B00BKPAH8O EBOK

by Winslow, Shannon

  Observing her reaction, Mr. Farnsworth continued. “I see that the scheme is somewhat distasteful to you, Miss Bennet, and naturally I will not compel you to comply. You might consider it a favour, though, to me as much as to Grace.”

  “A favour to you, sir? How so?”

  “Well… more of a convenience, really. I am overdue for a report from you about the children’s progress, and you could give it to me along our way. Two birds, one stone, and all that. You must admit it is a fine day for riding.”

  He was correct on both counts, maddeningly so; the weather could not have been more obliging, and it would be an ideal opportunity to consult about the children. She could not even beg off because of her dress, for the gown she wore was as serviceable as any summer riding habit. Besides, Mary told herself, it was a chance to brush up on her skills, so that she might be in better form for another day and for that other, more pleasant riding partner.

  “Very well, then,” she said presently. “I will go if you wish it, although I must warn you that I am woefully out of practice.”

  “Never mind about that. We shall find you an accommodating mount and set a gentle pace.” Mr. Farnsworth turned to the groom and gave orders as to which horse should be saddled for her. Then, eyeing his restless son, he told Mary, “Wait here with the girls, whilst Michael and I take a quick turn down the lane and back. Then we can all set off together.”

  Father and son climbed aboard their respective mounts – the man on a powerfully built bay and the boy on an appropriately sized pony. Michael used his crop to urge the pony into first a trot and then a reluctant canter, with his father matching his pace by his side.

  Watching them ride off, Mary could feel her own excitement building for this next adventure. She only hoped she would not be sorry for agreeing to it.

  17

  Taken for a Ride

  Mary was sorry almost immediately. The horse Mr. Farnsworth had assigned her – a little chestnut mare with a blaze of white like a thunderbolt down its face – was of lady-like proportions, and yet not of as placid a temperament as she might have hoped. The jaunty spring in the mare’s step made it impossible for Mary to settle quietly into her seat at first, and a full mile passed by before horse and rider could agree upon who was in charge.

  The only comfort was that Mr. Farnsworth took no notice of her struggle. Although he kept a watchful eye on the children, giving them occasional instructions or corrections, he all but ignored her as she battled along behind. Only when they were well down the road did he seem to remember that he also had the governess in tow.

  Dropping back to join her, he asked, “How are you getting on with Arielle, Miss Bennet? I trust she is not too much for you to manage.”

  “I can manage, Mr. Farnsworth, although she is not so docile as you implied she would be.”

  “I said accommodating, if you remember, which is not necessarily the same thing. Would you rather be plodding along on an old nag who can barely put one foot in front of the other? Surely not! You have a bonny little mare here in Arielle, and now that you have mastered her, she will serve you well ever after.”

  “Ever after? I had not supposed I would be riding again anytime soon.”

  “That will depend largely upon you, I should think. Arielle is yours to command. I have no objection to your riding as often as you choose, with the children or on your own time. If I am unavailable, then a groom can escort you.”

  “That is very generous, Mr. Farnsworth, but quite irregular. A governess does not expect such privileges.”

  His face dropped into a scowl. “I care not a fig what is expected! I suppose I may do as I like with what belongs to me.”

  Did he mean his horses or his employees, Mary wondered. Probably both, which would make the gesture more about control than kindness. Either way, it opened possibilities. Perhaps when Mr. Tristan returned, they could have their ride together after all. That was something well worth looking forward to.

  “Now, tell me how the children do with their studies,” Mr. Farnsworth continued.

  Gwendolyn had taken the point, with Michael and Grace following behind her in single file. Mary and Mr. Farnsworth now brought up the rear, riding side by side at a walking pace, making for comfortable conversation. The road was not a heavily traveled one, so they rarely met another soul along the way.

  Since there was nothing of major significance, bad or good, to report, Mary kept her account of the children brief. Mr. Farnsworth seemed satisfied and soon enough moved on to a new topic. “So your amiable cousin has been some time in Derbyshire by now. That must be a great loss to your family, Miss Bennet.”

