B00BKPAH8O EBOK (9 page)

Do not hide
yourself away in Derbyshire forever, Kitty. Once you see that it is quite safe,
you must return to Longbourn, to your mother and sister who miss you.

With
affection,

Mary

Mary reread the
letter to be sure it would serve. The information it contained must relieve
much of her sister’s anxiety over Mr. Collins’s coming, which was her primary
purpose. Was she justified, however, in writing so sanguinely, as if there were
no danger to any of them in the situation? Or was it merely wishful thinking on
her part?

Mary carefully
folded the two crisp sheets of paper, covered edge to edge in her tight, even
hand. She dripped hot red wax across the edge of the flap and sank her
monogrammed seal into it.

Only time would
tell.

13

Wardrobe Woes

The next day,
Mr. Farnsworth’s three offspring worked quietly at their lessons round the
child-sized table in the schoolroom. Their governess, dividing her time between
them and an undertaking of her own, supervised from one of the chairs by the
window, where the light was far better for working the fine stitches her
project demanded. Mary had nearly finished attaching the lace to the neckline
of her gown for the following night when she heard the door creak open. She
looked up, expecting to see Jenny come from the kitchen with the tea things,
but finding the tray in a pair of more refined hands instead.

“Why, Miss
Farnsworth, this is quite a surprise,” said Mary, rising at once and laying
aside her work. “Here, do allow me to take that from you.”

“Nonsense. I am
quite capable of carrying a tea tray these twenty feet, I should think.” And
she did so, setting it down on the table next to Mary. “Good morning,
children,” she said, turning to them with an unenthused smile.

“Good morning,
Aunt Lavinia,” they answered in near-perfect unison before returning their
attention to their assignments.

“Then you did
not carry that heavy thing all the way from the kitchen?” Mary continued.

“Up three
flights of stairs? Do be serious, Miss Bennet. I only took it from the maid
when I met her in the passageway.”

“Ah, I see.
Will you be staying to take tea with me, then?”

“I did wish to
speak to you, so perhaps I shall.”

Mary removed
her sewing from the other chair, so her guest could sit down, and draped the
carefully reworked gown across her own lap.

“What have you
there?” asked Lavinia.

“It is only a
bit of sewing that I am working on in my spare moments – dressing up an old
gown a little.”

“Good lord!
That cannot be what you intend to wear tomorrow night.”

“I am afraid it
is the best I own, so it will have to do,” Mary said defensively, with a glance
in Gwendolyn’s direction. “I cannot see that it is any of your concern, Miss
Farnsworth. As for me, devotion to finery is something I neither admire in
others nor aspire to myself. I have the greatest dislike to the idea of being
over-trimmed.”

“Though you may
not care what you look like, Miss Bennet, I most certainly do. As a member of
this household, regardless of in what capacity, your appearance reflects on Mr.
Farnsworth. I told him it was a mistake to include a governess at our table,
but he claimed it was unavoidable, because of your relation to the guest of
honor. I think you shall make him sorry he resolved on it.”

“Miss
Farnsworth, I doubt that your brother will even notice my gown, let alone be
offended by its simplicity. It is so very ordinary as to quite blend into the
background. And after all, is that not where you would prefer me to remain?”

Miss Farnsworth
fixed Mary with an appraising gaze for a long minute. Then in a light, almost
playful tone she said, “Perhaps you are right, Miss Bennet. It hardly signifies
what a governess wears; no one will remark her presence in any event. So we
shall say no more about your gown. Tea, Miss Bennet?”

“Yes, may I
pour you some?”

“No! You must
allow me,” said Miss Farnsworth, rising to do the honors. When she took a step
forward to hand a steaming cup to her companion, her toe seemed to catch on the
rug and she lurched ahead. Although the lady quickly caught herself, avoiding a
fall, the jolt caused the full cup to slide off its saucer and fly through the
air. It landed squarely in Mary’s lap, the black brew being instantly absorbed
into the fabric of the pale green muslin garment that still rested there.

Mary jumped to
her feet with a cry, and the sodden mass fell away before the hot liquid could
soak through.

