by Leenie Brown
“Was the dancing master horrible? Did he smell funny and have rotten teeth?”
Mary laughed again. “No, he was a gentleman of about five and forty. He had a funny way of speaking for he was not born in England. He was very direct, but he was pleasant.”
“Did you dance with him?” asked Kitty.
“I did twice. The other times, I danced with Lord Rycroft, so the dancing master could help Miss Darcy through the new steps.”
Lydia’s sigh was wistful. “Lord Rycroft is handsome, is he not?”
“Most handsome,” said Kitty with a sigh.
Mary nodded. She could not deny that she found him attractive.
Lydia propped herself up on her elbows. “I have heard he is a rake.” There was excitement in her tone.
Mary shook her head. “He may have been, but he is not any longer. He is a very fine gentleman.”
Lydia pouted. “So, he did not try to kiss you?”
“Kiss me?” Mary cried in surprise. “Why ever should he do that?”
“Because he is a rake and that is what rakes do. They kiss ladies.”
“I told you,” said Mary in a rather stern voice, “he is not a rake. He did nothing improper.”
“Well, that is not at all amusing.”
“Impropriety is not amusing. It is dangerous. It can lead to your ruin and that of your family.”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “Did you go anywhere?”
“I went riding and to the museum. And there were a few trips to the modiste with Aunt and Lady Sophia. ”
“Lady Sophia. How I should love to have such a name.”
Mary shook her head at her sister’s wistful tone. “Perhaps if you learn to be proper, you might catch the eye of a peer.” She doubted that a peer would ever consider someone of their standing, but she knew the idea might induce her sister to at least attempt to learn propriety. She stood. “I should like a cup of tea before I retire.” She wished to end the discussion before she had to admit to being called on each day by Mr. Blackmoore. She had enjoyed his attentions, but she did not miss him, not like she did Georgiana or Lady Sophia or, the thought startled her, Lord Rycroft.
Chapter 8
The following day, Mary waited outside the milliner’s for her younger sisters to conclude their shopping. Shopping had never been a great pleasure of hers, but it was even less of one when her sisters squabbled over this lace and that ribbon. She drew in a deep breath of air and shivered. She prayed her sisters would be quick as she stamped her feet to warm them.
“Is there no room in the shop?”
Mary spun toward the familiar voice. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, what a delightful surprise! What brings you to Meryton?”
He shrugged. “My men.”
Mary blinked. “Your men? This regiment is your regiment?”
He nodded. “I do not quarter with them in the winter, but I do check on them sporadically. I may detest my profession, but I will not disgrace it, nor will I have it disgrace me.” His jaw was firmly set in displeasure.
“I fear some of the men have attempted to disgrace you?”
“No more than expected.” He looked toward the shop. “Why are you standing here instead of inside where it is warm?”
“My sisters,” said Mary with a sigh. “More precisely, Lydia. Kitty is not an issue, but Lydia lacks decorum. I came out here to find some peace.”
Richard laughed. “The busy street is more peaceful than a shop with your sister inside?”
Mary nodded slowly, a small smile on her lips. “You have not met Lydia. She can fill a village with noise even if she is the only one in it.” She could see her sisters moving toward the door as she spoke. “I do believe you are about to have the privilege.”
Richard continued to chuckle as the door to the shop opened, and two young ladies exited. One was tall and, despite what he guessed was her young age, womanly in appearance while the other had features that were fine and delicate. He bowed as the two came to stand beside Mary. He was certain he knew which one was Lydia, for the girl, since setting foot outside the shop, had not ceased her litany of descriptions of the embellishments she had purchased for her bonnet, and he understood why a busy street might be a source of peace for Mary.
“Lydia,” said Mary in a cajoling tone, “I am positively certain that you have made the most excellent choices in embellishments.” The young girl stopped talking and suddenly turned her attention to the officer standing with Mary.
Richard’s lips twitched as he tried to contain a smile at her flutter of lashes.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam, these are my sisters, Lydia, and Kitty…”
“Katherine,” said Kitty softly.
