Almost Persuaded: Miss Mary King (2 page)

The gentleman cast a glance in her direction. Nervous heat
spread through her body.
Finally, this is my chance.
She donned her warmest smile.
“Anne, I believe he is headed this way. I know it is your duty to
remain by my side, but I would enjoy nothing more than time alone
with him.”

He was but three feet away when out of nowhere the two
youngest Bennet daughters seized hold of his arms and coaxed him in
the opposite direction. Mary’s heart sank in her chest.
Will I ever have my
share of the handsome gentleman’s attentions?

~*~

Realising her best chance of garnering Mr. Wickham’s
undivided attention was outside the presence of so many eager
single young women, Mary recruited her reluctant father’s aid in
her quest. “Papa, if you do not invite any of the eligible
gentlemen to dine with us here at Kingston, then what chance do I
have of making the acquaintance of any of them?”

“Mary, my
child, I did as you requested in calling upon the admirable Mr.
Bingley at Netherfield. What manner of benefit derived from my
sacrifice? By my reckoning, you have yet to call on his sisters in
return as you said you would do.”

“Do not think
I am unappreciative of your benevolence, but I am afraid your
efforts were in vain. Having met the Bingley sisters at the
assembly, I believe they are two of the last people I wish to know
better, even if they are our neighbours. They are nothing at all
like their brother. Where Mr. Bingley is amiable and obliging and
falls readily into conversation with the ease of a well-bred
gentleman, his sisters are proud and disdainful.”

“Surely you
exaggerate, my dear.”

“Indeed, I do
not. You need not rely upon my word.” She turned to Anne. “Did you
not hear them laughing at the manner of dress of our friends and
acquaintances? I heard one of them complain of what a torture it
was even being there.”

Anne smiled
but said nothing. Rarely did she allow herself to be drawn into
such discussions between father and daughter.

Mr. King
peered over his spectacles. “But what concern is any of that if the
brother is agreeable? Is he not the true object of all the young
ladies’ esteem?”

“True. But it
will do little good, for his behaviour lends one to discern he is
taken with Miss Jane Bennet.”

“Perhaps it is
too soon to give up on the gentleman. I observed he had many dance
partners at the assembly, including you.”

“While Mr.
Bingley had many dance partners, Miss Bennet is the only one he
asked for a second dance. Is there any better indication of his
intentions?”

Mr. King
scratched his wispy speckled-grey beard. “No, I suppose they are as
good as engaged.”

“Then you
understand why it is imperative that you invite the officers to
dine with us.”

“Do you intend
for us to feed the entire regiment, or have you a particular
officer in mind?”

“Well—we must
be sure to invite Colonel Forster and his lovely bride.”

“There is an
idea. But how does inviting the two of them advance your
cause?”

“I observed
you and Mr. Wickham conversing at Mrs. Phillips’s party. He seems
exceedingly agreeable. Perhaps we might invite him as well.”

He pursed his
lips. “Is there anyone else?”

Mary took a
few seconds before responding. “With the three of us, Colonel
Forster and his bride, and the lieutenant, I say we shall have a
gay affair. What say you, Anne?”

“I say it is a
good start.”

~*~

At the table, the presence of the gentleman who occupied
her thoughts day in and out robbed Mary of her usual calm. Given
the ease with which he readily fell into conversation with her
father and the colonel, Mary could not help but be in awe. He had
greeted her as would have been expected, but no more than that. She
could not fault him. Anyone who did not know otherwise would have
supposed
he
was the happy groom in light of Mrs. Forster’s
comportment.
It is all rather unseemly!

At the
appropriate time, Mr. King commanded his guests’ attention.
“Colonel Forster, Mrs. Forster, may we be amongst the first to
congratulate you on your recent marriage.” Mr. King lifted his
glass and addressed the dinner party. “Everyone, please raise your
glasses. Join me in wishing the happy couple decades of wedded
bliss.”

