The Pursuit of Mary Bennet Page 18

  “Very much changed, just as Jane said. She even stood up to Lydia on occasion, although tentatively. And she apologized for her part in separating me from Mr. Walsh.”

  Jane ambled toward us. “I am curious . . . what was Lydia’s reaction to Kitty’s news?”

  “To say the truth, I was sorry for Kitty. Lydia didn’t wish her happy until Kitty rather pitifully asked her to do so. And then her felicitations were barely civil. I daresay she’s been out of spirits ever since hearing the news.”

  “We may rest easy, I think, in believing Andrew’s influence will outweigh Lydia’s,” Jane said. “But do we need to worry about Kitty and Lydia being thrown together these few months before the wedding?”

  “I saw nothing to make me believe they were taking up their former ways with each other. Kitty is already preoccupied with wedding plans, and I don’t think she would do anything to make herself look bad in Andrew’s eyes.”

  “We shall have to trust in your judgment,” Jane said.

  Both my sisters continued to stare at me, so pointedly I could not help laughing. “Why do you look at me that way?”

  Lizzy tipped her head and flashed a devious smile. “I’m quite sure there is something else that needs telling.”

  I feigned lack of understanding. “What is it you wish to know?”

  “Everything about you and Mr. Walsh,” Lizzy said, making a sweeping motion with her hand. “For heaven’s sake, isn’t it obvious?”

  “He was as gentlemanly and polite as ever,” I said, foolishly hoping that would be the end of it.

  “Mary!” Jane said. “You can’t leave it at that. We want the details.”

  So I gave them an abbreviated version of Mr. Walsh’s visit to Longbourn. “He was noticeably cool to me upon his arrival. In fact, he seemed indifferent. It was what I expected.”

  “And then?”

  “And then, after our being in each other’s company for more than a fortnight, he assumed a more tender manner toward me. He complimented me on my playing and on my care of Felicity. And brace yourselves . . . Mama even did a bit of matchmaking.”

  “Good heaven, no!” Lizzy said.

  “Only with me, not him, thank goodness. One evening she insisted I walk out with him, Kitty, and Andrew while she and Lydia put Felicity to bed. I did, and it was lovely. I nearly didn’t go, because we could hear Fee screaming from the open windows. Henry—uh, that is, Mr. Walsh, marched into the house and snatched her away from Mama and Lydia. If you could have seen their expressions!”

  Jane laughed, covering her mouth genteelly. “You can call him Henry with us, Mary.”

  “He’s very good with children. I think you both know he has a daughter?”

  They nodded, looking a bit embarrassed.

  “On the trip here, he rode in the chaise with me for a short while. He said he wanted me to meet her.”

  My sisters were listening closely. “What are your feelings on that, Mary?” asked Jane.

  “I’ll be happy to make her acquaintance, but I’m trying not to read too much into it.”

  “I understand,” Lizzy said. “But there’s a reason behind his desire for you to meet her. He wouldn’t introduce her to just anybody.”

  “Oh, Mary,” Jane said. “That can only mean one thing.”

  “That he wants me to be her governess?”

  That caused us all to crow with laughter.

  “Mary is right to be cautious,” Lizzy said.

  Don’t say that. It was no more than I myself believed, but hearing someone give voice to it only served to bolster my own doubts. “Because of this . . . Miss Bellcourt?” I asked. I decided that if they knew something, I might as well hear about it now. “You mentioned her in a letter, Jane. She sounds like the ideal wife for him.”

  “Oh, no!” Jane said. “I was only trying to goad you into coming back here.”

  “But they danced together, and he called on her—”

  “I may have invented the part about his calling on her,” she said sheepishly.

  “Jane!”

  “I do beg your pardon, Mary. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ve heard nothing more about any meetings between them. If I were better acquainted with her, I’d be more capable of judging whether she’s the kind of woman he would like.”

  “I would think any man would like her fortune well enough,” I said, which broke the tension. “Has he spoken of her to you or Charles?”

