B00BKPAH8O EBOK (20 page)

34

Necessary Exertions

Before Mary had
summoned enough courage to return to the house and face her cousin, she heard
and then saw Mrs. Bennet’s carriage approaching up the gravel sweep. Her heart
sank within her. There could be no more delay. Now, exertion was indispensably
necessary, and she struggled so resolutely against the oppression of her
feelings, that her success was speedy and for the time complete.

Being thankful
that she had no tears to betray her true state of mind, Mary feigned
cheerfulness and greeted the three persons alighting from the carriage – Mr.
Beam first, who then assisted Mrs. Bennet and Miss Beam out. Then, turning to
Mr. Jeffers on the box, Mary asked him to attend to Arielle as soon as he was
able.

“Well, Mary,”
said Mrs. Bennet. “What do you think? We have been to Meryton, where I have
acquainted our American friends with all the comforts and conveniences an
English village can afford. And what do you do here? I never expect to see you
at Longbourn any time but Sunday.”

“I was given an
unexpected holiday,” Mary explained as they all proceeded into the house. “Mr.
Farnsworth has taken the children with him on an outing.”

“Oh, yes!” Mrs.
Bennet exclaimed, her voice rising with excitement. “The goings on at
Netherfield – that is the subject on everybody’s lips in Meryton. Mrs. Elkhorn
said she had seen ever so many fine carriages bound in that direction on the London road. My sister Phillips heard from the butcher that Mrs. Nicholls had come from
Netherfield on Monday to order in a vast quantity of meat for Wednesday, and a
good deal more for Saturday. It is also said that musicians were brought in for
a ball last night. But I suppose you have observed little of the business
yourself, Mary. What a shame, for it must have been a grand affair. Since I was
not invited, I should very much have liked to be a mouse in the corner – to
behold the splendor, and to see if the master was dancing and with whom. They
say he has done it all to impress a lady, and that there might be a new Mrs.
Farnsworth before long.”

With such fresh
and interesting fodder for discussion, Mrs. Bennet was able to carry the
preponderance of the conversation through until dinner and beyond. Mary was
called upon primarily to contribute what factual information she could supply
from her first-hand knowledge of Netherfield. The rest Mrs. Bennet was
perfectly content to leave to the authority of her own speculation. Mr. Beam
served as a useful foil, providing just enough conversation to encourage and
sustain her efforts. The others, for their various reasons, contributed little.

For once, Mary
was glad for her mother’s facility for talking, and she could not even be
bothered to care about her lack of sense and decorum. Along with the clock in
the hall, she was just marking time, waiting in suspense until she could go,
and the less attention paid her the better. Directly after dinner she made her
excuses.

“I must be
getting back,” she told them all upon their repairing to the drawing room. “Mr.
Beam, Miss Beam, since I will not be seeing you again before you sail, I wish
you a safe and comfortable journey home. Now, if you will pardon me, I shall
take my leave.”

Miss Beam
nodded, and the gentlemen rose when Mary did.

“So good to
have met you, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Beam, taking her hand and bowing over it.

“You came on
horseback, I understand, Miss Mary,” said Tristan.

“I did.”

“Then you must
allow me to accompany you back to Netherfield.”

“I thank you,
sir, but I assure you it is entirely unnecessary. I am perfectly capable of
traveling the three miles on my own.”

“I insist,” he
said. “It will be my honor and my pleasure.” With this he escorted her from the
room, and they both made their way to the stables.

Little more
passed between them until they were mounted and underway. Even then, Mary did
not know where or how to begin, so great was her discomfiture at being alone
with her cousin after all that had occurred. She was embarrassed for what she
had seen and found out that day, but still more so for what she had said to him
the previous Sunday. Had he understood, or at least suspected, her feelings and
wishes? Had he pitied her or, worse yet, laughed at her behind her back for her
pathetic illusions? Mortifying. Mary could only hope he had been as blind to
her desires as she had been to his, and she waited for him to reveal the truth
of the matter by what he said next.

“This is a time
for redeeming promises made,” said Tristan, once they had passed beyond the
boundaries of Longbourn Park.

His remark was
not at all what Mary had expected. “How do you mean, sir?” she inquired.

“I promised
myself that we would one day have a ride together. Have you forgotten?”

