The Lucases of Lucas Lodge

by Clara Benson

  Maria had passed a disturbed night, and had a heaviness of head which she was anxious to relieve by a walk, but before she could announce her intention, Lady Lucas said:

  ‘Well, well, Maria, I confess I am surprised at you. I know it is the fashion to be secretive, but I had not thought you would keep such a thing from your own mother—all the more so, since, if you will remember, your father expressly informed you of his and my approval not a month ago.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am?’ said Maria.

  ‘I am talking of Mr. Thripp, of course! You have not dropped a word of what he said last night. I suppose your head is still full of it all, and you are wondering how much it is proper to tell your parents—and that is quite understandable. Do not fear my pressing you on the subject, for I should not dream of demanding to know every little thing that happened—no, that shall remain between you and him. However, I think you might at least remember what is due to Sir William and me, for by saying nothing at all you are keeping us in a most agonizing suspense, which is hardly kind. And by the bye, while I think about it, I want also to speak to you about your behaviour in running out of the room like that last night, and leaving Mr. Thripp all alone.’

  ‘I am sorry, Mamma,’ said Maria, hanging her head. ‘Only, I did not know what he meant, for he was so strange, and you were not there to tell me what to say, so I knew not what else to do.’

  ‘So strange? Why, whatever do you mean?’

  ‘He talked in such a manner, about the napkins, and about the colour of his dining-room, and other things that I did not comprehend, and he behaved altogether so oddly that I thought perhaps he had been taken ill, and so I came running out to look for you,’ said Maria. ‘What could he mean by it?’

  ‘Bless you, my child! Only to propose marriage! How came you not to understand it?’

  ‘I—I do not know,’ said Maria. ‘It certainly seemed that he might have such a purpose in mind, but he talked about all manner of things except that, and when he took my hand and I came at last to realize his object, I was so astonished I could not think what to do, except that I longed more than anything to escape.’

  ‘That was very rude of you,’ said Lady Lucas. ‘Why, Maria, I am surprised at you! To have run away in the middle of a proposal from such a person. Why did not you stay and hear him out? You cannot say it came as a surprise to you, for we spoke about it at some length when Mr. Thripp first declared his intentions to Sir William.’

  ‘Oh! I did not think—I understood that—’ said Maria, who was now scarlet in the face as she finally realized the egregious error into which she had fallen. It was not Thomas Fairhead who had spoken to her father, but Mr. Thripp! Sir William’s delicacy had prevented him from saying the name, and Maria’s imagination had done the rest. She blushed anew at her own lack of perception in having initially believed the gentleman in question to be Thomas Fairhead. Had her vanity misled her? No—for she had early concluded from her own observations that although Mr. Fairhead liked her, he was not in love with her, and that if he admired anyone, it must be Mary King. No: she could acquit herself of vanity, she was sure of it. If anything had misled her, it must have been her own wishes, for although the idea of Mr. Fairhead’s admiring her had come as a surprise, it had not come as an unwelcome one. How fortunate that she had never had the opportunity to tell Mary of it! It was small comfort to know that no-one else need ever find out about it, and that her embarrassment might remain unknown.

  ‘I have said I should never urge any daughter of mine into marriage against her will,’ went on Lady Lucas, ‘and I never shall. However, Maria, you must see that here is an unexceptionable match for you. Mr. Thripp is not rich, but he has a clear eight hundred pounds a year, with very likely the prospect of more, if he can but find favour with Lady Catherine de Bourgh through your brother Mr. Collins. Only think what she might do for you if she wished! You are nearly five and twenty now. It is not every woman who has the means to marry well, but here is an opportunity for you if you will only take it. There was a little misunderstanding last night, but I advise you to prepare yourself this morning to meet him more calmly, and to give him a favourable answer when he returns here later to speak to you again.’

  ‘What? He is coming here again?’ said Maria in alarm. ‘I cannot speak to him! Please, Mamma, do not make me speak to him.’

