B00BKPAH8O EBOK (5 page)

6

Alternative

A vision out of
the past likewise rose up before Mary’s eyes. Yet her recollections of the
former cleric of Hunsford were somewhat more charitable than her sister’s.
Although she flattered herself that her taste and judgment had since improved,
there was a time when the former Mr. Collins – Mr. William Collins – had
admittedly sparked her interest. He seemed to her then a serious, scholarly man
with a comfortable home and an agreeable situation to offer. Being wife to a
clergyman would have suited Mary’s humble ambitions very well. And, considering
the added satisfaction it would have given her to redeem the Longbourn estate
for her family, she could not help feeling disappointed when Mr. Collins chose
to bestow his affections elsewhere.

With the
benefit of hindsight, however, she realized it was primarily the situation, not
the man himself, that had attracted her. Yet she still believed she could have
been happy with him, or at least content. In that respect, she fancied she was
not so unlike the practical-minded Charlotte Lucas, to whom had gone both the
husband and the cozy parsonage instead. Perhaps things might have turned out
differently for Mr. Collins as well had he chosen someone else for his wife.
That could be said for any man or woman, she supposed. Marriage: how much of
happiness or torment seemed bound up in that one, irrevocable act. The proof of
it was everywhere about her to be seen.

Kitty called
her back from these reflections. “Mary, are you listening? I prayed that Mama
was wrong, and that he might turn out to be thoroughly married after all. But
you see he says he travels alone and makes no mention of leaving family behind,
only business. You must help me!”

“And what am I
to do on the occasion? The man is coming;
I
cannot stop him. Besides,
just because Mama has got it into her head that you will marry him, does not
make it so. Mr. Collins may have something to say in the matter. Perhaps he is
more interested in claiming his property than acquiring a wife. Or perhaps he
will not find your charms as irresistible as you imagine. If worse comes to
worse and he does make you an offer, you could always refuse him like Lizzy did
the other Mr. Collins.”

“I thought of
that, but it will not do. I am not strong like Lizzy; I never was. And with
Mama so determined, I cannot take the chance that my resolve may fail me in the
end. No, it will be altogether safer if the situation can be avoided in the
first place.”

“Just how do
you intend to manage that? Will you parade yourself before him as the most
disagreeable creature in the world, or will you run away?” scoffed Mary.

“Yes, in a
manner of speaking. I plan to take myself completely out of his road. Since
Mama does not know Mr. Collins comes so soon, I shall persuade her to let me
travel north to visit my sisters. I had a letter from Lizzy saying Mr. Darcy is
now in London and will be stopping here before he returns to Pemberley. So it
is easily done. Then I shall stay away as long as possible and try my best for
someone else – anyone else. Meanwhile, you shall have Mr. Collins all to
yourself.”

“To myself? Do
you imagine that I have designs on the man, then?”

“No, and yet
you may happen to suit one another. At any rate, considering our differing
views on the first Mr. Collins, it seems far more probable that you shall like
his brother than that I should. Promise me that you will try for him, Mary,
please.”

“I will make no
promise of the kind! I will be civil to the man, certainly, just as I would any
other one of God’s creatures. You must ask no more than that of me.”

“Only one other
thing. Will you at least swear not to let slip to Mama what I have told you?”

Mary pursed her
lips, contemplating the question and the untenable position into which she had
been placed. She had half a mind to march back into the house and hand the
evidence over to her mother. After all, the letter was her rightful property.
Yet, as little as she could condone being made an unwilling partner to
subterfuge, she approved the idea of a coerced marriage even less. Kitty had
her sincere sympathy there, and it seemed nothing worthwhile would be accomplished
by reporting her misconduct. At length Mary answered, “If it all goes wrong,
you alone must bear the blame, Kitty. I will take no share of it.” She sighed.
“But neither will I betray your confidence.”

Kitty relaxed.
“I knew I was right to trust you, and nothing will go wrong. You shall see.”

“Hmm, I cannot
help thinking you are quite mistaken there, and that I might pay the price for
this misadventure in the end. Now then, what do you mean that I should do with
this?” said Mary, waving the stolen letter before her sister’s nose.

“Oh, heavens, I
don’t care. Keep it, burn it, or give it to Mama after I am gone. Say it had
been misdirected at first. Whatever you think best. Just give me enough time to
make good my escape.”

~~ * ~~

With her
sister’s cooperation assured – limited though it might be – Kitty wasted no
time applying for her mother’s unwitting acquiescence to her plan as well. She
made her request in form after dinner, asking for permission to travel to
Pemberley when Mr. Darcy should be returning thither.

