The Pursuit of Mary Bennet (21 page)

Chapter 24

D
ays passed. Nobody turned us away on our morning calls or ceased calling on us. We continued to receive invitations to dinners, soirees, and garden parties. Indeed, nobody of our acquaintance treated us ill in any way whatsoever, or differently than they had in the past. We began to believe that Mrs. Ashton had abandoned her plan, or that her husband had forbidden it.

Mr. Walsh did not call on us, and whenever my thoughts drifted to him, I busied myself with the children, who were completely entranced with a new litter of spaniel puppies. The twins had to be closely watched when they played with the pups, as they were wont to think of them as toys. I was certain one or more of them would be smuggled into the house before long.

Otherwise, I was occupied with flower arranging and gossiping with my sisters while we worked. Jane was painting a fireplace screen, while Elizabeth applied herself to decorating a tea caddy. I didn’t walk unless in the company of one of them, and I’d curtailed my reading. To protect my heart, I did not engage in anything that would allow me, in an unguarded moment, to imagine a life with Henry Walsh.

I continued to feel a nagging worry about the lack of news from Longbourn.

One evening on my way to join Jane and Elizabeth after dinner, I wheeled around the corner and nearly stumbled right into a tall, disheveled man. He looked up and removed his beaver hat.

“Mr. Wickham!” I said, narrowing my eyes. I was none too happy to see the man whose conduct was the cause of so much pain for my family. “What are you doing here?”

“Why, Mary! You’ve grown up since I last had the pleasure of seeing you.” His eyes roved up and down my body in an exceptionally rude way, and I felt myself coloring. Unfortunately, he had turned into a rather dissolute-looking ne’er-do-well. What had formerly been a handsome countenance had hardened, especially around his eyes and mouth.

When I didn’t reply, he went on. “Would you be so kind as to take me to Bingley? I have a matter of some importance to discuss with him.”

“How did you get in? Why were you not announced?”

“Please, my dear Mary, let’s not quibble. I simply walked in. I am part of the family, am I not?”

As much as the old mare, but we don’t
let her in the house.
I looked askance at my brother-in-law, turned on my heel, and bade him to follow me. He would be surprised—and put out—to find Mr. Darcy here to greet him as well.

I led him to the dining room, where the men were drinking their port and smoking cheroots. After knocking lightly at the door, I stuck my head in and said, “Charles. Please forgive me for interrupting you, but we . . . you have a visitor.”

“Oh,” Charles said. “Is it Walsh?”

I shook my head and swung the door wide. Wickham stepped through. I backed quickly out of the room, but not before I heard Mr. Darcy utter a curse, and Charles say more directly, “Good God! You!”

Leaving the door slightly ajar, I raced down the hallway toward the sitting room and my sisters. Breathlessly, I stood at the threshold and said, “Jane, Lizzy, come.”

I must have looked frightened, or perhaps frightening, because they both jumped to their feet, Jane with a cry of “What is wrong, Mary?”

“Hurry! Wickham is here. I took him to the dining room. If we make haste, we can hear some of the conversation.”

“Wickham?” Jane said, looking confused. “Lydia’s Wickham?”

“Of course. What other Wickham is there? Now come, or we shall miss the whole business.”

None of us had any compunction about listening in. We were often not privy to discussions among the men. But I believe we all felt this one in particular was as much our business as theirs.

“Are you not even going to ask me to sit?” I heard Wickham say as we stepped gingerly toward the door.

“By God, man, we should by rights have you thrown out of here!” That was Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth gaped at us. I felt sure her husband seldom lost his temper.

“It’s all right, Darcy,” Charles said. “Perhaps it will be enlightening to hear what the man has to say. By all means, Wickham, be seated and pour yourself a glass of port.”

“Do you know I’ve been over half of England looking for you?” Mr. Darcy said.

I heard the clink of glass before Wickham answered. “I-I apologize for that. It could not be helped. You would only have demanded I return to my wife, and I was not willing to do that.”

Charles spoke now. “Have you changed your mind, then? Is that why you’re here?”

A forced laugh from Wickham. “No. I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

“Do you not even ask after your wife and child?” Mr. Darcy asked.

On cue, Wickham said, “How do they get on?”