  “A loss to one part of my family and a gain to another. He is staying with my elder sister and in company with my younger, you know.”

  “Yes, when I heard where he was bound, I half expected you would ask to be one of the party. In all the time you have been in my employ, Miss Bennet, I can only recall you visiting your relations in the north twice. Have you no particular affection for them?”

  “On the contrary, but I take my responsibilities to Netherfield very seriously. My time is not my own. As for making use of Mr. Tristan Collins’s trip just now, I would not have presumed to ask for several weeks’ leave only six months after abandoning my post when my father died.”

  “Several weeks, no, although perhaps two might have been arranged – might still be arranged.”

  “Forgive me, but how can that be?”

  “I have a sister-in-law who resides in Stafford, the children’s aunt on my late wife’s side: Julia Bancroft. You must remember her. At all events, she has written me repeatedly, asking that the girls should come for a visit. I cannot take time away from my business to go myself. However, it does occur to me that you might. What if you were to see them safe to Staffordshire? Then, whilst Grace and Gwendolyn have a week with their aunt, you could take the carriage on from there to visit your own relations, collecting the girls again on the return. I would of course send a maid and manservant to accompany you. You would be quite safe, Miss Bennet.”

  “And what of Michael, sir? What is to become of him whilst I am away?”

  Mr. Farnsworth narrowed his eyes at her. “You flatter yourself, Miss Bennet. I expect that – between myself, the nursery maids, Mrs. Brand, and my sister – we shall be able to fill the gaping void left by your absence.”

  Mary felt her cheeks begin to flame. “Of course. There can be no doubt of it,” she mumbled.

  “Then what do you say? Would you be interested in such an undertaking?”

  Mary fought to regain her composure. Presently, she said, “Perhaps, and yet your proposal has taken me completely by surprise, Mr. Farnsworth. Might I not have a day or two to think it through before giving you my answer?”

  “Very well, but it seems a perfect plan to me, benefiting one and all.”

  With a cluck of his tongue, Mr. Farnsworth sent his mount dancing obediently ahead, where he settled into the lead beside Gwendolyn. Mary did likewise, drawing abreast of Grace. Minute by minute, her confidence on Arielle grew, as did her satisfaction at having a mount with some life in her. Mr. Farnsworth had been right about that. A brief period of uneasiness, whilst earning the spirited mare’s respect, was a small price to pay for all the hours of enjoyment that might then result.

  They followed the road all the way to Kirkfield, and then headed home by another route – down trails and skirting farmers’ fields – for the sake of variety. Once back inside Netherfield Park, Mr. Farnsworth set them all off on a final run for the stables. Starting from well behind, he then shot past them at a full gallop to arrive first.

  Mary rounded the last turn with the children just in time to see the master drop neatly from the saddle and hand the reins over to a groom. He then helped his three children dismount, and lastly Mary. With his hands secure about her waist, he eased her to the ground only inches in front of him, being sure she had her balance before releasing his hold and stepping back. Had the servic
e been rendered her by a nameless groom, Mary would have thought nothing of it. Coming from her employer, however, it seemed a singularly personal act.

  “Come children,” she said hastily. “Thank your father, and then back to the house to get cleaned up.”

  “Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Farnsworth. “You will think about my proposal, won’t you?”

  “Sorry, what?”

  “About taking the girls to visit their aunt in Staffordshire.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. I shall give the idea my immediate attention.” With that, Mary turned and followed the children back toward the house.

  They used the servants’ entrance due to their disheveled appearance, and were met by Mrs. Brand. “Good heavens,” she exclaimed. “What have we here? I declare, it must be a pack of beggar children come to my door for a crust of bread and a drink of water.”

  “No, Mrs. Brand! It is me, Michael,” said the boy.

