The Pursuit of Mary Bennet: A Pride and Prejudice Novel

by Mingle, Pamela

  “Miss Bennet. The pleasure is mine.” His eyes were dancing, and I assumed he knew Jane had revealed the secret.

  Kitty approached and embraced me warmly. “Hello, Mary.” Her face wore an odd look, a bit wistful and perhaps somewhat . . . repentant. I kissed her cheek and remarked upon how well she looked. Her eyes, too, held a gleam that spoke volumes.

  Once inside, we entered the downstairs drawing room, and Mama rang for tea. “Please, be seated,” she said. “You must be tired after your long journey. I do apologize that at present we have no spare chambers to accommodate you. Except for Kitty, of course.”

  Charles shrugged it off. “It is of no consequence, ma’am. My friend at Netherfield was more than happy to let us invade the premises. You have a full house here at present, I believe.”

  The youngest occupant of the house made herself known at that moment with an earsplitting scream. What on earth? Terrified, I leaped from my chair and dashed from the room. Felicity never screamed upon awakening; she merely cried, and never in a vociferous manner. I heard Mama say, “Lydia, you had better go with Mary.”

  I groaned, much preferring to see what had happened on my own. But I soon heard footsteps behind me and realized not only Lydia but Kitty, too, was on my heels. I burst through the nursery door, stunned when I glimpsed the poor babe lying on the floor screaming, her legs and arms jerking reflexively. “Good God!” I knelt down beside her and gently lifted her into my arms. “Are you all right, little Fee?”

  “Did you lay her on the bed again, Mary?” Lydia asked. “If she’d been in her cradle where she belonged, this never would have happened.”

  Ignoring Lydia, I ran my fingers over the tender skin at the back of Felicity’s head, then over her neck, torso, and limbs. Her cries had tapered off into little gulps by this time. Fortunately, she’d fallen onto a rug. Perhaps she’d only had the wind knocked out of her and been badly frightened, with no real harm done.

  Lydia said in a cold voice, “Let me have her.”

  Astonished, I gently laid the child in her arms. Felicity scrutinized her mother and resumed her wailing. It took all of ten seconds for her to be handed back to me. Lydia turned to go, but I called to her. “I’ll dress her, but she’ll be hungry. She always is after her nap.”

  Lydia heaved an impatient sigh. “Botheration, can’t she wait for a while?”

  Kitty sent me a look behind our sister’s back. “Lydia—”

  “Oh, don’t you start, Kitty. You know even less than Mary about babies!”

  “I believe Mary knows more than either of us,” Kitty said. “I was simply going to suggest you return to the drawing room, and Mary will bring the baby to you when she’s ready for her feeding. Will that suit, Mary?”

  “Perfectly,” I said, and Lydia beat a hasty path to the door.

  “She doesn’t seem to . . . Jane said she hasn’t yet developed motherly feelings for Felicity,” Kitty said hesitantly. Her hands flew up to straighten her coiffure.

  “No.” My conscience wouldn’t allow me to lay all the blame on Lydia. “Perhaps it is partly my fault. I’ve been too eager to step in.”

  “I don’t think so, Mary. Look how hastily she left the room, hardly before you had determined Felicity wasn’t hurt.” She had dropped down on the bed, and her foot swung back and forth. Clearly, she was nervous about something, and I thought I knew what.

  “Yes. But do consider how long she has been deprived of company other than her family. I think she’s desperate to be in society again.” Why was I defending her? Guilt, came the answer, insistent and unmistakable. I set about tying a fresh nappie on the baby, who did not appear to have sustained any injury from her unfortunate encounter with the floor.

  “Will you watch her while I find her a fresh dress?”

  “Of course.” Kitty jumped up and fastened her eyes on Felicity. “Oh, she smiled at me! She really is adorable.”

  I had walked over to the little trunk where I kept Felicity’s clothes, and when I returned, Kitty was looking at me in an odd way. From the glow in her eyes, and her inability to sit still, I could tell she was bursting to tell me of her betrothal.

  She grabbed hold of my hand. “Mary, I have some exciting news.”

  I smiled. “What is it? Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  “Mr. Carstairs and I are engaged!”

