“Indeed? Well, this is very good news!” Farnsworth said, rubbing his hands together. “I shall be happy to wish them joy.”
“As for Monsieur Hubert,” Mary said solemnly. “He is a dear man and a true friend. I have in fact been entertaining his suit most earnestly.”
Mary paused and hazarded a look at her companion, who stood in motionless suspense. In his familiar, well-seasoned visage she discovered all she needed to know. There she saw sincerity and hope. There she saw wisdom and intelligence. There she saw humor and passion. Simply put, she saw the face of the man she loved, the man who, inexplicably and according to his own fervent declaration, also loved her.
In that moment, the heaviness she had been carrying so long slid from her shoulders like snow from tree branches. Her limbs felt suddenly lighter, and it seemed as if her back could straighten properly for the first time in months. Mary felt herself smiling. She could not help it, despite the passing thought of her music master’s forthcoming disappointment.
“Upon further reflection, however,” she continued. “I am not certain that dear Monsieur Hubert would suit me any better than Mr. Collins would have. You see, Mr. Farnsworth, both your supposed rivals are far too agreeable. Since they were sure to always give me my way, I could never have had a respectable argument with either one of them. And I believe I enjoy a ‘lively verbal joust’ as much as you do.”
Amusement briefly tugged at the corner of Mr. Farnsworth’s mouth, and then his expression grew serious again. He held Mary by the shoulders and searched her face. “My dear, although I am just selfish enough to marry you anyway, I would like to believe I could make you happy. Is it possible that you could love me after all? Will you have me, faults and foul temper into the bargain? Will you come back to Netherfield and be my wife, and mother to my children?”
A vestige of Mary’s old, guarded ways momentarily asserted itself. It told her to answer reservedly – to accept him, yes, but not to admit how much she cared. Once he knew how broken she had been without him, how lost she would certainly be again should he ever forsake her, he would always possess a fundamental power over her. She knew this instinctively, and just as instinctively she resisted putting herself in that kind of peril.
“Well?” he prompted nervously. “Do you have an answer for me, Mary, or do you need more time?”
“No!” she exclaimed, jolted out of her reverie.
“No? Is that your answer?” He looked horrified at the prospect.
“Yes… I… I mean no.” Mary shook herself and tried again. “No, I do not need more time and… and yes, I will marry you, Mr. Farnsworth, happily.”
A mixture of powerful emotions played across his face – surprise, gratitude, and overpowering joy, it appeared. The sight spoke more profoundly than words, and Mary was well satisfied.
“Then you must call me Harrison,” Farnsworth said matter-of-factly when he had regained mastery of himself. He drew Mary’s gloved hand through to rest on his arm, and they started slowly down the path again. “But are you certain, absolutely certain?” he asked after a minute, turning to look at her.
Mary nodded. “There can be no doubt of it. I do love you… with all my heart, for I have been truly miserable without you these months, without you and the children. Nothing will make me happier than to become your wife.” Unaccountably, she began to cry, and once begun, could not stop.
Farnsworth pulled Mary close so that her cheek rested against his chest and her tears soaked into the rough fibers of his great coat. “There, there,” he said awkwardly. “If that be the case, my dear, you might start by trying to look the tiniest bit happy now, else no one will ever believe you.”
Mary sobbed all the louder.
“Forgive me,” she said minutes later, drawing back slightly and blotting her face with the handkerchief Farnsworth had provided her. “I am not usually prone to fits of crying; at least I never used to be.”
“No need to apologize. This has been a tumultuous year for you, beginning with your father’s death. These kinds of things cannot help leaving an impression on a person, or so they ought to do.”
“But I despise excessive sentiment. It is a weakness.” She looked up then and saw that his own eyes glistened with unshed tears.
He took both her hands in his. “If sentiment is a weakness, my dear Mary, then I think it is one of which you need not be ashamed. I believe it may be why I fell in love with you, in truth.”
“Indeed? How so?”
“Well, I already had great respect for your strength of character and intellect. Then, every now and again, I would catch a glimpse of the person who had let her protective armor slip just a bit; the one who risked all to stand up for my children, even against their own father, and yet was vulnerable herself; the one who might need something I had to offer after all.”
Mary felt a tremendous welling up of love and tenderness as she studied the face of her newly betrothed, only inches from her own. Love, yes, but there was something more too – a yearning, a desire for intimacy beyond what she had ever experienced before. She found herself inwardly straining towards an anticipated oneness with this man. Drawing a fraction closer to him, she tilted her head to one side.
Farnsworth understood and bent his mouth to hers in a gentle kiss.
The first brush of his soft lips sent a delicious shiver all through Mary’s body, and she unconsciously responded with added fervor, pressing more tightly against him. A tide of longing she had not known existed released in that moment, washing over her in a bittersweet blend of anguish and rapture – anguish for what had been missing all these years, and rapture that it was finally to be hers. He was finally to be hers: Mr. Harrison Farnsworth. It was too much to fathom, too wonderful to believe. Mary could not contain her emotions, and as they kissed again, quiet tears flowed once more.