  “Well so it is!” she said. “I did not recognize you, my lad, beneath all that dirt. Upstairs with you now, and the next time I see you, you had better look like a gentleman again instead of a ragamuffin. And you young ladies look near as bad. Off you go, then. Miss Bennet, you too?”

  “Yes, me too, I am afraid.”

  “Well, you may be dusty from head to foot, but there are roses in your cheeks. So I daresay the air and exercise has done you more good than harm. Oh, and the post come whilst you were out. You shall find a letter waiting for you in your room.”

  “Thank you Mrs. Brand.”

  They all traipsed up two flights of back stairs and dispersed to their separate apartments. Although the children would have help with their toilette, Mary preferred to cope on her own. After washing and changing to a fresh but identical gown, she found her letter and settled into the chair by the window.

  The hand on the direction was unmistakably Kitty’s, and the missive bore the distinctive Pemberley seal. Mary broke it open at once and read.

  My Dear Mary,

  You must be in a state of mighty curiosity about how things go on here at Pemberley. First, I will tell you that we are all very well. With Elizabeth’s little boys to entertain, I have not had one minute to become bored, even before the arrival of our charming cousin, and certainly not since.

  I must say, Mary, that you have some very strange ideas about Mr. Tristan and about me, as you expressed them in your letter, saying that we surely would not like each other. You could hardly have been more wrong. He clearly likes me well enough, and I could not be more delighted with him. So, at last we have found one subject upon which you and I can agree.

  Here is the only thing that gives me a little uneasiness. I am the one who told you to make yourself agreeable to our cousin, and now I am hoping you will not mind if I take over that office. I know Mr. Tristan has the highest opinion in the world of you, for he looks upon you quite as his own sister, and he mentions you with the greatest fondness. I trust, however, that it is on your side the same as it seems to be on his: only friendship.

  You will think me very silly for how I have so quickly given up all my former prejudices, but I now think hearing myself called ‘Mrs. Collins’ might be an excellent thing indeed. I believe there is a real chance that I could end as mistress of Longbourn after all!

  Have I shocked you, dear Mary? If so, I hope you will soon forgive and be happy for me. Pray, write to assure me that I have your blessing, for it may be still two weeks till I am come back to Longbourn.

  Yours, etc.

  Kitty

  For Mary, a knife to her heart could not possibly have been more painful, although this missive seemed to her more like a stab in the back for the added element of betrayal in it. An unfamiliar rage welled up inside Mary. To think, her own sister had set herself up as a rival in the contest for Tristan’s affection!

  Or perhaps there was no contest at all. Perhaps she had only been deceiving herself when she thought her cousin admired her. As his own sister… only friendship. If these were truly his sentiments, then the battle might be lost already.

  In any case, there was no time to lose. Before it was irrevocably too late, she must get herself to Derbyshire and see what, if anything, could be done. She darted from her chair, silently blessing Mr. Farnsworth for providing her the means to go. She would find her employer and, without revealing the real reason for it, accept his proposal at once.

  18

  Go North

  With the weight of Mr. Farnsworth’s support to expedite the arrangements, things were presently in line for an early departure. An express was immediately sent off to the aunt in Staffordshire, and two more to Jane and Elizabeth, to advise them that they were to expect guests. The trunks were soon packed and the necessary servants assigned for the journey. So on the morning of the second day, Gwendolyn and Grace were waving to their father as the coach pulled away, with their governess, a footman, two maids, a groom, and a coachman to accompany them.

  As the crowded equipage moved ahead along the gravel sweep, Mary looked back at Netherfield’s stately façade – and at her employer – with some sadness. For whatever the outcome of this expedition to the north, things would be altered when she returned. If she found that Mr. Collins did indeed care for her, her days as Netherfield’s governess would be numbered. If he did not, it was her contentment with the position that she feared would be impossible to long sustain. Having once allowed herself to think of a wider happiness, the confines of a schoolroom would seem intolerable.

