by Leenie Brown
He nodded, remembering the conversation they had had two days earlier after the Bingleys had left.
“I wished to be able to speak of it to him. I knew in that moment, Papa, that he will always be a part of my heart.” She wiped at her eyes again.
“He will return tomorrow, and you may tell him this then.” He patted her hand again. “I am so happy that my girls have found such fine gentlemen who will care for them long after I am gone.”
“Shhh, Papa,” whispered Mary, “do not speak of such things.”
“But it is true, my dear. I am not well, and I am old. Those two facts do not bode well for a long life. It is the way of things. Life begins and grows and then fades.”
“I know, Papa. All our days are numbered, but I am already enough of a watering pot without considering losing you.” She drew a ragged breath. “I love you.”
“And I, you, my dear. And I, you.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I have not said it enough.” He stood slowly as he heard the door to his study open. “I suspect your uncle is looking for some peace. Do you mind if we join you?”
Mary shook her head. “I would love the company, so long as you do not mind a few tears.”
He withdrew his handkerchief from his pocket and placed it on her lap. “I shall send for more if you need them.”
She laughed as she picked up the piece of cloth.
“You will tell him tomorrow?”
“Yes, Papa, I will.”
“Good. Only two more daughters to go and my duty is done.” He reached the adjoining door and called to her uncle to join them. “Have you a handkerchief?” He questioned as her uncle entered the room.
“I do,” said Mr. Gardiner.
“Good. Mary may be in need of it.” He chuckled. “She is missing a certain gentleman.”
“Ah,” said her uncle. “I know the feeling well. I can remember the times that my love and I were parted.” He settled into a chair and began to tell stories of his courtship.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Rycroft chose a chair near the window where the atmosphere was less boisterous than the rest of the club.
“I hear Blackmoore was unsuccessful with his lady.” Endicott took a seat next to Rycroft. “I hear she is all but betrothed to some other gentleman. He followed her to her father’s home.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “The name escapes me,” he said.
“Rycroft.”
“No, no. I know your name. I cannot remember who it was that hied off after the chit.”
Rycroft opened his mouth to reply, but the arrival of Brownlow stopped him.
“I thought you were in Hertfordshire until nearly the new year.” He pulled another chair near. “Did she send you on your way?”
“Brownlow, who was it that went after that chit? You know, the one who would not have Blackmoore?” He turned to Rycroft. “He is not happy, I will have you know.”
“Endicott,” said Brownlow dryly, “neither Rycroft nor I care that he is unhappy.”
“Nor do I,” said Endicott with a shake of his head. “I was merely relating a fact. Now, do you know the gentleman’s name?”
Rycroft shook his head. “I have been in Hertfordshire. Miss Mary is from Hertfordshire.” He leaned back in his chair and waited for the connections to be made in Endicott’s mind.
“It was Rycroft.” Brownlow shook his head. “Honestly, Endicott, you need to keep a notebook with you for recording names.”
“Perhaps, I should,” he agreed with a shrug. “I suppose I do not need to tell you about it then.” He smiled wryly at Rycroft.
“No,” said Brownlow as he accepted the cup of tea the footman had brought for him, “but he must explain why he is here instead of in Hertfordshire.”
“True,” said Endicott propping his elbows on the arms of his chair and clasped his hands in front of him.
“I came to have the marriage papers drawn up.”
“You…” Brownlow’s brows rose, and his eyes blinked in surprise. “You offered for her?”
“I did.” Rycroft drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “She has not, however, accepted.”
Both men looked at him in confusion.
“Then, why are your having papers drawn up?” asked Endicott.
Rycroft motioned to a footman and pointed to the cup of tea Brownlow was holding mid-sip. “Do you remember the details surrounding my cousin’s betrothal?”
Brownlow placed both his cup and saucer on the table to his right. “I do.”
“Bingley is having a ball,” said Rycroft with a smile. “The night before his wedding, Bingley is having a ball, and I shall be in attendance.”