“Oh, how clumsy
of me!” exclaimed Miss Farnsworth. “You might have been burned, and I bet your
gown is ruined too.”

Seeing the heap
of stained and crumpled fabric on the floor, with bits of broken china
scattered randomly about it, Mary’s heart sank. “
Now
what am I to wear?”
she asked herself aloud.

“I am quite
certain that, under the circumstance, you had much rather not come to the dinner,”
said Miss Farnsworth. “I shall be happy to make your excuses to my brother. And
you know your cousin shall not miss you, not when surrounded by the best
company that can be had in the area.”

Without waiting
for Mary to recover enough from her shock to reply, Miss Farnsworth bustled
from the schoolroom. She returned an hour later, however, with a sour
expression on her countenance.

Mary looked up
expectantly. “Yes, Miss Farnsworth, what is it? Did you come back for another
cup of tea perhaps?”

“Very droll,
Miss Bennet.” She heaved a great sigh and then seemed resigned to get on with
unpleasant business. “I am here because my brother has proposed a
happy
solution to your dilemma. Guessing that we are approximately the same size, he
has kindly suggested that I might furnish you something to wear tomorrow night.
Was that not clever of him to think of it?”

“I… it is very
good of him, to be sure. But is the idea acceptable to you, Miss Farnsworth?”

“It seems I
have no choice in the matter. So, if you would care to come by my rooms
tomorrow – when you are finished with your duties, of course – then I shall see
what can be done for you.” As soon as Mary nodded her accord, the lady turned
and hastened from the room again.

Mary knew not
what to think of this development. There was a certain satisfaction that Miss
Lavinia’s efforts to exclude her from the party had failed. On the other hand,
however uncomfortable that lady would be to loan the governess a gown, Mary
suspected her own discomfort at borrowing one would be even greater. Yet they
were both bound to obey Mr. Farnsworth’s edict. At least it meant she would see
Mr. Tristan again before he left for the north. In her estimation, that was
worth a great deal.

~~*~~

Except for the
hour spent with Monsieur Hubert in the music room, which occupied her
completely, Mary’s mind perpetually wandered the next day from her schoolroom
duties to the prospect of the evening’s special dinner, wavering between eager
anticipation and dread at regular intervals. One moment, the imminent event
seemed to hold all the promise of spring and Christmas rolled together, and she
pictured herself emerging admired and triumphant. The next, she foresaw certain
embarrassment and disaster. Nevertheless, she was determined to take courage
and see it through. She had little choice.

When she had
completed the day’s lessons, Mary left the children in the nursery maid’s
charge and found her way to Miss Lavinia’s suite of rooms, as instructed. She
paused long enough for two deep breaths and then knocked decisively.

The mistress’s
petite personal maid opened the door a few inches.

“Is that Miss
Bennet?” Miss Farnsworth called from somewhere within.

“Yes, milady,”
the maid answered.

“Well, let her
in, then, Hutchens,” came the order.

The maid stepped
back and pulled the door wide.

Taking three
steps into the apartment, Mary had to stop and stare about herself. She had
never entered the place before and could not have imagined what she found
there.

Unlike the rest
of the house, which was decorated with tasteful restraint, every surface of
Miss Farnsworth’s suite seemed smothered in excess. Set against a backdrop of
bold, paisley-printed wallpaper, every window and piece of furniture lay
shrouded in heavy brocade fabrics and weighed down by a congregation of
guilt-framed paintings, porcelain figures, and trinkets of every description.

Miss Farnsworth
remarked her guest’s gaze and expression of amazement. “I collect that you are
surprised by what you see, Miss Bennet. Magnificent, is it not?”

“Truly…
stunning,” Mary replied, still taking it all in.

Miss Farnsworth
smiled in satisfaction. “I could not persuade my brother to let me help him
with the rest of the house, but I was allowed to fit out these rooms to my own
liking.”

Only then did
Mary notice how well her hostess looked. Although Miss Lavinia, much like her
apartment, might have been criticized for being somewhat overly adorned – with
all her lace, jewels, and elaborate hair design – the overall effect was not
unpleasing.

“As you see,
Miss Bennet, I am finished with my toilette. So I shall release my maid to you,
that she might dress you and make you presentable, according to my brother’s
wishes.”