48
Important Communications
They had wandered far along the path that bordered the lake and the stream at its outlet when Mary broke the pensive silence with a question. “Harrison, do you think the children will approve of our plans to wed? Will they be happy to have a new mother… to have me as their new mother?”
He turned to her with a broad grin. “You need have no worries on that head, my dear. I told the children what I hoped to accomplish by coming here, and I received a very enthusiastic endorsement of the plan from each one.”
So gratified was Mary at hearing this that she could only return his smile with shining eyes.
“What about your family, Mary? Is there anybody I should speak to or ask for your hand?”
“I am of age and may do as I please. Perhaps you might speak to Mr. Darcy, though, just as a courtesy. I count him as an elder brother, and with Papa gone…”
“Yes, of course. He may well be sorry to see you go from Pemberley. And yet he will have no one to blame but his own wife, for it was Mrs. Darcy’s letter that brought me here. I nearly went mad searching for you in London after Michael recovered. You cannot imagine what a relief it was to at last receive some news of you.”
“That is a letter I would very much like to see for myself.”
“Then you shall,” he said, reaching into his coat pocket.
Mary accepted the missive from his hand and read.
To Mr. H. Farnsworth
Netherfield Hall, Hertfordshire
Dear Sir,
When you know my purpose, I trust you will forgive my taking the liberty of writing to you. I believe (and my husband concurs with me) that you would wish to be made aware of certain facts relating to my sister, Miss Mary Bennet, late of your employ. I expect you have long been concerned for her well-being and whereabouts after she quit Netherfield so abruptly. Should that in fact be the case, allow me to set your mind at rest. Mary is safe with us here at Pemberley. It may also interest you to know that my sister has recently received an offer of marriage from a respected musical gentleman of our common acquaintance, the acceptance of which she is earnestly considering
at this moment. Unless something or someone should intervene, the next time you see Mary, I rather expect you will be greeting her as Madam Hubert.
Yours sincerely,
Mrs. E. Darcy
P.S. – Should you ever happen to be traveling in Derbyshire, Mr. Darcy and I would be delighted to receive you to Pemberley. My sister has always spoken so highly of you that we have long been desirous of making your better acquaintance.
“It seems I have much for which to thank my sister,” said Mary, refolding the letter and returning it to its owner.
“I am deeply indebted to her as well. Were it not for her timely information, I might have come too late. Did you indeed intend to accept Monsieur Hubert? Never mind,” he continued quickly. “It is none of my affair and it no longer matters.”
“We should be getting back to the house,” said Mary. “Although I would much prefer to stay out here, alone with you, Monsieur deserves an answer. I owe him that much.”
“Yes, of course. My gain is his loss, poor fellow.”
The lovers languidly made their way back toward the house, their progress slowed by their mutual reluctance to bring the cherished interval to an end. Every picturesque prospect or natural curiosity along their way served as an excuse for delay, for conversation, for another coming together in fervent embrace. But at last, they were on the very porch and could not forestall their entrance into the house any longer.
“Oh, there you are,” said Elizabeth, coming into the hall at the sound of the door. She looked from one to the other of them with a gleam in her eye and a satisfied smile. “Had you a pleasant walk, Mary?” she said archly.
Mary dropped her escort’s arm and blushed – very becomingly, as Mr. Farnsworth noticed.
Elizabeth continued. “Yes, I thought a little exercise would put some color into your cheeks, and now I see that I was right.”
“You are a wise woman, Mrs. Darcy,” said Mr. Farnsworth. “The turn in the garden has done us both a world of good, I believe, and I thank you most sincerely for suggesting it. Now, might I have a word with your husband, if he is at liberty?”
“Of course! What an excellent notion! You will find him in his library. Henderson will show you the way. Mary, you must come with me and warm yourself in front of the fire.”
After a glance back at Mr. Farnsworth’s retreating form, Mary followed her sister to the saloon, which was one of the family’s favorite rooms. There, the failing daylight was supplemented by a cheerful fire casting a warm glow throughout.
“Sit here with me,” said Elizabeth, leading her sister to the sofa facing the hearth. “Now, explain yourself. What has happened? I can see by your countenance that you are not in the same frame of mind as you were earlier today. Tell me, then, will you be leaving us after all?”
“Oh, Lizzy!” gasped Mary. “I owe you my happiness. Your letter… Well, my goodness. How did you know?”
Elizabeth laughed and clapped her hands. “Do you mean I was right? Has he proposed?”
Mary nodded. “He has indeed, though I can scarce believe it. Oh, that he should love me, of all people! It is too fantastical. Can you imagine me as mistress of Netherfield?”
“And why not, I should like to know?” exclaimed Elizabeth indignantly. “You undervalue yourself, Mary. You are as worthy of a fine house and a fine husband as any lady I know, and more worthy than some. Why should you not have your chance?”
“But I still do not understand how you came to send that letter, Lizzy, how you knew the truth.”
“I suppose I did not know the whole truth, although I could plainly see your half of it. As for Mr. Farnsworth, I just had to go on faith. I expected that if he cared for you, he would know how to act on my information.”
“And if he did not?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Well, if he did not, then my letter would have done no harm. Are you very angry with me for sending it? It was a violation of your confidence, I freely admit.”
