They finished the assent reunited as one group, and stood to admire the view several minutes. Mary pointed out the principal landmarks visible from that vantage point – a portion of the village of Meryton, the London road, Miller’s pond, and the house and park of Netherfield. After providing this service, she withdrew a little, taking Kitty with her. “I hope you are satisfied,” she whispered.
“You could have kept them away a little longer,” Kitty returned in hushed tones.
“I should like to see you do half so well for me.”
Kitty frowned. “Did you notice how Miss Bean fastened herself onto Tristan like a leach just now, the moment my back was turned?”
“You cannot blame her; she has no way of knowing that you consider him your private property. Perhaps someone ought to warn her off.”
Miss Beam was no longer gazing down at the bucolic scene in the valley below, but up at Mr. Tristan Collins’s handsome face instead, listening intently to his opinion on what constituted a truly picturesque view. “Please excuse me from making any comment,” she said when he had finished. “I know nothing of the picturesque.”
“As for me, Triss,” Mr. Beam chimed in, “you must be satisfied with such admiration as I can honestly give. I call it a very fine country – the hills are steep, the woods seem full of fine timber, and the valley looks comfortable and snug – with rich meadows and several neat farm houses scattered here and there. It exactly answers my idea of a fine country, because it unites beauty and utility.”
“And I daresay it is a picturesque one too, because you admire it,” added Miss Beam with a warm smile at Tristan.
“Yes, indeed.” said Kitty for her sister’s ears alone. “Perhaps someone should warn her off.”
When everybody had got their fill of seeing what could be achieved from the top of a hill, Kitty suggested they should start back, and she claimed Miss Beam as her walking companion. She failed to account for Mr. Beam, however, who then joined Mary and Tristan in a second informal group. As the two men conversed, Mary cast about for some scheme to dispose of the unwanted spare. She had nearly given up hope of having one minute alone with Tristan when Mr. Beam himself provided the solution.
“Oh, bother,” he said in disgust, stopping in his tracks. “I have somehow managed to get a sharp pebble into my boot, and it is cutting into my flesh like broken glass. I cannot go on until I have shifted it.” He limped off toward a boulder that would serve for a seat whilst he accomplished the operation.
“We shall wait for you,” said Tristan.
“No, no, there is no sense in that, old boy. You and Miss Bennet go on and I shall catch you up presently.”
“Very well,” said Tristan. He offered his arm to Mary and they resumed their descent of the hill, albeit more slowly.
Not knowing how long Mr. Beam would be elsewhere occupied, Mary wasted no time. “Mr. Tristan,” she began, “I am glad that we have a moment alone, for there is something very particular I wish to say to you.”
“You mustn’t look so grave, dear Mary. Surely it cannot be anything as dire as all that.”
“Not dire perhaps, but a serious subject nonetheless. I wanted to apologize for somewhat of my conduct at Pemberley and on the journey home. I believe I behaved in a rather uncharitable manner toward you, and I am sorry for it. Will you forgive me?”
“It is already forgiven and forgotten, my dear cousin. I could clearly comprehend that something had got the better of you, stolen away your usual good nature as it were. I was only distressed by the impression that I might unknowingly have been the cause of it.”
“No, it was something else entirely.”
“You said ‘was.’ I trust that means your trouble is now all in the past.”
“It will be if you say that we are still friends, Cousin Tristan.”
“Of course we are,” he said, patting her hand as it rested on the sleeve of his coat. “We are more than friends. We are…uh… Why, we are family as well, are we not?”
“That we are.” They walked on in silence for a minute before Mary broached a new topic, watching for his reaction as she did so. “You must have been surprised by the arrival of your friends from America – surprised and pleased.”
“Naturally,” he said with a smile that looked a little forced, “at least once I ascertained that all was well – with them and with my holdings. When I left Virginia, I had no idea of ever seeing them again, at least not this side of the Atlantic.”