“Tolerably well. You have a daughter.”

“So I heard. But the child is not mine, you know.”

“How can you be sure?” Charles asked.

“Because Lydia and I stopped having relations soon after we were married. Oh, she wanted me badly enough before, but after we were wed, she denied me at the least provocation. I was forced to seek my pleasure elsewhere.”

Lizzy’s eyes widened and Jane’s face flushed with mortification. And me? It was difficult not to laugh. I knew they were both thinking how dreadful it was for their unmarried, innocent sister, that she had to hear about Wickham and Lydia’s intimate dealings, as well as his affairs. But it was only what we already knew, or had guessed, and it no longer embarrassed me. Besides, one heard things by the time she had reached two-and-twenty years.

“Even if you and your wife wished to live apart eventually,” Mr. Darcy was saying, “it would be no hardship to remain together for a year or more, to quiet the gossip now circulating. It would be cruel to allow things to stand as they do at present.”

“Announce to the world I am the child’s father,” Wickham said, “it makes no difference to me. But I will never live with Lydia again. Indeed, one of the reasons I came here tonight was to tell you of my plans. I depart for the Continent tomorrow morning.”

A silence ensued, during which my sisters and I gaped at one another in astonishment.

“I have creditors, you see. More than I could ever hope to settle with, and I do not think debtor’s prison would suit me.”

“If you think—”

“Never mind, Darcy, even I would not be so crass as to ask you for more cash. But I did hope I might have a loan from Bingley, just enough to help me settle in France.”

“If we may be rid of you once and for all, I shall gladly loan—give—you the money,” Charles said. “But before you leave here tonight, I would have you sign a document attesting to your paternity of Felicity.”

“Gladly.”

Fearing the men were about to make their way to Charles’s study, Jane, Lizzy, and I began tiptoeing down the hall. But Wickham resumed speaking.

“I regret everything, you know,” he said in a voice so low I had to strain to hear him. “I never meant for things with Lydia to end in such a way. She is not the easiest of women to live with.”

“We heard you were seeking a divorce,” Charles said.

“No longer. Miss Bradford, the lady I left my wife for, has cast me off.” A bitter laugh tore out of him. “Her sister, a shrew of the first order, somehow learned about some of my more blatant sins and revealed all.”

Jane, Lizzy, and I widened our eyes at one another. We were all thinking the same thing:
Amanda Ashton.

“Perhaps the fact that you lied about being related to me entered into her decision,” Mr. Darcy said. “One can understand why she would not be so taken with a man who has the wealth of a pauper.”

Wickham made no response.

“As matters stand,” said Charles, “you have hurt the whole Bennet family, our wives included. And this scandal has lessened the chance for Mary to make a decent match.”

Jane tugged on my hand, and in silent agreement, the three of us hurried back to the sitting room before we could be caught eavesdropping. As on another night when we had all been uncommonly vexed, Jane poured a glass of sherry for each of us. We sipped in silence, at last hearing the low rumble of male voices, hurried boot steps, and the door opening and closing. In another minute, the men were with us.

We contrived to appear innocent, but they were not fooled. When Charles had poured each of them a finger of brandy, he and Mr. Darcy stood silently watching us. Lizzy sipped her sherry; I had placed mine on a table and now rested with my hands folded in my lap, eyes cast down. But Jane allowed a small giggle to burst out. She tried to pretend it was a cough, but to no avail.

“You are incorrigible,” Charles said, staring at us. “Did you truly believe we did not hear you lurking about in the hall, and glimpse you through the crack in the door?”

Mr. Darcy shook his head. “Just like their mother.”

He must have known this was the one comment to raise the ire of all three of us. While Jane and I merely glared at him, Elizabeth spoke up. “Husband, you wound us. When Mary told us Wickham was here, we could hardly be expected to sit quietly by! It is our sister the man has treated so ill.”

“Apologies, my dear,” he said, “but some of that conversation was not fit for a lady’s ears. Especially not an unmarried lady.” He directed his gaze toward me.

“Sir, everything Wickham discussed we already knew. The chief of it, anyway. And although I appreciate your concern for my tender sensibilities, I am no schoolgirl,” I said.

