“Come with me, Madam,” said Darcy in a commanding tone as he crossed the room to offer Mrs. Bennet his arm. “Do be good enough to accompany me to the drawing room. I wish to hear more of what you were saying earlier about your opinion for how the room should be freshly furnished.” For this gallant sacrifice, he received the couple’s silent gratitude and a very promising look of admiration from his wife.
Their isolation thus happily restored, Farnsworth said, “Your brother-in-law is a prince among men.”
“Truly, he is,” agreed Mary. “And Mama will not always be so intrusive, I trust. It is only that our engagement is new, and she is caught up in the excitement of the thing.”
“I cannot fault her for that; I am rather caught up in the excitement as well.”
Mary blushed with pleasure.
After a thoughtful pause, Farnsworth continued. “Dear Mary, I could not be more gratified that we have laid the past to rest and come to a right understanding between ourselves. One thing I still wish clarified, however.”
“Yes? What is it?”
“Your reason – or reasons – for leaving Netherfield so abruptly. I know you blamed yourself for Michael’s accident and evidently believed everybody else would too, including myself. And yet your parting note hinted at something else. I have my theory, but will you not now tell me the rest?”
Mary dropped her eyes and for a long minute studied her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. “It is to do with Clinton,” she finally said in little more than a whisper.
“Just as I thought,” said Farnsworth with controlled intensity. He got to his feet, strode to the hearth, and then returned. “I was told that he virtually attacked you in the servants’ quarters. How long had this been going on, these unwanted attentions?”
“There had been a few, more minor incidents in the months prior.”
“And why did you not report his misconduct?”
“I did. When I woke one day to find him in my bedchamber, watching me, I went to your sister. She said she would have Haines speak to the man. It apparently did no good, however.”
“Hmm. I wish you had come to me instead.”
“As I recall, you were out of charity with me at that time. And when the last, violent event occurred… Well, you had more important matters on your mind.”
“I am sorry I was not available to you when you needed me most, Mary. It shall not occur again. You may be somewhat comforted to know that Clinton is gone and will never set foot on the grounds of Netherfield again.”
“How did you know? Who was it that informed on his behavior?”
“Haines. It was he who saw what happened in the servants’ quarters and later told me of it. I immediately sent Clinton packing, but by then you had already gone. Haines said nothing of any past offenses, however.”
“Perhaps your sister forgot to tell him.”
“Yes, perhaps,” he muttered, “although I am not at all certain it was forgetfulness. Deliberate neglect, more like.”
“But, why? I have asked myself a hundred times why she first befriended and then later turned against me. I was inclined to lay it to your charge, thinking you might disapprove of your darling sister keeping company with a governess.”
“Not I, no! Truth be told, I think you would find that Monsieur Hubert was the cause of my sister’s change in sentiments.”
“Monsieur Hubert! What can he have to do with the business?”
“I gather his copious praise of you, samples of which I heard for myself on more than one occasion, became a cruel thorn in Lavinia’s side. ‘Miss Bennet has such an ear for music, such a talent. Why cannot you play more like her, Miss Farnsworth, instead of in this clumsy manner? You must practice day and night if you ever hope to measure up to Miss Bennet.’ You can imagine that such comparisons, made by her beloved music master, would hardly have endeared you to the lady. If she had suspected that the man was in love with you as well, you might have been murdered in your bed.”
“If that was truly the source of the trouble, our relations are sure to improve hereafter. I doubt that dear Monsieur Hubert will be singing my praises any longer.” Then Mary laughed.
“What is it, my love?”
“I was just thinking that perhaps Miss Lavinia will prove to be his new favorite. How would you feel about having Monsieur Hubert for a brother-in-law?”
“He is welcome to my sister, so long as he leaves my wife alone.”
51
Epilogue
Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet got rid of her last daughter. Mary, in a fine gown, standing up in church next to a comfortably rich man in his prime – it was a sight that good lady had never expected to see. And yet now it seemed to her perfectly right and reasonable that one of her offspring should again preside at Netherfield.
