B00BKPAH8O EBOK

by Winslow, Shannon

  31

  Observing a Ball

  Since the schoolroom windows overlooked the gravel sweep at the front of the house, Mary and the children could hear every carriage as it approached on Wednesday. Mr. Farnsworth’s own carriage arrived first, an hour before any of the others. Presently he came up to see his children, embracing each of the girls and shaking hands with his young son. Then he turned to Mary.

  “Hello, Miss Bennet,” he said. “You are well, I hope.”

  “Yes, sir, very well indeed.”

  “Excellent! I trust I shall be seeing you again soon, downstairs tomorrow evening if not before,” he said with a significant look. Then he gave a slight bow and left the room.

  He had not waited for an answer because he was confident that she would come. Mary concluded thus much from his manner and his tone. Accustomed to having his own way, Mr. Farnsworth expected this occasion to be no different than any other. He expected her to be no different than any other. Perhaps she ought to have called him back and undeceived him at once. Instead, she had let the correct moment for doing so slip by with him none the wiser.

  “What did Papa mean?” Grace asked. “Why should you see him again soon?”

  “I cannot say, Grace. Perhaps he means to send for me to discuss your progress, so we had best get back to our studies.”

  Very little progress was made that day, however. The children ran to the windows every time they heard another carriage, and they strained to see who was alighting from it. Michael was sure to call out something about the horses or the style of the carriage, and Gwendolyn something about the lady who emerged from it. Mary could not blame them; it was the most singular event to take place at Netherfield in years, and it was only natural they should be excited.

  For her part, Mary wished only to stay as much out of the way as possible. It was a big house, and there seemed little chance of her coming across the master or any of his guests as long as she kept to a governess’s province – her own chamber, the children’s quarters, the schoolroom, and the back staircase. When they went out of doors, they would come and go as inconspicuously as possible and stay far from the house and stables.

  Her plan worked flawlessly the rest of that day and all the next. Mary’s difficulty came on Thursday evening.

  “Please say yes, Miss Bennet.” Gwendolyn peered up at her with beseeching eyes to match her tone of voice. “I swear I will go alone if I must, but I had much rather you went with me.”

  The ball was well underway downstairs, and the lively music filtered up to the nursery, where they were taking their supper. Mary hesitated, torn between an earnest desire to accommodate the girl’s request to observe the dancing and her own to go nowhere near it.

  Gwen continued. “We shall not be seen, if that is what worries you. And in any case, I daresay Papa would not mind in the least.”

  “I am by no means assured of that, Gwen.” He might not mind his daughter spying on the party. The uncooperative governess was quite another thing. Still, if they were careful…

  “Please, Miss. I must be allowed to watch, just for a few minutes, or I think I shall simply burst!”

  “Compose yourself, Gwendolyn. Wild and uncontrolled behavior will not serve. If we are to attempt this, I must be certain that you are able to conduct yourself with caution and decorum.”

  The girl’s eyes popped wide with excitement, but she stifled any further outburst, covering her mouth with both hands. After a minute of inward jubilation, she became tolerably calm once more.

  “That is better,” said Mary. “Now finish your supper, and then we shall have a brief look downstairs. You must promise to be discreet. I should not wish your father or any of his guests to ever have an idea that we had been near the place. Do you understand?”

  “Oh, yes, Miss! Thank you, Miss! I will be very good and very quiet. You shall see.”

  “Remember,” Mary said when they were ready to start down, “we can only stay a few minutes. You must do nothing to draw attention to our presence. And you must be prepared to retreat at my command should anybody come in our direction. Agreed?”

  Gwendolyn nodded vigorously.

  “Very well, then.”

  They used the back stairs to avoid any chance encounters and emerged in the corridor that led to the far end of the largest drawing room. Mary knew that was the one which had been given over as a ballroom, now and in the past. She could not help momentarily thinking with horror of the first and only other Netherfield ball that she had been present for, then as a proper guest. What a spectacle her family had made of themselves that night! And she had unwittingly done her part. This time, however, she would not be putting herself forward to be humiliated; she would be hiding in the shadows, quite literally.

  Taking Gwen’s hand, Mary led her down the dimly lit passageway, which was ordinarily used only by servants. She slowed as they approached the first of two doorways opening to the drawing room. The music swelled, and Mary could glimpse the musicians applying themselves just inside. She could picture the rest of the scene even before confirming it by sight.

  Mary took care to position Gwen at the edge of the doorway and just short of the shaft of light spilling through it. She stood directly behind with her hands on the girl’s shoulders to be sure she would not stray. There they had an unobstructed view with very little possibility of being seen themselves.

  As Mary had imagined, the great crystal chandeliers and more than a dozen wall sconces were ablaze with the glow of tall, tapered, wax candles, their light reflecting off every mirrored, metal, and glass surface. A set of elegantly coiffed and attired dancers glided through their prescribed patterns down the center of the room with clusters of onlookers lingering about the edges, the crowd composed of those who had come from London augmented by a select number of the local gentry. A few of these faces Mary recognized at a glance, but they could not fasten her attention. Nor could any of the strangers from town. There was only one person, somewhere in that room, who held any interest whatsoever for Mary, the one person she both cared and dreaded to see: Mr. Farnsworth. Would he be enjoying himself, she wondered? Would he be dancing? And with whom? Would he even have noticed that she had not accepted his disingenuous invitation?