  This was not a propitious beginning, and Lady Lucas was disconcerted, for she had taken Maria’s flight from the drawing-room the evening before as a mere fright, caused by her daughter’s foolishness, rather than by any disinclination for the proposal itself. But Maria’s horrified expression upon hearing that Mr. Thripp was to return did little to reassure Lady Lucas that his second attempt would be any more successful than the first one had been.

  ‘Why, Maria, what would you be about?’ she said. ‘You must speak to him, for Sir William has already invited him to come today. You cannot mean to say that you do not wish to marry him?’

  Maria saw the expression of disappointment on her mother’s face, and felt almost ashamed to reply.

  ‘I do not—that is—I cannot speak to him,’ she said falteringly.

  ‘Cannot?’ said Lady Lucas in some displeasure, and Maria flushed.

  ‘I am sorry, Mamma,’ she said. ‘It is only that I did not know of it—had not understood that that was what was meant. It has been a very great surprise to me. I beg you would not make me speak to Mr. Thripp—at least, not today, for I do not know what to say to him.’

  ‘You need say nothing,’ said Lady Lucas. ‘It is for him to talk. All you need do is accept him when he makes the offer.’

  ‘But I cannot,’ said Maria. ‘I never thought of him before. How can I say yes if I have never thought of him?’

  ‘But do not you like him? Perhaps you are unaware, but there has been some talk about it—and that is another thing, for I do not believe it is right that your parents should have been the last to know about it.’

  Maria stared in astonishment and discomfiture.

  ‘I did not know there had been talk,’ she said. ‘Who has been talking?’

  ‘The whole of Meryton, I hear—which makes it all the worse. Upon my word, Maria, I wish you might not be so unguarded in your manner, for whether you know it or no, everybody expects you to marry Mr. Thripp, and if you refuse him now, we shall all look excessively foolish.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Maria, and burst into tears.

  ‘Now, now, do not discompose yourself, my child,’ said Lady Lucas. ‘Nobody wants to make you unhappy. It is perfectly evident you are not in the state of mind to speak to Mr. Thripp today, so I shall not insist upon it. But you must try and get over this fright of yours and answer him as you ought. The idea of marriage is a new one to you—that much is clear—but I am sure you do not find Mr. Thripp absolutely disagreeable, is not that so?’

  ‘No,’ said Maria with a sob. ‘He is gentlemanlike, to be sure. But—’

  She wished to say that she did not find him agreeable enough to marry him, but dared not, for how could she? It seemed that something in her manner had given rise to the impression that she liked him—although she knew not what that something might be, for she had been totally unaware of it herself, and was sure she had not intended it. She could think of nothing to say which would not anger her mother, and so she fell silent.

  Lady Lucas thought she understood. They had been too hasty, and Sir William had not explained himself well enough. Maria must be given time to think about it—but not too much, for there was every danger that if left to herself, she would never reply at all, and Mr. Thripp would tire of her and go away. A little time, and a little persuasion on the part of her parents, would do everything, she was certain.

  ‘Well, well, child,’ she said. ‘There is no need to cry. I shall tell Sir William that you do not wish to speak to Mr. Thripp today, and he will not insist. I hope you will reflect on your good fortune in having such indulgent parents, for it is not everybody who would act as we have d
one.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ said Maria in some relief.

  ‘I say you need not speak to him today,’ went on Lady Lucas, ‘but we cannot keep on sending him away forever. Sooner or later you must listen to what he has to say, and I wish that by the time he speaks again, you might have come to your senses and answer him favourably instead of running off. However, that is for you to decide.’

  She then went out to speak to Sir William, and Maria was left to try and calm herself, despite the prospect of having to face another interview with Mr. Thripp soon.