Mrs. Bennet’s enjoyment had not ceased since her return from Derbyshire. First, she had the satisfaction of announcing to all her friends that her daughter Kitty was now Mrs. Tristan Collins and would be remaining at Longbourn as its mistress. Then, when the furor had died down, the upcoming nuptials between Mary and Mr. Farnsworth had been publicized, prompting another gratifying round of felicitations.
In all this merriment, there was one occasion for sadness, however. At the church, the empty place in the pew beside Mrs. Bennet was a poignant reminder of the absent head of the family. Had Mr. Bennet known what revolutionary changes would occur that year, he surely would have found it worth his while to remain on earth a little longer. As it was, he was consigned to observe these events from afar, from his seat amongst the angels.
Although Mr. Bennet was not present in body on the day Mary and Harrison Farnsworth exchanged their vows, a cloud of witnesses were there to represent him: his widow, his five daughters, their respective husbands, and a growing throng of grandchildren. With all these to bear testimony to the mark he had left on the world, there would be no doubt of his memory living on into the foreseeable future.
To the sum of his natural grandchildren, Mr. Bennet could that day add those he was acquiring by Mary’s marriage – a healthy-looking boy of nine and a pair of fine girls, twelve and fourteen years of age, all of whom were in their best clothes and behaving tolerably well. These were much regarded and much talked over by those interested persons who had never before set eyes on them. During the wedding breakfast at Netherfield, following the ceremony, Kitty observed that the three appeared very happy about their father’s marriage. Jane viewed the trio with sympathy and said how pleased she was to know that the children would now have a mother again.
Lydia’s thoughts on the topic were less charitable. “I do not envy Mary,” said she. “Three to care for, and not one of them her own! I daresay the only saving grace is that they are already half grown, and she may hope to be soon rid of them.”
Elizabeth, who saw signs of mischief in the boy especially, was of the opinion that Mary would have her work cut out for her there.
“Your sister will manage very well, with her new husband’s help,” Darcy told her. “He is not the sort to tolerate tomfoolery for long, and I would wager nothing much gets the better of him – certainly not one small boy.”
With an arch look, Elizabeth told him, “Ah, but I have seen with my own eyes the power of one small boy to bring a proud man to his knees. And where there are three children, the poor man does not stand a chance against them.”
Darcy answered dryly, “How lucky, then, if he has a sensible wife to stand in the breach, lest the man be completely undone. No one wants that.”
“I feel certain it is no longer Mary and Mr. Farnsworth of whom we are speaking, Mr. Darcy, but of ourselves.” She then continued in a whisper. “That being the case, sir, I must disagree with you and say that I think I should rather like seeing you completely undone.”
Whilst Mr. Darcy joined his wife in the indulgence of these private musings, the rest of the company continued unawares. They ate and they drank. They toasted the happy
couple, wishing them health, wealth, and length of days. Then finally they waved as the newlyweds departed on their wedding journey to Spain.
For an idyllic month, Harrison and Mary Farnsworth escaped the English winter to bask in the temperate heat of the Mediterranean sun and of each other’s company. They often strolled along the beach and dined on the sumptuous local cuisine before once again retreating to the privacy of their rented villa overlooking the sea. If sufficient warmth were ever lacking, which it hardly ever was, either he or she was sure to find some inconsequential point of differing opinion that admitted spirited debate. Were the wines of Spain superior or inferior to those made in France? Which was the more beautiful – the sunset they were currently enjoying or the one of the previous night? The friction of the ensuing argument never failed to kindle a fire of a kind best enjoyed behind closed doors. In this form, the bride and groom were able to carry home a share of the romantic Spanish atmosphere to enjoy ever after.
