The Pursuit of Mary Bennet

by Pamela Mingle

  “The family is fortunate, after the most recent scandal, that Kitty found a husband. I told Mrs. Bennet when we arrived, however, that any chance Mary may have had for a happy union now seems out of the question. Mrs. Wickham’s actions have tainted the poor girl.” He smirked, making his expression even more self-satisfied than usual. “Her own mother said there was not much chance to begin with. Mary, while a good enough girl, is bookish, and most men—”

  This was the point at which Charlotte interjected. As I backed away on tiptoe, I heard Henry say to Mr. Darcy, “Who is this person?”

  “Have you not had the pleasure, Walsh?” my brother-in-law asked. “Allow me to introduce you to my wife’s relation, Mr. Collins.”

  The last thing I saw before I fled the room was Henry and Mr. Collins eyeing each other in an antagonistic way. My cousin nodded curtly; Henry did not acknowledge the introduction in any way and soon resumed his conversation with Mr. Darcy.

  To think that my own mother had informed Mr. Collins that she thought I would never marry! And he repeated her words in the company of all the wedding guests. Could I hide until the celebration was over? Henry’s refusal to acknowledge my tactless cousin, equivalent to a direct cut, warmed my heart. Blast! If only I hadn’t ruined everything and thrown Henry into the arms of Miss Bellcourt.

  Drawing my shawl around my shoulders more closely, I walked toward the avenue. The day had begun with a downpour, which most fortuitously had let up before the wedding. Now the mist had burned off, and the sun fought valiantly for dominance, warming my back and neck. The air felt fresh, washed of any impurities by this morning’s rain. I slowed, thinking I heard footsteps behind me. Turning, I glimpsed the very man who occupied my thoughts striding toward me, and I stopped to wait for him. It would have been rude to do otherwise.

  “Mary,” he said almost curtly.

  “I—”

  “My pardon, but I do not like listening to your boorish, idiotic cousin insulting you. Nor do I like it any better to hear of your own mother doing so.” He walked ahead of me and spun abruptly to face me. “I did not care for it when Kitty and your sister Lydia made snide comments about you, either. What possesses these people?” He flung out his arms, as if beseeching me for an answer.

  I wanted to laugh but held myself in check. For once it was not my face that was flushed, but his. Not from embarrassment, but from anger.

  “Mr. Walsh—”

  “Henry. You agreed.”

  A big smile broke out. “Henry, I thank you for your concern and your spirited defense of me. But you should know that in the not-too-distant past, I deserved their censure.” He started to speak, but I held up a hand to forestall him. “Perhaps not to the degree it was heaped upon me, but I was . . . I used to be, well, somewhat foolish.”

  “I have never counted you as such.” He took a step closer to me.

  “You have a great deal of forbearance, sir. There was a time in our acquaintance during which I behaved very foolishly.”

  “Yes, you did. But I believe you are wiser now.” Another step closer. “My own behavior had nothing to recommend it.”

  “I cannot disagree with you on that point.”

  “Are you determined to go through with this plan to become a governess, Mary?”

  I laughed, and now he stood close enough for me to see the smoothness of his face, the strong line of his jaw, and the unusual blue eyes I’d come to love so well. “Yes, I suppose I am. Why do you ask?” I added.

  “Because it would be most inconvenient. I would not like having a wife who lived at such a distance from me.”

  I staggered backward, nearly toppling over when my one of my slippers slid on the gravel. Henry put out a hand to steady me. “I beg your pardon?” I said.

  “No indeed, that would not do at all. I think I would want you close by me at all times.”

  “But we heard—that is, I thought your betrothal to another lady was imminent.”

  “That rumor traveled all the way to Longbourn, did it?” He chuckled. “Nonsense. There is only one woman I love.”

  “Who?” I asked, feeling ridiculous, since the answer was obvious. When I looked into his eyes, if I was not mistaken, it was love I saw there. But still, I wanted him to tell me.

