by Maria Grace
Through it all, Mr. Johnstone never complained nor even looked cross at being made to wait. He had even taken up a game of chess with Papa whilst he waited. Surely it was an intentional ploy to be that much more irritating. What else could it be?
When she finished her studies, she would knock on Papa’s door and hand him the volume, saying little to him and nothing to Mr. Johnstone whenever possible which thankfully was usually the case.
Saturday morning, though, she found herself particularly vexed by Mr. Johnstone’s presence and decided to pay a call on Maria Lucas to soothe her raw nerves.
Granted, on most days this sort of venture would hardly have been a balm. Maria was more Kitty and Lydia’s friend than she was Mary’s, and her attitudes and opinions matched theirs. But today, any company away from Longbourn was welcome.
Since Lady Lucas was already entertaining a guest, Maria suggested a walk through Lady Lucas’ gardens was in order. For all her other foibles, Lady Lucas was a remarkable gardener, able to coax the shyest sort of flowers from the soil and into the sun. The flower beds were arranged along a winding path, ebbing and flowing in the spring sunshine.
“Who has called upon your mother? I do not recognize her.” Mary drew a deep breath filled with the heavy perfume of many blossoms. Bees buzzed among the stalks, their hum hanging in the air.
Maria stooped to smell a tall coneflower. “She is our vicar’s sister, Mrs. Johnstone. She is visiting with her son from Hetherington Parish. I am surprised you have not met her.”
“No, I have not had the pleasure.” Mary scuffed her toes in the gravel.
“Kitty said that Mr. Johnstone has been calling upon your father nearly every day, I should have thought—” There it was, that wheedling tone, trying to pry information without actually asking anything.
“Well, your thought was wrong.”
“Gracious, you need not snap at me so. It is not as if I have said anything untoward. What is making you so touchy? Kitty says you have been mightily unpleasant recently. Have you not been introduced to Mr. Johnstone? I hear he is quite handsome.” Maria leaned over to look into Mary’s face.
Mary turned away. “I do not find him so.”
“Really? Then you have met him.”
“He has been to see my father. Of course, I have met him. And I am singularly unimpressed.” Mary pressed forward along the path.
Tall stalks arched across the pathway as though reaching to brush shoulders with her. Some of them showered her with petals as she walked past. How welcome they made her feel.
Unlike Maria.
“Then you seem to be the only one in town of that opinion. All the girls are wild to be introduced to him.” Maria clasped her hands and batted her eyes as though longing for such an introduction.
“I do not see why.”
“Then you surely cannot see past the end of your nose. Yesterday he brought some of his young cousins into town for a trip to the confectioner. You should have seen him with the children. I cannot imagine a dearer sight to behold. He was so kind and gentle with them. Even you would have been impressed.”
Mary paused mid-step. “Indeed? I would never have expected….”
“Nor, I imagine, would you have anticipated the kindness and deference he shows to his poor mother who is half-deaf and blind and walks with a cane. He is the picture of patience and grace with her.” Why did Maria have to wear that smug expression?
“It seems as though we are talking about two entirely different men.” Was it possible there were two newcomers to Meryton with similar names?
“It does, does it not? How have you found him to be?” There was that gossipy plea again.
“Quite different from what you describe.”
“How? Tell me?” Maria stepped directly in front of Mary and blocked her steps.
“No. No, I fear that would become gossip very quickly, and I do not want to venture into that.”
“There you go again, moralizing to everyone. How interesting when it seems that perhaps you have judged someone unfairly, you will not even consider the possibility.” Maria crossed her arms over her chest, a triumphant glimmer in her eyes.
“Pray excuse me. I should go.” Mary curtsied and hurried away from Maria and Lucas Lodge.
Maria may have called after her, but it was hard to tell with the storm of thoughts in her mind and the tall stems determined to block her way. They taunted and teased her until she broke out into an unladylike run.
Was it possible all that Maria said was true? Why would she make it up, though? Maria was the last person to go out of her way to find positive things to say about a newcomer. Was that not why Mary sought her out today, to find someone who might share her low opinion of Mr. Johnstone even if Maria had not met him herself?
She broke out of the garden into an open field. The field grasses whispered along her skirts, little burrs catching at her hem and tugging her back. Mary’s eyes burned, and her vision blurred. How humiliating—being shown so in error by Maria Lucas.
Mary had always prided herself on her propriety and penchant for proper thought and behavior next to Maria, Kitty and the other girls of their cohort. Now to be shown wanting next to her? The shame of it! It was almost too much.
Mary sat down on the stile step. Not almost too much, it was too much. She covered her face with her hands and wept. Everything she looked down upon and disliked the most, she had become. Judgmental, gossip-mongering, self-righteous. Those vices which she had not thought possible in herself, they were there in full force. And Maria Lucas and Mr. Johnstone made them clear to her. The shame!
The sun was past its zenith when her tears finally dried. While cathartic, tears would hardly resolve anything. No, that would require more effort on her part. If she found fault with her own character, there was only one way that would change. She must confront it and intentionally choose a different, a better, path.
It would take work, a determined effort. But she could do it. If she had any hope of being able to live with herself, she had to.