Mr. Farnsworth had arranged that certain changes be made at Netherfield whilst he was away, in order to make his bride’s homecoming more agreeable. For one, all of her belongings were to be properly installed in the house, with special care taken over her books, which henceforth would occupy a section of their own in the main library. Secondly, a new suite of rooms was to be fitted up for their mutual use, so that the second Mrs. Farnsworth would not be obliged to sleep in the very shadow of the first. Most importantly, however, the more recent mistress of Netherfield was to be completely exorcised from the house. Miss Lavinia Farnsworth had been instructed by her brother to pack her things and go, not to return even as a visitor until she was prepared to make a full apology to Mary for her many acts of grievous ill-usage.
These things accomplished, Netherfield stood ready and in eager anticipation of the return of its master and new mistress. When Mr. Farnsworth handed his wife out of the carriage at the front door, she was hardly recognizable to the household’s servants, who had assembled in welcome. Gone were the weeds of a daughter in mourning. Gone were the severe dress and coiffeur of the governess, replaced by a softer, more stylish and elegant picture. No one was likely to mistake the lady for a servant again.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Farnsworth,” said Mrs. Brand at the front of the receiving line.
Mary smiled and nodded her head to her housekeeper friend, and then acknowledged the succession of other familiar faces in a similar fashion. Lastly, she and her husband came to the children, who were waiting on the porch, and here all formality gave way. Nothing less than a fervent embrace would do for each of them, and then everybody seemed to be talking at once. Questions flew back and forth with no time for the answers.
“Are you well, Michael?”
“Did you see any bull fights in Spain, Papa?”
“How are your studies progressing, Gwendolyn? Have you had any letters from your Bancroft cousins?”
“What did you bring us from your trip?”
“Dear Grace, how are you?”
All these ran together before one question stood out from the rest.
“Oh, what shall I call you now?” Grace asked Mary.
Mary was taken aback and silenced.
“I cannot continue calling you Miss Bennet any longer, can I?” the girl added.
“No, I suppose not,” Mary answered, looking to her husband for assistance.
Mr. Farnsworth crouched down to make himself equal to his young daughter’s height. “Would you like to call her ‘Mama,’ Gracie?” he asked. “It would be perfectly acceptable if you would.”
Grace vigorously nodded her head, and so it was settled for the two younger children. Gwendolyn, who retained a stronger impression of her natural mother, received permission to call Mary by her given name for the time being.
Mary had been in training for the children’s mother over all her years as their governess. And four weeks in Spain with Harrison had taught her the first important lessons in the art of being his wife. Now another month was required to make her equally confident as mistress of Netherfield. After that period had elapsed, the Farnsworths gave a ball to celebrate their marriage with all their friends and neighbors.
The Bingleys and the Darcys came from the north, but Mary’s other two sisters were too far advanced with child to appear. There was a delegation of select friends from London invited, as well as the usual families from that corner of Hertfordshire where the Netherfield family resided.
Gwendolyn and Grace came in to watch Mary dress that evening.
“Please, Mary,” said Gwendolyn, “may I not come to the ball tonight? I am nearly fifteen.”
“Oh, Gwen,” Mary answered, stroking her new daughter’s cheek with her gloved hand, “you must not be in such a hurry. You will have balls and parties enough in another year or two, and we shall be sure to include your Bancroft cousins,” she added with a wink. “For tonight, however, you must be content to watch the dancing from the doorway.”
The girl’s eyes twinkled with fun. “Like when we crept down and spied on the ball last summer?”
“Exactly, only this time you need not be so secretive because you and Grace have my permission, and your father’s.”
So Grace and Gwendolyn were there to observe the general splendor of the scene in the ballroom that night. Mary looked every inch the lady as her distinguished husband led her out onto the floor to begin the first dance.
“The moment is here at last, my love,” he told her.
“I am not certain I understand you, Harrison.”
“Nine months ago, I made you – I made myself – a promise. You would not dance with me that night in the library, but I vowed then and there that another time you would. Now, here we are. I have kept my word by bringing it to pass,” he said, ending in a tone of triumph.
