B00BKPAH8O EBOK

by Winslow, Shannon

  “They have indeed. It looked like a very merry party. A pity you could not go along, if you will excuse me sayin’ so.”

  “I have my own little excursion planned. You can see me as far as Longbourn. I am meeting a friend there, and he will bring me back safe. That should satisfy Mr. Farnsworth’s requirements.”

  In a few minutes more they were underway, and the distance itself was only three miles. Upon arrival at Longbourn, Mary rode past the house. Seeing no one there to either help or greet her, she continued on to the small stables – a fraction of the size of those at Netherfield – whereupon she dismounted with William’s help, and then promptly dismissed him. Although he was none too willing to go, Mary was so firm that she gave him no choice.

  Mr. Jeffers – the man who served as Longbourn’s single coachman, groom, and stable hand – was nowhere to be found. And then she noticed the vacant carriage house with its door standing ajar. Leaving Arielle in an empty box, Mary hastened to the house.

  “Oh, Hill, there you are,” she said, meeting the housekeeper immediately upon entering. “I saw the carriage was missing. Have they all gone out, then?”

  “Yes, Miss Mary, all except Miss Kitty, I believe. Mrs. Bennet and the others left for Meryton, oh, it must be an hour past by now. But Miss Kitty, who was feeling unwell, took herself off to bed instead.”

  “Do you know if Mama intends to be gone long?”

  “I shouldn’t think so. Mrs. Bennet wished to give Mr. and Miss Beam a tour of the village, and how long could that take? There is not much to it, after all. I should think they will all be back within the hour, if you should care to wait, Miss.”

  Mary sighed. “Yes, there is nothing else to be done, I suppose.” Thinking a minute, she added, “I shall just go up to my old room, Hill. There was something I had meant to look for in that trunk of mine, and I might as well do it now as another time.”

  “Very good, Miss.”

  With the last puff of wind now fully escaped from her sails, Mary mounted the stairs in no particular hurry. This was not at all the way she had pictured the day going forward. She was to have glided gracefully up to Longbourn, alone. Mr. Tristan, perceiving her presence, would have observed her approach, remembered his promise to go riding with her, and dashed out to meet her. Before any of the others could even think of joining them, they would have been off on another delightful adventure together. It would no doubt have been hours before they returned, having become entirely caught up in the pleasure of each other’s company, and perhaps by then an understanding between them would have been secured. Now, though…

  Passing the closed door to Kitty’s bedchamber, Mary paused, deciding she should look in on her ailing sister. Not wishing to wake her, she omitted knocking and noiselessly eased the door open. Though the curtains had been drawn, and the room was dark, Mary at once sensed something was not as it should be. There were murmurings where there should have been silence, movement where there should have been none. As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Mary saw – not Kitty asleep in bed as she had expected, but Kitty in a state of partial undress and standing in the passionate embrace of a man. The man was none other than Tristan Collins.

  33

  Elucidation

  Mary cried out in horror and then fled down the stairs and out of the house. She ran not knowing where she was going, her only thought to escape the dreadful picture now seared into her brain. It was a nightmare; it had to be. The only other explanation was that Kitty – dear, vulnerable Kitty – had gone the way of their sister Lydia, not waited for benefit of marriage to part with her maidenhood. That it should be to Mr. Tristan and not some other man that Kitty had chosen to sacrifice all now seemed of limited importance.

  If only time could be wound back an hour, Mary’s addled mind suggested by way of a solution. If only she had never taken it into her head to make a surprise visit to Longbourn! She turned toward the stables. She must undo what had been done; she must get back in the saddle and return to Netherfield before anything else occurred to verify that what she had seen was real.

  Although Arielle was ready and waiting, there was no one to help Mary mount. She was looking about for something to climb on top of when she heard her name being called out. It was Kitty’s voice, and it threw Mary into a state of panic. She had to get away; the last person she wished to confront at that moment was her fallen sister. She did not know if she would ever be able to look her in the face again, much less so soon.

