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44

Announcement

The holiday
itself began with a trip to Kympton for church. Later, back at Pemberley, much
was made of the Christmas dinner and of the children’s enjoyment – all twelve
Bingley, Darcy, and Gardiner offspring – and of the special little treats and
traditions established within the family to commemorate the occasion. Mary was
called upon to render the day all the more festive by employing her musical
abilities, playing a number of yuletide hymns and popular tunes on the
piano-forte.

That evening,
after the children were all tucked quietly into their beds and the adults were
assembled in one of the drawing rooms, Mr. Tristan Collins cleared his throat
noisily as he rose to his feet, capturing the attention of the rest, as he no
doubt intended. Other conversations fell away, and everybody turned towards him
with heightened expectations.

“Excuse me for
interrupting,” said Tristan. “I have something important I must say to all of
you, and now seems as good a time as any.” He looked at Kitty and received an
encouraging nod.

“Go ahead, Mr.
Collins,” said Elizabeth with a hint of merriment in her eye. “We are an eager
audience.”

For a moment,
Tristan bowed his head in thought before proceeding with deliberation. “First,
I must thank you all for welcoming me so graciously. I do not mind telling you
now that I came to Longbourn with a measure of trepidation, uncertain of what
kind of reception awaited me. After all, there was the longstanding
disagreement between the two branches of our family to consider, as well as the
more unforgivable business of the entail. You might have rightfully resented my
intrusion into your lives, and especially into your home. Instead, I was shown
kindness and affability at every turn. I was made to feel one of the family from
the very moment of my first arriving,” he declared with a smile at Mary, “and
all the more so since.”

Here again he
rested his affectionate gaze on his secret wife. “I am certain, moreover, that
none of you will be surprised to learn that I have developed feelings of a very
tender nature for one member of the Bennet family in particular, one who
fortunately returns my regard. Now, with you all assembled here, and with the
year of mourning for her late, honored father having nearly passed, Kitty and I
had wished to take this opportunity to announce our engagement.”

A gratifying
chorus of congratulations poured forth as each one of the company hurried to
register his or her approbation, beginning with the eager but barely
intelligible expostulations of Mrs. Bennet. She squealed exactly like a
schoolgirl and clapped her hands together before exclaiming, “Oh, I am so very,
very happy! But then I always knew how it would be!”

“This is
excellent news indeed!” said Mr. Gardiner at the same time.

“Congratulations,
my good fellow,” said Mr. Bingley next, shaking Tristan’s hand. “You could not
have made a better choice.”

“I am so very
pleased for you, dear Kitty,” added Jane, “for both of you.”

“Lovely,
lovely,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “This is just as it should be.”

Mr. Darcy
wished them both joy.

Kitty looked
radiantly happy, if a bit embarrassed.

Mary, who was
sitting beside her, put an arm about Kitty’s shoulders in a half embrace. “So
happy,” she said, in a more subdued tone than the rest. 

Then Mr.
Tristan held up his hands to try to stem the premature tide of well-wishing.
“One moment, if you please,” he was saying as he attempted to quiet them. “If I
could have your attention again, there is just one more thing.” When the
commotion had died down sufficiently, he continued. “There is something else. I
said we had wished to announce our engagement, but now it seems we shall have
to do more than that, for it appears that Kitty is… That is to say…” Tristan
paused and then blurted the rest out in rapid fashion. “Since Kitty appears to
be in a family way, you ought to know that we have in fact been secretly
married since August.”

This news had
the opposite effect of the original announcement, resulting in somewhat of a
stunned silence. Kitty leapt to fill the void. “It is true,” she said. “We fell
in love nearly as soon as we set eyes on one another. And we
did
intend
to wait until I was out of mourning, but…”

Elizabeth burst out laughing. “But instead you ran off to Gretna Green at your first
opportunity!”

“How did you
know, Lizzy?” a shocked Kitty inquired.

“Yes, how?”
asked Tristan. “You were away at Heatheridge at the time.”

Darcy evenly
answered in place of his wife. “You should not suppose us to be uninformed
about what takes place here even in our absence. No doubt you charged the
servants to keep your secret for you. They are a fiercely loyal group, however
– loyal to me, that is.”