Brownlow shook his head as if trying to make sense of it all. “You would compromise her?” he whispered.
“That is our plan.” He nodded his thanks to the footman for the tea.
“Our plan?” asked Endicott. “Who is to help you?”
Rycroft allowed the warmth of the tea to settle in his stomach before he responded. “Her father, Bingley, Darcy, the soon-to-be Mrs. Bingley and the delightful Mrs. Darcy.” He took another sip of his tea. “I shall return to town a married man. Happily so,” he added.
“But, she refused you?” said Endicott, obviously still confused. “How can you be happily married to a lady who does not wish to marry you?”
“Ah,” said Rycroft, “but she does. She just has not yet accepted the fact.”
Brownlow laughed and shook his head. “I would not be so complacent if I were you. I would fear that she would be angry.”
Rycroft sighed. “I am certain I will have to bear a lecture or two, but I am also certain that the price will be worth the payment.” He took a long sip of his tea and placed the empty cup on the table. “I love her, and I will not be without her.” He held out his hand to shake Brownlow’s. “I wish to thank you for sending me off on that errand those many months ago, for it was on my trip back to town when I met her.” He rose to leave but thought better of it and sat back down. “My exile, so skillfully arranged by you, gave me time to consider my life.” He shrugged. “I did not like what I saw, and so I determined that on my return, I would not be as I had been. I would do my duty to the title and take on the mantle of responsibility I had shirked for so long.”
Brownlow smiled. “And happily, your cousin fell into a compromise and had to marry, which brought your path to cross that of Miss Bennet’s.”
Rycroft nodded. “Precisely. Although, at the risk of sounding the part of a parson, I would say it was providential. Love is a blessing. I hope you both find it.” He chuckled as Brownlow rolled his eyes. “I know, my brain has been addled.” He rose to leave. “I am in town until the beginning of the week. I would not be adverse to some company or a game of cards once or twice.”
“Tomorrow morning. Hyde Park,” Brownlow called after him. “Foul weather or clear, we ride.”
Rycroft gave him a small salute and then gathered his outerwear and headed toward home.
Chapter 12
Rycroft paced the sitting room. He was to have left for Hertfordshire two hours ago, but thanks to a cat and a cup of tea, his papers were not yet ready.
“Your pacing will not make them arrive any sooner,” said his mother peering up from her work.
“I said I would be there before the supper set, and I shall not be.” He dropped into a chair. “She will worry.”
“It cannot be helped.” She turned her eyes back to her work. “The mistress’s suite is prepared. I saw to it this morning, and Sarah has moved all of Mary’s things into the room.” She looked over he glasses at him and smiled. “We are only missing Lady Rycroft.” She could not help chuckling at the smile that spread across her son’s face at the name.
“Lady Rycroft.” Georgiana sighed. “To think she shall not just be my friend but also my cousin.”
“And my daughter,” said Lady Sophia. “I have waited a long time to have a daughter.” She cast a teasing glance at Rycroft. “Although, I had thought
it might take longer for the two of you to come to an understanding.”
Rycroft’s brows rose at the comment.
Lady Sophia chuckled again. “From the moment I met her, I knew she was the one for you, my son. A mother knows these things.”
“Indeed?” Rycroft said in disbelief. “And this was the true reason behind your inviting her to stay with us?”
Lady Sophia shook her head. “No, I wished to have her stay with me because I enjoyed her company.”
Rycroft, knowing that his mother was relaying only part of the truth with her statement, gave her an amused smile. “Ah. So, it had nothing to do with finding her a husband.”
Lady Sophia lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant half-shrug. “The fact that I hoped she would marry my son did make the prospect all that much more enjoyable; although, your wayward tongue did give me a fair bit of concern.”