  “Oh, Mary! There you are,” said Kitty flying into the stables out of breath.

  Mary looked past her for a way of escape, but there was none.

  “Dear, Mary,” Kitty continued, coming toward her with her arms outstretched. “What a shock I have given you! You must allow me to explain.”

  “I want none of your explanations. Now let me pass.”

  “I will not!” said Kitty, taking hold of Mary’s arms. “You shall not go away thinking there was anything improper in what you saw. Tristan and I… well, it is not what it appeared.”

  Mary pulled free of her grasp. “A man and a woman alone, behind a closed door in a darkened room, with… I need not go on; you know what you were doing. How can that not be improper?”

  “Because, my dear sister, Tristan and I are husband and wife. We are married.”

  “Married!”

  “Yes, I am sorry for your finding out in such a way. Still, it is better you should know the truth now than to continue in ignorance and misapprehension.”

  Mary leant back against the wall that formed the outside of Arielle’s stall and slid slowly down to sit in the hay at its base. She was too weak to stand, and too stunned to speak. She simply gaped at her sister and waited helplessly for whatever would come next.

  Kitty lowered herself to sit alongside Mary. “We eloped, you see, to Gretna Green when everybody left us alone at Pemberley for three days to attend Jane. We snuck off and back again, and no one the wiser. You will think it imprudent, I daresay. And perhaps we should have waited for the year of mourning to be done and then married at Longbourn Church in front of all our friends. We had planned it so ourselves, until we found that we loved each other too ardently to keep apart for all those months. So we were secretly married instead, with the intention of waiting until the proper time to announce it. Now you know all, Mary. Can you forgive us?”

  Mary could not answer. She needed more time – much more time – to adjust her disordered thinking, to extract this hard new truth from the agreeable fiction she had been used to believing.

  “Say something, Mary. I know this has come as a shock, but you did tell me at Pemberley that you would wish us happy when the time came.”

  “And you said at Pemberley that you were not engaged!”

  “It was the truth, for we were not engaged but married when you asked.”

  “Too late, then,” Mary muttered with hands to her face. “It was always too late.”

  “Too late?” Kitty repeated. “Too late for what?”

  Mary trembled with pent-up emotion. She wanted to scream at her sister or rage at the world in general. Instead, she was obliged to sit sedately and produce a plausible response. “I was thinking about… about poor Miss Beam,” Mary finally choked out. “She came all this way and tried so hard, but she never had a chance, did she?”

  “Miss Beam! You must not feel sorry for her. She did have her chance, in truth, and squandered it.”

  “Oh, I see. Tristan has told you this?”

  “On Sunday, when you did such a fine job of distracting the others. He said there was a time when he liked her very much, and he might have married her then if she had given him any encouragement. Miss Beam, however, had set her cap at a richer man, one who has apparently since thrown her over. So now, upon her brother’s urging, she has come crawling back to Tristan. Although, as you say, it is too late, and so Tristan has privately told Mr. Calvin Beam. They are to clear out tomorrow and back to America. I say good riddance to them too!�
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  “You have won the prize, Kitty. You could afford to be a little more charitable to the losers.” Another thought struck Mary. “Does Mama know any of this?”

  “No! We dare not tell her.”

  “Why not? She might be angry to have been cheated out of another wedding, but she would forgive you soon enough when she realizes that both Mr. Collins and Longbourn are secure.”

  “I daresay she would! No, it is not for fear of her anger; it is for fear that she will be incapable of keeping our marriage to herself. First it would be our aunt Phillips, and then Lady Lucas. Before the week is out the whole parish and beyond will know it. And we should still like to wait until January before announcing anything. We thought we could visit my aunt and uncle in Gracechurch Street this winter and return home married, as if the ceremony had taken place in London. For my part, I would as soon tell the world this minute, but Tristan is anxious to establish a good name for himself in this neighborhood. He wishes everything to appear right and proper, with no disrespect to the memory of our late, honoured father, may God rest his soul.”

