by Jayne Bamber
“Oh, of course,” Miss Tilney said with a smile.
“Oh yes, Mr. Rushworth,” Harriet cried. “How clever you are!”
Mr. Rushworth actually blushed here, and gave her a look of absolute adoration for making such a speech. “Why – thank you, my dear – Miss Harriet.”
“I must discover if there is such a letter – certainly it must be me,” Harriet continued, her mind racing with the excitement of their plan.
“Of course,” Mr. Tilney agreed, “it must be you – you should be the least conspicuous person to have a look about Cranbrook.”
“But she is staying at Rosings now,” Mary said.
“I am sure I can look there, too,” Harriet replied. “I shall find an excuse, and make a search of both houses. If there is anything to be discovered, I must accomplish it, if not for Cynthia’s sake, then for the child’s.”
“Only let us make a pact,” Mary said, with an intense look at everyone. “We have discussed a great many secrets here today – let them go no further than the five of us.”
The promise was easily given by the rest of their group, and Harriet was really quite pleased that they should all have such an interesting secret betwixt them. Like living in a novel indeed!
27
Kent, May
Mary grinned across the breakfast table at Harriet – everything was in place for their plan, and Miss Cole was to arrive within the hour. Harriet had spent the previous day snooping about Cranbrook, but had turned up nothing to connect Cynthia Sutton to Fred Tilney. Today she had come to do the same at Rosings, on the pretense of welcoming her friend Miss Cole. They had taken Kate and Robert into their confidence regarding her true identity, but the rest remained a secret. Though Mary still had moments of doubt as to the morality of the entire situation, she could not deny she liked being privy to such intrigue.
For now, all they could do was wait. Miss Sutton kept Town hours, and nobody at Rosings could object to her not taking breakfast with them – unlike a great many blushing brides, who might be expected to be in the highest possible cheer, Miss Sutton was not a particularly pleasant houseguest. Of course, given what Mary had learned from her sister Kate about being in such a delicate condition, there may have been another explanation for Miss Sutton’s failure to appear in the mornings.
Miss Tilney – Miss Cole – arrived as planned at half past ten, and gave all the appearance of having traveled post from Highbury. Caroline had gone to Cranbrook, and Lydia and Georgiana still kept to their rooms, often wallowing in their misery together, but Kate was the consummate hostess; though she was aware of Miss Tilney’s identity and the reason for her visit, Kate put on a good show – Mary suspected she really did enjoy showing off her new home, and with the Crawfords recently departed for Everingham, she was in want of something to occupy her.
The four women spent a very pleasant hour going over the house together, at the end of which Robert made an appearance to bid his guest welcome in person. He had all the appearance of being on the verge of going out himself, and mentioned that the gentlemen were to have a shooting party at Cranbrook. “I believe Emily Sutton and Cecily Middleton have arranged a little picnic on the terrace, for any ladies who would wish to join,” Robert said. “There shall be cold meats and cheese and cake and every good thing! A fine sampling of Kentish hospitality for you Miss Cole,” Robert said with a wink.
“We shall certainly go with you,” Mary replied. Her thoughts were all for Mr. Tilney – it would be the perfect opportunity for him to spend some more time with his sister, without raising any suspicion. “What a fine thing for your brother,” she told Miss Tilney. “As he is such a terrible shot, I am certain he should be relieved to have us there with him.”
Miss Tilney gave Mary a strange look. “Whatever do you mean? Henry loves shooting! Poor man – but whoever told you he was a terrible shot?”
“Why, he did. Last time there was a shooting party, he came riding with me instead; he said he was a terrible shot, and had no wish to embarrass himself in front of all the other gentlemen.”
Kate raised her eyebrows and gave Mary a knowing look, while Miss Tilney laughed. “Oh dear! Poor Henry! And I have exposed all his trickery.”
“I certainly hope you will come to the shooting party,” Kate told her new guest with a wide smile. “I have a feeling that you and I shall get along very well together indeed.”