“Oh! When I think how differently things might have transpired had you not sent that blessed letter, Lizzy! Why, by now I might have been engaged to Monsieur Hubert instead! Where is he, by the way?”
“Gone. I told him you had been called away on urgent business and that I could not be certain when you would be at home again. I did offer myself as a pupil in your place, with the possibility that you might yet return in time to see him. He had no patience for my poor performance, however, and I cannot say that I much blame him. After hearing me, he suggested that, ‘Perhaps your son, Mrs. Darcy, he inherits his musical talent from his father, oui?’” Elizabeth laughed heartily. “Poor man. I daresay this day has not turned out at all as he had hoped. In any event, Monsieur Hubert will be staying the night at the inn at Lambton. He said he must depart by noon tomorrow to keep his next appointment, and he begs that you would send him some word before then.”
“Yes, I shall. I hope he will not be so very disappointed. Oh, and I hope he will consent to still being my teacher. Do you suppose he is the kind of man who would hold a grudge against me?”
“Perhaps you would like to reconsider your decision then, Mary,” her sister teased. “A good music master is very difficult to come by. In fact, I begin to regret that I ever championed Mr. Farnsworth’s cause. Should Monsieur Hubert get wind of it, I may be obliged to find a new instructor for my children as well. What a great nuisance that would be.”
~~*~~
Mary, who knew that her next duty was to relate the good news to her mother, was glad to learn from her sister that she had gone up to her own apartment only a half hour before. Mary followed her there and made the important communication. The effect was most extraordinary; for on first hearing it, Mrs. Bennet sat quite still and unable to utter a syllable. Nor was it under many minutes that she could comprehend what she heard. She began at length to recover, to fidget about in her chair, to get up, sit down again, wonder, and bless herself.
“Good gracious! Lord bless me! Is this really true? You are to marry Mr. Farnsworth? Can it be possible? Of all my daughters, I never would have expected it to be you who ended as mistress of Netherfield. You must forgive my underestimating you, my dear. And never to say a word about it until now. How sly you are. Oh my! What fine horses and carriages you will have, Mary, and what pin-money! I begin to feel quite sorry to Kitty, for she will be nothing to you after all. And what if Mr. Farnsworth is a little gray? He is very well set up and must leave you a rich widow when the time comes.”
“Mama!” Mary cried in horror.
“Well, never mind that. It will be years and years from now, I daresay. Mr. Farnsworth seems to have a strong enough constitution. But a young wife, you know, could be overtaxing to a man of his age. You must remember to be careful.”
“Please, Mama.”
“Oh, I am so very happy! All five daughters married: it is more than I had ever dared to hope for. I cannot wait to tell my sister Phillips – and that snobbish Mrs. Elkhorn – about you and about Kitty both. Everybody will have to congratulate me on my good fortune. And, thanks to you, Mary, we shall yet have one more wedding from Longbourn!”
Over the course of the evening, Mary received the best wishes of the other members of her family as well. They, though likewise surprised and pleased by the news of her engagement to Mr. Farnsworth, were better able to govern their behavior and temper their effusions of delight. For this, Mary was grateful. As indisputably happy as she was, she could not help also feeling embarrassed at occupying the foreign position as the center of attention.
She was glad, therefore, for the chance to steal away for a few minutes alone with Mr. Farnsworth.
“Your family seems pleased with our news,” he said.
“Of course they are pleased. Not one of them expected me ever to marry at all, let alone so well. And they cannot help liking you, Mr. Farnsworth.”
“Harrison, remember?”
“Harrison, then. Oh, how strange that sounds, for I have been used to calling you something else for n
early five years. It is a fine name, though. Why is it that you did not pass it on to your son?”
A shadow flitted across his face. “It was my wife’s doing; she chose the name for her own reasons. But that is a story for another day. I wish to think only of agreeable things tonight, my darling, like how soon I can make you my bride.” He gathered her into his embrace and bent her back to kiss her.
Yes, Mary thought as she relaxed into his arms, only agreeable things tonight.
49
Full Disclosure
When Mary awoke next morning, she was a few minutes remembering all that had transpired the day before, and few minutes more being convinced that her happy recollections were genuine. Still, until she saw him again, she did not feel as if she could fully trust the fact that Mr. Farnsworth – Harrison, she corrected herself – loved her, was solemnly pledged to marry her, and that he would soon carry her home to Netherfield.
Before she went in search of her betrothed, however, she determined to dispatch a piece of business less enjoyable and yet just as necessary. She therefore took up paper to pen a note to Monsieur Hubert. Although it was not an easy letter to write, Mary did it without flinching, brought the sealed packet downstairs with her, and had it sent straightaway to the inn at Lambton. Later she might learn how its recipient took the news – if he would still be her music instructor though he could not be her husband. For now, however, all she could think of was finding Harrison Farnsworth.
He was in the breakfast room, and his face lit up when he saw her. Starting out of his chair, he said, “Good morning.”
“Yes, it is,” she agreed, staring back at him from the doorway.
Presently he continued, “I thought we might ride together today, if the weather holds. I have so much to talk to you about, Mary, so much I must tell you.”
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