He shook his head and rose to look out the window once again. “As much as I do not wish to condone such scheming, I find I must thank you for your interference.” Seeing his solicitor mounting the steps, he turned and kissed her on the cheek. “I shall bring you back a daughter,” he whispered before hurrying from the room as a knock sounded at the door.
Several hours later, Rycroft swung down from his horse and handed the reins to an awaiting groomsman before slipping into Netherfield through the servants’ entrance. He stopped long enough in the kitchen to charm a few morsels from the cook and then ascended the back stairs. He paused at the sound of music that filtered through the house to him. Placing the items he carried on the steps and finding the right door, he pushed it open just a crack so that he could peek inside. He had to rise high up onto his toes to see over the ladies standing near the door, but his effort was rewarded as he saw her working her way through the dance. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw her smiling at something Richard had said. It appeared she was enjoying herself. A footman slipped through the door, and a maid scurried toward him. Rycroft took one last look and saw Mary looking toward the main entry to the ballroom as she circled away from her partner. He smiled. She was enjoying herself, but not so much that she had forgotten about him. Pleased by the fact, he hurried off to his room. There was not long before the end of the dancing, and he did not wish to attend smelling of horse and the out of doors as he did now.
After a rather cool bath as the water had been waiting for him for some time, he donned his clothes for the ball. As he was standing before the mirror, having his cravat tied, three quick knocks sounded at his door.
“Come,” he called.
“It is a relief to see you, Rycroft,” said Bingley. “Mr. Bennet is in the library as planned, but I fear you will not have time to meet with him before the final dance.” He took a seat.
“He knows of the plan for the dance?”
“He does.”
“And he is amenable to it?” Rycroft cast a concerned look over his shoulder toward Bingley.
“He found it quite diverting. I am to stress that it is not proper, but he will not protest. You still have his blessing.”
“And Mary? How angry do you expect she will be?” His valet gave a small huff of disapproval, and Rycroft returned to facing the mirror so that his cravat could be given a final straightening.
Bingley shrugged. “I expect she shall be somewhat put out, but according to Jane and Elizabeth, she has been out of sorts and anxious for your return.” Bingley chuckled. “I am deliriously happy that Caroline is to leave with Hurst tomorrow, for I expect she will be quite unpleasant.”
Rycroft laughed. “It is no more than she deserves.”
“Most certainly,” agreed Bingley. “She attempted to unsettle Mary the day you left. Richard told me of it.”
Rycroft shook his head and clapped Bingley on the shoulder. “For your sake, I pray she finds a husband this season. I still do not know how either you or Darcy tolerate her.”
“She is my sister, and Darcy is too bound by propriety to be anything less than a gentleman.” Bingley grinned. “Unless, however, she makes a disparaging remark about Mrs. Darcy or her family. You would be right impressed by the glowers and abrupt words he has given Caroline.” Bingley opened the door of Rycroft’s room. “You should take the servants’ stairs. She has not taken her eyes off the door the whole evening.”
“Everything is in place?” asked Rycroft as they hurried down the hallway.
Bingley nodded. “The parson is here. The servants are ready to make arrangements for an extra guest. Jane has informed her mother this evening about the wedding breakfast being in honor of both your wedding and mine.” He chuckled. “Elizabeth had Mary’s things packed after the Bennets arrived here this evening. She is the only one of our group who expects her sister to accept you tonight.”
“You truly are agreeable to sharing your wedding day with me?”
Bingley paused in the servant’s hall. “Both Jane and I are delighted to be of assistance to you and Mary.”
“Thank you.” Rycroft tapped his packet of papers on his hand. “Have you seen Miss Mary?” he asked a footman who had just stepped into the hall.
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “Two doors down. She is very near the door.” He bowed and continued on his way to attend to his business.
“I shall inform Mr. Bennet of your arrival and the slight change in plans. Wait about five minutes before entering. I shall have him to you before the dancing begins.” Bingley did not wait for a reply but trotted down the hall to the door that led to the library.