Only Harriet seemed to hesitate, and Mary belatedly remembered that they were to search Miss Sutton’s room – certainly this must be their first priority. Giving her friend a reassuring glance, Mary said, “I believe Harriet had meant to speak with Lydia and Georgiana, for we are to finish our reading of The Romance of the Forest tomorrow, and we are hoping they will join us for the final chapter. You go and look in on them Harriet, while I get Miss Cole settled in her room. You and Robert needn’t wait for us, Kate; I am sure we shall walk over on our own in another hour or so. Perhaps we may even persuade Lydia and Georgiana to come along.”
Robert and Kate agreed, and left the young ladies to their own devices. They met with Cynthia Sutton in the corridor, and Mary heard Harriet breathe a sigh of audible relief that Miss Sutton’s room was now to be unattended. Mary gave Miss Tilney’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “Good morning, Miss Sutton,” Mary said with a forced smile. “My brother and sister have just left for the shooting party – I am sure you might catch them up, if you mean to attend as well. But first, may I present my friend, Miss Helena Cole? She is just arrived from Surrey.”
Miss Sutton sneered, gave Miss Tilney an appraising look, and merely replied, “Bully for you,” before sweeping past them.
Once she had gone, Harriet and Mary exchanged a nervous giggle. “Good Heavens,” Miss Tilney cried. “That is Cynthia Sutton?”
“I cannot account for how she can possibly be related to the rest of our family,” Harriet observed.
“That she should share any relation to you quite mystifies me,” Miss Tilney replied, “although, I am sure I can see the attraction, for my brother. Fred likes that sort of girl, the vicious type.”
Mary looked at Miss Tilney with astonishment. “What on earth for?”
Miss Tilney screwed up her face and shrugged. “Well, I suppose I had better get settled in. Harriet, do you need any assistance searching Miss Sutton’s room?”
“Oh – no. I think I had better go myself. I am rather afraid of getting caught, though I was able to search her room at Cranbrook without any detection. Still, I think it best I should do it on my own – if I am to be caught, I should rather not incriminate anyone else. My mother would defend me, but I had better not bring you into it.”
“Clever indeed, and strangely heroic,” Mary replied. “I think I shall go look in on Lydia and Georgie.”
“Oh, must you? I had rather hoped you would come with me – that is, Miss Helena Cole is quite nervous in new places.” Miss Tilney smiled playfully. “Henry told me about your theatrical, so it is only fair I should be playing a character of my own. And I am quite determined that Helena Cole requires your constant company, Mary.”
Miss Tilney was too charming to resist. “Oh, very well,” Mary replied. “Do come and find us, Harriet, if you discover anything.” She followed Miss Tilney into her room, and as soon as the two were quite alone, Miss Tilney burst into a fit of giggles.
“What fun that was,” she said. “I knew not what I was getting myself into, when I fled my father in Watford, but I must fully own I am so happy to be here! Of course, I should always be happier to be with my brother Henry, but I really think I am going to like being here in Kent for more reasons than just that.”
“I am glad to hear you say so, Miss Tilney. I am sure Kate is happy to have another guest – she likes playing hostess.”
“Please, call me Eleanor, or Ellie, as Henry does. Oh, and I like your sister very much! What a fine house she has here – it is no wonder she should wish to fill it with people! It is very pleasant to be in such a cheerful house, I am s
ure, after being so much at the Abbey – it is not so jolly there. But I meant you, silly. I am glad I have come, because of you.” Eleanor gave her an absolutely charming smile, before turning to open her trunk.
“That is very kind of you,” Mary said. “I have heard much about you from your brother – I have felt as though we could be friends, if ever we should meet.”
“Exactly,” Eleanor said, without looking up from her rummaging. “Just as I have heard a great deal about you, from Henry’s letters.”
“Surely you tease me, Eleanor!”
“Why should I do that? Indeed, my brother has written to me about you – several times. I know all about your theatrical scheme, your first meeting in London when he took to quizzing you at dinner, and how he was rather disappointed that you did not come into Kent when everybody else did.” Pulling a very fine gown from her trunk, Eleanor looked up at Mary at last. “I really do wish us to be friends, Mary, only I must beg you this one favor – do not break his heart!”