There was
nothing odd in the request. Mrs. Bennet had very frequently – and very
willingly – spared her fourth daughter from home to visit her sisters to the
north, always with the hope that she would catch a rich husband for herself
whilst she was away. It had seemed far more likely that such a thing should
come to pass there, amongst the Bingleys’ or the Darcys’ acquaintance, than in
the dull society of Longbourn and Meryton, where one could not expect to
encounter anything superior to a penniless second son of a country squire. It
had all come to naught, however, and the heir to Longbourn, who otherwise held
no noble distinction and presumably little fortune, was all she had in view for
Kitty now. Mrs. Bennet’s permission was, therefore, more difficult to procure
than expected.

“May I go,
Mama?” asked Kitty again.

“There is
nothing for you in Derbyshire, you know,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Years of trying,
and not a single offer to show for it. No, you had much better stay here and
prepare for Mr. Collins’s arrival. If my plan succeeds, this will be your home
from now on, so you might as well get used to the fact that there will be no
more of this traipsing about the countryside.”

Kitty, whose
spirits were about to fail her, made one last tearful attempt. “Very well. If
that is what the future holds for me, then let this be my farewell tour. Allow
me to visit Pemberley and Heatheridge one final time before taking up my duties
here. You would not deny me this last request, would you, Mama?” 

“Good gracious,
child, the way you carry on, anyone would think you had a death sentence
hanging over your head instead of a wedding. I am sure Mr. Collins is a fine,
respectable young man, just like his brother was.” Kitty sobbed all the louder.
“And you will be lucky to get him. I see no occasion for all this wailing and
blubbering. Still… if it means that much to you, I suppose you may as well go.
I want you at your best – well rested and cheerful – when Mr. Collins arrives.”

7

The Farnsworths

Kitty’s design thus
set into motion, the pact between the sisters was later sealed by an embrace
and an expressive look exchanged as they parted. Mary then climbed into Mr.
Farnsworth’s comfortable carriage for the short drive back to Netherfield.

When underway,
she drew Mr. Collins’s letter from her reticule, where she had concealed it,
and studied its contents again. One phrase caught her particular attention.
I
travel alone
. Kitty was wrong to presume so much from that line; it could
mean any number of things. If the man had a wife and a clutch of small
children, it was not to be supposed that he would needlessly expose them to the
risks of so long a sea voyage. No, one could not depend on his being single.

If he should
be, though, what then? Mary’s fancy was not permitted much of a meandering on
that question. She very shortly called it back into line with the answer.

Even if Mr.
Collins were discovered to be single, the next step in Kitty’s logic was
equally flawed. She had it worked out that Mr. Collins would be available for
the asking, and that he would be so obliging as to marry whomsoever he was
directed to – the same assumption their mother made, only with a different
object. The idea that he might be made to care for herself, Mary all but
dismissed. It was not that she underrated her own assets, only that they were
of a type not as yet known to inspire romantic intentions.

As near as she
could make out, young ladies were only considered desirable when they kept to
the graces men had assigned them. They were allowed to be the fairer sex, and
to excel in the arts of conversation and flirtation. These were hardly Mary’s
strong suits, however, as well she knew. According to her experience, a
gentleman did not appreciate having his presumed superiority challenged in any
other realm, even slightly.

Judging from
the woman he had chosen to wed, Mr. Harrison Farnsworth was no different. Mrs.
Farnsworth had been pretty enough and charming in a quiet sort of way, but she
certainly had been no threat to her husband’s authority, his strength of will,
or to his mental prowess. Although Mary believed he had lately learnt to value
her own abilities to a greater extent, it was only because they served his
purpose in an altogether different role. He did not see her as a woman so much
as an educator of his children. In that capacity, he could appreciate her
talents. In that capacity, he had taken to consulting her and was even willing
to be sometimes guided by her advice.

They had their
moments of concord, she and her employer, and yet she could not depend on them.
His moods were now so changeable that she never knew which person to expect,
the old tyrant or the new man of enlightenment.

~~ * ~~

Two more weeks
passed away, and two more Sundays at Longbourn. Kitty had made good her escape
to the north, and Mary still held custody of the stolen letter from Mr. Tristan
Collins. She had decided that delivering it after the fact, as her sister had
proposed, would only involve her further by requiring lies which she feared she
could neither tell convincingly nor reconcile with her conscience. Better to
leave well enough alone, to simply let it be thought that the letter had been
lost somewhere on its long journey.