“So they had not told you about their earnest desire to see England, then.”
“No, it must have been a notion that came upon them quite recently. One may develop a sudden interest in a place one has heard a great deal about, I suppose, especially when one has a friend there to visit.”
“Undoubtedly. Would you permit me to make an observation, though?”
“Please, speak freely.”
“Well, I cannot help thinking that the unexpected presence of the Beams has placed you in a rather… awkward position.” He started to say something but Mary held up her free hand to stop him. “No, you owe me no explanations, and indeed I desire none. I merely meant to tell you that if ever you are in need of a sympathetic ear, an impartial confidante, I hope you will feel at liberty to come to me. As your true friend, I will hear whatever you like. I will tell you exactly what I think.”
“My goodness! I hardly know what to say, Miss Mary. Your kindness has quite overwhelmed me.”
Calvin Beam, walking now without a limp, rejoined them at that moment, putting an end to their brief tête-à-tête. Although Mary could have wished for more time, she was satisfied. She had accomplished what she had set out to do. She had made her position clear. She had put her association with Mr. Tristan Collins back on solid footing. And what was more, she had done so without sacrificing her dignity.
He could no longer be in any doubt of possessing her steadfast respect and affection. What he ultimately chose to do about it was out of her hands. She would trust to him, to God, and to the full measure of time to decide the matter rightly. She would not throw herself at him. She refused to make a spectacle as if she had taken complete leave of her senses. If that was what was required to win the man, Mary felt she had much rather let one of the other two have him, for that would mean he was not worth the price after all.
30
Company Coming
Once returned to Netherfield, Mary did her best to put those at Longbourn out of her mind. There was nothing more she could do about that situation at present. The family drama between Mr. Tristan Collins, Kitty, and Miss Beam would have to carry on without her for another week, at least without her physical presence. She had to hope that her existence would not be entirely forgotten, though, that some lingering impression remained to keep her prospects alive.
As usual, Mary’s work with the Farnsworth children kept her much occupied the next day. They had started with mathematics that morning and had just moved on to geography when Clinton came into the schoolroom to say that Mary’s presence was required downstairs.
“Miss Farnsworth it is who wants you,” he told her. “Said as I should fetch you right away.”
“Very well, Clinton,” Mary replied. “You have delivered your message and may go. I know my way and will come directly.”
“I think I had better wait for you. Miss Farnsworth told me…”
“And now I am telling you to go on ahead without me,” Mary interrupted. “I do not require an escort, and I will be there the more quickly if you leave me now to settle the children. Do you understand me?”
“’Course I do; I ain’t no dunce, you know. Only you mustn’t dawdle. Miss F. has got herself worked up into quite a pucker.”
When he had gone, Mary gave Gwendolyn, Grace, and Michael each an assignment to work on in her absence, and then she hastened down to the entry hall. There she found all the upper servants gathered in silence before Miss Farnsworth. That lady held in her hand what appeared to be a letter, and she was doing
a fair imitation of her brother, scowling and pacing an abbreviated route in front of the doorway.
She looked up when Mary came down the stairs. “Ah, I see Miss Bennet has deigned to join us, so now we may begin,” she said, coming to a standstill. “I have called you all here to apprise you of Mr. Farnsworth’s plans, that you may begin making ready immediately.” She waved the letter in the air for emphasis. “He will be returning from London on Wednesday, and not alone. He is bringing with him a large party of friends, who will be staying for no less than a week. There will be feasting, and dancing, and everything in the way of the best entertainment.”
A low murmuring broke out amongst the servants at this momentous news.
“It goes without saying that your master will expect everyone and everything here at Netherfield to be in peak form,” Miss Farnsworth continued, “to do him proud before his guests. There is much work to be done in preparation and not a moment to lose. Cook, I will want to see your menu plans this afternoon without fail. Mrs. Brand, I must consult with you immediately. The rest of you, with the exception of Miss Bennet, may go and get busy about your duties at once. That is all for now.”