Mary was so astonished that she was obliged to sit down. “Break his heart? Certainly not!”
Eleanor’s brilliant smile only intensified. “So you do admire him? I thought so – I hoped so.”
“No – that is, I do not know. Indeed, I do not think that he admires me so very much.”
Eleanor rolled her eyes and stamped her foot. “That is what I am telling you, Mary. I am certain he does. Between his letters, and his company these past two days, it has been nothing but ‘Mary Bennet this’ and ‘Mary Bennet that.’ He has not said it outright, but I am certain he is very much in love with you. Can you truly be unaware of it?”
Mary considered. That Lydia and Kate wished it to be so did not signify with her – if their hopes alone were enough to bring something into being, certainly Lydia herself should not be so disappointed at present. No, she must think harder. Mary replayed their every interaction in her head, and compared it with Mr. Tilney’s behavior in general, especially in the company of Harriet. It had occurred to her that Mr. Tilney and Harriet were much better suited to one another, for any number of reasons, and she said as much to Eleanor.
“Miss Harriet is very lovely, I shall grant you that,” Eleanor replied, “but I saw no particular signs of attachment on either side, when we met at the gazebo. Indeed, she is for Mr. Rushworth, mark my words. They were sitting very close to one another.”
“Well, perhaps they were, but even so, I cannot account for how you could be so confident about it, after only seeing them together just the once.”
“Ah, but first impressions are everything, Mary! But do not think to distract me with talk of Miss Harriet – you have still not denied that you like my brother Henry!”
“What if he is for Harriet, and not Mr. Rushworth?”
“Certainly not!” Eleanor shook her head and laughed. “You were his first choice of confidant, when I arrived so unexpectedly. He could think of no one else to consult on the manner – he was quite certain that Mary Bennet would sort it all out to everyone’s satisfaction, and so you did.”
“I cannot think why,” Mary said. “It seems that Harriet already had more information than I, regarding his history – he alluded to telling her something that he had not told me – he said he had no wish to seem boastful.”
“Oh – that. And now you only give strength to my argument! He cares more about how you might perceive him, and thus he held his tongue. Had he told you the truth, he may have seemed immodest indeed, and he knows you well enough, I daresay, to fear giving you the wrong impression, by speaking so highly of himself. Toward Harriet he might have been more forthcoming, but it can only prove that he was less fearful of her reaction to the information.”
“What was the information?”
Eleanor laughed and moved toward her, holding up a pretty muslin day dress she had pulled from her trunk. “Put this on, and I shall tell you.”
Mary could only gape at her in surprise. It was a very fine dress, finer even than anything in Mary’s newly acquired wardrobe. Looking at the elaborately trimmed garment, she was suddenly struck with the realization of how high above her the Tilney family must surely be. “I cannot wear that!”
Eleanor stamped her foot again. “Well, neither can Helena Cole! She comes from a family of traders, as I recall, so she shall dress more simply. You shall wear this, if you wish to hear Henry’s great secret.”
Mary was still skeptical. “Perhaps you ought not betray so many of your brother’s secrets, anyhow.”
For a moment Mary thought she had gotten the better of her new friend, but then Eleanor shrugged and laughed it off. “I am only trying to help him on – poor Henry has always been quite helpless on his own, you know – always lost in the middle in our family, neither the dashing firstborn son, nor the baby girl the aunts and uncles doted on.”
“I am sure he does just fine,” Mary quipped, seeing no resemblance at all to his open and amiable temperament, and her own experience of being lost in the middle at Longbourn. And yet, perhaps there were some similarities…. She recalled the attention he paid her on the night they met, how he had made a point of preferring her playing to Lydia’s – how he had spoken of adapting to fit in with his siblings, such as taking up reading novels to find common ground with his sister. A hundred other little things came to mind, and she smiled to herself, considering how very much she liked his character after all. “Well, I suppose it cannot be so great a secret, if he did tell Harriet. Oh, give me the dress, then, and I shall put it on.”