Mr. Darcy snorted, a sound I had never heard from him before.

“What about the document?” Jane asked, easing the tension somewhat.

“I wrote it, Wickham signed it, and Darcy witnessed it,” Charles said.

Nobody mentioned the money, or asked how much Charles had given him, although I was sure Jane would pry the information out of him later.

“At least now, if needed, we can quash the doubts about whether or not he is Fee’s father,” Jane said. “And Amanda Ashton, having succeeded in separating her sister from Wickham, will have no cause to spread her stories around.”

“Legally, I believe the document he signed will hold up,” Mr. Darcy said. “Unfortunately, the man has no money and will never be in a position to offer any pecuniary assistance to your sister.”

“One never knows about Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth said. “He may turn up wealthy one day. In the event, Lydia will have her proof of his paternity.”

Mr. Darcy’s eyes sought Elizabeth’s. I noticed she would not return his gaze. I had the feeling he would pay for his remark about our being like Mama, even though in her heart she could not believe he truly meant it.

Chapter 25

D
uring breakfast the next morning, disaster struck. At least, I would always think of it that way. We all heard a rider approaching, and I couldn’t have been the only one wondering what else could befall us.

Simms came to Charles and handed him a white folded paper, discreetly withdrawing.

“What is it?” Jane asked. “I recognize Papa’s hand.”

So had I. My stomach immediately protested any further ingestion of food, and I grasped Elizabeth’s hand.

“Allow me a moment, my dear.” Charles studied the missive, then said, “This is bad news indeed. If you’re all agreed, I shall read it to you.”

We nodded our assent, and he began.

22 August

Longbourn

Dear Charles,

I am sorry to have to impart shocking and disturbing news for all of you. Lydia has run off with her lover. Her note says they are taking ship to America, where no one will know them and they can pose as a married couple.

She begs us not to try to stop her. But for Felicity, I would be inclined to let her go. Lydia’s lot here is bleak, since her husband shows no sign of wishing to reunite with her. When news of her situation gets out, as these things always do, it will be the ruin of her and may prevent Mary making a match. Perhaps we should let her go and be done with it. It is said about America, nobody takes much note of one’s social standing, nor inquires too closely as to one’s identity.

She did not tell us by what route they will travel to the coast, nor from which port they intend to embark. It would be Portsmouth or Bristol.

Since Mary left us for High Tor, Lydia has shown a marked improvement in her care of little Felicity, even seeming to have grown quite attached to the child. Another reason to let matters lie.

Please inform me immediately as to your opinion on the matter. Mrs. Bennet is inconsolable, as you must imagine, and desires us to go after Lydia and Felicity. I will await your instructions.

Charles frowned. “That’s the end of it.”

A hush prevailed. Then everybody began to talk at once. Except for me. I had no words, and even if I had, I couldn’t have spoken over the ache in my throat. I rose, felt the room swirl about me, and dropped back into my chair.

“We must go after them!” That was Jane.

“I agree with your father,” said Mr. Darcy. “This may be the most favorable conclusion to Lydia’s problems.”

Lizzy glanced at her husband, then at me. “But Felicity . . .” she said, and now everybody’s eyes swung toward me. “Oh, Mary, you are so pale!”

“Get her some wine!” someone said.

Jane had grasped my hands and was massaging my fingers furiously. Lizzy ran toward me waving a fan, with Charles close behind brandishing a glass of claret. If the situation hadn’t been so exceedingly dreadful, I would have laughed.

I found my voice at last. “No! I don’t want the wine, or anything else, thank you.” Lizzy began to wave the fan before my face. “I am not going to swoon,” I said. “Do stop.” My voice, though shaky, sounded calm and reasonable. “I think we must make an attempt to go after them.” Apparently I shocked them all with the expression of my opinion. It seemed a long while before anyone broke the silence.

“Let’s go into the drawing room,” Jane said. This time I rose more slowly and somehow moved myself from one place to the other. It helped that Mr. Darcy’s reassuring hand held my elbow.

As soon as I was seated, Charles came over and knelt beside me. “We must ask ourselves what we would accomplish by tracking them down. What good would come of it?”

