by Leenie Brown
Brownlow swallowed. “I know. I had hoped he would truly be taken with Miss Bennet, and he would come to his senses, but he has not. And,” he drained his glass and placed it on the desk, “and you must believe me when I say I have only just learned of this last evening. He has written to both Miss Bennet and her father requesting a meeting with her father and proposing a courtship to Miss Bennet.”
Rycroft dropped into his chair, his heart sinking with him. “When? When did he write?”
“It was sent express yesterday.”
Rycroft dropped his head into his hands. “I was entrusted with her protection from schemers.”
“I had hoped…” Brownlow’s voice trailed off as Rycroft lifted his head.
“I would have hoped the same,” said Rycroft. “One does not expect his friend to take such a turn.” He rose. “To lose her is one thing, but to have her so injured and nearly at my own hands.” He shook his head. It was more than he could allow his mind to consider at the moment.
“Lose her?” Understanding began to dawn in Brownlow’s eyes. “Ah, that is why you looked like you wished to call him out when we were riding the other day.”
At that moment, Darcy entered the study. “Your mother said you wished to see me.”
Rycroft motioned to the chair by his desk, but instead of joining Darcy and Brownlow there, he stuck his head into the hall and called for Morledge. “Have a bag packed quickly.” He turned to Darcy. “You are at Netherfield for how many days?”
“The wedding is to be Tuesday next, and if the weather holds, we will return then.”
“Pack enough for a week,” he said to Morledge before turning his attention to Darcy and Brownlow. “Tell him of the letters,” he said to Brownlow. “I must prepare to travel.” He stuck his head back into the hallway. “My horse,” he called to a footman. “Have my horse readied.” He turned back to Darcy. “My bag and my man, may they travel with you?”
Darcy shrugged and nodded, unsure as to what was actually happening.
Rycroft clapped his hands once. “Good. I shall ride on ahead. She must not accept him.” He spun and left the room.
Darcy looked at Brownlow in confusion. “About what is he babbling?”
Brownlow explained about the letters that had been sent the previous day. “He does not wish to either hurt or lose her,” he concluded.
Darcy’s brows rose. “So my wife was correct. He cares for Mary.”
“So it seems,” said Brownlow rising. “Now, he has not asked it, but I believe, I must warn Blackmoore of this development. I trust he is wise enough to know to step down, for if he does not, I fear he is risking far more than his inheritance.”
Darcy chuckled and rubbed his jaw. “Not even I am willing to challenge Rycroft.” He clapped Brownlow on the shoulder. “Come, you must at least give a word of greeting to Lady Sophia, and I believe you have not had the very good fortune of meeting my wife. Both of whom will find the reason for delaying my trip most diverting.”
Chapter 9
Mrs. Phillips entered Longbourn’s drawing room and greeted her sister and nieces before settling into a chair near Mrs. Bennet and beginning to share what she considered to be the best items of news. The butcher had been seen speaking with the baker, and this was just after the butcher’s son had been seen walking with the baker’s daughter. He had even offered her a ride on Sunday last. The parson’s nose had been uncommonly red, and he had not been sneezing or sniffling. Lady Lucas was certain he had been indulging in spirits. So it continued for some time.
Mary did her best to ignore what was being said and applied herself to the dress she was mending. A low branch had caught her skirt on her walk this morning. It was naught but a small tear and easily repaired.
“I could not believe it, Sister,” Aunt Phillips was saying, “but Mrs. Long insists that she had it from a most reliable source, though she would not tell me from whom she had heard it. But she was adamant that it was true.” Mary saw her aunt look at her with a curious expression. “She says that Mary has been receiving letters from a gentleman and must secretly be betrothed.”
Mary kept her eyes on her needle, not daring to look at her mother or aunt. A wave of unease caused her stomach to churn and her heart to race.
“It is true,” said Lydia. “I heard Hill say there was a letter for Miss Mary. It came express.” She leaned toward her aunt and whispered loudly, “From London.”
Mrs. Bennet gasped, and Mary’s face flushed while her head spun.
