Almost Persuaded: Miss Mary King (4 page)

“I shall look
forward to seeing you, sir.”

Wickham
glanced at her companion and nodded. “Miss Heston.”

As soon as he
was gone, Mary folded her arms over her chest. “Could you have been
any ruder to the gentleman, Anne? One would think you do not wish
for him to court me.”

Anne huffed.
“Mary, I know you admire the gentleman—but courtship? What is the
point in even entertaining such notions when you know your father
has other plans for your future?”

“If you are
speaking of his sudden desire for an alliance with my cousin, you
should not concern yourself. I am not at all reconciled to the
possibility. I have admired Mr. Wickham from the instant I first
laid eyes on him. I cannot say the same of my cousin.”

“You have not
seen your cousin in years. He may be every bit as handsome as your
Mr. Wickham. In addition, he is very rich, and Mr. Wickham is
not.”

“No, Mr. Wickham is not rich, but that does not mean he is
not suitable as a husband. I have spent all my life not being rich.
I have no reason to believe it is of such great importance now. Mr.
Wickham speaks of leaving the militia, of studying the law, of
practicing in a small town such as Meryton, of marrying and raising
a family. Every word he utters rings chords of delight in my heart.
His dreams are in perfect harmony with my dreams. What is more, he
professed he has always noticed me. He was afraid
I
would never give
consequence to someone like him.”

She wrapped
her hands about her shoulders and spun around. “Oh, Anne! Can you
not appreciate what this means? The gentleman and I are perfect for
each other!”

Nothing would
puncture her enthusiasm. Not even the pinched expression that
graced her companion’s countenance.

Part 3 – Almost
Persuaded

Mary had enjoyed another perfectly agreeable morning with
Mr. Wickham. As usual, she found herself pleading his case to Anne
on the heels of his leave-taking. Mary paced the floor whilst Anne
sat calmly on the faded sofa. “You are far too apt to find fault in
Mr. Wickham and for no other reason than he is exceedingly
handsome. I contend handsome young men are every bit as honourable
as the plain.”

“
No—it is more than that as you well know. I had no objections
to the gentleman prior to the unfortunate incident of your
grandfather’s passing. But there seems to be an indelicacy in his
directing his attentions towards you so soon after the
event.”

“You are aware of his circumstances.
He has not the time for all
those etiquettes that others may observe.
If I do not object to it, why should
anyone else?”

“By
all those etiquettes
, do you mean conducting a proper courtship with
your father’s consent?”

Her mind quite
decided on the veracity of Mr. Wickham’s regard, Mary said
nothing.

“
Mary, you must know what you are about. You must guard
yourself against appearing foolish or, heaven forbid, giving rise
to gossip and innuendo that you are somehow deficit in either sense
or feeling pursuant to your eager reception of his
attentions.”

“
Are we all not fools even to contemplate falling in love,
especially when there are no guarantees? In such case as this, I
firmly believe in the notion that nothing ventured is nothing
gained.”

Whilst Mary
might boast of Anne being her dearest friend, the same could not be
said of Anne’s reliance upon Mary in that respect. Anne was
private. She kept her own counsel as regarded her own affairs. Once
a week, she would spend time with her older sister, who was
employed as a governess at a modest home in a village near Meryton.
Having lost their parents in a fire, which also destroyed their
home, the two sisters were the only family each other had.

Mary had never
once seen Anne show interest in a man. Thus, she assumed the
horrible experience of a broken-heart and shattered dreams must
have made it so. All her attempts to persuade Anne to confide in
her had been to no avail. She took a seat beside Anne and reached
for her hand.

“
You must not allow hurtful experiences from your past to
colour your perception of Mr. Wickham. You do not know him as I do.
He is honourable, and he has been completely forthcoming with
me.”

Anne cradled
Mary’s proffered hand in hers. “The gentleman can say what he likes
in explaining the haste of his defection from Miss Elizabeth Bennet
and the speed of the transference of his affections to you. Any
rational human would regard his motives as mercenary.”

