Almost Persuaded: Miss Mary King (3 page)

“Mr.
Darcy?”

“Yes—the late
Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best living in
his gift. He was excessively attached to me. I cannot do justice to
his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply and thought he had
done it. Alas, when the living fell, it was given elsewhere.”

Hushed voices
just outside the door recalled Mary to the impropriety of standing
so close to the gentleman—her hand still in his. He released her
hand and stepped away.

The
doors opened, and Anne strode into the room. “Miss King, your
father has been asking for you.”

“Thank you,
Anne. I shall attend him immediately.” Mary dipped a deferential
curtsey to the gentleman by her side. “Mr. Wickham, it has been a
pleasure.”

“The
pleasure was all mine, Miss King. I shall look forward to speaking
with you soon.”

Mary felt the colour spread all over her body.
He looks forward to
seeing me again.
“I should like that very much.”

“May I call on
you tomorrow?”

Mary hesitated but a moment.
Certainly there will be a bevy of callers
wishing to offer their condolences tomorrow as well.
She wanted—nay,
needed time alone with the gentleman. “Sir, if you are an early
riser, you will find me down by the pond. I often venture there
during my early morning strolls.”

He reached for
her hand. “I shall count the minutes until we meet.” He raised her
hand to his lips, imparted a lingering kiss, and then slowly,
reluctantly relinquished it.

Anne wrapped
her arm about Mary’s shoulder and ushered her out of the room.
“Mary, what on earth were you thinking?”

“I know I was
being forward, but what is the purpose in dallying? You know how
long I have waited already.” Anne bestowed a disapproving grimace.
Mary shrugged. “What can be the harm in a stroll by the pond?”

“Surely you do
not expect me to turn a blind eye to any untoward behaviour. I
intend to accompany you.”

“Oh, Anne. I
suppose if you insist, then there is nothing I can do to stop you,
but I really must insist you allow us a fair measure of privacy.
Mr. Wickham is a charming man, and I believe he needs someone to
talk to. Already, he has taken me into his confidence. I am most
anxious to discover where this leads.”

“The reason I
came in the library was to waylay your father. He asked about your
whereabouts. I believe he worries your interest in Mr. Wickham is
inappropriate.”

“Why do you
say such a thing?”

“He asked
about the lieutenant’s whereabouts as well. I stationed myself just
outside the door to allow you a few moments with the gentleman. I
know how much this means to you, but you must not expect me to
ignore this sort of impropriety. Your father would be seriously
displeased if I were negligent in my duties to you.”

“You need have
no fears as regards Mr. Wickham.” Mary pressed her lips together
and pondered what she might do or say to persuade Anne to her way
of thinking. “My father has no reason to suspect his motives. Papa
is overly protective.” A surge of sympathy fluttered in her
stomach. “Mr. Wickham is a perfect gentleman whom I fear is merely
misunderstood. The injustices against him are severe.” Mary told
Anne all that Wickham had told her.

“It is a
fantastic tale indeed to posit that a man of Mr. Darcy’s standing
would be motivated to go against the wishes of his late father for
no more viable reason than jealousy.”

“You sound as if you have doubts.” Mary drew a deep breath
and held it whilst she gathered her thoughts.
I am depending upon Anne to aid
me in my quest to further my acquaintance with Mr. Wickham. Her
good opinion of the gentleman must be as resolute as mine.
“Mr. Darcy did not
make himself very agreeable. In fact, he was quite displeasing by
all accounts, whereas no one has complained about Mr. Wickham. We
must therefore give the gentleman all the credit of being
righteous. He has no reason to lie about matters so easily
disproved.”

Anne’s
apparent scepticism and subsequent disapprobation vexed Mary, and
thus she pretended to listen to her out of respect, but in reality,
nothing Anne put forth hampered Mary’s enthusiasm. Mary could never
remember being so enthralled as she had been mere moments earlier.
Whenever she could find an excuse, she drifted upstairs to the
solitude of her room with her head full of the dashing
lieutenant.