“Oh, yes,
perhaps I had,” she lied.

“I am not
surprised; no doubt the idea was far more significant to me than it could
possibly have been to you. Then, more recently, you generously promised to be
my confidante, if I should need one – that you would hear whatever I should
wish to say, and tell me exactly what you thought. Those were your very words,
which I took as a clear proof of your sincere and impartial friendship. I hope
what has happened has not changed that. Your continued friendship means a great
deal to me, Mary – and more now too, for we are brother and sister.”

“True, I did
promise it… out of friendship, as you say, and because of my general
inclination to be of use wherever I can. The situation is somewhat altered now,
however. I now know what I did not then. You have a wife, sir, and she must be
your primary confidante.”

“Very well
said. Then I shall simply ask you this. Tell me what you honestly think of my
having married your sister. Can you be happy for us, and will you forgive the
shock we gave you earlier today?”

“It is my
Christian duty to forgive, Mr. Collins, and I do so willingly. As for my being
happy for you and Kitty, that I trust will come in time. I cannot think it
prudent for you to have entered into wedlock so precipitously. But when your
marriage proves to be a blessing to yourselves and to others, how could I
refuse to be delighted for it as well?”

“I see I shall
have to be satisfied with that for now. It is an awkward beginning, I concede,
and yet I wish you to believe there will be no reason for anybody to repine
over what we have done. I shall make it my life’s work to see that your sister
is happy. Your mother will be cared for as well; she need never leave her home
if she does not wish to.”

“That is
admirable indeed, Mr. Collins, especially the latter part. Not every man would
be prepared to practice forbearance to such a degree, even for a wife that he loves.”

“We all have
our little foibles, Miss Mary,” he said chuckling, “and your mother is
certainly no exception. Fortunately, I seem to have been blessed with a more
patient nature than most. I am not quickly provoked by the follies of others.
And I believe Kitty will be easier having her mother close at hand; that is
reason enough. You know her best, though, my dear sister. Is there anything
else you can suggest I do for my wife’s comfort, or for your family’s peace of
mind?”

“No, Mr.
Collins. You seem to have thought of everything.”

They rode along
in silence for a considerable time, the discomfort between them a little eased
for their already having gracefully covered the necessary ground. Mary still
did not know with certainty what Tristan might have suspected of her amorous
intentions – and most probably she never would – although, after this first
test, it at least appeared unlikely he would ever allude to comprehending
anything of the sort. That was some relief.

At Tristan’s
suggestion, they prodded their mounts into first a canter and then finally a
full gallop over the last mile to Netherfield. With the warm breeze blowing
across her cheeks and whistling past her ears, Mary could not help but feel
some of that same exhilaration she had originally expected from when they would
at last have their ride together. In fact, she was laughing by the time they
reined in their horses at the entrance to the stables.

Tristan slid to
the ground first and then helped Mary dismount from Arielle. At that moment, Mr.
Farnsworth emerged from the doorway of the stables.

“Ah, Mr.
Collins,” he said stiffly. “Thank you for returning Miss Bennet, but I can take
over from here. We need not detain you any longer.”

“It has been my
pleasure, believe me, Mr. Farnsworth. It was good of you to spare Mary today.”

“Can I give you
a leg up, then?”

“No need,”
answered Tristan, throwing himself atop his horse and swinging into position.
“Good day, Cousin Mary,” he said, tipping his hat before riding away.

Once her cousin
was a little down the lane, Mary turned to her employer. “That was rude of you,
sir.”

“Was it?” he
said absently, turning Arielle over to a groom.

“You know very
well it was,” Mary scolded, starting toward the house. “You practically warned
Mr. Collins off your land.”

Mr. Farnsworth
fell into step beside her. “Perhaps I am not feeling sociable today. What do
you say to that?”

“I say is a
great pity, for you have a house full of guests. Did your expedition fail to
live up to expectations, Mr. Farnsworth? Is that what has put you in such a
foul mood?”

“Me? In a foul
mood? Never. I am only a little concerned for one of the carriage horses, which
has come up lame. That is why you found me in the stables rather than with my
guests. Oh, I hope you did not think I waited there in compliment to you, Miss
Bennet.”

“Not at all.
Why on earth should I?”