“
Well, have it as you choose. Mr. Wickham shall be mercenary,
and I shall be irrational.”

“No,
Mary. That is exactly what I do not choose. I shall not allow Mr.
Wickham to take advantage of you. I shall do all in my power to
prevent it.” Releasing Mary’s hand, Anne gathered her sewing.
“Enjoy his simpering and his smiles, if you will—but that is all
there will ever be of your relationship with the man.” Miss Heston
stood to take her leave. Smoothing her skirt, she regarded Mary
with an unyielding countenance. “I should hate to speak with your
father, but I will not hesitate should matters warrant it. I would
be derelict in my duties to him, as well as to you, to do
otherwise.”

~*~

Mere days later, Anne stood outside her father’s study, her
hand perched on the door as if paralysed with dread over the
prospect of what he might say. Mr. Wickham and she had been no
strangers to each other
—
intent upon a courtship of sorts as they endeavoured to
sketch each other’s character often away from the guarded eyes of
her father and always under the watchful eyes of her companion. Her
suitor was proving himself to be everything a gentleman ought to
be—pleasant and amiable; even towards Miss Heston herself who did
not try to disguise her increasing ill ease.
I cannot imagine Anne would
have spoken to my father against my will when I have abided by all
her strong dictates and guarded my behaviour with Mr.
Wickham.
Deciding it best to get the matter over with, Mary pushed
the door open.

Mr.
King, his face grave, rose from his chair and gestured for her to
have a seat. “Mary, my dear, I do not like the idea of your
spending time in Mr. Wickham’s company.”

“Papa, you and
Mr. Wickham always got along famously. Why do you now object to his
calling on me?”

“I now suspect
his motives. Why the sudden interest? Even you will admit he never
once took notice of you before you became an heiress.”

“Are you
suspicious of the lieutenant, or does any gentleman who is not my
cousin warrant your disapprobation?”

“I will
not pretend that your uncle’s designs for you to marry his son and
heir do not meet with my approval. My brother’s wealth is
excellent. What type of father would I be not to wish to see you so
well settled in life?”

“With all due
respect, Papa, you have complained of my uncle’s miserly
propensities all my life. When have you ever agreed with him on
anything? You two have never got along.”

He reared his
head. “I will not apologise for rallying behind my brother’s cause.
A father wants what is best for his child.”

“Uncle King
never once considered me as a suitable bride for my cousin before
Grandfather bequeathed ten thousand pounds to me. Am I wrong to
suppose my uncle simply has no desire to see such a substantial
amount escape the family coffers should I marry elsewhere?”

“It pains me
to hear you speak this way. Your uncle’s motives, as selfish as
they may be, result to your benefit, do they not? You shall be
rich. You shall have many fine carriages, a house in town. You and
your cousin are ideally suited to each other. You will be very
happy with him.”

Long believing she and her father were of one mind as
regarded arranged marriages, Mary drew a deep breath and diverted
her eyes towards a picture of her mother. Her parents had suffered
an arranged marriage. Her mother had abandoned everything to escape
her sentence: her home, her husband.
Me.

“I know you
want what is best for me, but have we not always agreed that I
should be allowed to marry where I will?”

“That was
before; this is now. Your prospects are considerably improved owing
to your grandfather’s bequest.” Her father reached for her hand. “I
only ask that you remain open to an alliance with your cousin,
John. Of course it is your decision. By the same token, I caution
you to be wary of gentlemen the likes of Mr. Wickham.”

It bothers me
that even my own uncle did not consider me as worthy of his son and
heir before my inheritance, and now it is his favourite wish. If my
own family’s motives are mercenary, why does my father disdain Mr.
Wickham solely on the basis that his motives are suspected of being
of a similar bent? How is such hypocrisy to be endured?