 “Mr.
Farnsworth wishes to see you in the library, Miss,” announced the butler upon
her return to Netherfield Hall that Sunday night.

Mary was taken
aback. A command appearance before her employer was not at all what she had
intended that the rest of her evening should entail, but rather a book before
her quiet fireside. “Very well, Haines,” said she with a sigh. “I will just
take my things up to my room first.”

At that moment,
Miss Lavinia Farnsworth bustled into the hall, holding her skirts and clucking
her tongue. “No, Miss Bennet; that will not do. My brother was most insistent
that you should come to him the instant you arrived. Now, give your things over
to Clinton there, and go in at once.”

“As you wish,
then, Madam.”

“It is as Mr.
Farnsworth wishes, Miss Bennet.”

Mary handed her
coat and bag to the footman without further comment, and made her way to the
library. At the massive mahogany door, she straightened her hair and smoothed
her skirt before knocking.

“Enter,” came
the directive from the other side.

“You wished to
see me, sir?” said Mary, pushing open the door.

Mr. Farnsworth
sat in his usual place, behind the regally proportioned desk that stood in the
exact center of the heavily draped and wood-paneled room. “Ah, Miss Bennet,” he
said, rising. He motioned her to a chair opposite himself. “Do come in and sit
down. You must forgive me for summoning you at such a late hour, and on your
off day too, but it could not be helped. I am for London early in the morning,
and I needed to see you before I go.”

Mary took the
chair he offered her, glad that he appeared to be in a tolerably good humor.
“Is it something urgent, sir? About the children?”

“Well,
important if not urgent,” he said, leaning against the edge of the desk with
his arms crossed. “And it does concern the children, most particularly
Michael.”

“Michael, sir?”

“Yes, I wish
you to excuse him from his music lessons, effective immediately, and you will
tell your Monsieur Hubert the same when next he comes.”

“Excuse him
from studying music?” Mary repeated in some confusion. “But why?”

“Because he has
requested it, and personally I see no reason that a boy in his situation…” He
stopped and turned a sharp eye on Mary. “Look here, Miss Bennet, I hardly think
I need to justify my decision. I have told you my wishes and that should be
enough.”

Mary stiffened.
“Yes, sir, if those are your instructions, they will be carried out exactly.”

“Just like
that? What, no importunate questions or remonstration? You have no comment of
any kind on the matter?”

“Nothing that
could be the least bit relevant.”

“This is a
surprise. I thought sure we were in for a fight, but it seems I have at last
hit upon a subject about which you profess to have no opinion.”

“You mistake
me, sir. It was not my intention to imply that I had no opinion, only that any
opinion I may possess can have no material bearing on the case.”

“Yes, I thought
there was more. Now we are coming a little nearer the truth.”

“The truth? The
truth is that what I think does not signify in the least,” said Mary,
maintaining a calm exterior by force of will and with considerable difficulty.
“As you have made abundantly clear, Mr. Farnsworth,
your
opinion is the
only one that matters.”

Farnsworth
pushed off the desk and back to his feet, his eyes flashing. “Aha! There it is.
I knew you disapproved.”

“I did not say
so, sir.”

“Of course not.
That would have been too straightforward, too honest, too much like a man would
do. Instead you show me this…” He gestured at her with his hand. “…this
dignified bearing, this martyred expression. I suppose this is your elegant
little female way of driving home your point. This is how you choose to torture
me.”

“I do assure
you, sir, that I have no pretensions whatever to that kind of elegance which
consists in tormenting a respectable man.”

“So you do not
pretend to torment me?”

“No, sir.”

“And yet you
do. Hmm.” He sank into the chair behind the desk again. “Very well, Miss
Bennet, I must take you at your word, and you must take me at mine. Perhaps I
have lately given the wrong impression, becoming too lax. I will by no means,
however, brook any interference in the management of my children, not even from
you. Have I made my position plainly understood?”

“I believe so,
sir. There will be no more music lessons for Master Michael. Neither will there
be any interference tolerated from me. And should you ever again desire to hear
my opinion, you will ask for it. Does that correctly sum up your wishes?”

He looked
heavenward and sighed. “What can I say to such a speech, Miss Bennet, except
that you try my patience exceedingly?”

“Yes, sir. Will
that be all, sir? I am really rather fatigued and I would like to retire.”

As if she could
not be soon enough removed from his sight, he covered his eyes with one hand
and waved her off toward the door with the other.

The feeling was
mutual. Mary left thinking him the most exasperating individual she had ever
had the misfortune to encounter. He insisted on stirring up a fight where there
wasn’t one, and dragging insolence from her lips that she would otherwise have
left unsaid. He claimed he would brook no insubordination, and yet he tempted
her to it at every turn.