A hum of chatter surged and then died away again as the others dispersed, leaving Mary, Mrs. Brand, and Miss Farnsworth behind in the hall.
“Miss Bennet,” said Miss Farnsworth with obvious hostility.
“Yes, Madam?”
“You may be wondering what any of this has to do with you. And so am I, in truth. All I do know is that I have been charged by my brother to give you this.” She shook a sealed note at Mary, as if it were conclusive evidence of some crime. “If there is anything in it that at all pertains to my preparations, I trust you will bring it to my attention. What my brother could have to say to you that merits a private correspondence, I am sure I cannot imagine. Go now, for I have more important matters to discuss with Mrs. Brand.”
Mrs. Brand gave Mary a sympathetic look, but she could say nothing with the mistress present. Mary had no wish to linger in any case. Her curiosity to know the contents of the note from Mr. Farnsworth was at least equal to that which it had excited in his sister. She hurried back upstairs with her prize, going to her bedchamber instead of returning to the schoolroom, to read the missive in private. Carrying it to the pool of light streaming in through the window, she broke the seal and read.
Miss Mary Bennet,
I hope you do not find my writing to you to be presumptuous. I know that some might consider it improper for me, a single gentleman, to correspond directly with you, a single lady. Such privileges are generally reserved for engaged couples, I believe. I should have allowed my sister to relay this message were I altogether certain she would do so properly. In light of past events, however, I had no such assurances. Furthermore, I thought that, under the guise of our professional relationship, I might be permitted this minor liberty.
You will have learnt by now that I have adopted your advice, just as I said I would. We shall give the local gossips some truth to talk about as you recommended, for I am indeed inviting my friends to Netherfield for dancing and general merriment. My particular wish is that you should be counted amongst the guests – for the entire week or at least at the ball to be held Thursday night. That is the purpose for my writing to you now, to personally invite you. You shall be introduced as the daughter of a local gentleman, which indeed you are, as you have more than once reminded me. There will be no mention made of your current occupation unless you yourself chose to divulge it.
Miss Farnsworth will not approve, of course, which is why I did not entrust to her the task of telling you all this. She will, however, abide by my wishes when she has no choice. Show her the pertinent portion of this letter and she will provide you with anything you may need to be properly attired – your choice from her best gowns this time, not hers. I promised myself that one day I would dance with you, Miss Bennet. Please do not disappoint me.
Yours, etc.
Harrison Farnsworth
Mary sat some minutes staring at the confident strokes of black ink scrawled on the single sheet of paper, silently digesting the meaning of the words they conveyed. She was astounded – and extremely flattered – that Mr. Farnsworth should invite her to be his guest at the house party. For a moment she even pictured herself fitted out like a proper lady and proudly escorted to the dance floor on Mr. Farnsworth’s steady arm. The letter clearly stated that was what he desired. And on the face of things his tone sounded sincere and gracious enough – very little of his former autocratic tendencies in evidence.
And yet something inside her would not allow Mary to trust it. Much could be concealed on a written page, after all, and it was possible to put more than one construction on the words of the author.
She read the letter again, imagining that Mr. Farnsworth himself was present. This time, hearing the words as from his own mouth, there was no sincerity or graciousness. Mary saw only cavalier diversion in his eyes and heard only derision in his voice, as she had at the close of their last meeting, when he laughed at her. How much different was the effect of this second perusal! How quickly it put an end to any pleasant feelings of gratification… and to every idea of accepting the invitation.
Under the best of circumstances, with Mr. Farnsworth’s full loyalty and regard, a party amongst the ton would be no very pleasant prospect for her. How much worse, then, to know herself to be at a severe disadvantage going in. Despite what he promised in his letter, it was sure to come out that she was merely the governess in that house. Then the jokes would begin. Mary shuddered at the thought.
No, she would certainly not attend only to be laughed at again, to be made the object of Miss Farnsworth’s insults and Mr. Farnsworth’s sport. It was out of the question even to consider it.