  Then she saw him, and at the same time so did Gwendolyn. “Look!” the girl whispered. “There is Papa! But who is that lady he is dancing with?”

  “I do not know her,” answered Mary in a hushed voice. “Someone of your father’s London acquaintance, I expect.”

  “She is very elegant, is not she? And very beautiful.”

  “Yes. And very young,” Mary added, almost to herself. The lady was undoubtedly all that and more. Was this the woman Mr. Farnsworth had meant when he had said his affections were engaged? Would this mere girl, probably less than half his age, be the next mistress of Netherfield?

  Turning her attention to Mr. Farnsworth himself, Mary noted that his evening clothes suited him well, giving him a rather regal bearing. Yet it was not his appearance but his dancing that especially struck her. He had professed to be sadly out of practice, and she had pitied him for it. Yet the man before her now looked as much at ease on the dance floor as ever he had on the back of a horse.

  Before Mary could dwell long on that inconsistency, the dance concluded. It left Mr. Farnsworth and his partner at the end of the set nearest the musicians, and thus also nearest to the doorway where the two spies were concealed. When he turned in their direction, Mary instinctively drew back deeper into the shadows, pulling Gwen with her. Gwen, however, strained against her grasp and broke free, momentarily stepping into the light before resuming her previous position.

  In that instant, her father had seen her, and he came swiftly toward the door.

  Mary gasped. “Away, Gwen!” she said softy but urgently, her feet already in motion. “We must away.”

  They were down the corridor in a trice and had almost reached the stairs when Mr. Farnsworth’s voice rang out. “Gwendolyn, stay wher
e you are! You too, Miss Bennet.”

  Mary froze in her tracks and then turned to face her employer, shielding Gwen behind her skirts. “Mr. Farnsworth,” she said, holding her chin high.

  “Miss Bennet. What is this, then? You refuse an invitation to come in the front door like a lady, so I find you skulking at the rear like a servant or a common thief.”

  Mary ignored the charge and said, “Your daughter wished to watch some of the dancing. I saw no harm in that, sir.”

  “Is this true, Gwen?”

  The girl stepped forward. “Yes, Papa. I should certainly have come on my own had I not been able to persuade Miss Bennet. I heard the music and it reminded me of when you used to dance with Mama.”

  His expression faltered and then quickly recovered. “Very well,” he told his daughter. “You got what you came for, and we shall say no more about it. Run along up to bed now. I wish to have a word with Miss Bennet.”

  “Do not be angry with her, Papa,” Gwendolyn pleaded. “It was all my idea.”

  “Yes, yes, never mind that now,” he said. “Off you go.”

  Gwendolyn did as she was told, disappearing up the stairs.

  Mary stood her ground when Mr. Farnsworth took a step toward her.

  “This was not where I had hoped to see you tonight, Miss Bennet,” he said deliberately. “You did not accept my invitation to join the party, and I cannot help wondering why. I am not accustomed to having my invitations go unacknowledged.”

  Mary faced straight ahead, refusing to meet his eyes. “Sorry if I disappointed you, sir. I was perplexed by your invitation, and I could not imagine you meant it sincerely. In any case, I would have found it quite uncomfortable to accept with so many people here that I do not know.”

  “You know me,” he said in a low rumble.

  “Do I?” she said defiantly, looking straight at him now. She saw at once by his reaction that she ought not to have said it. She had felt cornered; that was her excuse. She was being called on the carpet as if she were a naughty child caught stealing sweets.

  Mr. Farnsworth began to pace a constricted arc about her, hands behind his back and looking very grim. “For the record, Miss Bennet, I rarely say anything I do not mean, and I would never put falsehoods into writing. As for the cause of your discomfort, now there you have me puzzled, but we shall have to discuss it another time. I must return to my guests – those persons who did see fit to accept my invitation. You understand.”

  “Yes, I believe I understand you perfectly.”

  He turned on his heel to go and then wheeled back toward her again. “Oh, Miss Bennet, one more thing. I have arranged an excursion to St. Albans tomorrow for the entire party, weather permitting, and I will be taking the children with me. Would you be good enough to see to it that they are ready at ten o’clock sharp? Be not alarmed, Madam, by any apprehension that I shall renew my offer for you to join us; I would not wish to be accused of placing you in uncomfortable circumstances again. And just to prove I harbor no ill will for this little misunderstanding, you may take the balance of tomorrow to do with as you please. Consider it a present, a small token of my sincere esteem.” He made a curt bow and then left her.

  Considering the tone of cutting sarcasm Mr. Farnsworth had risen to during this speech, it was difficult to believe he felt anything like sincere esteem for her, no more than she had been accurate in saying she understood him perfectly. For Mary did not understand him in the least.

  32

  Unexpected Holiday

  When she returned upstairs that night, Mary told the three Farnsworth children that they were to accompany their father and his friends on the next day’s excursion. Not surprisingly, Gwendolyn burst into raptures, thrilled at being included in such a social highlight. Although dancing would have been better, an outing in fine carriages would do nearly as well.