Girlish
giggles escaped the enthusiastic bride’s mouth. “We are certain to
as I am so very young, and as the colonel’s wife, I am sure to have
a steady stream of dashing officers to attend me wherever I go.
Everyone is so kind, and the addition of Mr. Wickham to the
regiment increases the prospects for gaiety immensely. Although, I
do not know for certain how it shall be when we decamp to Brighton
in the spring, for I shall miss my new friends here in
Meryton.”

Clearing his
throat, Colonel Forster interrupted his wife’s ramblings. “You are
blessed to have made so many new acquaintances in a short span of
time. You are certain to form new acquaintances in Brighton with
equal alacrity.”

“I daresay my
ease in forming new acquaintances pales in comparison to Mr.
Wickham’s, for he has been so fortunate as to garner the ardent
esteem of the loveliest ladies in the country, particularly Miss
Lydia Bennet’s. She is exceedingly agreeable, is she not, sir?”

Mary
eyed her guest to ascertain the impact of Mrs. Forster’s mentioning
of the wild Bennet girl on his composure and detected no symptom of
regard. The gentleman tugged at his collar as if silently begging
to be excused from replying.

Seated directly beside him, Mrs. Forster playfully placed
her hand upon his and squeezed it. The coquettish gesture, in and
of itself, exceeded the bounds of decorum and surely explained the
heightened shade of red which stained his handsome
countenance.
What an untenable position in which to find oneself.
Being the
ever-consummate gentleman that Mary surmised he must surely be, he
extracted his hand from her clutches without giving offense.
So gallant and
decent—is there any wonder he is a favourite of so many of the
ladies in town?

Mary had
taken extraordinary measures to assure the evening’s success, from
the planning of the meal and the intricacies of the floral
preparations to the seating arrangements. Alas, it was all in vain.
The dinner guests having left and the evening at an
earlier-than-expected end, she was no closer to garnering Mr.
Wickham’s attentions than she had been the day before. She blew a
long breath. “In hindsight, I suppose inviting Mrs. Forster turned
out to be a mistake.”

Anne nodded.
“She is young and lively, to say the least.”

“Yes, and she
is comely and a determined flirt. Even with her own husband sitting
across from her, one could not have missed the way she carried on
with Mr. Wickham.”

“It is a
shame, too. I am persuaded it is a factor in the evening ending as
early as it did. The colonel did not appear too pleased with his
wife, but what does he expect when she is so very young and he is
on the wrong said of forty?”

“Yes, there is
a wide disparity in their ages.” Mary crumpled her brow. “What do
you suppose is Mr. Wickham’s age?”

“I dare say he
is at least thirty, but in such cases as his, I would say it is all
in the packaging.”

“A package I
fear I shall never have a chance to open. I might as well have been
invisible for all he cared.”

Anne reached
for Mary’s hand. She squeezed it tight. “You must not give up hope
just yet. Clearly, he has not a true preference for any particular
young woman—that is to say, other than Miss Elizabeth Bennet. His
having dined here at Kingston increases the chances he will request
your hand for a set at the Netherfield ball. Let us see how he
behaves. Then you will know if there is any reason for hope.”

“Oh, yes! I
must count on our next meeting. You are correct. With his having
dined at my father’s table, the gentleman will believe it is only
fitting to ask for a set. I can hardly wait to stand opposite him
on the dance floor! Although I have never seen him dance, if I am
to go by his comportment and manner of walk, I believe he will be
the finest dance partner at the ball. How can he be otherwise?”

Part 2 – Such Happy
Manners

Some things were not meant to be—namely, Mary’s presence at
the Netherfield ball. Her beloved grandfather had passed away;
hence, the Kings were in Liverpool. Mary and her grandfather had
never been particularly close, owing to her father being his second
son by birth as well as in esteem. Still, he had bequeathed a sum
of ten thousand pounds to Mary, his only granddaughter, thereby
bestowing upon her the lofty status of an heiress—a distinction
which must certainly lend an air of significance to one who had
long-suffered such obscurity.

