you could not be content without having your own poor volumes returned to
you.”

“Thank you,
Mama. I am pleased to see you as well.”

Mary then
turned to where Kitty and Mr. Tristan waited to greet her. There was a moment
of awkwardness, each of the three acutely conscious of events – though now
nearly four months past – that had played out between them at their last
meeting. Perceiving that the other two waited to be guided by her actions, Mary
broke the tension by embracing her sister and then offering her hand and a
tepid smile to Tristan. “I am happy you have come,” said she. “I am glad to see
you again… both of you.” And, much to her own surprise, she found that it was
very nearly true.

“I am delighted
to see you looking so well,” said Tristan.

“Oh, Mary, you
cannot imagine how worried I have been for you,” said Kitty, sinking her voice
and glancing about. “Going away so very abruptly as you did, and so soon after…
Well, I hoped we… that is to say, I hoped the shock Tristan and I gave you is
not to blame.”

“You may put
that ridiculous idea out of your mind at once, Kitty. It was simply time for a
change, as I explained in my letter. I am needed here at Pemberley now.”

“So I must have
told your sister a dozen times,” said Tristan. “‘Mary has a life of her own and
knows how to go about it,’ said I. ‘She is not so much at a loss for direction
as to be ruled by
our
paltry little affairs.’ And if I might add, Miss
Mary, your nephews are fortunate indeed to have such a kind and capable aunt
come to look out for their education.”

Mary
acknowledged the handsome compliment with a slight inclination of her head.
Tristan then moved off to greet his hostess whilst Mary continued with a
private word for Kitty. “You do not go to London this winter as you had
proposed?” she asked.

Kitty shook her
head. “We had expected to stay with my aunt and uncle, if you recall, which
became impossible once we discovered they intended to come here for Christmas.
But then we thought that three weeks in Derbyshire would do as well for us as
three weeks in London. We could have returned to Hertfordshire married and
hopefully no one the wiser. That was the plan. The year of mourning for Papa is
nearly gone, you know.”

“Yes,
impossible as it is to believe.”

“It would seem
but a month or two, except for all that has happened. I am sure a year ago I
never had any idea of being married by now to my cousin, whom I had not once
set eyes on before! How strangely these things do turn out! And another thing
you should know, Mary… ”

Mr. Darcy came
in just then, accompanied by his dogs, and a clamor of human and canine voices
erupted, putting a swift end to the whispered tête-à-tête between the two
sisters.

There it was
again. Mary felt the now-familiar lurch of her heart at her brother-in-law’s
sudden appearing. In her mind’s eye, it was Mr. Farnsworth who strode into the
hall. For that moment, it was Mr. Farnsworth who stopped less than three feet
from her, and Mr. Farnsworth who effortlessly took command of the room. 

“Excellent!”
Darcy declared above the din. “I am gratified to see you have all arrived
safely, and sorry I was not here to receive you properly.” Turning to Mr.
Gardiner and shaking his hand, he continued, “You must have made good time,
sir. We did not look for you until at least two hours hence. Mr. Collins, very
good to have you with us again.” And in like manner he greeted them all – with
a bow, a firm shake of the hand, a confident word, a gesture of regard.

However Mary
might try to put Netherfield’s master out of her mind, it was useless with this
powerful reminder ever before her in the form of Mr. Darcy.

~~*~~

Mr. Tristan’s
presence Mary soon learnt to endure with tolerable equanimity. Although he and
Kitty still concealed their real situation, they now made very little secret of
their mutual regard. No one with eyes and an ounce of sense could doubt their
strong attachment, certainly no one at Pemberley that Christmas, for they were
rarely out of each other’s company when they could be in it. And if an excuse
existed for them to get off by themselves to the garden or library, they were
sure to find it. None of this was lost on the others, as their significant
looks and knowing comments clearly attested.