  Henry took my face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs across my cheeks. Tears pooled in my eyes and traced a path down my face. “You, my dearest girl. You have besieged my heart.” He leaned in and kissed the tears away. “Will you accept me this time, Mary?”

  I nodded, sniffling indelicately. “Oh, yes. I will. Of course I will.”

  “Amelia needs a mother, you know.”

  The breath rushed out of me. But when I looked at Henry, I realized he was teasing me.

  “I can only say how fortunate I am that the woman I love will be—has shown herself to be—a most devoted mother.”

  I placed my hands on his chest. Most certainly this was too bold, but I didn’t know where else to put them, and I had an overwhelming need to touch him. “Will this be all right with Amelia? Do you think she can love me someday?”

  “She has already expressed the opinion that you are her favorite of any lady I have ever introduced to her.”

  “Does that include Miss Bellcourt?” I asked, arching a brow at him.

  He scowled. “Amelia would have taken an instant dislike to her. She has no warmth about her. Let’s not talk of her, please.”

  Before pulling me close, he said in a low, teasing voice, “You are lovely. Did you wear this gown just for me?”

  And for a few moments, we did not talk at all. We found a much more pleasurable occupation for our lips and mouths and, to my surprise, tongues.

  Before Henry and his mother departed, he took me aside. Since we did not wish to arouse suspicion, we had only a few moments to speak privately. Even though the newlyweds had left long before, we agreed it would be best to wait until the next day to make our announcement. The men had arranged a shooting party for the morning. Henry would speak to my father beforehand, while I told my mother and sisters the news. Afterward he would take himself off with Charles and Mr. Darcy for the sport.

  “I think you should bring your mother to spend the morning with us,” I said. “She must be part of our celebration.”

  “How kind of you to think of her. I can’t wait until tomorrow to give her the news, however. I shall tell her tonight.”

  “You believe she will be pleased, then?”

  “She has done nothing but sing your praises ever since the day we all spent together at Linden Hall.”

  “Even after . . .”

  “Yes, even after you spurned me so cruelly.”

  I knew he was teasing me again, but the mere thought of that painful day by the river made me cringe with embarrassment. “Oh, don’t mention that. I shall never get over my shame!”

  He laughed. “Until tomorrow, my dearest Mary.”

  My knees felt weak.

  When Henry and his mother arrived the following morning, and I saw him whisper to my father, I thought I might lose what little breakfast I’d been able to eat. Jane and Lizzy had been giving me inquisitive looks since last night, and they were no longer bothering to hide their smiles. My mother seemed to be the only one who had not an inkling that Henry Walsh, at this very moment, was asking for my hand in marriage.

  “I am so pleased you could join us,” I said to Mrs. Walsh as we settled ourselves in the drawing room. She squeezed my hand, and, to my surprise, I noticed a gloss of tears in her eyes. But she was fully in command of herself.

  She spoke in a low voice, since she knew I had not told my family yet. “I have waited so long for Henry to find just the right wife. My son deserves so much happiness, and I believe he will find it with you, Mary.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. And now I must not delay the news any longer.” I took a steadying b
reath. “Mama, Jane, Lizzy. I have something to tell you.”

  My sisters could hardly contain their glee, while my mother simply looked perplexed. “Well, what is it, Mary?” she asked.

  “Mr. Walsh—Henry—has asked for my hand and I have accepted. He is speaking to Papa right now.”

  “Oh!” Mama fell back onto the sofa. Nobody paid her the least attention. In the meantime, my sisters embraced me joyfully. Of course, they prodded me for the details, but I thought those would best be shared when we were alone. For now, a simple explanation would suffice.

  “He asked me yesterday afternoon, but we thought the day should belong to Kitty and Andrew alone. This morning seemed the perfect time for him to speak to Papa, and for me to tell all of you.”