“I fancy she took Fee with her because she had no choice. Because I wasn’t there. We must make certain she and—blast! Doesn’t the man have a name?—her friend truly want Felicity, wish to raise her and be everything a parent should.” I rubbed the heel of my hand over my forehead and squeezed my eyes shut momentarily.

Charles remained where he was for a minute longer, pressed my hand gently, then moved to stand by Mr. Darcy.

Jane said, “Mary, there is no way to determine whether someone will make a good job of parenthood. We would only have their word, at best.”

“In any case, we can’t force Lydia to give up her child,” Mr. Darcy said. “Captain Mason may claim paternity, which would complicate matters.”

“But we have Wickham’s sworn statement that he is the father,” I said. “Couldn’t we use that in some way?”

“Wickham would not fight for custody of Felicity, Mary. You know he would not,” Lizzy said softly.

I couldn’t argue with that. So Captain Mason was the name of Lydia’s friend
.
Mr. Darcy would know, since he had met with the man when he was in Newcastle trying to locate Wickham. “I cannot disagree with what you are saying.” I swept my eyes over all of them. “And yet I can’t help believing one of us should look Lydia in the eye and demand to know if this is what she truly desires. We must convince her nobody would judge her harshly if she decided to leave Fee with us.”

“Mary has a point,” Elizabeth said. “Lydia may be having second thoughts, especially if the captain isn’t particularly interested in raising a child. We should let her know we’re willing to keep Felicity with us.”

“Was there no warning, nothing in Lydia’s behavior that would have made you suspicious, Mary?” asked Mr. Darcy.

“I was aware she’d had letters—she even told me to mind my own business when I inquired about one. But nothing led me to suspect she was planning something like this.”
But it should have.
I remembered the letter she’d hidden in the folds of her dress in the breakfast room, and the one she’d stuffed inside the pages of
The Lady’s Magazine
when I entered her chamber. And a few other letters. I should have confronted her, demanded she reveal who the sender was. Papa knew, too, but chose to do nothing, despite his threats to Lydia that he would confiscate further communication from the man. We had both been remiss in not pursuing the matter.

Charles and Mr. Darcy spoke in muted tones to each other for a few minutes while Jane, Lizzy, and I pondered the circumstances.

“How could she?” asked Jane. “After all her other misdeeds . . .”

“I don’t blame her for wanting to escape her situation,” I said. My sisters looked at me in surprise. “What hope had she for the future, after all? Exile from polite society, living at Longbourn until Papa dies. And then what? That kind of life would not suit Lydia. No, I don’t blame her for wanting something more. But I cannot forgive her for taking Felicity with her.”

Elizabeth lifted a brow at me.

“I know, you warned me something like this could happen. Your prescience is impressive, Lizzy, but hardly comforting.”

“Oh, dearest, forgive me,” she said, immediately contrite. “Perhaps we should look on the good side. Papa mentioned Lydia had shown a much greater interest in Felicity after you left.”

“How could she have changed so radically in only a month?” I asked, skeptical.

“Ladies, we have a plan,” Charles said, interrupting our discussion. “Darcy and I will take the post road to Bristol. We’ll enlist Walsh and Carstairs to ride to Portsmouth. If we set out immediately, we have a fair chance of catching up with them before their departure for America.”

“Wait,” I said. “Each of you should ride with one of the other gentlemen. Someone who knows Lydia well must be the one to confront her. She would be much less inclined to hand Felicity over to two men she barely knows.”

“I agree,” Lizzy said.

Mr. Darcy nodded. “You’re right. And we must make haste. If we ride through the night, we can make up a good deal of time. With the baby, Lydia and Captain Mason will be forced to stop.”

“Are you sure Henry and Andrew will agree to this plan?” asked Jane.

“I’m sure of Henry,” Charles said. “He’ll do whatever he can with no questions asked, as I would for him. Andrew, because of his duties as vicar, may not be able to. If that is the case, either Darcy or I will ride alone.”

Jane said she would write to Papa and inform him of our decision. In due course, the men bade us good-bye and set off on their journey. Since I knew they were acting only for my sake, and Felicity’s, I thanked both my brothers most heartily for the loving concern which had guided their decision.