Had there been a fire in the grate, Mary would have tossed the offensive note straight in. As it was, she took the great satisfaction of ruthlessly tearing it to shreds before discarding it.
~~*~~
Mary carefully kept to the schoolroom and to the company of the Farnsworth children as much as possible after that. However, she made a brief but happy exception when Monsieur Hubert arrived the next morning. Miss Farnsworth sent a message to the nursery saying that she could not under the circumstances spare the time to take her turn, and that Gwendolyn should report directly to the music room in her place. Grace followed, and then, with all three children settled at their geography assignments, Mary lightheartedly flew downstairs.
“Ah, Miss Bennet, a pleasure, as always!” said Monsieur Hubert upon her entrance. “My favorite pupil is, like the sweet after a meal, reserved for last again today.”
“Really, Monsieur, you should not say such things; it is too much flattery.”
“Mais non! I tell you nothing more than what is the truth. There is no need to dissemble, therefore. A lady should be able to hear and acknowledge her merits with dignity. No embarrassment, Miss Bennet! And no more protests either! That is my command. Now, how have you been getting on with Monsieur Beethoven, hmm?”
As usual, Monsieur Hubert and the magic of music carried all Mary’s troubles away. For that one hour, the house party and Mr. Farnsworth’s upsetting letter retreated to a distant corner of her mind, where they could be as completely forgotten as yesterday’s dirty dishes.
Alas, it was only a temporary reprieve. When Mary returned to the schoolroom, Gwendolyn made it difficult for her to keep at bay thoughts of the coming event. The girl had caught the excitement of the thing and could form neither an opinion nor a sentence concerning anything else in the intervening days. Even though it was unlikely she should catch much more than a glimpse of the party’s splendor, the anticipation of its going forward in her vicinity was enough to feed every one of her burgeoning notions of romance.
“Oh, how I wish I were old enough to be there!” she exclaimed Tuesday afternoon whilst they were taking their airing out of doors.
Mary had started off at a brisk pace with the children,
taking a circular lane on the property that she had discovered made an excellent path for exercise. Michael and Grace had scampered on ahead, but Gwen hung back with Mary, speculation about the coming party on her mind.
“Do you suppose Papa might allow me to attend the ball on Thursday night?” she asked.
“I think not, my dear Gwen,” Mary answered. “You are far too young. Perhaps when you are sixteen or seventeen. No doubt there will be many other opportunities, now that your father has decided to entertain at Netherfield again.”
“If I could only be there to watch, I should be satisfied. Well, almost satisfied. I used to love to watch my father and mother dancing,” the girl added, dropping both her gaze and her voice.
“Really? You must have been very young. How long ago was this?” Mary asked gently.
“It was before we came to Netherfield, when Mama was still strong. We lived in town then, and we often had parties with dancing. Mama loved to give parties, and I sometimes slipped down from the nursery to watch. I would have been seven or eight, I suppose, for I was nine when we came here.”
“And did both your mother and father like to dance then?”
“Oh, yes! Sometimes they did not even wait for a ball. Papa would pull my mother to her feet of a sudden and sweep her round the room with no real music to dance by – just him humming a tune. I wonder whom he will dance with on Thursday.”
“I could not even guess, Gwen.” Mary only knew that it would not be herself.
Gwendolyn chattered on, but Mary was too lost in her own thoughts to properly attend. She could not get this new picture of her employer out of her head – Mr. Farnsworth dancing gaily with his poor wife as if they, neither one of them, had a care in the world. The poignant portrait intrigued her, and yet the people in it were unrecognizable as those she had met upon first coming to Longbourn – he dictatorial and cold, she frail and defeated. Mary had not imagined there had ever been much affection, let alone joy, in the Farnsworths’ marriage. At least there had been precious little evidence of it by the time she knew them. What could have happened to change them both so severely?
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