“Is this true?” asked Mrs. Bennet in a shrill voice.
Mary looked first at Jane and then her mother. “Is what true?” she asked cautiously.
“Are you secretly betrothed?”
“No.”
It was her aunt’s turn to gasp. “You are receiving letters from a gentleman, and you are not even betrothed?” She shook her head and clucked her tongue. “First, Lizzy and now, Mary. Sister, I am surprised you have not taught them better.”
Mary watched her mother’s eyes grow narrow and her cheeks become pink.
“It is not as it appears, Aunt,” she said before her mother could begin to have a spell of nerves. “A gentleman has written to Papa requesting a courtship, but it has been denied. I could not tie myself to a man who would so blatantly snub propriety by writing to me without some sort of understanding. It would not be right, would it, Mama?”
Mrs. Bennet’s mouth snapped shut, but she continued to look at Mary with surprise. “It most definitely would not.” She tilted her head, and her brows drew together as she considered Mary as if she were a stranger.
Kitty turned from the window and her contemplation of the garden. “You refused him?”
Mary gave her a pleading look, hoping that she would not ask any further questions. “I did.”
“Do you know who he is?” asked her aunt eagerly.
Kitty’s eyes grew wide as she realized what she had begun. She shook her head. “I do not know who has written to Mary.” She bit her lip and ducked her head. “I only know she has had potential suitors call on her while in town.” She peeked at Mary, who had her eyes closed and was looking a bit faint. “I could not begin to imagine who might have written with such a short acquaintance.” She gave Mary a small smile and a wink when Mary opened her eyes. “But, with her new dresses and the hair style that Miss Darcy’s maid has given her, not to mention the connections Lady Sophia must have, it would certainly be foolish for Mary to consider an offer so soon. Why,” her voice rose to a level of excitement to match that of Lydia, “being the sister of a man such as Mr. Darcy and the particular friend of Lady Sophia and her son, Lord Rycroft, I would not be surprised in the least if Mary had several offers and perhaps even one from a peer.”
Mary breathed a sigh of relief. Her mother and aunt seemed to be enthralled with such an idea and immediately began planning a wedding breakfast fit for a lord.
Kitty crossed the room and extended her hand to Mary and nodded toward the door. “I think a stroll before the sun sinks any lower would be most beneficial.”
Mary gladly accepted the means of escape and taking her sister’s hand hurried from the room.
“Was it Mr. Blackmoore?” asked Kitty. “I shall not tell a soul. I swear.”
“It would not be right to say,” said Mary, though she gave a small nod of her head.
“He is very handsome and wealthy,” commented Kitty.
“He is,” said Mary as she fastened her wrap around her shoulders. “But, I do not know his character, and we seemed to have very little in the way of common interests.”
“How do you do it?” Kitty tugged Mary closer to her side. The air was decidedly cool, but the emptiness of the garden afforded the only real privacy to discuss such things. So, despite the shiver that shook her, she continued walking with Mary instead of retreating to the warmth of the house as she wished.
“I do not understand your meaning?”
“How do you make them like you? ” She shivered once mor
e. “Mr. Blackmoore, Lord Rycroft, Colonel Fitzwilliam. They all seem to be taken with you, yet you never bat your lashes or drop your gaze when you smile.”
Mary was shocked to have such a question put to her. She had enjoyed the company of the three gentlemen mentioned, but other than Mr. Blackmoore’s nearly fawning attention, she had never suspected any to have been interested in her as anything more than a person with whom to have a conversation. In fact, she was quite certain that Lord Rycroft found her presence to be somewhat of an inconvenience at best and a trial at worst. “They are friends, nothing more,” said Mary.
“Friends?” said Kitty in disbelief. “I have seen the way Lord Rycroft watches you, and though I know only a little about men, I do not believe his look expressed mere friendship. He looked decidedly jealous of Mr. Blackmoore.”
Mary laughed. “It is not possible.”
“Why?” Kitty stopped walking and turned to face Mary. “How is it impossible for him to like you?”