“No reason,
really.” After a moment he continued sardonically, “So it is for your beloved
cousin that you have thrown me over, I suppose.”

“What?”

“No doubt you
are his favorite as well. I see how it is.”

It was too much
– salt in a fresh wound. “No, Mr. Farnsworth! You see nothing, for there is
nothing to be seen. Only a blind person or a fool could suppose that Mr.
Tristan Collins thought of me in that way, that he could ever have preferred…”
Mary broke off and strode purposefully away from him toward the service
entrance, a place the master of the house would hardly dare to follow.

35

Change in the Air

With guests in
the house, the Farnsworth children did not go down to take their supper with
their father as they often did. They ate in the nursery instead that evening,
and Mary with them. At least with the children, there was no question of
awkwardness or embarrassment for her. They could know nothing of her
humiliation that day, nothing of her disappointed hopes. In fact, her three
young friends seemed her only consolation. Whilst they were still in her
charge, she had companionship, useful employment, and some measure of purpose
to each day.

“How was your
outing to St. Albans, children?” Mary asked when she joined them, taking care
to sound cheerful. They all started talking at once. “Patience,” she cautioned.
“One at a time. Gwen, you first. Was it everything you had hoped for?”

“Oh, yes… and
no. The picnic was delightful and the cathedral was very pretty.”

“That all
sounds promising. Was it the company that let you down then?”

The girl
nodded. “They are fine ladies and gentlemen, to be sure, but they did not have
much of anything interesting to say for themselves. And they could not be
bothered to talk to me at all.”

“Ah, yes,
people will often disappoint us, especially if our expectations are too high. I
daresay that was the problem here. You expected society folk to be special, and
they turned out to be only ordinary people with airs and fine clothes. And
Michael, did you have an adventure today?”

“It was a very
dull ride there, for Papa would not let me sit on the box. He said I could on
the way home if I behaved. So I tried my best, even though there were so many
places to explore that it was difficult for me to be good.”

“And did you
succeed? Were you allowed to ride home on the box?”

“Yes! Papa said
I behaved well enough so that I could. There were no highwaymen after all, but
I did see a fox and a barn on fire.”

“A barn on fire?
Oh, my!”

“Well, it was
only some smoke in the distance, but I thought it must be a barn on fire.”

“Aha. So you
had an adventure after all. What about you, Grace? Tell me about your day. Was
it as fearful as you supposed it would be?”

“No, Miss. It
was just as you said. We rode in the carriage with Papa, and nobody required me
to do or say very much at all.”

“I am glad. Did
anyone else ride with you?”

“Yes, Miss
Hawkins and Mrs. Candleford.”

Mary looked
enquiringly at Gwendolyn.

“Miss June
Hawkins is the lady we saw dancing with Papa, and Mrs. Candleford is her aunt,
who came along as her chaperone.”

“I see,” said
Mary. “Miss Hawkins must be a very special friend if your father invited her to
dance and also to ride in his carriage.”

“I suppose so,”
answered Gwen. “She did very often smile at Papa. And he must know her father,
for they talked about him a great deal. He owns a bank in London.”

That made
perfect sense, thought Mary. Miss Hawkins was pretty, young, with desirable
family connections and probably fortune too, and yet someone who would likely
never dare challenge Mr. Farnsworth’s authority. “And did you children like
Miss Hawkins?” she asked.

Gwen shrugged
and Michael had no opinion either.

“I thought she
was very silly,” said Grace. “She kept laughing when there was nothing the
least bit funny.”

“Well, I am
sure there are worse faults a person could have,” said Mary. “The main thing is
that if your father likes her, you three must make an effort to like her as
well.”

“Why must we?”
asked Michael.

“Because it is
quite possible she will be spending a great deal of time here at Netherfield in
the future, and you will all need to get on together.”

~~*~~

Mary wished
only to drop away into the gulf of oblivious sleep that night. Instead, she lay
awake a long while against her will, held hostage by her muddled thoughts. She
wondered how things would evolve at Longbourn. Would she ever be able to visit
there comfortably again, or would she always feel like a jealous fool in the
presence of her sister and brother-in-law? Would Mr. Farnsworth really marry
this Miss Hawkins? If so, what kind of changes would that bring to Netherfield
and how should she deal with them?

