B00BKPAH8O EBOK

by Winslow, Shannon

  She thought of making some excuse. The note was phrased just loosely enough that, coming from some other man, it might be interpreted as a request instead of a command. But Mr. Farnsworth, she reminded herself, did not make suggestions; he gave orders, and he was accustomed to having them obeyed as if he were still a captain in the Navy. In the end, Mary decided it would draw less attention to herself, and therefore less discomfort, if she simply did what was expected of her. With the children along, it seemed unlikely that she would be forced into any awkward conversations similar to the one the other night.

  Michael was always eager for a ride, especially with his father. Grace was happy because Mary was going too. This time it was Gwendolyn who complained, preferring to stay behind in the company of her poetry, but she was also aware how futile attempting to cry off would be. So, Mary and her charges dutifully donned their riding clothes and assembled at the stables by the appointed time. Their five horses were saddled and waiting as well. Instead of Mr. Farnsworth coming, however, at ten minutes after the hour another note from him arrived. It was directed to the governess in his bold, careless hand.

  Miss Bennet,

  I have just this minute received an urgent message, summoning me to town on business that cannot be postponed. Please instruct that someone should bring my horse round to the front of the house at once. You and the children must continue on as planned, taking a groom along for safety’s sake. My disappointment at not being able to join you on this occasion is only assuaged by the thought that we shall keep our appointment another time. You shall ride with me again, Miss Bennet. H.F.

  Mary’s thoughts upon reading the brief missive were all in celebration of her reprieve. That Mr. Farnsworth should be taken off at the very moment when she expected to have to see him again, and that he should in all probability be kept away from Netherfield for several days following, could be nothing other than the sweetest stroke of good fortune.

  Michael was all disappointment, however, and the quality of this second ride suffered undeniably for his father’s absence. Mary could not fill Mr. Farnsworth’s place for leading the expedition; she did not know the best routes to take, nor did she possess his knack for making discoveries round every corner and behind every hedge. Even the horses seemed to sense the difference – that nothing remarkable would be required of them that day – and they settled into a plodding pace from which no amount of coaxing could dislodge them. The result was a calmer albeit far less interesting afternoon.

  If Friday failed to supply its full measure of stimulation, Sunday more than made up for it. Mary arrived at Longbourn church that morning, fifteen minutes before the commencement of the service, to find the gathered congregation a-hum with news of strangers in their midst. Mrs. Bennet, who was no doubt the source of these reports, quickly provided her daughter with all the necessary information as well.

  “Friends of Mr. Collins from America!” she told Mary. “A brother and sister by the name of Beam – Mr. Calvin and Miss Polly Beam. Perhaps you have heard your cousin speak of them. They took a notion to follow Mr. Collins here to England, and so they have! They are both this minute at Longbourn with him, drinking tea and sitting in our front parlor. What do you think of that, Mary?”

  “This is most surprising. I do remember Mr. Collins speaking of some particular friends in Virginia – neighbors also, they were. But what could have possessed them to travel so far to see him again so soon?”

  “That is the very question I would wish to ask them myself – that and how long they intend to stay – although I should hope that I know better than to do so. It might be indelicate in my position for me to make such inquiries, and yet I cannot help wishing Mr. Tristan Collins would.”

  “I suppose he must be pleased to see his friends.”

  “I daresay he is, although I believe he was as surprised as anyone else that they had come. Nevertheless, we have made room for them, and you shall meet them for yourself after church. They declined my invitation to come along this morning – which I must say vexed me greatly – claiming to be too tired from their travels. I suppose I shall have to be content to wait until tomorrow to introduce them to our local society. We are all bidden to your aunt Phillips’s house then for supper and cards. Everybody’s curiosity will have been vastly increased by suspense, I daresay, so I can at least think of that whilst I am waiting.”

  “Really, Mama! Are they such oddities that people will throng to get a look at them?”

  “They are Americans, Mary, born and bred! Not simply English returned to their native country like your cousin.”

  “Do you mean to say that they are red Indians, Mama?”

  “Certainly not! Do you suppose I would stay two minutes, let alone two days, in the same house as bloodthirsty savages who are as likely to slit my throat as look at me? Good gracious, no. Their father was English right enough; so I understand. No doubt he saw to it they were raised to have some manners, but still I shudder to think what must have been lacking in their upbringing. Their mother came from France, after all, which may account for Miss Beam’s looks as well as the airs she takes on, as if she imagines herself a very fine lady instead of the next thing to a heathen. And her coming just now, before your sister has had a chance to secure Mr. Collins, is very unlucky. I do not like the way Miss Beam looks at him, not one bit. Kitty had better watch out for that one, and so I have told her!” It was then time to go in, so Mrs. Bennet was forced to leave off her tales of the newcomers.

  Mary could barely be civil to her fellow parishioners as they all made their way into the church, so thoroughly was her mind occupied with the information her mother had imparted about Mr. and Miss Beam, and with what she herself could recall of Mr. Tristan’s remarks about the pair. They owned the farm adjoining his in Virginia – she was certain of that much – and that they had treated him kindly when he first arrived in that place.