~*~

Mary darted out the door earlier than usual the following
morning. She hoped she would find Mr. Wickham waiting for her by
the pond.
I
see no harm. I am nearly one and twenty. I am an easy distance from
the house—close enough to avoid the impropriety of being alone with
the gentleman and just far enough away to escape my father’s
watchful eye, for he rarely happens along this particular
path.

After walking for some time, she spotted a flash of red
just ahead. Her heart raced.
Mr. Wickham!
She had told him she would be there, and he had
shown enough consideration to be there as well. With a spring in
her stride, she hastened her steps. He did likewise.

“Miss King, I
am delighted to see you this morning.”

“I am equally
delighted in seeing you too, sir. Is this not a perfect
morning?”

“Indeed. The
air is crisp, and the sun is welcoming. I can think of no finer day
for a walk.” He glanced about. “Where is your companion, Miss
Heston?”

“I have every
reason to believe she will be along shortly.”

“It seems Miss
Heston’s tardiness is my good fortune.” The lieutenant clutched his
hands behind his back and commenced walking by Mary’s side. “I
enjoyed our time together in the library. My only regret is that it
ended much too quickly. Now we have a chance to continue where we
left off.”

“Indeed, sir. I have given the matter of your complaints
against Mr. Darcy a great deal of thought. It is a shame you should
not enjoy the living in Kympton as your godfather had intended. I
do not understand how the late Mr. Darcy’s
will was disregarded.
It is a wonder
you
did not
seek legal redress.”

“There was such informality in the terms of the bequest as
to give me no hope from the law. A man of honour would not have
doubted the intention, but Darcy chose to doubt it—to treat it as a
conditional recommendation and to assert that I had forfeited all
claims to it by extravagance and imprudence. The living became
vacant two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it. Yet it
was given to another man. I cannot accuse myself of having really
done anything to deserve losing it. I have a warm, unguarded
temper. There may have been times when I may have spoken my
opinion
of
him, and
to
him, too freely. I can recall nothing worse. But the fact
is, we are very different sort of men. For that reason, he hates
me.”

“This is quite
shocking! Do you not consider that the gentleman deserves to be
publicly disgraced?”

“Some time or
other he will be, I suppose, but it shall not be by me. Till I can
forget his father, I can never defy or expose him.”

Mary tilted
her head. Anne had expressed reservations over Mr. Wickham’s
claims, while more than anything, Mary wanted to believe him. “Can
you think of nothing more that might have spurred Mr. Darcy’s
disapprobation?”

“As I said, Darcy hates me. I can only contribute his
disdain to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me less, his
son’s disapprobation may have been tempered, but his father’s
uncommon attachment to me irritated him. It is an affliction he has
suffered since very early in life.
His disposition rendered him incapable of
bearing the sort of preference his father often gave me.

“As I am disinclined to dishonour my godfather’s
memory
by
calling attention to the faults of his son, I shall simply contend
myself to life as a lowly footman—for now. I do not think it shall
always be so.”

“Oh! Do you
intend to leave the militia?”

“I am finding
my life to be less than it should be. I have begun to consider that
a life in the law better suits me. To settle in a small town—much
like Meryton, to practise law, to marry and raise a family
satisfies all my notions of happiness.”

Mary pressed
her hand to her chest. Her eyes widened.

“By your
expression, you are surprised to hear me speak this way.”

She sucked in
a quick breath. “I confess I have never really thought of you as a
country lawyer, sir.”

“The fact that
you have given any thought at all to me is a cause for hope. All
this time in Meryton, I have admired you from afar—thinking someone
like you would never acknowledge someone like me.”

Mary was pleased by his admission, for she had taught
herself to believe he was the one who would never give
her
any notice. Now
hearing him speak otherwise rendered it next to impossible to
suppress her enthusiasm. “Sir, I have noticed you—ever since the
day I espied you and your friend Mr. Denny in Meryton. I believe
you were making the acquaintance of the Bennet sisters.”