  “Not to me,” Jane said. “That would hardly be likely. Maybe to Charles. I’ll ask him.”

  “No, don’t,” I said, mortified. “He might tell Henry I was inquiring.”

  “It would be me doing the inquiring, but I won’t say a word if you’d rather I did not.”

  Lizzy looked at me thoughtfully. “If Henry were to offer for you again, would you accept him?”

  Would I? I hardly knew. “If I thought he loved me . . . but it seems unlikely that his feelings have changed over such a short time. I can’t bear the thought of marrying him only for Amelia’s sake. Knowing he only liked me.”

  “Love can surprise you,” Elizabeth said. “Some people wed without thought of love, and it sneaks up on them.”

  “And others remain in loveless marriages their whole lives. I don’t want that. Both of you married for love; should I be satisfied with anything less?”

  Jane smiled mischievously. “I might settle for less with such a man as Henry Walsh.”

  Lizzy interrupted. “Of course not, if such a union would bring you pain.”

  “Think of our parents,” I said. “What if I married Henry and in the end, instead of eventually loving me, he had nothing but contempt for me?” We were silent for a long moment, and I knew we were all thinking about the same thing: the sarcastic and contemptuous way in which Papa invariably addressed our mother. The fact that he spent every day taking refuge in his library. There was no joy in their union, and it had been so as far back as I could remember. I felt tears gathering and blinked them away.

  Sniffing a little, I said, “I have Fee now. She loves me completely. Unconditionally. I can live without Henry’s love if I must, because I’ll always have her.”

  An odd look lasting only a few seconds passed between Jane and Lizzy. Perhaps they didn’t believe I could be happy without Henry.

  “Just one more question, Mary. Do you love him?” Jane asked.

  Confiding this would make me susceptible to their pity if nothing further happened between Henry and me. If he had absolutely no intention of offering for me again, if he were only the earnest, friendly neighbor, ready to find love with someone else, they would know I’d given him my heart in vain. But I wanted to tell them. “Yes. I believe I do,” I said, smiling shyly. “But I cannot be certain that his feelings toward me have changed.”

  My sisters dissolved into squeals of happiness. They giggled and looked at me with tender expressions. To them, it was already settled. As I lay awake in bed that night, I thought about being Henry’s wife. My skin prickled at the memory of his hand enfolding mine, how it had sent tingles through me. What would it be like to kiss him? To share a marriage bed with him? My stomach jumped. Oh my, I thought. Oh my.

  Aproned and wearing old shoes and gloves, Jane, Lizzy, and I worked on the borders. The gardener could have done this job, but Jane desired it to be her particular responsibility. She was pruning and pulling up dead foliage, while Lizzy and I planted crimson pelargonium, cultivated in High Tor’s greenhouse. We had spent the better part of two weeks planning and working on this project.

  “Mary,” Lizzy said, in such a way that it made me think I would not like what followed.

  I peered at her from under my bonnet brim and waited.

  “Jane and I are worried that you’ve become too attached to Felicity.” My stomach lurched, spiraling downward. Did she know something I was not pr
ivy to? I noticed Jane sidling her way toward us.

  “Have you received a letter? Do you have news? To own the truth, I have been wondering why we’ve not heard from any of the family,” I said, my voice shaky.

  I must have turned pale, because both my sisters looked concerned. “Come, sit in the shade, dear,” Jane said. She poured me glass of water from a jug we’d carried outside with us. “No letters. You know neither Mama nor Papa, and certainly not Lydia, spends any time in that occupation. And Kitty will be too busy with wedding plans.”

  “Why did you say that about Felicity?” I asked. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” Removing my gloves, I felt beads of perspiration popping up on my skin, and I wiped at them with the back of my hand.

  “Oh, no!” Lizzy said. “Only, when Lydia leaves Longbourn, Felicity will go with her, that is all. We worry about your being hurt if that should come to pass.”

  I thought a moment before replying. “It is true I am much devoted to her. I love her like a mother would, I think. But I’m not worried. There’s little chance of Lydia ever leaving Longbourn again.”