“Wonderful!” With a smirk, Eleanor handed Mary the dress, and Mary stepped behind a screen to put it on, wishing she might ring a maid for help, but really wanting to hear what Eleanor had to tell her. Eleanor, also changing her gown, continued speaking from the other side of the screen. “What fun! This is just what sisters do, is it not? Get dressed together, share dresses, talk about handsome beaux….”
“Something like that, I believe,” Mary replied, though she had not often been included in such antics at Longbourn. “Very well, I have nearly got the dress on – I think I may need a little help with some adjustments – now tell me about your brother!”
Mary stepped out from behind the screen to find Eleanor, now more simply attired, grinning at her. “Oh, that is simply perfect, Mary. Now, I will tell you all. My brother is quite romantic. I confided in him about my love for Mr. Fielding, nearly a year ago. He was determined to help me, to persuade our father to see reason. Oh dear, you have a curl out of place – there. At any rate, our father could not be moved – he remained adamant that Mr. Fielding is too far beneath me. I continued to pine after Mr. Fielding, exchanging letters with him in secret, hoping something could be done. A few months ago, a fortunate circumstance occurred. Father got into a border dispute with Mr. Beckham, who recently inherited the neighboring estate, Halliwell Hall. Father thought he could get a better bargain of the younger man, and in their negotiations he received a parcel of land he had long desired, in exchange for a promise that Mr. Beckham might appoint the next parson at Woodston, the living Henry once held. He thought it very clever of him, I am sure, for he intended Henry to reside there for many years – he might have stayed in Woodston all his life. However, Henry saw what our father did not – my Mr. Fielding, you see, is a distant cousin of Mr. Beckham, and so Henry resigned his position, knowing that Mr. Beckham would appoint his relation to the post, now that he was at liberty to do so. And so he did – Mr. Fielding completed his ordination and took the living of Woodston, which is a generous one that can provide for a wife and children.” Here Eleanor paused and blushed. “So you see, Mary, that is why Henry was obliged to come to Hunsford – he gave up his living, left his own neighborhood, the county in which he spent all his life, to make way for my love, my Mr. Fielding, so that he might have the means to support me, when I come of age and am free to marry him.”
Mary was obliged to turn away, that she might wipe away a tear that had formed in the corner of her eye. Her heart was truly touch
ed by Eleanor’s story, though it was just what she might expect of Mr. Tilney. “You are very fortunate in your brother, I think,” she replied.
“Well,” Eleanor chided her, “if that does not make you in love with Henry, I do not know whatever will! I am sure he shall be very much in love with you when he sees you in that dress, though I believe he is already. Only think of it – we might be sisters!”
Mary was still processing Eleanor’s astonishing revelation – she understood why Mr. Tilney had not told her himself, for certainly she would have thought him boastful, but the opposite was also true; that he should do such a noble thing without wishing to be commended for it only proved he was a worthy man indeed. Mr. Elton would not have done such a thing, nor would he have forgone the opportunity to seek out praise from all and sundry – indeed, there were few men who would not.
It was at this moment that Harriet burst into the room, and stopped a moment later, looking quite embarrassed for failing to knock. “Oh, Mary,” she cried, and thrust a letter at her – it was lined in black.
Eleanor and Mary rushed at Harriet in unison, but Eleanor hesitated, letting Mary take the letter. “What is this? It is addressed to Caroline Sutton.”
“It is not sealed,” Eleanor observed. “Have you read it?”
Harriet nodded but said nothing – she promptly burst into tears. With trembling hands, Mary opened the letter and quickly read through it, and showed it to Eleanor. “Oh my God! But this is perfect! It has naught to do with your brother Fred, Ellie, but I think it will be just the thing! Oh yes – but we must get to Cranbrook at once!”
Across the hall, Lydia’s door opened – she stood in the doorway, her arms folded, and glared at them. “Ugh! Do keep it down, will you? Some of us are dying of a broken heart, you know!”