I
think I should return to Longbourn,” I told Jane and Elizabeth the next morning. We were taking a turn in the shrubbery walk. Anything to distract ourselves.

“Whatever for?” Jane asked. “Mama at her worst, Kitty preoccupied with planning her nuptials. I think you would run mad!”

“Because if Charles and Mr. Darcy are able to persuade Lydia to give up Felicity, wouldn’t they take her to Longbourn? Surely they wouldn’t make the long journey all the way here with the baby?”

“I don’t believe they know what they will do. Felicity is not yet weaned, and that could present a problem,” Jane said.

Lizzy’s brows drew together. “There are feeding bottles. On occasion, I’ve seen them used when the mother has died and there is no one to put the babe to breast. But I’ve no idea where they would get one.”

“We should have talked about all of this before they left!” I said.

“Mary, I beg you not to place too much hope in Felicity’s return,” Jane said, gently squeezing my arm. “However, if Lydia does give her up, they will find a way to feed her.”

I breathed out a long exhalation. “I suppose so.”

When we returned to the house, we had a letter from Kitty.

23 August

Longbourn

Dear Sisters,

As I am certain you must be curious about what has transpired, I am writing to tell you what little I know. I’m afraid it is not much more than Papa has already told you.

Lydia made her escape in the middle of the night, so quietly as not to have awakened anybody. We found her note late the next morning, when by eleven of the clock she had not appeared for breakfast and we had heard not a peep from Felicity.

The note contained nothing more than Papa has already imparted. It was quite serious in its tone; I would go so far as to say it was commanding. None of us here had any inkling of what she had planned, although Papa suspected she’d received some letters from the man with whom she had her liaison.

Mary, if it is of any comfort to you, Lydia, in the weeks since you left, seemed to fill her role as Fee’s mother with growing confidence and even satisfaction. Lydia and Mama spent many afternoons playing with her, laying her on the floor with some toys, and watching her with squeals of delight until she would grow sleepy.

Mama is bereft. She refuses to come out of her chamber. Even Lady Lucas and Aunt Philips cannot persuade her. Mary, she wishes you to return to Longbourn, but my advice is to prolong your visit to High Tor as long as possible. You all may be wondering what we are telling people. Unbelievable as it seems, we are telling the truth, for the most part. Laying the blame at Wickham’s door perhaps a bit more than is strictly fair, but since he has not claimed the child nor made any attempt to see Lydia and the baby, I don’t think it will matter. We are saying Lydia and Felicity have gone to America with a friend. People will think what they like; there is little we can do.

As for me, I miss all of you exceedingly. Especially a certain gentleman whose warm smile and laugh won my heart! The seamstress in Meryton is making my bride clothes, and I’m working mainly on embroidery of handkerchiefs, pillowcases, and the like. I am grateful I have only a month left before my wedding, as I do not know how much longer I can abide my mother’s complaints and Papa’s silent retreats to his library.

Yours,

Kitty

Jane looked at us, eyes sparkling. “That is undoubtedly the longest letter Kitty has ever written to any of us!”

Elizabeth laughed. “Yes, and she’s taking this all in her stride. They do not know about Wickham. We should inform them.”

Their words flowed around me, but I wasn’t listening. I snatched the letter from Jane’s hand and reread it. Tears stung my eyes because of all the things I’d missed. I’d chosen to come here, to High Tor, in the unfounded hope of making Henry Walsh love me. It should have been me sitting on the floor playing with Felicity. Not Lydia. Not Mama and Kitty. I was more her mother than anybody else. I brushed away the tears trickling down my cheeks. It wouldn’t do for Jane and Lizzy to see me crying.

And now that Henry would be further exposed to Lydia’s indiscretions, I had not the smallest hope of his affection. Indeed, since the day of the Ashtons’ visit, when Charles had told him everything, he’d kept his distance. Even though he had his own somewhat tarnished history, it was one thing for a man to father illegitimate offspring, quite another for a woman to commit adultery.

Lydia’s disgrace would have its most direct effect on me. I would be left with nothing. Kitty had mere weeks left at Longbourn, and Lydia had managed to flee as well. As for me, I would soon be returning home, taking up my role as spinster daughter caring for her aging parents, and doing her duty toward her sisters and their families whenever called upon.