Mary gave her a questioning look but corrected herself. “My sisters Lydia and Katherine, whom we call Kitty. Kitty, Lydia, this is Mr. Darcy’s cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. It is his regiment that is quartered here for the winter.”
“Miss Katherine, Miss Lydia, it is a pleasure to meet you.” He tipped his head to each of them as they curtseyed.
“Your regiment.” There was awe in Lydia’s tone. “Mr. Darcy did not tell us that this was your regiment. Oh!” She covered her mouth with her fingers. “Wickham did not mention you either.”
“I imagine Lieutenant Wickham would rather forget me.” His lips curled wickedly.
“Why ever would he wish to forget you?”
“Lydia,” Mary scolded. She was certain the question had popped from Lydia’s mouth without an even minuscule amount of thought.
“It is a fair question, Miss Lydia.” He smiled at Mary, trying to reassure her that he was not in the least offended. “He has been assigned to my unit at my request. He owes me a particular debt of honour, one that I shall most easily see is paid with him under my charge.”
“Oh, my, a debt of honour?” Lydia’s hand rested on her heart, and for a moment, Mary thought she might swoon.
“His charms belie his character, Miss Lydia. I would be cautious in my dealings with him.” The smile had faded from his face and a hardness had appeared in its place. “He is particularly not to be trusted with pretty young ladies such as yourself.”
“He is a rake?”
Again Mary cringed at Lydia’s inappropriate comments.
Richard shook his head. “The word is too good for him. Deceiver, seducer, blackguard are all more fitting.”
Lydia’s eyes grew wide. “Indeed?” She looked at her sisters. “This is very shocking. He seemed so obliging.” She lifted her chin. “I for one shall not speak to him again, except perhaps to offer a greeting. It would be unspeakably rude not to at least greet him on meeting, would it not?” She turned her full attention on Mary.
“We should be kind even to our enemies,” Mary instructed. “Kindness does not mean turning a blind eye to their characters, however. You would do well to be cautious.”
Lydia nodded and spoke not a word. It was a reaction that surprised Mary. Lydia was not one to accept instruction so readily.
“We were about to walk home, Colonel. Did you wish to join us to meet our father?”
“I would indeed,” replied the Colonel offering her his arm. “I should like very much to meet him.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Mary tapped softly on the door to her father’s study and waited for his call before pushing open the door. “Papa, we have a guest.”
Her father peered over his spectacles at Colonel Fitzwilliam and motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. “I would stand to greet you, sir, but I fear if I did so, you may be required to pick me up off the floor when I toppled over.” There was a lightness to his voice and a twinkle in his eye.
“Papa,” scolded Mary. “You are not so ill as that.”
He chuckled. “No, but it did sound better than admitting I am too tired to stand.” He gave her a wink as she bent to kiss his cheek. “And who is your friend, Mary?”
“This is Colonel Fitzwilliam. It is his regiment which is stationed in Hertfordshire. He is Mr. Darcy’s c
ousin.” Mary stood beside her father as Richard stuck out his hand in greeting.
“Do you wish for tea, Papa?”
He tipped his head toward the cabinet on the right side of the study. “Port,” he said. “Will you join me, Colonel?”
Richard acknowledged he would, and Mary began pouring the drinks.
“Did you have much trouble making your way through my home while wearing such a fetching jacket?” Mr. Bennet tucked his blanket around his legs more tightly and leaned back in his chair. His book lay open on the desk in front of him.
“There was a bit of a flutter,” said Richard with a chuckle, accepting a glass from Mary with a nod of thanks.
“A red coat can be a distraction with the ladies.” Mr. Bennet smiled widely. “I spent a few years in one myself as many young men do. However, I cannot say I enjoyed it, aside from the attentions of the ladies and the opportunity to travel to another part of our great country.” He steepled his fingers on his chest and rested his chin on them. “It also kept me away from my cousin. I was not so fortunate as you, Colonel. My cousin lacked a great deal of sense.”