  SIXTEEN

  Her headache no better, Miss Lucas soon after breakfast went out for a walk. The weather was fine for the time of year, and Maria felt sorely in need of refreshment for her spirits, so she directed her steps towards her favourite walk, a wooded path which ran along the boundary of Netherfield Park. She was feeling very low after the interview with Lady Lucas, for what she had learned that morning had astounded and shaken her very much. It seemed, from what her mother had said, that everybody in Meryton expected imminently to hear news of an engagement between her and Mr. Thripp, and she was at a loss to explain how this had happened—for she was almost certain that he had given no sign of admiration. To be sure, he had seemed inclined to engage her in conversation of late, and had talked much about his prospects and his respectability, but that did not in itself suggest an interest in her—at least, as far as she had always understood from her reading of novels, from which she had found out that a gentleman generally indicated his admiration for a lady by means of sighs and longing glances. Had there been any significant looks? She tried to remember, and at last thought she could recollect one or two occasions on which she had found his gaze upon her. But it had been so little, and so unlike anything that might fairly be supposed to capture the heart of a young woman, that she had given it no thought at all. And yet, it seemed that that was Mr. Thripp’s manner of courtship. How could she have failed to see it, since it had apparently been noticed by everybody else? And now, how could she confess to her family that she had no affection for him, when it would disappoint them all so? She would not—could not—marry him, but her refusal would inevitably cause her family pain, and—since everybody in Meryton seemed to know about it—no little mortification.

  She was reflecting in this manner and sighing when she arrived at a spot in which the trees thinned and she could see through them into the park. There, just inside the grounds, was a little cottage which she never failed to stop and look at. It had once been the home of the gamekeeper, but its roof had been damaged in a fire some years earlier and never repaired. The gamekeeper had been put elsewhere and the cottage half-forgotten about, for it was in a neglected corner of the park. She turned and bent her steps towards it, and was standing looking at it when the door opened and Thomas Fairhead came out. When he saw her he looked surprised and then pleased, and Maria felt her heart lift.

  ‘I have been exploring to the edges of the park this morning,’ he said, after they had exchanged the usual courtesies, ‘and I came upon this house, which nobody seems to care about.’

  ‘I have always thought it very pretty,’ said Maria. ‘It is a pity that nobody has thought to repair it.’

  ‘That is exactly what I think,’ said Thomas. ‘Why, look—with just a few changes, and a new roof, it would be a delightful house. It is modest, and the aspect is unfavourable, but if only two or three of those trees were to be chopped down, then I think it would be light enough. I should like to live in it myself.’

  ‘But it is not large enough for a gentleman’s residence.’

  ‘Not at present, no, but a second parlour might be added to the side here, and I dare say the kitchen might be made bigger. Here is the garden, quite neglected, you see. And here, I think a little orchard might be planted, if one cared to wait for twenty years or more. How I should like to sit in the parlour of a summer evening and look out across the park!’

  ‘But do not you prefer Netherfield itself? To be sure, it is much grander.’

  ‘Yes, I like it well enough, but I own it is a little empty and rattling for my tastes. Give me a small, comfortable house with enough room for myself, and perhaps one or two others, and I am happy. Are you walking? Then let me walk with you—or do you prefer to be alone? For you seemed deep in thought just now. But there is a part of the park I should like to show you, from where there is a very pretty view of Lucas Lodge. I do not know whether you have seen it before.’

  Miss Lucas was more than happy to walk, and they proceeded together up a small hill, which indeed afforded a delightful view across the country as far as and beyond Meryton. They spent some time in trying to discern the various landmarks, and then Maria said:

  ‘Is not that your sister and Mary walking together?’

  ‘Yes, I believe it is,’ he said, and looked at her. ‘I suppose you would like to go after them?’

  Maria’s spirits, which had begun to rise, sank again, for she had been enjoying her walk and the conversation with Thomas Fairhead, who talked only of things she could understand, and did not make her feel uncomfortable in his presence, or act as though he were joking at her expense. But Mr. Fairhead admired Mary, and so who could be surprised at his wanting to run after her when he saw her out walking? She had no right to keep them apart, and so she assented.

  ‘Then let us go,’ he said, and they set off down the hill.