“Ah! The
Bennet sisters of Longbourn. I confess they are quite lovely, and I
am always happy to be diverted by them. However, there are times
when a man seeks something other than diversions and pleasantries
from the fairer sex.”

Mary raised
her brow.

“Please do not
mistake my meaning. The Bennets are agreeable to one’s eyes, but
save the two eldest daughters, they offer little in the way of
serious conversations. I believe the youngest one, Miss Catherine,
is the silliest creature in all of England, followed closely by the
next youngest, Miss Lydia, who seems to take her lead from the
former.”

“If I may
correct you, sir—Miss Lydia is the youngest. Miss Catherine is next
to her.”

“Forgive me if
I have trouble sorting the two of them out—especially when walking
along with you. How might I possibly be expected to give a care for
the names of other women?”

“I believe the
youngest is quite enamoured of you, sir.”

“No more than
she is fond of any of my cohorts, I assure you. The young lady is
generally regarded as a harmless distraction. She likes the
attention, and it costs me nothing to pay her little compliments
and flatter her vanity from time to time. It is all in good fun,
and I am persuaded she perfectly comprehends my intentions.”

“And what have
you to say of your other favourite, Miss Elizabeth Bennet? I
confess to observing the two of you engaged in a rather lengthy
intercourse during her aunt’s dinner party. You were quite
enthralled.”

“I confess I
held her in high esteem, but that was only when I first made her
acquaintance. I have since been given cause to think differently of
her. I find it difficult to reconcile how a woman in her situation
would spurn the hand of the heir of her father’s estate, and
thereby subject her mother and sisters to such a perilous fate
should Mr. Bennet meet with an early demise.”

“Sir, I take
it you are speaking of the Bennets’ cousin, Mr. Collins. The
refusal of a gentleman’s hand is a rather sensitive matter. How can
you be privy to such information?”

“Information
of that nature is not difficult to discern, especially given a
mother of Mrs. Bennet’s temperament. It would not surprise me one
bit if everyone in Meryton has heard the tale by now.”

Mary dared not
doubt the gentleman’s assertion. To know Mrs. Bennet was to know
precisely how she would suffer the loss of a potential son-in-law.
Intrigued, Mary pressed on. “I should think Miss Elizabeth’s stance
would have pleased you and deepened your respect for her.”

He shook his
head. “On the contrary—it shows she is imprudent, dare I say
foolish. A striking contrast to you, I might add.”

“You flatter
me, sir.”

“You deserve
to be flattered, Miss King.”

The idea of
his being there, bestowing his handsome smiles upon her, when he
might have the privilege of spending time in company with any woman
of his choosing, brought a smile to her face.

“Your smile is very becoming, Miss King. Though, I am
certain you do not need me to tell you that. You cannot be at a
loss for admirers.” He brushed his finger across the tiny specks on
her cheek, unleashing a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. Long
considered the bane of her existence, she now had cause to
reconsider.
I shall never powder my freckles again.

Mary and Mr.
Wickham meandered a bit farther—the former being more and more
flattered and the latter being eager to accommodate. She was sorely
disappointed when she espied Anne sitting on a bench just ahead,
reading a book as if it were not a chilly morning and as though she
had not a care in the world. As soon as Anne looked up, she closed
her book and stood and walked towards them.

“Miss King—I
pray you do not mind my waiting for you. Your father asked about
you, and I told him I would collect you from your morning walk—thus
saving him the trouble.” Her posture rigid, Anne glowered at the
lieutenant. “Good Morning, Mr. Wickham.”

He bowed. Anne
forced a smile. “I do not suppose you will be returning to the
house with us. It is early still, and the family is not yet
receiving callers. You might come around at a respectable hour. I
am sure Miss King would welcome you, as would Mr. King.”

“I should be
on my way.” Wickham took Mary’s hand and bowed before it. “I shall
call later this afternoon, Miss King.” How disappointed she was
when he released her hand without bestowing a kiss. The touch of
his lips on her skin surely would have carried her through the long
hours until their next meeting.