“I am fortunate in that way, I suppose,” replied Richard. “Speaking of my cousin, we expect his company at Netherfield this evening.”
Mr. Bennet grinned and took a sip of his drink. “Not one to be housed with your men?”
Richard shrugged. “Not when there is a more comfortable arrangement to be had.”
“Smart man,” said Mr. Bennet.
“Do you need anything else, Papa?” Mary asked.
“No, no. I am quite content. A good drink and a good conversation,” he lifted his glass and tipped it toward Richard, “what more could be required?”
“Then, I shall return to Mama and my sisters,” said Mary.
“Ah, she is a good girl,” she heard her father say as she closed the door. She stood for a moment in the hall, her head leaned against the wall and a smile on her face.
“Are you well?” asked Jane.
“He said I was a good girl,” Mary whispered.
“And you are,” said Jane.
“But he has never said so before.”
“You have not heard him say it,” said Jane, “but I have. He gives praise sparsely.”
“Save for you and Lizzy,” said Mary. Jane allowed it to be so but beyond her understanding. Mary noted the letters Jane held in her hand. “For Papa?”
“One is.” Jane held up the second letter. “This one is for you.”
“For me?” Mary took the letter. Her brows furrowed. “I do not recognize the hand.”
Jane waited impatiently as Mary broke the seal.
“Oh!” Mary’s eyes grew wide as she scanned the message for the signature. “It is from Mr. Blackmoore.” She folded it and handed it back to Jane. “I cannot accept this. It would be improper.”
“What did it say?” asked Jane.
“I did not read it. I should not have it.” Mary shook her head and wrapped her arms around her middle. A feeling of unease had begun to wash over her as she wondered if Mr. Blackmoore was another gentleman who would prove to have a character far less attractive than his features. “We are not betrothed. We are not even courting. He is merely a gentleman who is a friend and has called while I was in town. Give the letter to Papa, and please let him know that I did not read it. I cannot be forced to marry Mr. Blackmoore.”
“He seemed amiable,” said Jane.
“But a gentleman who writes a letter to a lady to whom he is not betrothed or courting shows very little care for the lady’s reputation. A marriage to such a man would be a misery, I am sure.” Tears had begun to slip down her cheeks.
“Come,” said Jane taking her by the hand and leading her into her father’s study. “Forgive me, Papa, for my intrusion, but it is a matter of some urgency.” She placed the letters on his desk and stood beside it with an arm around Mary’s shoulders.
Mr. Bennet picked up the letters and noted the one that was opened.
“I did not read it, Papa.” Mary’s voice quivered just a bit. “I only looked at the signature.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyebrows furrowed as he saw the signature. “Mr. Blackmoore?” He lifted his eyes to Mary. “Do you know a Mr. Blackmoore?”
Mary nodded. “He called on me at Lady Sophia’s house. He is a friend of Lord Rycroft.”
“Ah,” he placed the letter, unread, on the desk and picked up the second one. “I assume this is also from the gentleman.” He broke the seal. “Is there anything I should know about him before I read this?” He peered over his glasses at his daughter who shook her head.
“I have told you all there is to tell, but I shall not have him. I shall not be tied to a man who thinks so little of a lady’s reputation as to send her a letter without permission.”
“May I?” asked Richard. “I know we have just met, sir, but I would agree with Miss Mary’s conclusion.”
“You know him?” Mr. Bennet was unfolding the letter as he looked at Richard.
“Some, and what I know, while not utterly defamatory, is not flattering.”
Mr. Bennet nodded and began to read the letter. “I assume,” he said as he placed the letter on the desk, “that the one addressed to you is to ask you for a courtship. He has requested a meeting with myself if I should be agreeable.” He quickly skimmed the letter addressed to Mary. “He certainly writes a pretty letter.” He held it out to Mary, who shook her head in refusal. “So, am I agreeable to a meeting?”
“No, please, Papa.”
“Is anyone else aware of the letters?” he asked Jane.