  There must have been some kind of unpleasantness thereafter, because the conversation had moved on to the desirability of making a fresh start. Whether or not the unpleasantness had anything to do with the Beams, however, Mary had no way of knowing. She only remembered Tristan’s expression when he spoke of it – the shadow that flitted across his determinedly cheerful countenance. Yet he had left his holdings in Calvin Beam’s care.

  And now here they were, come nearly halfway round the world to see their friend again. Was it excessive affection that brought them, Mary wondered, or some other pressing matter? Her mother had already marked Miss Beam out as a rival to Kitty, and thus to herself as well. Although Mary would not credit half her mother’s opinions, the idea of a lovers’ quarrel and going to great lengths to repair it would explain the facts.

  The first hymn was just beginning when Mary sat down in the pew next to her sister. Kitty said nothing; she only smiled in a way that evoked the idea of a wistful apology. Mary answered with an equally conciliatory look. She did not wish to quarrel. And if there really were a threat from the outside, it would be well for the Bennet sisters to close ranks against the interloper.

  28

  The Americans

  Mr. Calvin Beam’s sun-bleached hair and ruddy complexion portrayed a young man accustomed to a life lived much out of doors, and, despite Mrs. Bennet’s disparagement of his origins, he also possessed every mark of a well-bred, civilized gentleman. Under normal circumstances, Mary would have been curious to learn more about him. In this case, however, it was his sister that immediately captured and held her attention – not because she was a devastating beauty, for she was less than that, but because of the striking resemblance she bore to her own sister Kitty.

  “How do you do, Miss Beam?” Mary said as she surreptitiously examined the woman’s face upon first seeing her at Longbourn after church.

  The features were not exact, of course; Miss Beam’s jaw line was squarer and her nose a bit shorter. But the fawn-colored hair and the large, gentle brown eyes were nearly identical, giving the same appealing impression of a vulne
rable innocent begging for love and protection.

  “Tolerably well, I thank you,” said Miss Beam in a soft voice. “Although an ocean crossing is not something to be quickly recovered from, I find.”

  “I should think not!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet as they all six settled together in the drawing room – she with her two daughters on one settee, the American brother and sister the other, and Tristan Collins in an armchair. “Nothing less than the sharp point of a sword could persuade me to submit myself to such a punishment. I wonder that you should have done so voluntarily, Miss Beam, as delicate as you seem to be.”

  The lady looked unsure how to respond.

  Calvin Beam came to her rescue. “Although my sister may appear delicate, Mrs. Bennet, her health is every bit as robust as mine, and she never shies away from a challenge. Besides, we have long wanted to see England, and this seemed the perfect opportunity, with our friend here to guide us at this particular juncture.”

  “There was no hurry, though,” said Kitty. “Mr. Collins will be here at Longbourn to receive visitors for years to come.”

  Now it was Calvin Beam’s turn to look confused. He regarded his friend. “Are you firmly decided on staying, then, Triss? We had hoped you might be returning to Virginia with us in the end.”

  All eyes rested expectantly on Mr. Tristan Collins.

  “Not irrevocably decided, no. I am torn, as you might well imagine, between my ties on this side of the Atlantic and those on the other. I only wish I could unite all the benefits of both in one place, but of course that is quite impossible.”

  “Yes, quite impossible,” repeated Miss Beam. “You shall have to choose between the two.”

  “I am well aware of that, Miss Beam, believe me.” Tristan’s eyes darted from person to person about the room, and then ultimately dropped to the floor.

  A silence followed, one which Mrs. Bennet soon rushed to fill. “Well, whilst you are here in England, Miss Beam, you must make the most of your opportunity. There are many beauties and wonders in the countryside round about, and should you be inclined to travel far and wide, I would be happy to advise you on what is worth seeing. But I daresay you have plenty of lakes and mountains where you come from. No, London is where you must go; London must by no means be missed. You will not find its equal anywhere, especially in the colonies.”

  “Mama,” whispered Mary, “they are not ‘the colonies’ anymore.”

  “Ah, yes, I keep forgetting. What I meant to say is that there can be nothing in your young country to equal the history and culture of London.”

  “I am sure you are correct, Mrs. Bennet,” replied Calvin Beam. “Nothing in America can pretend to match London’s historic edifices, although we do flatter ourselves that we are not totally deficient in culture.”

  A civil yet spirited debate continued, primarily between these two, comparing the merits of English tradition and American innovation.

  Mary could attend to it but little, so thoroughly occupied was she observing the faces round the room and listening to what was not being said. Her mother had been right, she shortly concluded. There had been something more than friendship between Mr. Tristan and Miss Polly Beam, and it was entirely possible the lady had come with the hope of rekindling it. Miss Beam was clearly trying to catch Tristan’s eye. Kitty alternated between also looking to him for a sign of reassurance and staring daggers at Miss Beam. The man himself avoided them both and feigned interest in the conversation going forward amongst the others. Finally, he settled his troubled gaze on Mary. She returned it with one intended to convey understanding and compassion.