“Make me
presentable? Were those Mr. Farnsworth’s words?”

“Yes, or some
such. I cannot be troubled to remember every detail. Now, I have selected two
very stylish gowns that you may choose between, and Hutchens will assist you.”
She waved them both off toward the dressing room and turned to depart. “I am
needed downstairs.” 

Mary imagined
Miss Farnsworth would wish to make her look as dowdy as possible with a gown
nearly as plain as her own ruined muslin had been. She secretly hoped for
exactly that. Something simple and modest would just suit her. She was
unprepared, therefore, when Hutchens drew out a gown with a plunging neckline
in a deep shade of rose red.

Mary gasped.
“No, this will
never
do! Let me see the other one.”

“Very well,
Miss,” said the maid, returning the first gown to its place in the large
closet, and retrieving a second.

Mary despaired
when she saw it. “Oh, dear,” she sighed. “Are you certain, Hutchens, that these
are the two your mistress meant for me to choose from?”

“Quite certain,
Miss. Her instructions were very precise. She said you could have either one of
these and a pair of gloves if you needed them. Then I am to arrange your hair.
But on no account am I to show you anything different to wear.”

“I understand.”

Mary saw all
too well what her adversary had in mind. Miss Farnsworth had known precisely
how to most disconcert her. Other than being forced to appear in company
completely naked, nothing could be more uncomfortable for her than by
conspicuous dress drawing undue attention to herself.

There had been
a time when she admittedly sought to do just that, to draw attention away from
her more-handsome sisters unto herself. She could never hope to compete with
them on the basis of looks, yet she had flattered herself that she excelled
them all in music and intellectual pursuits. Pride had led her astray, pride
that had accordingly brought on a proper humbling. She had learnt her lesson,
although perhaps she had not learnt it well enough. For here, in the guise of a
gown, had been given her yet another instrument of mortification.

The gown was
not revealing, thank the Lord. And it was not a bold color either. It was in
fact
many
colors, all jostling for attention in a fanciful plaid. The
cloth might have looked well upholstering an armchair in this riotously
patterned bedchamber, but made into a gown? Where had Miss Farnsworth found
such a garment? Mary could hardly imagine the mistress of the house wearing it
herself.

Inwardly
groaning, Mary let the maid help her out of her governess’s habit and into the
dreadful plaid.

It fit,
suspiciously enough, as if it had been made for her, Mary noticed, looking at
her reflection in the glass. The bodice wanted neither more nor less than she
had to fill it, and the plain lines of the skirt displayed her trim figure to
some advantage. It was not altogether unbecoming, when she assessed the picture
before her rationally. The fabric itself was… cheerful, she decided. Only the
application was questionable. But then, for all she knew, this
was
the
latest fashion. At all events, it was much to be preferred to the brazen red
one.

Hutchens
expertly styled Mary’s hair in a simple twist at the back of her head. Pleased,
Mary thanked the maid and rose to go. It was time. She pinched a little color
into cheeks white with fear, pulled on a pair of long gloves, straightened
herself, and made her way downstairs to face her fate.

The footman
Clinton was standing at his post in the front hall when Mary descended the
stairs. “Well, what have we got here?” he said, taking in the view. “La! If it
ain’t the governess masqueradin’ as a fine lady.”

Mr. Farnsworth,
just then emerging from the passageway, heard the comment. “That will be
enough, Clinton. Please remember that tonight Miss Bennet is my guest at
dinner, and as such, she is due all the respect of any other guest in this
house. So I suggest you silence your uncivil tongue if you wish to keep your
position.”

Clinton had immediately snapped to attention. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” he said.

“Miss Bennet?”
said Mr. Farnsworth, offering her his arm.

“Yes, uh… good
evening, Mr. Farnsworth,” she said, resting her gloved hand lightly on his
sleeve with the greatest reluctance.

He steered her
toward the drawing room.

“Thank you,”
she said.

“What for?”

“For coming to
my rescue back there, with Clinton, I mean.”

“That? No
trouble at all.” He then looked sideways at Mary, frowning as he studied her
person. “Now, what the devil has that sister of mine got you wearing?”