Mary’s smile was tight and the pain she tried to keep hidden was poorly concealed in her eyes. “I am not the sort of lady a man desires. I am bookish and opinionated, and I have very little to recommend me by way of looks.”
Kitty’s mouth hung open for a moment before she closed it and gave a shake of her head. “I own that you are opinionated, but little in the way of looks? That is a falsehood of the highest order. You may not put it on display very often, but you, my dear sister, are beautiful.” She snuggled in again next to Mary as the wind tugged at her wrap and caused her to shiver once more. “False modesty is just as much a sin as vanity, is it not?” She laughed at Mary’s small sound of shock. “I listen,” she explained. “You are beautiful, and it is as you have admonished us to find, a beauty based not solely on the physical appearance but a beauty of character.” She sighed. “But I do not know how to be like you. How do I find that beauty that inspires men to notice me?”
“Oh,” cried Mary, “you should not try to be like me. You should be like you.”
Kitty sighed. “But I am not interesting.”
Mary laughed. “Neither am I, and yet you think there are three gentlemen who admire me.”
Kitty giggled. “But you are smart.”
“And you are talented. Your sketches are excellent, and your eye for detail will make you a marvelous hostess.” She rubbed her hand up and down Kitty’s arm that was twined with hers. “We should return before you catch a chill.” Kitty suffered easily from chills and headaches. They were rarely serious, but feeling ill was not pleasant, and so Mary did not wish to place Kitty in danger.
“Do you,” Kitty began as they turned back toward the house, “do you…” She took a breath and then spoke the rest of her question quickly, “find Colonel Fitzwilliam attractive?”
Mary patted her sister’s arm, understanding what it was that she really wished to know. “He is handsome, but he is merely a friend.” She leaned a bit closer as they were nearing the house, and she wished to keep her voice soft. “Do you find him attractive?”
Kitty nodded.
“I am glad,” said Mary. “It would be a fine match for you, but he is a younger son and his inheritance is still under his father’s control. So, I must caution you to guard your heart.”
Kitty nodded again.
“He has but a year remaining before his father will release some of what will come to him,” said Mary.
Kitty pulled Mary to a stop. “You will not tell anyone that I prefer him?”
“No.” Mary attempted to move toward the house once more, but Kitty held her in place.
“You have refused Mr. Blackmoore, and Colonel Fitzwilliam has not touched your heart. But what of Lord Rycroft?”
Mary sighed. “I do not know. He is good and kind and solicitous of my needs.” She felt her cheeks warming despite the cold. “And he is very handsome.”
Kitty smiled. “And he has come to call.” She pointed toward the drive.
Mary looked where her sister had pointed. There, hat in hand, brushing off his coat, was Lord Rycroft. He, looking up at just that moment and catching her eye, smiled as he tilted his hat towards her before replacing it on his head and moving toward the front door.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Rycroft drew a deep breath and followed Mr. Hill down the hall to Mr. Bennet’s study. He had attempted on his way from London to plan how he was going to present what he knew to Mary’s father, but all his well-thought-out ideas had flown from his head when she had smiled at him and lifted her hand to give him a small wave as if she were glad to see him. Now, as he walked into Mr. Bennet’s study, he tried to gather his thoughts.
“Lord Rycroft.” Mr. Bennet rose from his chair with some difficulty and gave his guest a small bow.
Lord Rycroft returned the bow and waited until Mr. Bennet took his seat before sitting down himself.
“What brings you to call on me today.” There was a twinkle in his eye. “I am sure you were not just in the neighbourhood, unless your sense of time and direction is sorely lacking.”
Rycroft chuckled. “My sense of time and direction is normally accurate. I have come with a purpose. I have been made aware of some unsettling information in regards to a friend of mine and your daughter.”
Mr. Bennet’s brows rose.
“I assure you, it is only my friend who is at fault.” He paused. “I do not know how to best tell you.”
“I prefer the straight forward approach.”