“Hill, but no one else.”
“Very good, then, I shall consign them to the fire and write my refusal of the young man’s request.” He looked once again at Mary. “Is this what you wish?”
Her head bobbed up and down.
“Very well. It shall be done. Now, Jane, I think it best if you take Mary to her room and allow her to recover.” He raised a brow. “You must not let your mother know of this,” he cautioned.
“We shall take the servants’ stairs,” said Jane with a smile.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Lord Rycroft sat in the sitting room with his mother and Georgiana. A book lay open on his lap and his fingers drummed a steady pattern on it as he stared out the window. He had stopped at Brownlow’s house after his conversation with Darcy, but the man was out at a dinner party. He had left a message for Brownlow to call first thing in the morning. He checked the clock again and watched it for a moment to ensure that the hands were moving, for time seemed to be standing still.
“You seem anxious,” said his mother.
He gave her a small smile and lifted his brows as he tipped his head to the side and shrugged slightly. She knew it was his way of saying she was right, but he was not willing to speak of it.
“It is rather dull without Mary,” said Georgiana. “I wonder what she is doing. It must never be dull to live with so many sisters.”
“Sisters can be pleasant, but they can also pose problems,” cautioned her aunt. “I have asked Darcy to stop here on his way out of town this morning. Mary’s first ball gown has arrived, and she really must have it for the ball Bingley is planning.”
Georgiana sighed. “It is so beautiful. I do wish I could see her in it.”
“You will,” said her aunt, “just not now.”
Georgiana sighed once more and went back to her stitching.
Rycroft placed his book on the table and moved to the window. He wished he could see her in that gown as well. Georgiana was right. It was dull without Mary. He leaned against the window frame and fixed his gaze on the chair that Mary had occupied every morning for the past five days as she would stitch beside Georgiana. A sigh escaped him before he could catch it, drawing his mother’s attention and causing him to turn once again toward the street. Finally, he saw Brownlow mounting the steps to his front door.
He straightened both his jacket and his posture. “I should like to see Darcy when he
arrives,” he said to his mother. “I will be in my study with Brownlow.”
“Do you wish for tea?” asked his mother as he was about to exit the room.
“No, no. I have what we need.”
She raised a disapproving eyebrow.
“It is but a short meeting requiring only a small drink.” Her eyebrow lowered, but she still wore a scowl. “Truly, Mother.” He stepped into the hall. “Brownlow.” He motioned for his friend to follow him to his study.
“Your message sounded most urgent,” said Brownlow as he took a seat and nodded his acceptance of a drink Rycroft was about to pour.
“I had an enlightening conversation with Endicott about Blackmoore.” Rycroft handed a glass to his friend and turned to pour himself a glass. “What do you know of his keeping an actress in funds for gaming?”
Brownlow sipped his drink and glanced warily at Rycroft. Although the three of them, himself, Rycroft and Blackmoore, were known to have a good game with Endicott from time to time. Rycroft had always insisted on low stakes. Rycroft, the one friend everyone thought to be a notorious rake, was the most responsible of his lot. He refused to enter a gaming hell; he flirted with the ladies but rarely dallied beyond a few kisses; and he had only been truly foxed on a handful of occasions. It was why Brownlow had trusted him to play the part of suitor for his sister when the gentleman she favoured needed encouragement to step forward. “He was to end it before the beginning of the season.”
Rycroft sat behind his desk. “So it is true?”
“That he has taken up with an actress? Yes.” Brownlow swirled his drink, a sign he was not being forthcoming.
Rycroft placed his glass on the desk and leaned forward. “Endicott said that he had no intention of ending his relationship with this actress. In fact, according to Endicott, Blackmoore intends to marry a lady of sense and solid connections to appease his father and continue to keep the actress. Is this true?”
Brownlow nodded slowly.
Rycroft rose from his seat and paced to the window and back. “And Miss Mary is who he has chosen to pay such a price?” He leaned on the desk toward Brownlow. “No lady deserves such treatment.”