  Maria soon saw that he was not walking fast enough to catch them. He had evidently seen it himself, for he said:

  ‘They are going into the house. That is a pity. We shall never catch up to them now. No matter, however. I dare say you will see your friend soon enough. Which way are you going now?’

  ‘What time is it? I had better go home. Mamma will be expecting me soon.’

  ‘Then let me walk with you, for I am going that way myself.’

  Maria made no objection, and they bent their steps in the direction of Lucas Lodge. Maria’s mind was busy, for an astonishing idea had begun to creep upon her, and she knew not what to think about it, for it seemed to throw only the most flattering light upon herself, which her modest vanity would not allow. Certain it was that Mr. Fairhead had walked deliberately slowly just now—far too slowly, in fact, to catch up with his sister and Miss King. Had Maria been alone she knew she should have had no trouble at all in reaching them before they entered the house, but Mr. Fairhead had seemed reluctant to speed up his pace, until at last the two ladies had outstripped them. Furthermore, he had directed one or two glances towards her during their walk which, had she been more inclined to trust her own judgment, she would have interpreted as showing a certain degree of admiration—certainly more so than anything she had ever seen in Mr. Thripp. And now she thought she remembered having received one or two similar looks from him in the past. But what did it mean? Whenever they met, he certainly gave every sign of taking pleasure in her company, and appeared interested in her concerns. Did that indicate admiration? It certainly seemed as though it did—but since she had already proved herself sadly wrong-headed by failing to notice Mr. Thripp’s affection for her, which was apparently so evident to everybody else, she could only assume that once again she had misinterpreted the situation, and that she was mistaken in supposing that Mr. Fairhead’s attentions meant anything at all. Why, then, did she feel so fluttered at the idea of being admired by him?

  At that moment her own feelings became clear to her all at once, and it suddenly dawned on her that she liked him very much indeed! Her astonishment at this discovery was great, for while she had always found him very agreeable, she had thought too little of herself to look beyond that—but now she found she could not stop herself from looking beyond it, or from wishing fervently that she might not have been mistaken in her observations that morning. Was she, then, in love with Thomas Fairhead? Her heart, now fully revealed to her, told her that she was. But when had it begun? And how could she have been unaware of it? Her mind was now thrown into confusion as she tried t
o recollect how it had happened. She could not think of a time when she had not liked him, so perhaps she had fallen in love with him as soon as their very first meeting, when he had rescued her from the muddy lane! It was one extraordinary thought after another, and she now felt embarrassed, for she was suddenly sure he must be able to see everything that was going through her head, and she feared his perception. For a second she was tempted to make some excuse and run away, but after a moment’s reflection she mastered her agitation and remained resolutely where she was, although she kept her face turned from him, for she knew her colour was high. In a few minutes she felt stronger and ventured a glance at him. He seemed much as usual and she was relieved.

  ‘I hope your thoughts were pleasant ones,’ he said with a smile. ‘You seemed so absorbed in them that I did not like to disturb you.’

  ‘Oh! No—that is, yes,’ said Maria, more confused than ever, for the events of the past few hours had filled her with wonder and caused no little revolution in her thoughts. In the space of less than a day she had discovered that Thomas Fairhead had not confessed an admiration for her and that Mr. Thripp had, and then, stranger still, that she herself liked Mr. Fairhead more than she had previously realized, and that perhaps, in spite of the misunderstanding with her father, he liked her too. The whole of it was almost too much to comprehend. The idea of being admired by even one man was surprise enough, but two men at once! How could it be? She longed to speak to somebody and confess all, for she feared it was beyond the capabilities of her own mind to understand what had occurred, or to resolve the situation to everybody’s advantage, but there was no-one. Mary, she suspected, would not look favourably upon her feelings for Thomas Fairhead, while Lady Lucas, although she would never deliberately make her daughter unhappy, thought only of securing a respectable marriage for her with Mr. Thripp. Charlotte was no use either, for she was certain to take her mother’s part. No, this was Maria’s dilemma, and she must face it alone.