At least she had not been directly rude to him and had no public behavior to apologize for. That made it a wee bit easier to face.
Just a bit.
But nothing more was to be resolved here out in the fields. She dried her cheeks with her apron and stood, brushing the clinging grass blades away.
“Miss Bennet!”
She looked up and jumped back. “Mr. Johnstone!” She grabbed the stile and clung to it for support.
He seemed genuinely flustered. “Pray forgive me. I had no idea you were there. I should have looked more carefully where I was going.”
Yes, he should have, but that was a curt and judgmental thought. “There is no harm done. You had no reason to expect someone to be on the other side of the stile.”
He backed up a little and brushed his jacket. “Still, I should have been more attentive. Pray excuse me. I was rushing to return to my mother who is visiting at Lucas Lodge this afternoon.”
“So I understand. I was there not long ago myself, calling upon their daughter, Maria.” She looked over her shoulder toward Lucas Lodge.
“I was introduced to her this morning. She seems like a pleasant girl.” That was the right thing to say, but was it really what he thought?
“She is a good friend of my younger sisters.”
He nodded and stared past her, vaguely uncomfortable.
Mary looked behind her. “Is someone approaching? I see no one there.”
“No, no, I am sorry. It is a bad habit of mine.” He worried his hands together. “I suppose there is no better way here than to be direct.”
“Excuse me?” Now it was her turn to stare.
“Your mother has invited me to Longbourn for dinner tonight. I have not yet made a reply, though.”
Oh, of course she did! How could Mama possibly let escape the opportunity to meddle? “I fear I do not follow you.”
“It seems we, you and I, have been on difficult terms since we met at the
library.” He turned his eyes down toward his boots.
Mary swallowed hard and nodded.
“I can only guess that my presence at the dinner table would be unpleasant to you. I would not want to make your evening uncomfortable. I have already been trespassing upon your hospitality every day to make my studies. To impose upon you more seems the height of ingratitude.” How sincere he looked, staring mostly at his feet, but occasionally glancing up to her face.
Perhaps Maria had a point. He was not wholly disagreeable to look at.
No better time than now to make good upon her resolve. She straightened her spine and drew a deep breath. “Pray forgive me, for I have been rather of a short temper recently. All the study on behalf of Hunsford’s vicar has left me rather out of sorts.” There, she admitted it. Let him hate her for it if he dared, but the truth was out now.
His lips twisted into a wry little half-smile. “Since your work will be used in the education of children, I can well understand the weight of the burden you carry. Not to mention some of those essays are, shall we say, not the most inspiring things we have ever read?”
She pulled back a mite and looked directly into his eyes, but they did not contradict the soft and conciliatory tone of his words. Was this the same man who had been vexing her all these days?
“Perhaps it is a burden we might share? If you would indulge me in a bit of conversation after dinner tonight?”
“I … I would be pleased to bring word to my mother that you will join us tonight.”
“Only if you would be pleased by my company.” His eyes were quite insistent.
“I … I would enjoy talking to you about our shared burden,” she stammered like a schoolgirl.
He stared at her a moment longer and shrugged as though deciding to be satisfied with her answer. “This evening, then.” He smiled and bowed, then proceeded on his way toward Lucas Lodge.
Though he might think her answer odd, it was actually quite sincere. It would be a pleasure to talk to someone who truly understood what was on her mind and presumably cared about it as much as she. Moreover, it would be unique, perhaps the first time it had ever happened. And that could prove very interesting indeed.
She hummed to herself as she hurried home to tell Mama to expect a guest for dinner.
Chapter 3
“I must say that is very odd, very odd indeed.” Mama pranced around the parlor in a little circle between the tea table and settee, wings flapping, feathers fluffing. The sun cast long shadows across the faded carpet. She was about to work herself into another flurry. “Why could he not have simply accepted the invitation when I offered it?”
“I do not know, Mama.” It was a bold-faced lie, but she could hardly tell Mama the truth, could she? That would lead to nothing good for any of them. She smoothed her skirt over her lap and looked out the window from her place on the couch. “I suppose he wanted to be certain that his mother would be well-cared for whilst he was away.”
“I suppose. I suppose. It is a caring and noble gesture to be sure. One that should be pleasing no doubt. But it is rather inconvenient.” Mama wrung her hands.
Mary turned her face aside a little further so Mama would not see her long-suffering expression. “How so? I can scarcely imagine your preparations for dinner will be so different with just one addition to the party.”
“But he is not family.” Mama whirled toward her and glared. “It is the first time he will have dined with us. One must make a favorable impression when one invites a guest for the first time. Have I taught you nothing?”
“He has been at the house nearly every day this week. It is not exactly the first time he has sat with us.” Besides, he was coming for conversation, not food, though Mama would never believe that.
“It will be the first time he dines with us. A dinner invitation is no small thing, my dear. The impression we make could be a vital one.” There was Mama’s pointing finger waggling at her as though she had not heard this sort of speech at least a dozen times before.
Mary rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Oh, pray, Mama, you have not already decided to make a match with him?”