  My mother sprang up from her prostrate position, seemingly having recovered herself. “Upon my honor! All my daughters married. I thought you would remain a spinster, Mary, I must admit. And I was depending on you to care for your father and me in our decline.” She sounded embarrassingly sad.

  Jane leaped in. “Oh, Mama, you know we will all care for you and Papa. And that time is a long way off, in any case.”

  “But you will all be so far away from us, clear up in horrid Derbyshire.”

  “And you may spend as much time with each of us as you desire,” Elizabeth said. “You will never lack for an invitation from one of us.”

  She visibly brightened. “I suppose you are right. Mary, you deceitful creature! How long have you known this was to be?”

  “I knew nothing until yesterday, Mama.”

  Before she could pry further, Henry and my father entered the room. I caught Henry’s eye, and he nodded imperceptibly. I felt relieved, although I’d hardly expected Papa to withhold his consent.

  “I see you have all received the good news,” Papa said. He turned to my mother. “My dear, we are to lose another daughter. I console myself with the knowledge that Mr. Walsh is the best of men.” He came over to me and kissed me on both cheeks.

  “Thank you, Papa,” I whispered.

  “I shall miss you, Mary. You have brought me comfort these last few years.”

  Tears filled my eyes then. It was the closest my father had ever come to saying he cared for me. That my presence here since Lizzy and Jane left had meant something to him. If it had not been for the sudden entrance of Mr. Darcy and Charles, with their accompanying hounds making all kinds of racket, I would have wept. Instead, we swept them up in the news, setting off a new round of kisses and congratulations.

  My father passed around glasses of wine for a toast, and Mama told Mrs. Hill to treat the servants to a bowl of punch.

  “What a shame our aunt and uncle had to leave so early this morning,” Jane said. “They will be so happy when they hear the news.” Our uncle Gardiner had many business interests in town and could never be away for long.

  “When is the wedding to be?” Charles asked.

  Henry and I looked at each other. “I don’t know,” I said, at the same time he said, “Soon.” Everybody laughed.

  “Will you be married from Longbourn?” Mama asked.

  “We haven’t discussed any of the particulars yet,” I said.

  “I have a splendid idea!” Jane said. “Why not be married from High Tor? I would guess you will want Andrew to marry you, so that would be perfect.”

  Mama fussed. “But—”

  Jane cut her off. “It would give you and Papa a chance to meet Henry’s family and see Mary’s new home.”

  My mother did not yet know about Amelia, although Henry and I had agreed he should inform Papa. I hoped nobody would mention her now, as one could never be sure of my mother’s reaction, or what ludicrously offensive statement she might come out with.

  Mrs. Walsh looked at my mother. “I would be delighted to have your company at Linden Hall. And Mrs. Bingley is right—the rest of the family will wish to meet you.”

  Mama relented. “Well, I suppose I can be content that three of my girls married from here.”

  “What would please you, Mary?” Henry asked.

  I did not really need to think about it at all. I wanted to marry from High Tor, where we had met and fallen in love. But I didn’t want to appear too eager, or there would be ruffled feathers to smooth. “I like the idea,” I said. “If my parents are in agreement.”

  So it was decided. Henry and I would be married from High Tor, in a month’s time. My mother protested at first. “I cannot possibly prepare for another wedding in such a short time!”

  “But, Mama,” Lizzy said, “we will all take part in the preparations.” Casting me a mischievous glance, she added, “As we did for Kitty’s wedding.”

  “I hope Henry will not change his mind when he hears the news, but I will not be embroidering pillowcases or handkerchiefs or anything else. So we need set aside no time for that.” I turned to look at him. “I detest needlework,” I said, pulling a face. “Do you wish to cry off?”

  “I’m sure my mother would agree we have more than enough embroidered linens. Besides,” he added, “you won’t get rid of me that easily.”

  When did you first know you liked me?” I asked Henry later that day. I’d lost some of my shyness around him and even could tease him a little. We were seated together on the sofa, the rest of the family having apparently decided to allow us a bit of privacy.