Her logical
mind insisted she should sort these questions out according to degree of urgency,
project the likely outcomes, and plan reasonable strategies for dealing with
the unpleasantness ahead. This self-assigned task soon proved impossible,
however. Emotion insisted on playing a part, and it steadfastly refused to obey
any of Mary’s sensible directions.

Thus, her
painful contemplations continued into the next day unresolved. Although the
morning was fully given over to the children’s studies, the afternoon afforded
Mary enough leisure to revisit her troubles again. She gave in to the children’s
bidding that, on account of the exceptionally fine weather, they could just as
easily have their Latin lesson out of doors, using the occasion to review the
names of the various flora and fauna they met with there. Once finished, she
freed them for taking what kind of exercise they should prefer. Michael made
straight for his favorite climbing tree, and the girls organized a game of
shuttlecock between them, leaving Mary little to do but keep watch, and no one
to talk to other than herself as she strolled about.

“Tristan is
gone,” her practical side declared, “and you had better get used to the idea at
once.”

Emotion argued
back. “Let me be. Have you no sympathy? I have suffered a great tragedy, and I
must be allowed to grieve my loss.”

“Bah! How can you
lose something you never possessed? Surely you knew all along it was
impossible.”

“No! I did
think he might could love me… at least at the start.”

“The evidence
to the contrary has been mounting ever since you received Kitty’s letter from
Pemberley. She tried to warn you; you refused to listen. If you are miserable
over Mr. Tristan now, you have only yourself to blame.”

Mary waited for
the answering argument, and yet her emotions were strangely silent. She did not
feel nearly as miserable over Tristan as she had expected – foolish,
embarrassed, mightily disappointed, but not desperately miserable. Perhaps
reason was right, that at some deeper level she had known ever since Kitty’s
letter that he was lost to her, and perhaps she had begun letting go of that
hope even then.

A cursory check
of the children confirmed all was well – the girls still at their game and
Michael now halfway up his tree.

No, when she
analyzed her current unhappiness, it seemed to relate as much to the loss of
her sister as the loss of Mr. Tristan Collins. By her marriage, Kitty had, in a
manner of speaking, deserted her. Although their contrasting characters
prevented any especial closeness, they had shared a sympathetic bond in being
both left uncomfortably unmarried the past five years, long after the others
had wed. Now, that single cord of commonality between them had been broken, and
Mary felt set adrift.

Other changes
were in the works as well, as Mary was reminded when she gazed toward the back
of the house. The noise of voices and laughter had drawn her attention to where
Mr. Farnsworth and some of his guests had gathered in the shade of the
expansive portico, there to drink lemonade and enjoy the warm August air.

Miss Hawkins
was beside him again. If she became the new mistress of Netherfield – and all
signs pointed in that direction – what revolutionary alterations would it
bring? Miss Farnsworth would soon be gone, her services no longer required.
This Mary could not lament, unless the lady who replaced her as mistress of the
house proved to be even more difficult to get along with. But what of Mr.
Farnsworth himself? Mary supposed he would be very much occupied with his young
wife. Would he then spend less time in London, or more? Would he neglect his
children, or steal them away to form a cozy family life with his new wife?
Would he then allow that lady to manage the children and no longer consult with
their governess himself?

For reasons she
could not rightly comprehend, Mary’s heart weighed heavily within her chest as
she considered this last point. Surely she should be glad to be spared those
often worrisome confrontations with her employer. But the truth was that,
however exasperating her dealings with Mr. Farnsworth might sometimes be, she
should miss them if they ceased altogether. On an endless sea of routine and
sameness, he was the brambly island that gave interest to the otherwise
lifeless horizon. Although that island was protected by rocky shoals upon which
one might easily shipwreck, Mary still had the sense that the reward awaiting
the successful navigator could make the risk of nearer approach worth taking.

As Mary’s
thoughts had rambled farther afield, so had her feet. When she at last came to
herself, it was with a shock for forgetting her duty. Next, a bolt of alarm
struck home at a sudden but sure premonition of some imminent danger. She
instantly swung round to locate the children. With relief, she saw the girls
safe and sound. They had quit their game and were coming to join her. Then she
remembered Michael… Michael, who when last she saw him was
halfway up a
tree!