“Ah, yes,” said Mary wryly. “How well I remember your words on that occasion. You cannot take full credit for their accomplishment, however.”
“And why not?” he asked indignantly. “I should like to know who else claims a share in it.”
“Have you forgotten the part Elizabeth played? And I must demand a portion of the credit as well, if wishful thinking counts for anything.” Mary looked straight into the cool, blue fire of her husband’s eyes. “For I assure you that not a day has passed between that night and this when I have not pictured myself being swept away in your arms.”
Harrison Farnsworth returned her penetrating gaze, and one side of his mouth curled decidedly upward. He tugged his wife a bit closer; the music of the opening dance began; and with its heady strains, they moved off together as one.
The End
About the Author
Author Shannon Winslow specializes in writing fiction for fans of Jane Austen. The Darcys of Pemberley, her popular sequel to Pride and Prejudice, was her debut novel in 2011. For Myself Alone – a stand-alone Austen-inspired story – followed in 2012. Now comes Return to Longbourn, the next chapter in the continuing Pride and Prejudice saga. Shannon has something entirely different waiting in the wings – a contemporary “what if” novel entitled First of Second Chances (date of publication yet to be announced). After that, she has in mind a Persuasion tie-in, which is currently in the planning stage.
Her two sons grown, Ms. Winslow lives with her husband in the log home they built in the countryside south of Seattle, where she writes and paints in her studio facing Mt. Rainier.
For more information, visit www.shannonwinslow.com.
Follow Shannon on Twitter (as JaneAustenSays) and on Facebook.
Appendix
Author’s Note: Below you will find all the direct Jane Austen quotes used in this novel. In some cases, slight changes were made from the original text to allow the excerpted passages to fit more seamlessly into the manuscript. The reader may recognize other familiar phrases, too short and numerous to cite here, which also point to Miss Austen’s work.
Key: References are followed by their source – book title and chapter, in abbreviated form. Abbrevia
tions are as follows: P – Persuasion, NA – Northanger Abbey, S&S – Sense and Sensibility, P&P – Pride and Prejudice, E – Emma, MP – Mansfield Park.
Chapter 1: It is a truth universally acknowledged…P&P, opening line. Mrs. Bennet was really in a most pitiable state. P&P-23. “You look pale. How much you must have gone through. P&P-47. I was going to look for you…She followed him thither [; and] her curiosity to know what he had to tell her [was] heightened by the supposition of its being in some manner connected with the [letter] he held. P&P-57.
Chapter 2: [Elizabeth] lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much oppressed to make any reply. P&P-47. It sometimes happens that a woman is handsomer at twenty-nine than she was ten years before. P-1.
Chapter 3: It did come, and exactly when it might be reasonably looked for. NA-26 “What is there of good to be expected?” P&P-49. Three thousand pounds [! He] could spare so considerable a sum with little inconvenience. S&S-1.
Chapter 4: Bless me, how troublesome they are sometimes! P-6. …not at all afraid of being long unemployed. There [are] places in town, offices where inquiry would soon produce something… E-35.
Chapter 5: …must be in want of a wife…the rightful property of [some] one or other of [their] daughters. P&P-1. They proceeded in silence along the gravel walk that led to the copse. [Elizabeth] was determined to make no effort for conversation… P&P-56. I feel myself called upon by our relationship… to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are now suffering under, of which [we were] yesterday informed by a letter from [Hertfordshire]. P&P-48.
Chapter 6: “And what am I to do on the occasion?” P&P-20. “I will make no promise of the kind.” P&P-56.
Chapter 7: “I do assure you, Sir, that I have no pretensions whatever to that kind of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man.” P&P-19.
Chapter 8: “For heaven’s sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can it be to you to offend Mr. [Darcy]? You will never recommend yourself [to his friend] by so doing.” P&P-18. The [Frank Churchill] so long talked of, so high in interest, was actually before her. E-23
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