  Calmer now, Mary advised, “That being the case, you had better pray not to be blessed with a child too soon. The common folk round about may not be exceptionally bright, but I would wager they can, every one of them, count to nine.”

  Kitty blushed profusely and laughed. With bittersweet feelings, Mary embraced her sister and wished her happy. There was clearly nothing else to be done.

  “Now, dearest Mary,” Kitty continued, after they released each other. “If you are sufficiently recovered from your shock, you must come back into the house. Tristan is as worried about you as I was. So, let me intreat you to say and look every thing that may set his heart at ease, and incline him to be satisfied that you are pleased with the match.”

  “You must allow me a few minutes alone to compose myself first.” Mary got to her feet, and her sister did likewise.

  “Very well, if you promise not to fly off again.”

  Mary offered a reassuring smile. “I will be along presently, Kitty. I might just take a turn in the garden first.”

  With a look of pure contentment, Kitty scampered off – back to her house and to her husband, their ownership being now irrevocably established.

  Mary’s own smile faded as soon as her sister left her and cold reality came home. It was over. The time had come to face that truth squarely. The impossible dream she had been clinging to had proved genuinely impossible after all. She had resolved once before to give Tristan up, and now it had to be done in earnest. Henceforth, he was her brother and nothing more. And there was an end to it.

  34

  Necessary Exertions

  Before Mary had summoned enough courage to return to the house and face her cousin, she heard and then saw Mrs. Bennet’s carriage approaching up the gravel sweep. Her heart sank within her. There could be no more delay. Now, exertion was indispensably necessary, and she struggled so resolutely against the oppression of her feelings, that her success was speedy and for the time complete.

  Being thankful that she had no tears to betray her true state of mind, Mary feigned cheerfulness and greeted the three persons alighting from the carriage – Mr. Beam first, who then assisted Mrs. Bennet and Miss Beam out. Then, turning to Mr. Jeffers on the box, Mary asked him to attend to Arielle as soon as he was able.

  “Well, Mary,” said Mrs. Bennet. “What do you think? We have been to Meryton, where I have acquainted our American friends with all the comforts and conveniences an English village can afford. And what do you do here? I never expect to see you at Longbourn any time but Sunday.”

  “I was given an unexpected holiday,” Mary explained as they all proceeded into the house. “Mr. Farnsworth has taken the children with him on an outing.”

  “Oh, yes!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, her voice rising with excitement. “The goings on at Netherfield – that is the subject on everybody’s lips in Meryton. Mrs. Elkhorn said she had seen ever so many fine carriages bound in that direction on the London road. My sister Phillips heard from the butcher that Mrs. Nicholls had come from Netherfield on Monday to order in a vast quantity of meat for Wednesday, and a good deal more for Saturday. It is also said that musicians were brought in for a ball last night. But I suppose you have observed little of the business yourself, Mary. What a shame, for it must have been a grand affair. Since I was not invited, I should very much have liked to be a mouse in the corner – to behold the splendor, and to see if the master was dancing and with whom. They say he has done it all to impress a lady, and that there might be a new Mrs. Farnsworth before long.”

  With such fresh and interesting fodder for discussion, Mrs. Bennet was able to carry the preponderance of the conversation through until dinner and beyond. Mary was called upon primarily to contribute what factual information she could supply from her first-hand knowledge of Netherfield. The rest Mrs. Bennet was perfectly content to leave to the authority of her own speculation. Mr. Beam served as a useful foil, providing just enough conversation to encourage and sustain her efforts. The others, for their various reasons, contributed little.

  For once, Mary was glad for her mother’s facility for talking, and she could not even be bothered to care about her lack of sense and decorum. Along with the clock in the hall, she was just marking time, waiting in suspense until she could go, and the less attention paid her the better. Directly after dinner she made her excuses.