Mrs. Gardiner,
one morning in the drawing room, nodded toward the couple talking close
together by the fire. “What do you think of it?” she asked of Mary and
Elizabeth with a conspiratorial smile. “A most suitable connection everybody
must consider it – but I think it might be a very happy one as well. One can
only sympathize that they are kept waiting. Better that they should be allowed
to marry at once.”

Mary smiled
pleasantly and said nothing.

Elizabeth was more forthcoming, agreeing with her aunt in all respects and prophesying that
it would not be long before they heard something definite from the young
lovers.

Not surprisingly,
Mrs. Bennet was the most vocal on this topic, wasting no opportunity to expound
on her felicity, and on her satisfaction at foreseeing the match, to anybody
who would listen. Cornering Mary on one occasion, she began anew. “You see how
it is with your sister and Mr. Tristan. It is exactly as I planned it all those
months ago. Oh, I am so happy! Kitty will be mistress of Longbourn, and there
shall be no occasion for me moving out. Of course, I would not wish to be in
their way once they are married. All newlyweds need a bit of privacy. I might
stay a month at Heatheridge with your sister Jane, or perhaps I will have a
holiday at Brighton and go sea-bathing. Have you never heard me say before that
a little sea-bathing would set me up forever?”

“Yes, Mama, and
I recall the circumstances all too well,” Mary said gravely.

“You make
allusions to Lydia’s trip to Brighton, I suppose, which never did her any harm
in the end. Or the rest of us either, for that matter. Elizabeth and Jane
married exceedingly well despite all that, and now Kitty is on the brink of an
excellent match as well. When news of her engagement becomes known in Meryton,
it may have a very telling effect, for people do say that the expectation of
one wedding is enough to bring on another. Perhaps Mr. Farnsworth’s plans will
move forward again, now his son is on the mend. It was entirely fitting that he
should have set aside thoughts of matrimony whilst the boy lay at death’s door,
but there can be no occasion for postponing any longer.”

Feigning
nonchalance, Mary asked, “So, is it quite a settled thing that he is to marry
again?”

“Oh, yes, my
dear. I am surprised you are not better informed. One hears of it everywhere
these days. He is engaged to a Miss Haystack, or Harcourt, or some such name.”

“Could it be
Hawkins, Miss June Hawkins?”

“Very likely
so. I do not recall exactly, but it is said she is young and beautiful, and of
course rich – the daughter of a friend of his. It was all settled between them
months ago. The only wonder was, what they could be waiting for, till the
business with the boy happened; then indeed it was clear enough that they must
wait till he was sufficiently recovered. And so he is now.”

“Have you ever
spoken to Mr. Farnsworth yourself, Mama, on this or any other topic, since I
came away? Or have you had any kind of correspondence from him?”

“Heavens, no!
Why should Mr. Farnsworth want to write to me, pray? And he almost never leaves
the house anymore, I am told, not since his son fell ill. Although I daresay
that cannot last; he is sure to take an interest in the outside world again
soon. He had better, for his new wife will not take kindly to being shut up in
that big house. A bride must have her due, you know – parties and visits and
all manner of merrymaking. Do you think I shall be invited to the wedding? I
will be quite cut up if I am not. It is sure to be a grand affair, and I would
not miss it for the world. I always say, there is nothing I like so much as a
high tone wedding.”

Mary told
herself that her mother’s information might proceed from nothing more than the
false witness of idle gossip. However, with no better authority available,
there seemed little reason for skepticism, little justification for supposing
the prevailing public theory incorrect in this case. After all, she had seen
the evidence with her own eyes before she had come away and arrived at the same
conclusion.

Mary brightened
when she considered that Mrs. Brand must surely know the truth, and in her
letters she had made no mention of any such extraordinary announcement in the
offing. But then that good lady had only contracted for reporting one kind of
news. She could have no reason to suppose that a development on the romantic
front would be of more than passing interest to Mary. 

In fact, it was
of very keen interest to her indeed. Whilst everybody at Pemberley seemed
consumed with Kitty and Tristan’s developing situation, Mary’s own thoughts
dwelt more and more on the distressing possibility of a different alliance afar
off in Hertfordshire.