“Yes,” agreed Elizabeth, having got her mirth tolerably under control. “With the information they
supplied, as well as the way you both had been behaving, it was easy enough to
add two and two together and make four.”

Mrs. Bennet
suddenly found her voice and turned on her daughter. “You are married?”

“Yes, Mama,”
confirmed Kitty.

“All this
time?” continued Mrs. Bennet. “Married! And… and under the same roof. Oh, my
goodness gracious! And not telling me! Sneaking round behind my back and…
carrying on as if…”

“Yes, Madam,”
said Tristan. “I am sorry, but I’m afraid there
has
been a certain
amount of carrying on behind your back.”

“Obviously,”
muttered Darcy.

“Who else knew
of this?” demanded Mrs. Bennet. “Am I the only one kept in the dark?”

“We have told
no one except Mary, Mama,” cried Kitty, “and we had no choice with her for she
discovered us… That is, she walked in when we were…”

All attention
turned to Mary, who squirmed with discomfort.

“Oh, good
heavens!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. “Where are my salts? Somebody fetch me my
salts else I shall surely faint.” She proceeded to slump sideways in her chair,
casting anxious eyes heavenward.

“Now, now, my
dear sister,” said Mr. Gardiner with calm authority as he came to Mrs. Bennet’s
side. “There is no need for hysterics. I am sure it was not as bad as that, was
it, Mary?” Mary shook her head resolutely. “See there. No harm has been done,
so dry your eyes. All that has happened is that you have had your most
cherished wish granted even sooner than you hoped for. What is it that you have
wanted more than anything these many years if not to see one of your daughters
married to the heir to Longbourn? Rejoice then, my dear Fanny, for God has been
very good to you!”

By more
sentiments of a similarly reassuring nature, along with the bracing effects of
an application or two of her salts, Mrs. Bennet was eventually made to see that
the situation was not so disagreeable after all. Not only had the wished-for
union taken place, but with any luck, a male child of that union was already on
the way to securing the Longbourn estate for another generation. All things
considered, and despite being cheated out of a wedding in front of her Meryton
friends, Mrs. Bennet had to admit there was much with which she might console
herself.

No one else
pretended to be much shocked by the more surprising aspects of the couple’s
announcement. Even Mary barely blinked at the prospect of acquiring another
niece or nephew sooner than expected. And she could have predicted what would
happen next. The men rallied round Mr. Tristan, shaking his hand and soundly
clapping him on the back, to mark his officially joining the family. Similarly,
Jane and Elizabeth enveloped Kitty, welcoming her into their sisterhood of the
married and congratulating her on her imminent entrée to the fellowship of
young mothers.

More so than
ever now, Mary found herself on the outside, looking in.

45

Contemplations

As the
celebration of the newlyweds’ nuptials continued all about her, Mary told
herself she was not jealous – not really – and in some respects that assertion
was perfectly true. Although she might envy Kitty her happiness, she did not
envy Kitty her husband. Looking at her open-faced cousin now, she judged that
marriage to him would most probably have been pleasant enough – simply and
uncomplicatedly pleasant. Whereas marriage to Mr. Farnsworth… Mary felt a hot
blush flood her face as she considered it. That would be altogether different.
He
was a passionate man, for better or for worse. Whatever else it might entail,
Mary surmised that having him for a husband would never be dull.

“Are you
feeling quite well, Mary?” asked Mrs. Bennet after she had taken the place
beside her daughter, which Kitty had lately vacated to join her other two
sisters. “You are very quiet, and I must say that you are looking a little
flushed as well. I hope you are not coming down with some ailment. With so many
children in the house, there is sure to be some sickness or fever close at
hand.”

“I am well,
Mama – just a little overheated. That is all. I will move further away from the
fire, if I may. Excuse me.”

“By all means,
my dear. It will be cooler nearer the windows, but there may be a draught. Take
care you do not catch a chill.”

Mary did go to
the windows, glad for an excuse to at least temporarily separate herself from
the rest of the group. It took too much exertion for her to affect the air of
excited pleasure most of the others apparently felt so sincerely. Moreover, her
own thoughts were far away.