Rycroft nodded. “I have been made aware that my friend Mr. Blackmoore has picked up some unsavoury habits while I was out of town. His father is not pleased about his activities and has threatened to remove his inheritance unless he marries a lady who is acceptable to his father.”
“Ah, that explains his letter wishing to court Mary.” He watched as
Rycroft’s jaw clenched and his head turned ever so slightly to the side as if the idea was something he found wholly unpleasant.
“He has no intention of giving up his habits after he marries.” Rycroft again felt his jaw clenching as he tried desperately to keep his emotions under regulation. “If I had known of his activities and his attentions, I would not have allowed him in my home or introduced him to your daughter. I am sorry.”
Mr. Bennet nodded and studied the face of the man before him. “I assume his habits include a woman?”
Rycroft nodded. “An actress with a fondness for gaming.”
“It is my understanding that such affairs are not unusual in the higher circles, of which I assume he is part.”
The response surprised Rycroft and before he could think the better of his response, he had replied rather sharply. “Sir, we speak of your daughter.”
Mr. Bennet smiled. “I am aware of that fact. I was merely wondering what your stance on such situations is. I take it from your response that you do not approve of such things?”
“I most certainly do not approve. A man is to take and keep a wife in good faith. To do otherwise is reprehensible.”
“I am glad we are agreed.” Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair, a small smile played at his lips. “Mr. Blackmoore’s offer was refused out of hand by myself and my daughter. She refused to even read his letter.” His smile grew as he saw Rycroft’s shoulders relax in relief. “However, you I would not refuse.”
Rycroft’s eyes grew wide. “I beg your pardon?”
“I approve of you,” said Mr. Bennet. “If you should wish to court or marry my daughter, you have my blessing.” He shifted in his chair a bit. “I may not have the luxury of time. I am still not well, so should anything happen to me before you can convince her of your worth and find yourself in need of my blessing, I am giving it now.”
Rycroft shook his head. “You barely know me.”
Mr. Bennet shrugged. “I know enough. Mary continues to count you as one of her friends, does she not?”
Rycroft’s brows drew together. “I believe she does.”
“Then I am satisfied.” He winced slightly as he shifted a
gain in his chair. “A letter containing the information you have shared would have sufficed as warning.” Rycroft could hear the laughter that lay behind the statement. “I assume you would like to see my Mary.”
Rycroft drew in a deep breath and released it. “I would, and I thank you for your approval.”
“So you do care for her?”
“A great deal, sir.” He stood and paced the length of the room.
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “It is an unsettling feeling at first. Sneaks up on a fellow. ”
Rycroft smiled. “It does indeed.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyes shimmered. “Love her for who she is.”
“I will.”
“Very good.” He dabbed at his eyes with his handkerchief and gave a shaky chuckle. “Before I become a watering pot, could I ask your assistance in walking to the sitting room? I find I tire of my books and actually wish to hear the noise of my family.”
Lord Rycroft held out his arm to Mr. Bennet, who had once again, with some difficulty, risen.
“My strength has not returned. I fear the doctors may be right, and my days are numbered. But as Mary would says…”
“All our days are numbered,” said Rycroft.
Mr. Bennet chuckled softly. “I see you know her well already.”
“Papa,” said Kitty as she descended the stairs on her way back to the sitting room, “are you to join us?” She dipped a curtsey in greeting to Rycroft.
“I am. Is Mary upstairs or in the sitting room?”
“I am here,” said Mary coming from the back of the house. She smiled at Lord Rycroft, who nodded his head instead of bowing. “I knew Mama would be wishing for tea since Lord Rycroft is not the only visitor to have arrived. I saw Mr. Bingley’s carriage from my window.”
“Ah, well, it seems I shall soon discover if I have a place to sleep tonight.” Lord Rycroft chuckled.
“Well, my lord, if Bingley will not receive you, Longbourn is not without guest rooms,” said Mr. Bennet. “We would be honoured to do you the service.”
“I shall bear that in mind.” Rycroft leaned a bit closer to Mr. Bennet. “In fact, if Bingley’s sister becomes too much of a trial, I may call upon your assistance.”