People from
all over, most of whom had good intentions, frequented the Kings’
home upon their eventual return from Liverpool. They came to offer
condolences, some under the guise of paying respects, others to lay
eyes on Meryton’s own young heiress. Mary and Miss Heston stood
hidden in the shadows at the top of the stairs and studied the
steady stream of callers. Mary grew tired of standing in one
attitude for so long, but the preponderance of redcoats drifting in
and out of the house compelled her to remain steady to her purpose.
Just when she had resolved that the only officer she wished to see
would not call on her father, the gentleman came into view.

Oh, how Mary’s heartbeat raced when
Mr. Wickham waltzed into the
room. Until that moment, she had not realised how much she had
depended upon seeing him once more. Surrounded by many of the other
officers, Mr. Wickham was far beyond them all in person,
countenance, air, and walk.

She
smoothed her gown. “How do I look?”

Without
waiting for a response, she drifted down the stairs, intent upon
putting herself in his path under the guise of greeting the new
callers, but her courage failed her at the last moment, and she
ducked inside the library.

Oh, what am I thinking? He has never shown the slightest
interest in me before. Why would I think this time would be any
different
?
Mary paced back and forth and then walked to the window seat to sit
and to calm herself.
Mr. Wickham would never give consequence to me—not
in a thousand years.

She ignored the door when it opened, thinking it was her
companion coming to find out why she had walked—nay,
run away instead of
seizing the chance to greet the dashing officer who had captured
her imagination for as long as he had. Without turning, she
spoke—her voice resigned. “Anne, you must think I am such a
coward.”

The touch of a
hand upon her shoulder caused a thundering quiver to race through
her body. Startled, she turned and then jumped to her feet. “Mr.
Wickham! I beg your pardon, sir.” He was standing so close. The
prudent thing to do would have been to step back, but retreat was
not possible.

He took her
hand in his, bowed, and imparted a pleasant and perfectly
gentlemanly kiss. This was not the first time a gentleman had
bestowed such an honour, but this was the first time the courtesy
left her weak in the knees.

“Miss King,
may I take this moment to offer you my sincerest condolences?”

Mary quickly composed herself. “Mr. Wickham, you are
kind.”
The
man of my dreams is standing here holding my hand, gazing into my
eyes.

“Pray you do
not mind my following you here. I have thought of you often of
late—of how much you are no doubt suffering. I am no stranger to
loss of this kind. I want you to know that you will find in me a
generous listener should you wish to share your grief with someone
other than your excellent father and your companion. I am at your
service.”

“Sir, again, I
thank you for your consideration. If you will, please accept my
condolences as well. The loss of which you speak—is it a recent
occurrence?”

“Sometimes I
feel as though it was only yesterday, for I carry the sorrow with
me. In truth, several years have passed. I speak of the loss of my
excellent godfather, the late Mr. Darcy.”

“I am sorry
for your pain, sir. It must be a great comfort to you then that his
son, Mr. Darcy, is nearby.”

“Darcy
returned to town while you were away. However, it is of no
consequence to me, for I am afraid he and I can no longer boast of
a strong attachment.”

“I am sorry to
hear that, sir.”

“You need not
be. My history with Darcy, as regrettable as it is, is just
that—history. He and I suffered a parting of the ways many years
ago. Truth be told, his father loved me better, and Darcy never did
forget that. I do not like to speak ill of him, owing to my deep
esteem for his father—but I believe I can trust you with the truth
of my history with the gentleman.

“One of his
father’s—my godfather’s—last wishes was that I should be given a
living.”

“Pardon my
asking, but how did you find yourself in the militia?”

“I have been a
disappointed man, and my spirits will not bear solitude. I must
have employment and society. The prospect of constant, congenial
society was my chief inducement to enter the militia. I knew it to
be a most respectable, agreeable corps. My friend Denny tempted me
further by his account of their present quarters and the excellent
acquaintances procured in Meryton.

“That being
said, a military life is not what I was intended for, but
circumstances have now made it necessary. The church ought to have
been my profession. I was brought up for the church, and I should
at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had
it pleased the gentleman we were speaking of just now.”