I will not
think of that now. I so enjoy basking in the gentleman’s
admiration. I am a fair studier of people. I shall know if his
motives are not pure. I simply need more time in his company, away
from Papa’s stern scrutiny.

Her father
must have read her disquiet on her face. “Mary, you are entitled to
marry where you will. But given a choice between your cousin and
any other gentleman, I would choose the former. I urge you to do
likewise. Family means everything.”

A frisson of panic gripped her.
If Papa only knew I was half in love
with Mr. Wickham already, I fear he would forbid me to see him. I
must see him. I must find a way to continue to see him without
raising Papa’s ire.

~*~

Ever since her father’s admonishment, Mary and Mr.
Wickham’s encounters were few and far between. Their fleeting
moments together strengthened her resolve that he held her in
esteem. Both Mr. King and Anne were out that evening. Mary was home
alone. Sitting in the library, she closed her book and shut her
eyes, thereby giving up her pretence of reading, so she might dwell
on those things that confirmed her good opinion of the dashing Lt.
Wickham. Of late, his discourse centred on marrying for love and
how fortuitous it was that a man of his standing might now have the
means of accomplishing it. Never had he pretended otherwise. She
was in a fair way of knowing this admission by heart.

I was reared
to appreciate the finer things in life, educated alongside Darcy
and destined for a living that would have satisfied my every notion
of happiness. I should be happy marrying for love with little
regard for fortune, but gentlemen of my circumstances do not often
enjoy the prospect of marrying where they will. I was robbed of
such a prospect. I must marry a woman of fortune.

How it warmed
her spirits and excited her hopes to suppose an alliance with her
afforded him the means of satisfying his heart as well as his
purse.

The door-bell sounded, rousing her. The idea of its being
Mr. Wickham fluttered her spirits.
Surely he would never come around at such
an hour as this.
She sat and waited and wondered. Were it to be the
gentleman, then surely it would exceed the bounds of propriety to
receive him with her father being away from the house and no one
there with her, save the servants.

Mary’s
curiosity was soon satisfied, her spirits gratified, and her
reservations tossed aside when a servant showed Mr. Wickham into
the room. After bowing to Mary, he remained by the entryway, his
back to her as he uttered a few words to the footman and then
graciously closed the door in the servant’s stead.

In two strides
he stood before her, and she rose to receive him. “Mr. Wickham, I
had not expected to see you again so soon after our meeting this
morning.”

He accepted
her hand and imparted a moist kiss on her palm. “Pray you do not
regard my calling on you at this hour as rash. I wanted to see
you—nay, needed to see you.”

Her knees nearly buckled. “Sir, did you forget my father is
out this evening?”
Surely he recalls my having told him Papa frequents the pub
every Tuesday night.

“Again, I will request your leniency. I am aware your
father is
away and that he will be gone for several hours. I so enjoy
our time together, but I do not suppose myself to be your father’s
favourite.”

“Has he spoken
to you in that regard?”

“Let us say he
has made his plans for your future clear to me—that as soon as the
mourning period is ended, he should like nothing more than to
announce your betrothal to your cousin in Liverpool.”

Mary dropped her eyes.
How could my papa do such a thing?
Not knowing where
to look, she walked to the bookshelves. “Sir, I am sorry Papa has
given you the impression I am to be married to another. It is not
true. It is nothing more than his own ardent wish as well as my
uncle’s. I have no idea how my cousin feels about all
this.”

Mary’s heart slammed against her chest from the touch of
his hand along her waist. He was standing directly behind
her.
When
had that happened?
She turned to face him.

“Sir?”

He leaned
closer and murmured in her ear. “My dearest Miss King, you do not
know how much it means to hear you say that. I should hate to think
I stood no chance at all of claiming your heart as my own.”

His warm
breath caressed her neck. Mary swallowed hard. His hand on her
waist rendered her intoxicated. She trembled inside when he placed
his other hand on her chin, traced his thumb across her lower lip
and gazed into her eyes.