  “I must be getting back,” she told them all upon their repairing to the drawing room. “Mr. Beam, Miss Beam, since I will not be seeing you again before you sail, I wish you a safe and comfortable journey home. Now, if you will pardon me, I shall take my leave.”

  Miss Beam nodded, and the gentlemen rose when Mary did.

  “So good to have met you, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Beam, taking her hand and bowing over it.

  “You came on horseback, I understand, Miss Mary,” said Tristan.

  “I did.”

  “Then you must allow me to accompany you back to Netherfield.”

  “I thank you, sir, but I assure you it is entirely unnecessary. I am perfectly capable of traveling the three miles on my own.”

  “I insist,” he said. “It will be my honor and my pleasure.” With this he escorted her from the room, and they both made their way to the stables.

  Little more passed between them until they were mounted and underway. Even then, Mary did not know where or how to begin, so great was her discomfiture at being alone with her cousin after all that had occurred. She was embarrassed for what she had seen and found out that day, but still more so for what she had said to him the previous Sunday. Had he understood, or at least suspected, her feelings and wishes? Had he pitied her or, worse yet, laughed at her behind her back for her pathetic illusions? Mortifying. Mary could only hope he had been as blind to her desires as she had been to his, and she waited for him to reveal the truth of the matter by what he said next.

  “This is a time for redeeming promises made,” said Tristan, once they had passed beyond the boundaries of Longbourn Park.

  His remark was not at all what Mary had expected. “How do you mean, sir?” she inquired.

  “I promised myself that we would one day have a ride together. Have you forgotten?”

  “Oh, yes, perhaps I had,” she lied.

  “I am not surprised; no doubt the idea was far more significant to me than it could possibly have been to you. Then, more recently, you generously promised to be my confidante, if I should need one – that you would hear whatever I should wish to say, and tell me exactly what you thought. Those were your very words, which I took as a clear proof of your sincere and impartial friendship. I hope what has happened has not changed that. Your continued friendship means a great deal to me, Mary – and more now too, for we are brother and sister.”

  “True, I did promise it… out of friendship, as you say, and because of my general inclination to be of use wherever I can. The situation is somewhat altered now, howeve
r. I now know what I did not then. You have a wife, sir, and she must be your primary confidante.”

  “Very well said. Then I shall simply ask you this. Tell me what you honestly think of my having married your sister. Can you be happy for us, and will you forgive the shock we gave you earlier today?”

  “It is my Christian duty to forgive, Mr. Collins, and I do so willingly. As for my being happy for you and Kitty, that I trust will come in time. I cannot think it prudent for you to have entered into wedlock so precipitously. But when your marriage proves to be a blessing to yourselves and to others, how could I refuse to be delighted for it as well?”

  “I see I shall have to be satisfied with that for now. It is an awkward beginning, I concede, and yet I wish you to believe there will be no reason for anybody to repine over what we have done. I shall make it my life’s work to see that your sister is happy. Your mother will be cared for as well; she need never leave her home if she does not wish to.”

  “That is admirable indeed, Mr. Collins, especially the latter part. Not every man would be prepared to practice forbearance to such a degree, even for a wife that he loves.”

  “We all have our little foibles, Miss Mary,” he said chuckling, “and your mother is certainly no exception. Fortunately, I seem to have been blessed with a more patient nature than most. I am not quickly provoked by the follies of others. And I believe Kitty will be easier having her mother close at hand; that is reason enough. You know her best, though, my dear sister. Is there anything else you can suggest I do for my wife’s comfort, or for your family’s peace of mind?”

  “No, Mr. Collins. You seem to have thought of everything.”

  They rode along in silence for a considerable time, the discomfort between them a little eased for their already having gracefully covered the necessary ground. Mary still did not know with certainty what Tristan might have suspected of her amorous intentions – and most probably she never would – although, after this first test, it at least appeared unlikely he would ever allude to comprehending anything of the sort. That was some relief.