  I did not have the wherewithal to pretend total ignorance of the situation. “I confess Jane told me she thought you two might make a match.” She looked a little dejected, so I quickly embraced her and kissed her cheek. “I’m so happy for you, Kitty. I think he is a fine man.”

  “Do you, Mary? I-I hardly allowed myself to become acquainted with him until after you left High Tor.” Her face flushed, but she went on. “I had so foolishly fixed my affections on Henry—he says I must call him by his Christian name now that I’m to be in the family—I had overlooked his cousin altogether. But I believe we are much better suited than Henry and I ever would have been.”

  She hadn’t said she loved Mr. Carstairs, but her obvious delight at her betrothal signaled deep feelings for him. I tugged the white dress over Fee’s head and asked, “When did you first begin to feel an attraction to him?”

  “After you left, Henry quit calling, but Andrew visited us every few days. He always had a funny story to tell me about one of his parishioners, or the things he and Henry got up to when they were boys. And he was so solicitous of my comfort. I felt more and more at ease with him, and after that, my esteem for him grew.” She smiled playfully. “It didn’t hurt that he was such a fine dancer!”

  “I remember that,” I said, “from the evening at Linden Hall when we all danced. But I don’t believe you liked him then.”

  I began pushing Felicity’s arms into the sleeves. We were quiet for a moment, and then Kitty said, “I’m sorry, Mary. My foolishness has caused pain for both you and Henry. I only hope it is not too late to repair things between you.”

  I glanced up. Kitty’s head was tilted slightly and her brows were drawn together in a frown. Her expression was quite sincere, a quality not in evidence on the morning she apologized to me and then demanded I leave High Tor. I was astonished at her newfound confidence and maturity, proven by her willingness to shoulder some of the blame for the way things stood between Henry and me. Andrew Carstairs must be having a salutary effect on my sister. And it would have surprised me if Jane had not also had a hand in Kitty’s transformation.

  I wasn’t certain, but I strongly suspected Jane had told Kitty of Henry’s proposal. “I’ve been foolish too, Kitty. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, and I am still not. Mr. Walsh and I parted on very ill terms. He expressed a good deal of anger and bitterness toward me. I’m not sure ‘repairing things’ is possible, or even desirable,” I said, picking up the baby and starting for the door. “Will Andrew speak to Papa today?” I asked, hoping to discourage any further questions.

  “I believe he is doing so right now.”

  We heard Lydia’s giggles on the way downstairs, and when we entered the drawing room, Mr. Carstairs and my father were indeed absent. Mr. Walsh and Charles were stranded with Mama and Lydia. Both men rose, and Charles immediately said, “At last, I have the pleasure of meeting my newest niece! May I hold her?” I passed Felicity into his arms.

  “It’s surprising she is still alive, after Mary let her fall off the bed,” Lydia said in a scornful tone.

  The room went quiet. I bit my lip, furious with myself because I could feel the cursed flush spreading upward from my neck. Now that I’d handed Fee over to Charles, I had nothing to do with my hands, nothing to occupy myself, so I simply stood there. Nobody leaped to my defense, and Lydia nattered on. “But she is the next best thing to a nursemaid. I declare, sometimes I believe Mary considers herself Felicity’s mama.”

  That was too close to the truth to deny. I found a vacant seat and snapped out
of my daze to see Henry Walsh studying me with kind eyes. He handed me a cup of tea, as he’d done on another occasion, at High Tor.

  “Thank you,” I said, watching him. His look had swiftly reverted to one of indifference. He nodded briefly before walking over to Charles and taking Felicity from him. I gulped my tea, hoping its restorative powers would prop me up.

  The drawing room door was thrown open, and Papa and Mr. Carstairs came through. “Well, Mrs. Bennet,” said my father. “It seems we are to have another wedding.”

  Chapter 18

  What?” asked Mama, genuinely astonished. “I believe I misunderstood you.”

  “No, no, you did not. Mr. Carstairs has asked for Kitty’s hand, and after he assured me she had already accepted him, I gave my consent.”

  “Kitty! I am most put out that you did not tell your mama. But I forgive you, since this is such good news!” She wrapped her arms around Kitty and kissed her.