“He is a respectable young gentleman with quite a good living. I think either of you girls would do for him quite well.” Mama’s open hands bounced at her waist, settling the matter.
“Excuse me?” Kitty? With the young vicar? Mary stood.
“What is so astonishing about that? You both are pretty enough when you make the effort. Your manners are pleasing, and you are gently-born. As to accomplishments, you are both well-versed in how to manage a household. What more could a clergyman like him want?”
Mary threw her hands in the air and paced in front of the window. “What more might one want? An agreeable companion? A friend? One of like mind and interests? More practically, one who finds his home and parish acceptable? Did you know he means to run a school out of his home? Can you imagine Kitty in such a situation?”
“All those things can be accomplished if one sets her mind on it.” There was Mama’s finger again. “The key is having the opportunity to do so. Just because I managed to see your sisters well-married does not mean you can sit back and ignore all I am doing for you. You cannot assume they will be happy to care for a spinster sister.”
Mama’s faith in her was heartwarming.
“Do not look at me that way, girl. You know how many young ladies never find a husband. Charlotte Lucas nearly joined that number. She was fortunate to have settled well. Do not expect that you can simply sit back and enjoy her good luck. That is not the way of the world. You must try and put yourself out as she did. Seize a chance when it presents itself.”
So that is what Mama saw? An opportunity and Mary as something in need of being fixed? “I do not need you pushing Mr. Johnstone or any man at me. Thank you very much.” Mary folded her arms and turned her back.
“Well, there is still Kitty. I am sure she will be more sensible than you and make an effort at being pleasing.”
Mary turned back to face her. “Kitty is entirely unsuitable for a man like him. She is a … a silly little flirt who cannot hold a serious thought in her head. He is a deep reader, a thinking man, not in want of a frivolous companion.”
Mama’s eyebrows flashed up, and the corners of her lips lifted a mite. “Go get yourself dressed for dinner. Your newest frock will do nicely, I think.”
“I have no intention of dressing for dinner. That would suggest—”
“Nothing but common courtesy. Look at you, covered in burrs and mud from your walk. It would be disgraceful, not only our guest, but to all of us, for you to appear at the table like that.” Mama gestured at her hem.
Sadly, she was right. “Very well. But not my newest dress.”
Mama snorted. “Very well, your second best will do.”
Mary turned on her heel and stormed out.
Mama’s desperation to marry her and Kitty off should have subsided with the security that Jane and Elizabeth’s excellent matches provided. If anything, considering Lydia’s situation, Mama should want to be assured of the character and situation of any young man she might push them towards. But no, it did not seem to occur to her. Marriage at nearly any cost seemed her only goal.
Mary slowly climbed the stairs. She had promised herself to make better efforts toward thinking well of others, and it was time to hold herself to that promise.
Was Mama really so mercenary? It was possible Mama realized that Mr. Johnstone was the nephew of their vicar. That mutual acquaintance could offer some recommendations as to his nature. So, perhaps, she did have more than a passing knowledge of his character. There was something comforting in that thought.
Even so, this was not going to turn into one of Mama’s matchmaking affairs.
Absolutely not.
He was an agreeable young man with whom she shared a mutual interest. Nothing more. Absolutely nothing.
An hour and a half later, Mary—in her second best gown, a pretty, blue-sprigged
muslin—returned to the parlor to await the arrival of their guest.
About a quarter of an hour later, Kitty flitted into the parlor in her best gown, at Mama’s insistence no doubt, cheeks flushed pink—she probably had been pinching them. How silly she looked, so pleased with herself and assured of being pleasing. Ridiculous little flirt.
Papa sauntered in, a contented look on his face. Did he perhaps expect “sensible” conversation at the dinner table tonight? Since Lizzy’s departure, he often complained at the lack of it. Not that he tried very hard to engage anyone in it. If he had been willing to listen to her, even just a little, he might have been surprised at what he would find.
But that did not signify now. Nor was it in keeping with her promise.
A sharp knock on the door, and Hill ushered Mr. Johnstone into the parlor. He looked much as he always did: a bit tousled and frowsy, but his coat had been brushed and his boots cleaned, so he was taking some trouble to be presentable.
“We are delighted you could join us for dinner, sir.” Mama rose and curtsied.
Mary winced at her honeyed tone. Did anyone else hear it that way, or was it her cynicism?
“I thank you for your kind invitation.” Mr. Johnstone bowed and sat on the couch that Mama gestured toward between Kitty and Mary.
How utterly unexpected.
“I understand your mother was visiting with Lady Lucas today.” Mama settled herself back into her favorite floral upholstered chair between the settee and couch.
“Yes. It seems that they share a common acquaintance in town and were encouraged by her to become acquainted.” He glanced from Mary to Kitty to Mama, not quite sure where to look.
“How nice. I am sure Lady Lucas is glad for the company. How does your mother find our little slice of Hertfordshire?” Mama’s face tightened as it often did when the subject of the Lucases came up.
“I think she has been enjoying it a great deal. She favors a quiet sort of country life, but she declares it is pleasant to be near a village larger than Hetherington. It seems that the shops at Meryton offer a great many wares she cannot easily come by in our little parish.”