Gazing out into
the night, Mary could just make out the faded gray of the lawn below, guarded
by a few sentinel trees, as it fell away toward the inky blackness of the lake.
The filtered moonlight’s poor illumination rendered every familiar article in
ghostly guise, or was it something else that made it all look so peculiarly
eerie? Ah, it had begun to snow, she then realized. For the moment, it was only
a sugar dusting, but doubtless by daybreak everything would be wearing a full
coat of winter white.

“It is
snowing,” she informed the others.

Kitty, who had
always been particularly enamored of snow, came bounding excitedly to the
window. A few of the others followed more sedately. “How thrilled the children
will be when they wake in the morning!” remarked Jane.

Without
stirring, Mrs. Bennet said, “I for one am not surprised. I can always tell it
will snow by how my rheumatism comes on. Oh, such pains and spasms as I have
suffered all the day long! But then I never like to complain.”

“I thought
there was something in the smell of the air today that hinted at snow,” said
Mr. Gardiner.

As her
companions lost interest and moved back to the fireside, Mary remained at the
window and likewise reverted to her prior occupation. Her mind returned to Mr.
Farnsworth, and how she had seen him venture out on horseback into a foot of
snow the previous winter, entirely undaunted. He had made a striking picture –
an imposing man, darkly clad, atop an equally dusky-colored horse, the two
moving as one out into the lonely white landscape. She remembered feeling a
passing and yet powerful desire to join Mr. Farnsworth, to ride out with him,
although she had no conscious thought at the time as to why that might be. Now
Mary understood it in its proper light. She must have been in a fair way to
falling in love with him even then. Was it snowing at Netherfield now, she
wondered?

At length, the
family party broke up for the night, and everybody retreated to their own
bedchambers, with one important alteration from the night before. No one said a
word about it, of course, yet it was understood by all that Mr. and Mrs.
Tristan Collins would, for the first time, be openly retiring together instead
of apart.

They were all
paired off now, Mary acknowledged with a pang, as alone she entered her own
bedchamber – all her sisters. And whilst she could honestly say that she did
not covet the mate of any one of them, Mary could not declare the same for the lovely
and fortunate Miss Hawkins. She could not help imagining the joy she herself
might have found in the arms of that lady’s chosen partner, had circumstances
been different.

Even had there
been no other woman in the case, however, Mr. Farnsworth would hardly have
thought of her in a romantic way. If he reflected on her at all, it was as a
person who had once been in his employ, an inferior person, a lowly governess
who had caused him and his family great harm, a person who should be forgot as
soon as could be.

It was useless
speculation to think that things might have turned out differently – worse than
useless, in truth. “Useless” implied that nothing more grievous than wasted
time would come of it, whereas the true price to pay would be far higher. Should
she continue indulging in romantic fantasies about Mr. Harrison Farnsworth,
Mary knew she would never be at peace again, never come to terms with the
limited option she did have available.

The only offer
before her was Monsieur Hubert’s. That is what she ought to be considering. It
was not a comparison between him and some ideal man; it was a choice between
Monsieur Hubert and no husband at all, Monsieur Hubert and being a governess
forever.

She had
originally taken up the occupation of her own free will; no one had forced her.
And for a long time she had been entirely satisfied with her decision,
satisfied and proud that she had the wherewithal to carry it off. The work had
been enjoyable for the most part, and also the feelings of worth and independence
that earning her own bread had engendered. True, there would always be an
employer to answer to, but no man was a governess’s master, not in the total
and irrevocable sense marriage represented. She retained her ultimate autonomy.
At the very least, a governess still possessed the liberty to walk away, and so
she herself had done.

Why now this
discontent? If she had been happy as a governess before, could she not expect
to be happy again, especially at Pemberley working under the most accommodating
conditions imaginable? Why then did she still feel restless and dissatisfied?
Mary realized that she had already answered her own question. It was the
indulgence of unrealistic fantasies that had worked the evil, and it had to
stop. Once such thoughts were banished for good, there was every reason to
think she could be content with her life again – as a governess or perhaps in a
marriage of convenience, either one. It only remained for her to decide between
the two, and she had a week left to do it.

~~*~~

Elizabeth’s opinion on the subject, Mary already had, but, as her sister had pointed out, Charlotte’s might be the more relevant one. Mary decided she would seek it out.