What was the
point of the slow and careful progress they had made toward tolerance,
understanding, and a good working relationship if it could all be undone in the
space of a few minutes? And over such a ridiculous piece of business too. What
was the man thinking of, cheating his son out of a solid foundation in music?
Yes, she had an opinion on the subject, and another time perhaps he would get
an earful of it… whether he asked for it or not.

~~ * ~~

Mr. Farnsworth
was gone in the morning, leaving Mary only his children and his sister to deal
with for the succeeding week.

Miss Lavinia
Farnsworth always had a word of instruction or criticism to give, especially
when the master was away. She politely withdrew to the shadows in his presence,
but she became more and more emboldened by his every absence, as if she each
time inherited another thin slice of his bravado and the duty to use it in his
stead.

In her person,
Miss Farnsworth
was
a younger, more delicate reflection of her brother –
minus the beard – with the same strikingly juxtaposed dark hair and light eyes.
Mary had befriended Lavinia when the lady arrived at Netherfield immediately
after Mrs. Farnsworth’s death. On the face of things, it was a natural pairing,
the two being within a few years of each other in age, and from roughly the
same social stratum. Mary felt a real compassion for her as well – a stranger
to the house and forced by tragic circumstances to unexpectedly step into her
sister-in-law’s shoes.

Lavinia had
welcomed the extended olive branch in the beginning. Later, however, she seemed
embarrassed by the connection and was at great pains proving to everybody that
Miss Bennet was nothing whatever to her. Mary always wondered if it had been
the lady’s brother who had put her off the friendship, not thinking a governess
a suitable companion for his sister.

Nowadays, she
made it her goal to stay out of Miss Farnsworth’s way as completely as
possible. Since Mary was always in the schoolroom – a place that apparently
held no interest for the acting mistress of the house – it was easily done.

She stood on
firmer ground with the children. Although Master Michael could be difficult and
Miss Gwendolyn defiant of late, they were predictably so and not beyond Mary’s
ability to manage. Being acquainted with the deficiencies of their father and
the early death of their mother, she could not be surprised by or even much
resent their misbehaviour. And Grace more than made up for the other members of
the family. For her sake, Mary was prepared to put up with the faults and
vagaries of all the rest.

Her other
principal joy was her periodic music lesson, for which Mr. Farnsworth had
ultimately refused to allow her to pay. Monsieur Hubert came once every fortnight
and had students enough to fill an entire morning. Miss Farnsworth always took
the first lesson, followed by the children in no particular order, and then
lastly Mary.

The music
master came according to his regular schedule the Tuesday Mr. Farnsworth was
away. Mary reported to him an hour earlier than usual, at the end of
Gwendolyn’s time.

“Very good,
Miss Farnsworth,” said Monsieur Hubert with his familiar French accent, still
prominent even after spending more than a dozen years exclusively in England.
Although his looks were decidedly ordinary, even plain, he had a certain style
that elevated him above any danger of being referred to as commonplace. “That
will be all for today, I think. You must promise to practice more, however, or
you will never be as accomplished as the other young ladies.”

Gwendolyn rose
from the instrument, bobbed her teacher a hurried curtsey, and left the room
saying, “Yes, Monsieur.”

The
well-dressed man of five-and-thirty then turned his attention to Mary. “Ah,
Miss Bennet!” he sang out, bringing his hands together in a gesture of
mercurial delight. “Now I shall have the pleasure of hearing from my favourite
pupil. You put all the others to shame.”

“Bonjour,
Monsieur,” she said, smiling demurely and coming forward. Mary had no
illusions. She assumed the music master must have many ‘favourite’ pupils, an
idea which gave no offense. No one could dislike this man of gentle charm and
grace, for there was a genuine warmth about him that melted away any irritation
that might otherwise have sprung from his little excesses. “I suppose you have
heard,” she continued, “that Michael is to be excused henceforth.”

“
Oui
,
oui
,
so Miss Lavinia Farnsworth has informed me.” He clucked his tongue and shook
his head. “
Quel dommage
! It is ill-advised,
certainement
, but
what can one do? Not that the boy showed much promise, you understand. Still,
with time and hard work, something acceptable might have been achieved.”

“My nephew
would make you a more eager pupil, Monsieur Hubert. I have just had a letter
from my sister, who is Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire, reminding me to
ask if you would consider taking the boy on. I know it is a long way to travel,
but I am sure Mr. Darcy would be prepared to make it well worth your while.”