  “In that belief, I think you are mistaken,” Lizzy said. “Lydia will chafe at confinement with only our parents for company. Who knows what scheme she will work up to make her escape?”

  “But Wickham doesn’t want her,” I said. “And once people learn the truth . . . she will not be welcomed in society.” That this should please me made me feel the worst kind of sister imaginable.

  “If I know Mama, she will see to it that the truth is never fully known,” Jane said. “She will place all the blame on Wickham and deny Lydia’s indiscretions. And who’s to say she will not be believed? After all, it would be her word against Wickham’s, a known liar and villain.”

  “I can’t imagine what would be the means of her escape,” I said. “And even if she managed it, there would be no place for Fee in it. Lydia has shown so little interest—”

  “While you are away, she must be tending to Felicity,” Jane said. “You know Mama will do the barest minimum possible, so Lydia will be forced to do so.”

  An unladylike sound escaped my lips. “She’s probably found a way to get one of the servants to do it.”

  “Mary,” Lizzy said, turning to me with a sober expression, “what do you envision for Felicity’s future? And your involvement in her life?”

  The question made me uncomfortable, because I had only a vague, shadowy notion of what the future might bring. I couldn’t imagine life without her. Should I confess I’d imagined marriage to Henry and our raising Fee together? No. They might think I was unhinged.

  “I don’t think about it.” It was true, for the most part. Being separated from her simply didn’t enter my mind, perhaps because the idea was entirely unbearable. Even this conversation made me want to flee back to Longbourn.

  Partly to change the subject, but also because I truly wished to know, I asked them a question. “I’ve been wondering if Henry knows the truth of Lydia’s situation. Has Charles told him?”

  Jane looked shocked. “No! We decided it was best not to speak of it to anybody.”

  A thought occurred to me. “It seems as if Kitty would have told Andrew by now. And he may have told Henry.”

  “I suppose it’s possible. Why do you ask? Did Henry mention it?”

  “A couple of times, Lydia’s name has come up. In a perfectly innocent manner. Not at all like Amanda Ashton’s nosy questions. But I’ve avoided any direct explanations.” With a pang of guilt, I realized I’d kept Lydia’s predicament from Henry, just as he’d kept Amelia’s existence from me. How could I be angry with him for misleading me when I was guilty of the same thing?

  “I don’t think he knows the whole story, Mary. I’m convinced Kitty would be embarrassed to speak of it to Andrew, other than to tell him Lydia and her husband are living apart,” Jane said.

  “Madam,” said a quiet voice behind us. “You have callers.”

  “Oh!” Jane said. “And here we are in our gardening attire, sweaty and dirty! Who is it, Simms?”

  “Mr. Henry Walsh and Miss Walsh,” he answered. “I’ve put them in the downstairs drawing room.”

  “Miss Walsh?” Jane said, looking perplexed. “You don’t mean Mrs. Walsh?”

  Simms smiled. “Young Miss Walsh.”

  Jane flashed a glance at me. “Of course. Amelia! Thank you, Simms. Please ask Cook to prepare a light meal, and tell our guests we will be with them shortly.”

  “Where are Charles and Mr. Darcy?” I asked Jane as we hurried upstairs.

  “Off riding about the property, as usual,” Elizabeth said. “Unavailable. Are you all right, Mary?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just wish he hadn’t chosen the morning we were gardening to visit.” And that my sisters hadn’t stirred up all sorts of disturbing thoughts about Felicity.

  “You will meet Amelia,” Jane said.

  “As will you,” I replied.

  “Oh, I do not think it is Jane or I he wishes to meet his daughter,” Lizzy said as we parted into our separate chambers.

  Chapter 22

  Henry introduced us to Amelia, who smiled and made perfect little curtsies to each of us in turn. He watched her closely, revealing with a soft glow in his eyes his pride in her manners. After being introduced to us, she sat with her hands folded in her lap and spoke only when spoken to.

  After the food had been served, I turned to her. “Your papa told me he is teaching you to ride. How do you like it?”