  Michael cared nothing for the society of London ladies and gentlemen; it was the adventure of the expedition that appealed to his boyish sensibilities. “I shall ask Papa if I may sit on the box, so that I can keep a watch out for highwaymen!” he proclaimed.

  Grace, being shy and retiring by nature, did not wish to go at all. “All those people, and me not knowing anyone!” she worried aloud.

  Mary could well appreciate her feelings. Had she not just plead the same excuse herself? And how much worse at age eleven. “You shall undoubtedly ride with your father, your brother, and your sister, and perhaps one or two others at most. Now, there is nothing frightening in that, is there?”

  “I do not see why Papa should want us with him. He certainly would not miss me with so many other people to keep him company.”

  “He is proud of you, I should think, and he wants to show you off to his friends a bit. So you must not disappoint him; you must behave like two ladies and a young gentleman in order to make a good impression on your father’s guests.” One of them in particular, perhaps, Mary added to herself. It was only logical that Mr. Farnsworth should wish to introduce his offspring to his perspective bride. That, undoubtedly, was the real purpose of this outing.

  After seeing the children safely to their beds, Mary prepared to retire to her own, beginning by placing an armchair in front of the door that gave onto the outside corridor. She had taken to doing this the day she found Clinton in her room, watching her as she slept. It would probably not stop anybody from forcing his way in, were he truly determined, but at least she hoped the noise would afford her some warning.

  As little as she liked to dwell on that possibility, the next subject that sprang to her mind was no more pleasant: Mr. Farnsworth.

  Mary commenced the nightly ritual of taking down her hair. She removed the pins that had bound it tightly to the top of her head all day long, and braced for the painful prickling sensation in her scalp as it fell about her shoulders. Then she began brushing it her customary one hundred times. As she counted, however, the slow and methodical stroking evolved into something more like passionate flailing.

  It infuriated her that she could never seem to keep her dealings with Mr. Farnsworth on an even keel for more than a week at a stretch. One day she thought they had settled into a comfortable working relationship, and the next it was all overthrown. She could not make him out, which was a frustration in itself, an insult to her intelligence. And the more she tried to decipher his behavior, the less sense it made.

  The most maddeningly inexplicable part about it, however, was that she should care at all what Mr. Farnsworth said, what he did, or what he thought of her. Why should any of it matter? He did not frighten her, and she was able to avoid him most of the time. If the situation became completely insupportable – should the new Mrs. Farnsworth be more difficult to bear than the present acting mistress of the house, for an example – she could always leave.

  Ever since visiting Pemberley, Mary had been turning over in her mind the idea that she could make a very comfortable home for herself there if necessary, offering her services as governess to her young nephews. She had every reason to think such an offer would be welcome. Had not Elizabeth said that they should be fortunate to find anyone half so qualified?

  For a moment, Mary imagined herself soaring free – free to fly from her current troublesome situation and come to rest at Pemberley. But to break with the Farnsworth family completely? To never see the children – or their father – again? The thought was almost more than Mary could bear, and it brought her crashing back to earth again. No, if she were to go anywhere, it had much better be Longbourn. As mistress of that house, she could see as much or as little of her Netherfield neighbors as she liked.

  As Mary climbed into bed and pulled the covers snugly up under her chin, she reminded herself that tomorrow would be a holiday for her. ‘Do as you like,’ Mr. Farnsworth had said. Very well, then. What appealed most to her was to forget her employer, at least temporarily, and spend time in the company of someone far easier to get along with. Mary therefore earnestly tried to replace every thought of Mr. Farnsworth wi
th an image of Mr. Tristan Collins.

  Even before falling asleep she had formulated her plan, and upon first waking she reviewed it to be sure it still appeared sound in the clear light of day. The more she considered it, though, the more excellent a scheme it seemed.

  Mary could feel a flutter of excitement building inside her chest as she dressed. She did not own a proper riding habit, so she once again chose the gown that had served as the most suitable substitute. Then, after breakfasting with the children and seeing them down the front stairs to meet their father, Mary slipped out the back way and across the lawn to the stables.

  “Will you please saddle Arielle for me?” she asked the first boy she met with there.

  “Yes, Miss,” he said and trotted off down the passageway between the double row of box stalls.

  Two other young men, one of whom she recognized as the groom who had assisted her before, then came from the direction of the house. “Did you need something, Miss Bennet?” the familiar face asked.

  “I just sent the boy to saddle Arielle for me.”

  “Johnny,” the first young man told the other groom, “you had best check on Charlie and then saddle another horse for me.” Turning back to Mary, he continued, “I must ride with you, Miss. Master said you was never to go off unescorted.”

  “I see,” Mary replied coolly, although it was not this man that annoyed her. It was the one who had given the order. It appeared that even his ‘do as you like’ had its limitations. “Very well,” she said. “I suppose I ought to know your name then.”

  “It’s William, Miss.”

  “So tell me, William, have the carriages got off all right?” she inquired, supposing that to be the reason he had been needed up at the house.