  Setting my cup on the table, I rose and went to Mr. Carstairs. “May I wish you happy, sir?” I said, holding out my hand. He took it, and then kissed my cheek.

  “You must call me Andrew from now on, Miss Bennet.”

  “Then you must call me Mary, since we’re to be brother and sister.” I stepped aside so Mama could speak to him, and only then did I notice Lydia. Her eyes had gone cold. The laughing, carefree demeanor she’d shown when I first entered the drawing room had vanished. She was the only person still seated. Whether she was out of countenance because all the attention was now on Kitty and her intended or because she was thinking of the sad state of her own marriage, I could not say.

  Charles and Papa were talking and smiling, and Mr. Walsh was still circling the room with Felicity in his arms. I knew she must be hungry, because she’d begun to fuss a little. After a moment, he stopped and said something to Lydia. “La!” I heard her say. “Not me. Give her to Mary.”

  We walked toward each other, and he handed Felicity over to me.

  “I’m afraid there’s not much I can do in this instance. She’s hungry, you see,” I said.

  “Ah. I thought as much. But your sister—”

  “No need to explain. I’ll speak to her.”

  He half-smiled and nodded, and I went over to Lydia. “You must take her upstairs now.”

  She scowled at me. “Don’t tell me what to do, Mary.” Then, when I hesitated before placing Felicity in her arms, “Oh, very well. Nobody here is paying me any notice.”

  Just then Kitty approached. “Are you not going to wish me happy, Lydia?”

  Lydia bristled. “I’m exceedingly vexed at you for keeping this a secret. You could have written. And I thought you were in love with that . . . other one.” She cocked her head toward Henry.

  Kitty’s cheeks turned scarlet. “Keep your voice down! That was a . . . mistake. And you must see, I could not tell anyone before my parents knew,” Kitty said.

  “Well, of course I wish you happy,” Lydia said, just before she marched out of the room with her child. Since this terse expression of good wishes had been forced out of her, I didn’t think it went too far in soothing Kitty’s hurt feelings. Andrew stood nearby and had witnessed the conversation. He and Kitty exchanged a look, and she actually smiled. In the past, Lydia’s displeasure would have upset her, and she might have remained out of spirits the rest of the evening. I thought Mr. Carstairs may have been the best thing that ever happened to Kitty.

  The problem is, the new methods of drainage are expensive,” Charles said. “At least, that’s what Walsh tells me.”

  Over our dinner of lamb and vegetables, the general air of cheerfulness that comes with happy news prevailed. Everyone except Lydia, who hunched over her meal in stony silence, was in good humor. I thought I’d perceived a slight thaw in Mr. Walsh’s smile earlier. Enough to allow me to hope he didn’t hate me. I couldn’t have borne it if he did. Had I forgiven him, then? He had neither apologized nor asked for forgiveness, so it was rather a moot point.

  “One must use hollowed-out bricks or roofing tiles, so, yes, it is costly,” Mr. Walsh said. “What system are they using now?”

  “Chiefly stones or faggots,” Papa said.

  “That sort of deep trenching doesn’t last,” Mr. Walsh said. “In the end it is more expensive, because it must be repaired so often.”

  “I fear it may be all we can afford,” said my father.

  “Oh, may we not talk of something else?” asked Mama. “You men can talk of trenches and tiles over your port. For myself, I would like to know when this wedding will take place.”

  Kitty darted a glance at her betrothed. “We should like it to be right away, Mama,” she said. “As soon as we can settle things.”

  “The banns must be read, of course, and we must arrange for your bride clothes, my dear,” Mama said. “Meryton may not do . . . we may have to journey to Ware, or even London.”

  I held back a laugh. Even Jane and Lizzy, who had both been betrothed to wealthy men, had had their bride clothes made by local seamstresses.

  “That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Bennet,” Papa said. “It’s not one of the princesses marrying, but our Kitty.” Everyone laughed, including Kitty and her fiancé.

  Mama harrumphed. “You will be married from Longbourn, will you not?” she asked.

  Kitty and her intended agreed this was their intention. Looking up, I noticed Mrs. Hill in the doorway.