Rycroft stood outside the door to the ballroom and waited. He paced a few steps forward and back, tapping the papers on his hand as he walked. Finally, he pushed the door open slightly so that he might see her. As his eyes located her, he saw her fan snap shut and her eyes narrow as she turned toward the group of ladies who were whispering near her. A laugh bubbled up inside of him as he prepared to listen to the lecture she was about to give. She would make a formidable countess. He stepped into the room, unable to resist being at her side for a moment longer.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Mary tapped her arm with her fan and watched the door. There were only three dances left, and still he had not arrived. A small twisting began in her stomach and her eyes began to sting as tears gathered in them. Elizabeth nudged her discreetly with her shoulder.
“He will be here,” she said.
“But what if something has happened? What if he is hurt? What if he has changed his mind?” She drew a deep breath and expelled it slowly.
Elizabeth slipped an arm around her shoulders. “While an accident is not impossible, it is unlikely. The moon is bright, and I am given to understand he is an excellent horseman. He will be here.”
Mary gave her sister a small smile that said she would try to believe what she had been told.
“Miss Mary,” said Richard as he bowed upon approaching her, “I believe this is the dance you promised me.” He glanced from her worried face to that of Elizabeth’s. “That is if you are willing. I would understand if you chose to sit it out.”
Mary shook her head and straightened her posture. “I thank you, Colonel, but I believe a dance is just what is needed to keep my mind occupied.” She extended her hand to him and allowed him to lead her onto the floor. As she took her place, she noticed her father being escorted from the room. She glanced anxiously at Jane, who was beside her in the line.
“He is tired, and Mr. Bingley has offered him the use of the library,” explained Jane. “You know how Mama did not want him to attend.”
“Of course,” said Mary. “But he is well?”
Jane nodded. “I believe he has found the evening to be very agreeable.”
Mary reached over and gave Jane’s hand a squeeze. “Thank you. I find I am more anxious than normal tonight.”
“I think you are handling things quite well,” said Jane as the music began.
As Mary moved through the steps and entered into small conversations with those of her set, her mind did ease, and her eyes looke
d less frequently toward the door. Soon, she even found herself smiling. If it were not for the dull aching in her heart, she would have found the dance to be thoroughly enjoyable. She curtseyed, thanked Richard and scooted to the side of the room, taking a place where she could easily see the entry. She watched as the next set of couples lined up.
“From a gentleman from town,” said a lady to her right in a rather loud whisper. The comment was followed by a tsking.
Mary closed her eyes. It was not the first whisper she had heard tonight. She thought of doing as she had all evening and moving to a new location, but since this offered the best view of the doorway, she remained.
“You know she was in town staying at the home of a gentleman,” the lady paused before adding in a scandalized tone, “It was an unmarried gentleman’s home. He is an earl to be sure, but you know how titled men can be.” She tittered, and the others joined her.
“I hear he arrived a day after the letter,” said another. “He met with her father, and two days later, was gone.” She gave a small derisive snort. “I have not seen him this evening, so I believe he must have been refused just as the gentleman who wrote to her was.” Mary heard a fan snap open. “She’ll not see him again. I’d not be so particular if I were her.”
Mary, her patience wearing thin, snapped her fan closed. “And why is that?” she asked turning toward the group of gossips. “Would you care to explain why I should not be particular in choosing a gentleman to be my husband? Is it my looks? My intelligence? My family? What exactly is my defect?”
The ladies stood silently, their mouths hanging agape.
“Should I not refuse a man who keeps a mistress and is only looking for a proper wife to bear him children? For the man who wrote me is such a man.” She took a step closer to the group of ladies. “Or perhaps I should not take time to carefully consider the offer of a good man because I do not wish to accept unless I can return his affections as ardently as he bestows them?” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot as she waited for a response. Seeing that one was not forthcoming, she sighed. “I would be more particular in my choice of conversational topics if I were you.”