  “When I first met you at High Tor. There was something in your manner, perhaps your reserve, I was attracted to. I liked hearing you play the pianoforte. But you took no notice of me. At least not then.”

  “Oh, but you’re wrong. I was very conscious of your watching me, although at that time I never believed you could be interested in me.”

  He grinned. “Foolish girl. It was a long time before I had the pleasure of seeing you again, however.”

  “Indeed, I had no idea of returning. Jane forced me into it, after Lydia arrived at Longbourn with her shocking news.”

  “I am indebted to both your sisters, then. To Lydia for her indiscretions and Jane for her good sense. What about you, Mary? Did you like me at all then?”

  I felt my cheeks warm but decided to tell the truth. “Oh, yes. The more I knew you, the better I liked you. I believe it was after the picnic that I decided I was quite smitten.”

  “So I wasn’t mistaken in thinking you cared for me! I felt it keenly at Linden Hall. What happened to turn you away from me, Mary? Can you tell me now?”

  “It wasn’t just one thing, you know.”

  He sighed, only half serious. “Tell me all my sins.”

  “It started with Kitty. I must have your promise never to let on to her that I revealed this to you. She would die of mortification.”

  “I already suspected she was involved.”

  “After the day at Linden Hall, she told me you were meant for her, that you were her last chance to get a husband. She begged me to step aside. To leave High Tor, in fact.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “I refused, although I did give her some sisterly advice about how she might win you.”

  One corner of his mouth curled up and he said, “And what exactly was your advice?”

  I smiled teasingly. “She didn’t like the fact that you always talked to me instead of her, so I told her to read and behave with more decorum. I said in that way, she might transform herself into someone interesting.”

  He shook his head, puzzled. “I never noticed any difference in her manner toward me.”

  “That’s because she abandoned any thought of changing when you didn’t respond immediately. Ironically, looking back on it, I advised her to be more like me, while I endeavored to be more like her.”

  “Good God, no! In what way?”

  I didn’t know how much to tell him without embarrassing myself, but in for a penny, in for a pound. “She had said I wasn’t pretty.”
He started to protest, but I stopped him. “I suppose I took her comments to heart, because I chose the apricot gown for the ball, and had my hair done in a more becoming fashion. I thought to please you.”

  “And nothing went according to plan that night, for either of us. I did notice how lovely you looked, though, which I believe I mentioned the following day.”

  “Yes, well, by then the damage was done, wasn’t it? Oh, don’t look that way—I can laugh about it now! After the ball, I convinced myself you liked me but would never love me. I was sure you would choose Kitty, or one of the other younger girls who were following you around that night.”

  His eyes were grave. “I didn’t love you the first time I proposed. Oh, I cared for you a great deal, but I didn’t love you yet. I’m sorry if I hurt you, Mary.”

  “It did hurt at the time, but I see now everything was for the best. I needed Felicity in my life. I needed her love, as she needed mine. Were you surprised when I declined your offer?”

  “Yes, and confused. Because all our dealings with each other had been so harmonious. I thought we were well matched. But I see now that was rather a cold view of the matter. Not precisely the way a man should approach the woman he wishes to marry.”

  “I was so angry with you, for ignoring me at the ball and not telling us about Amelia. I couldn’t believe you had the audacity to propose. Then I had that awful moment when I was convinced you wanted me only because you believed I would be a good mother.”

  “I hate thinking about that day. I was a fool.”

  I toyed with one of the sofa cushions. “I’ve been wondering, when exactly did you begin to love me?”

  His eyes gleamed with amusement, but he answered without hesitation. “At Longbourn, when Charles and I were there. You had a new vitality, and more confidence than you’d ever shown before. And Bristol made me certain. You experienced the worst loss imaginable and bore it with grace. That was when I knew beyond a doubt that my heart belonged to you.”

  “Another reason I will always love Felicity. I thought you pitied me most of all.”