  “Is it Felicity?” I asked.

  “Yes, miss.”

  “I’ll go to her.” I excused myself and rose.

  Little Fee had the habit of falling asleep for half an hour or so around dinnertime. She usually stayed awake and in good humor afterward, until seven thirty or eight o’clock. I lifted her from her bed and laid her down for a fresh nappie, making faces and saying nonsensical things, as women are wont to do with their babies. Quit thinking of her as yours, Mary, I told myself.

  When that was done, I grabbed a rattle and made my way to the drawing room with Felicity. I could hear everyone just now rising from the table, and soon Mama, Lydia, and Kitty joined me.

  “Mary, it would be nice to have some music tonight,” Mama said.

  “I am out of practice.” The truth was, I hadn’t felt much like playing since I’d been home. Although it reminded me of the happy times at High Tor, it also dredged up memories I’d sooner have forgotten, like the night at the ball when I deliberately set out to humiliate myself, only to be rescued by Mr. Walsh.

  “Oh, Mary, you must. Andrew and Henry both enjoy your playing so much!” Kitty said.

  “But I cannot neglect Felicity,” I replied, trying to put them off.

  “Nonsense!” Mama said. “There are plenty of people here to look after her, including her mother.” She sent Lydia a pointed glance. “I insist. Come along, now, and find some music.”

  When the men entered the room, I was still sorting through the sheets of music. Mr. Walsh said nothing but took a seat near the pianoforte. I began to play a piece by Beethoven, the Sonata in C Sharp Minor, because I recalled that it was one of his favorites. Since I was so rusty, I knew I would probably regret it, but I wanted to please him. Music was the first thing that had made Henry take notice of me; perhaps it would serve that purpose again.

  The piece was melancholy and the first movement played pianissimo. I needn’t have worried about my playing; all the sentiments I’d buried welled up and flowed from my fingers as they glided over the keys. My deepest feelings for both Henry and Felicity had become, in some mystifying way, intertwined. If I had accepted Henry’s proposal, perhaps he and I could have raised Fee together! My fingers strayed where they didn’t belong, jarring me out of my reverie. Keep your mind on your playing. Don’t think of him. And you are not Felicity’s mother!

  I’d begun the second movement, the allegretto, and, since it was less familiar, forced myself to concentrate. The notes
lifted, hung in the air, dissolved. I stole a glance at Henry. He was leaning back in the chair with his eyes closed.

  I decided not to attempt the final movement. It was by far the most difficult and always intimidated me, with its many arpeggios. It required technical skill I lacked, and I couldn’t do it justice. When I started to rise, Mama said, “You must keep on, Mary! Play some Scottish airs. Something jolly!”

  So I continued to play until the tea arrived. When at last I rose, my small audience clapped politely. Lydia came in behind the tea tray, and I noticed immediately Fee was not with her. I walked over and asked where she was.

  “I’ve put her to bed. You are not the only one who knows how.”

  “No, of course not.” I resisted the urge to ask if she’d changed the baby’s nappie and covered her in the softest blanket. Had she remembered her cap? Had she sung her a lullaby? I knew she would berate me in front of everybody if I mentioned any of these things, and I’d had my fill of that. I would simply check later to make sure everything was just as Felicity liked it.

  I situated myself on the chaise, and Charles strolled over to converse with me. “Jane and I would very much like you to return with me to High Tor, Mary,” he said, seating himself beside me.

  Did I look as shocked as I felt? “Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” I said. “Felicity needs me. I couldn’t leave her.”

  “Are you certain of that? When she must, Lydia seems perfectly capable of tending to her needs.”

  “I don’t think so, Charles. She could do so, but . . .” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “But she doesn’t seem to love the child. I couldn’t bear to think of Felicity without someone to love her.”

  “Your mama shows her a great deal of affection, I’ve observed. Perhaps between the two of them, and Kitty will be here as well . . . I wish you would consider it, Mary. You must think of yourself sometimes, you know.”

  “You are too kind, Charles, and I will consider it, of course,” I said, knowing full well I would not in a million years leave that baby to Lydia and Mama’s ministrations. And Kitty would be completely preoccupied with her impending marriage.