  Her eyes lit up. “I have my own pony,” she said.

  “And what is his name?”

  “King George, but I call him Georgie Boy.”

  We all laughed. Henry’s eyes were dancing, but he’d covered his mouth with the back of his hand to hide his smile. “Did you name him after the prince regent, then?”

  “Papa often says he is comical, so that’s why I named him that.”

  “So your pony makes you laugh?”

  “Yes, except for when he won’t do what I want. He’s improving now, though, isn’t he, Papa?” She grinned at her father, and he nodded his agreement.

  “Perhaps you’re becoming more adept at handling him.”

  The fact that she was missing a few front teeth made her smile not only charming but also sweetly innocent. “Papa thinks I’m coming along. Would you like to see my pony, Miss Bennet?”

  “Very much. Did you ride him here?”

  Her face fell. “No. It was too far. But if you will visit us at Linden Hall, you may meet him.”

  Lizzy leaned forward. “I have twin girls, Amelia. They are only two years old, but already they are clamoring for a pony. They love to ride up in front of their father.”

  “That’s what I do, but I’m getting too big for that.” She smiled at Elizabeth and said, “Maybe I could play with your twins. What are their names?”

  Lizzy told her and said she was sure her girls would love to play another day. After a while, my sisters excused themselves to check on their children, leaving the three of us alone.

  “Would you like to see me ride Papa’s horse, Miss Bennet?” said Amelia.

  I glanced quickly at her father. “I think we’d better ask him about that.”

  “She likes to sit in the saddle while I hold the reins and walk her about,” he explained. “It’s a lovely day. Shall we?”

  “By all means,” I said. “Give me one moment to fetch my bonnet.”

  “Amelia and I will ask the groom to bring Guinevere around and meet you out front.”

  When I joined them outside, Mr. Walsh had already hoisted his daughter into the saddle. She sat astride the handsome bay mare with her skirts hiked up. Her skinny little legs dangled down but were not nearly long enough to reach the stirrups. We set off down the avenue.

  “Any news from Longbourn?” Mr. Wals
h asked.

  “None. I am trying to take that as a good sign,” I said, laughing. “No crises with Fee. I do hope they are managing.”

  “And Kitty will be making preparations for her wedding.”

  “Having her bride clothes made, I imagine. Lydia adores anything to do with fashion, so that may be diverting for her, too.”

  “Papa, stop talking to Miss Bennet. I want her to watch me!”

  “I’m sorry, Amelia,” I said. “How rude of me to not pay you any attention. You look fine in the saddle. Does it not scare you a little to be up so high?”

  “Well . . . if my father did not have hold of the reins, maybe I would be a little scared. Can you ride a horse, Miss Bennet?”

  “No, I confess I have never learned. We didn’t have the opportunity when we were growing up. Two of my married sisters are learning now, though. Their husbands insisted.”

  Henry laughed. “Of course, since they are both accomplished riders.”

  “I think it would be fun to drive a curricle,” I said. “Or a phaeton.”

  He looked at me in disbelief. “You do? I have a curricle. I’d be happy to teach you. There’s a certain amount of skill involved, you know.” He arched an eyebrow.

  “And I can see you think it would be beyond me. I admit I don’t have the first notion of how it’s done. You would probably be sorry if you took me on as your pupil.”

  “Maybe you’ll turn out to be a fearsome whip.”

  “Ha! I know when I’m being laughed at.”

  “Not at all,” he said, although a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “But you must first feel comfortable around horses, and I don’t think you do. Not yet.” He looked up at his daughter. “Amelia, what would you say to giving up your place to Miss Bennet? This can be her first riding lesson.”

  “Riding lesson?”

  Amelia’s eyes sparkled. “Yes! Help me down, Papa.”

  “No!” I said. “I cannot mount that beast, and I’m too heavy for you to lift. Besides, I never said I wanted riding lessons.”

  “Nonsense. I can easily lift you. And you must learn to ride before you try driving a curricle.” He said this as if it had been settled between us, that he would teach me to drive his curricle.