  The hope she clung to – and it seemed a very reasonable one – was that Kitty might have misinterpreted their cousin’s exceptional amiability as special regard. Of course, as Mary’s logical mind told her, it was just as likely that she herself had been the one to fall into that error. When she saw Kitty and her cousin together, how they were with each other, she would know, but not before.

  Gwendolyn and Grace were both in the merriest of humors as they set off, delighted with the prospect of new places to see and their favourite aunt to visit. They chattered almost incessantly about the views along the way and about their varied schemes for once they arrived. There would be a pair of rarely seen Bancroft cousins to entertain them, and a lake for boating. These were sure to make for hours of novelty and delight.

  Mary could not join wholeheartedly in their high-spirited banter, but neither would she throw cold water on their pleasure by giving way to her own distress. She kept her feelings to herself, as she was so practiced at doing, and kept her mind as much as possible engaged with her current duties, rather than dwelling on what fate might await her in Derbyshire.

  The coachman knew the route and had exacting instructions from the master about which inns to patronize along the way. Mary, however, had charge of the purse and of the girls, and she felt the responsibility most keenly. She felt the compliment that it represented as well. Mr. Farnsworth had placed his trust in her and, regardless of whatever else might come of this trip, she intended to prove herself worthy.

  By the middle of the second day, even the enthusiasm of the young was flagging under the unfriendly elements of heat, dust, and constant jostling. It took the coachman’s announcement that they had reached the town of Stafford to revive the weary travelers, who were then, after one last change of horses, obliged to press on the little distance that remained to their destination.

  At Bancroft Hall, the girls were greeted like royalty by their aunt, and the needs of all the others attended to as well. Mary planned to remain only long enough to take some refreshment and see that her charges were comfortably settled before resuming her journey. The girls did not make it easy for her to depart, however, suddenly growing shy of their cousins and desirous of clinging to their governess’s familiar presence. On the front steps, Mary briefly embraced each of them.

  “Once I am out of sight, I daresay you will forget all about me for the fun you have in store with your cousins,” she told them. “Your aunt is a very kind lady. Annie will be staying on with you here. And I shall retu
rn to collect you in a week’s time, so there is nothing whatever to fear.”

  At that, she straightened herself and raised her chin with a tap of her fingers, demonstrating by her own posture what she expected from them. Then, with a last encouraging smile, Mary turned away and climbed into the carriage. She resisted the temptation to look back over her shoulder, to watch the diminutive figures on the front porch dwindle smaller and smaller till they faded from view altogether. A clean break would be easiest, and whatever happened next, she would see them again in a week.

  “Not long now,” she told Judy, the remaining maid, simply for something to say. “We shall break for the night at Heatheridge, with my sister Mrs. Bingley and her husband, before continuing on into Derbyshire.”

  “Very good, Miss,” answered Judy.

  Then they fell into a protracted silence, with only the noise of the road to fill the air between them. Mary would have much rather been alone, but Mr. Farnsworth had insisted on sending the second maid so that she would not be unaccompanied on the last leg of her journey. At least Judy, whom she barely knew, did not seem the chatty sort – not like Betsy at Longbourn. Mary was able to retreat unmolested to the privacy of her own thoughts.

  An endless sea of green bounced and rolled along outside her window. It was beautiful country, especially with the trees dressed out in their summer finery. When she had last come this way, more than two years past, the bare bleakness of the December day had not shown the place off to best advantage. Yet it had been a happier occasion.

  They had spent a very enjoyable Christmas, the whole family at Pemberley, not knowing it would be for the last time with all of them together. Darcy and Elizabeth had been the consummate host and hostess. Jane fairly glowed to be surrounded by all her loved ones, with her husband by her side. Papa – quite in his element – had made sardonic jokes at the expense of his two sons-in-law, tickled his six grandchildren silly, and savored every luxury Pemberley had to offer. Even Mama had set aside her customary frets and Lydia most of her mischief to be content for that brief season of delight.