“I do
understand your situation, Mary,” said Charlotte Collins upon first being
applied to. “It is remarkably similar to mine some years back. I was nearly the
exact same age when Mr. Collins proposed, and my prospects were likewise
limited. I certainly had no reason to aspire to making a better match. It was
either take him or be a dependent spinster all my days, so it seemed.”

“What would you
advise me, then?”

“Oh, heavens! I
am no expert on marriage, and I would not presume to advise you for the world.”

“Then allow me
to put it to you another way. If you had it to do over, would you make the same
choice? With the benefit of hindsight, would you marry Mr. Collins again?”

“What a
question! Perhaps it is as well that none of us is given such a chance. There
will be various ruts and pitfalls along whatever road one chooses. I daresay
none of us should ever be content if we were always thinking about how we might
have taken a different path.”

Mary struggled
to keep her impatience in check. “Yes, of course, but would you not agree that
we should be foolish indeed to hazard our own mistakes when we might have
easily avoided them by learning from the wisdom of those who have gone before
us? That is what I have in view by asking you these things, Charlotte – to
benefit from your experience. Surely you would not deprive me of that chance.”

“Very well,
Mary. I shall do my best by you.” Charlotte took a moment to consider before
answering. “This much I believe I may tell you without disrespect to my late
husband. Most days, I was quite content with my decision to accept his
proposal. After all, I had made it with eyes wide open. I did not expect (nor
indeed was I to find) grand passion in my marriage, or even the sweet
consolation of a likeminded partner. I had asked only for a comfortable home
and the claims to reputation marriage can provide. These things I achieved,
thanks to Mr. Collins. The more irksome aspects of the arrangement I dealt with
as well as I might.”

“And did you
never suffer any serious melancholy over it, any painful regrets?”

“Melancholy?
No, but then I suppose it is not in my nature. I believe I possess the happy
knack of being content in whatever situation I find myself. I do admit there
were times in our short marriage when I experienced a certain kind of regret. I
regretted that I could not love and respect my husband as is a wife’s duty. And
I regretted that there could never be a true oneness of thought or spirit
between us. It was not so much that I felt sorry for myself, you understand;
for as I have said, I entered into the arrangement with eyes wide open. It is
more that I recognized how far short we fell of the ideal God intended.”

“That is true
of every person and every human endeavor,” rejoined Mary.

“Precisely so,
which is why I was not in the least surprised by it nor even very much
discouraged. It is all in one’s expectations, I think. If one expects perfect
bliss in marriage, one will always be disappointed. By contrast, if one’s
expectations are kept within reasonable proportions…”

“Kept low, in
other words,” Mary interjected.

Charlotte gave an assenting nod. “…then one will never be let down, only sometimes
pleasantly surprised when things turn out better than anticipated.”

“So you do not
regret your marriage.”

“No.” Charlotte then allowed herself a half smile. “But neither do I much regret its being over.
The position I now occupy suits me far better.”

Over the course
of the next few days, Mary thought long and hard about what Charlotte had said
to her. Their situations – Charlotte’s then and her own now – were indeed
similar. In addition, Mary had always seen a likeness between Charlotte and
herself – the practical turn of their minds, and their mutual satisfaction in
being usefully employed – which made her opinion even more valuable.

Yet there were
important differences in their respective cases as well. For one, she did not
consider Monsieur Hubert to be entirely lacking the makings of a good husband.
He certainly had the advantage over what Charlotte’s spouse had been. Monsieur
Hubert was someone Mary held in high regard, someone she would be able to
wholeheartedly respect if not love. And there was a far greater basis for
oneness of mind and spirit between them as well, considering their common
devotion to music and poetry. So perhaps it was not so unthinkable.

On the other
hand, Mary was not certain she could lower her expectations to the degree that Charlotte recommended. Perhaps once upon a time she might have, when all she had upon which
to base her ideas of the connubial union was the hopelessly flawed example set
by her own parents. Since then, better ideas had been awakened, and the glimpse
of happier possibilities had forever changed her views. She had seen both Jane
and Elizabeth vastly contented in marriage. And lately she had begun to picture
herself equally well matched in Mr. Harrison Farnsworth. Could she really put
all that aside again to marry Monsieur Hubert?