  That would be her advantage, she decided right then and there. Where the others made demands of Tristan, she would not. When her rivals pressed him for a decision, she would be patient. She would prove her value in being a listening ear, a sympathetic friend, a true and unselfish heart. She would not criticize Kitty or Miss Beam; she would rise above. Then, after the other two had exhausted themselves in a series of unbecoming skirmishes, she would still be standing, tall and untarnished, to take the prize.

  “Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Collins suddenly, interrupting another one of her long speeches. “I feel the need for some exercise before dinner. What would you advise? Have you no more lanes hereabouts in which I may lose my way?”

  “By all means, Mr. Collins. Do take your friends and walk to Oakham Mount. It is a nice long walk, and you have never seen the view. Kitty will be happy to show you the way.”

  “It may do very well for me and for my strong friend Mr. Beam,” replied Tristan, “but I am sure it will be too much for the ladies.”

  “It is not too much for me,” declared Kitty, getting to her feet at once. “I have made the trek several times before, and I am not the least bit tired.”

  “Nor am I,” said Miss Beam, also rising. “I should very much like to see this view.”

  “Then you may as well go too, Mary,” said Mrs. Bennet. “I shall have a little nap whilst you young people are out. Mind you are not gone too long, though. Cook will have her nose out of joint for a fortnight if her famous fish stew is ruined.”

  “I shall just dash upstairs and change to my boots,” said Kitty. “Mary, will you help me?”

  Since changing footwear was hardly a two-person job, Mary perceived that what her sister actually desired was a word with her in private. Being curious what Kitty had to say, she willingly went.

  “Is this not the most upsetting development, Mary?” Kitty began in hushed tones when the door was closed. “What were these people thinking to arrive here unannounced and uninvited? The brother is not too bad, I suppose, except that he is always putting his sister forward. But that Miss Beam! She cannot take her eyes of our cousin Tristan, and we have not had a moment to ourselves since she arrived.”

  “I gather there is some history between the two. What does Mr. Collins tell you about it?”

  “Very little. As I say, we have barely had a moment for a private conversation, not with her always lurking about. And I think he does not wish to worry me by letting on that there was ever anything serious between them.”

  “You are worried, though. You see this Miss Beam as a threat to your position.”

  “No, not as a threat. She is no more to me than an irritating nuisance, an insect buzzing in my ear. I certainly have no reason to fear her, and yet you must see how uncomfortable she makes our dear Tristan.”

  “There is something else odd about her too,” Mary said tentatively. “Do not you think so?”

  “What do you mean by odd?”

  “Surely you cannot have failed to notice her looks, how much she resembles you.”

  “Resembles me? Miss Beam?”

  “Why, yes, I was immediately struck by the similarity! Do you not think it remarkable?”

  “I see no very strong likeness, but it would not be so surprising if there were. Some men prefer tall, fair girls and others those of shorter stature with brown hair and eyes. What of it? The point is this, Mary, that you must assist me to get Mr. and Miss Beam out of the way so that I can talk to Tristan alone.”

  “What would you have me do? Shall I push them off the cliff whilst they are admiring the view?”

  “Do be serious, Mary! I simply want you distract them, to engage them in conversation, to walk ahead with them when I hang back with Tristan. Do you suppose you can do that much for me?”

  Mary thought a moment. “I shall do as you ask if you will return the favor.”

  “What? You wish to have time alone with Tristan as well? What can you possibly have to say to him that will not admit being overheard?”

  “An apology,” declared Mary, giving Kitty an even look. “I said something rude to him at Pemberley and I am determined to make him an apology today. My conscience demands that I beg his pardon, and yet my vanity insists that there be no witnesses.”

  Kitty studied her before answering. “Very well, then,” she said slowly. “We shall work as a team. You shall have your turn, an
d I must have mine.”

  29

  Admiring a View

  It was not easy, but Mary did manage to attach both Mr. and Miss Beam to herself for most of the walk up to Oakham Mount. Feigning absolute ignorance about the new world and an equally absolute urgency to remedy the situation, she soon entangled the brother and sister in a web of questions so dense that it required the better part of an hour to extract themselves from it.

  Kitty, meanwhile, followed along behind on the arm of Mr. Tristan Collins, talking with him in tones too subtle to decipher at any distance. Mary for a long while resisted glancing back at them, both to avoid torturing herself and to avoid drawing Miss Beam’s attention thither. That lady’s eyes were sure to wander to the view at the rear at least once in every five minutes as it was.

  Finally, Mary did look back, hoping to receive a signal from her sister that she could at last free her captives. Kitty gave her a stern glare instead. So Mary soldiered on a few minutes more until she ran out of questions to ask and out of patience with Kitty’s demands. She then thanked the Beams for all their helpful information. “You must forgive me for monopolizing your time,” she told them. “I have such an insatiable thirst for knowledge that I could not seem to help myself.”

  “That is quite all right, Miss Bennet,” said Calvin Beam. “I admire your dedication to learning as well as teaching. With all the knowledge you have accumulated, you must be a very valuable asset to your students.” He then stopped and turned, and his sister did as well. “Come along, you two,” he called. “I have never seen such dawdlers. Are you so out of breath?”

  “Not out of breath,” Tristan answered. “We are only in less of a great hurry than you three seem to be. It is not a race, you know.”