by Abby Ayles
“I'm so glad you could make it... Mr. Haskett,” Mary's mother said, pausing before the name as though to make it even more obvious this was not his true identity.
Mary smiled and nodded. “Yes, I'm pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Mr. Haskett grinned back. “It is my hope that we may be more than acquaintances.”
“But acquaintances shall do for now,” Mary added hastily. “Is that not true, mother?”
Mary's mother looked at her with a sternly warning expression. Mary turned to her father, who was smiling, oblivious to the tension between mother and daughter. He served himself another egg and Mary repressed a sigh.
“Actually, Mary,” her mother corrected her, “Mr. Haskett is a suitor.” There was a pause and her mother leaned in to whisper, “Your only suitor.”
Mary glanced over at her mother, but she was clearly both serious and happy about this arrangement. Mary herself, however, found herself at a loss for words. She just looked back over to Mr. Haskett. Of course he was incredibly handsome, and he seemed fairly wealthy too. No doubt he would keep her well... but this seemed more than a little rushed. Her first and only suitor? Surely there was more time.
Mary smiled meekly at Mr. Haskett. “Is that so? Then I would love to learn more about you, Sir.” She helped herself to some toast and marmalade from the tray in front of her. At least during breakfast she knew that she could serve her own food, which was a relief because other than the footman, the servants were absent again.
Over breakfast Mary learned much about Mr. Haskett. Mr. Haskett the businessman. Mr. Haskett the son. Mr. Haskett the brother. Mr. Haskett the student. But nothing of Mr. Haskett the man. His personality, personal interests, and history were an enigma shrouded by facts and figures more fitting for a history book. Mary wasn’t too fond of history lessons, either.
Mary wasn’t impressed with the man in front of her. He may have made a good first impression—perfect posture, the right countenance—but his lack of desire to be more… open… was not a quality Mary found attractive in a man. However, she was very well aware that she didn’t have any other suitors to compare Mr. Haskett to. After breakfast her father and mother invited Mr. Haskett to play croquet whilst the weather held, but she excused herself with a headache and locked herself in her room to think. Mary could not fathom why he would be so secretive about his identity, nor why her parents would be comfortable with this... so comfortable, in fact, that they were content to marry their only daughter to him. It was just... ridiculous. She pinched herself hard, but to her dismay, she was not dreaming.
* * *
Mary chose to remain upstairs for the entire morning, requesting only tea and lavender water from the servants. Every time someone knocked at her door she insisted she had a headache and could not go and join in with the fun.
However, by lunch time she still had no plausible answers, and was feeling too hungry to stay upstairs, so she ventured into the dining room. The best case scenario was that he had gone home already and she could talk to her parents in private. The worst case scenario was that she would have to get to know a bit more about her one and only suitor.
Luckily for her, he had gone home after an early lunch.
The servants were preparing the table, her father was still busy in his office, catching up on the morning's work, and her mother was in the dining room, half supervising the servants, half whiling away the minutes looking at paintings.
Mary was relived, but also felt a slight hint of an emotion she was very unfamiliar with, as though she had finished reading a very good book... but this was different. Deeper. She dismissed it and walked over to where her mother was looking at one of the paintings by the window.
“Mother, may we talk?” Mary asked with a curtsy, not standing up until she had made sure her mother had turned around and observed her deference.
“Of course, I trust your headache has improved?” her mother replied.
“Oh! Yes, much better thank you very much.” Mary smiled and hoped that her mother was not wise to her trick. “I just wanted to ask… who is Mr. Haskett?” She hoped her mother would hear the desperation in her voice.
Her mother looked to the painting again. “I suppose... he will have to tell you that himself. All you need to hear from me is that he is the only suitor your father and I will consider for you, and he is also your new piano forte teacher.”
“My new… teacher?” Mary gasped. “But he's a suitor... and so young...”
“So long as your hands are busy playing they keys and the door is open, I believe it is an excellent way for a young lady to get to know her suitor,” her mother added in a knowing tone.
Mary blushed hotly. “Of course you are right mother.”
“Now, no more suggestions of such... indecencies... or I may be forced to reconsider the whole affair until you are mature enough to think about it sensibly.” Mary's mother smiled and held her daughter's hand. “Trust in me when I tell you that... Mr. Haskett is a very good suitor for you, and you would do well to get to know him and let him learn what a wonderful wife you could make for him.”
“And how am I to do that when I cannot be told who he is?” Mary replied with exasperation.
“Mary, you must trust your parents. Let him tutor you for some time, talk to him, and get close to him. You will not regret it.”
At that moment her father entered the room and Mary made her way to the table. She still felt unprepared for this arrangement, but at least now she felt somewhat braver and reassured. Her parents had to know on some level who this man was. Otherwise they would not be so confident that he was the perfect suitor for her. So she had to put her trust in them and give him a fair chance. But why was it so hard to trust?
* * *
The day of their first lesson, Mary’s stomach was full of butterflies held down by the knot in her throat. It was not so much the prospect of this particular man, whom she hardly knew, but the prospect of spending time with any young man, specifically anyone who could potentially be her future husband. There was something slightly insinuating about it, something which hinted at the romances in her favourite novels and which made her yearn for her very own tale of romantic bliss.
When he arrived, he seemed a little lost, and yet somehow completely and utterly confident in what he was doing. Mary had hoped to learn more about him, but every time she asked him a question he would either ask her the same question in return, or comment on the music.
“You are indeed one of the fairest young ladies I have courted,” Mr. Haskett said as Mary adjusted a hair clip.
Mary smiled and resumed playing her song. “I assume you must be courting many?”
“A few,” replied Mr. Haskett. “A man has to keep his options open. You would not enter a florist and purchase the very first bouquet you see upon opening the door, would you?”
Mary shook her head. “I suppose when one has the option of choosing a bouquet, one must choose wisely.”
“Ah, but every bouquet is sure to find a good home, unless it is sold below its worth. Meanwhile, not every bouquet purchased will smell sweet, nor look fresh, for long after it is brought home. Whomever can afford the bouquet is surely worthy of owning it, but not every bouquet is worth its price,” Mr. Haskett explained.
Mary could not fault his logic. And yet... why did she feel a pull at her chest when he said that he had other candidates to become his wife? She barely knew this man and yet... and yet she was inexplicably drawn to him.
“Tell me, Mr. Haskett, why you are looking for a wife, how come you have decided that it is time?” Mary asked, eager to learn something about the man which was not a number.
“Here, let me show you another song.” Mr. Haskett evaded the question, motioning for her to rise. He bowed slightly as she stood, then, once she was seated on a stool nearby, he began playing.
Mary contemplated whether it would be rude to ask the question again, but decided against it just in case. But how on Earth was she su
pposed to get to know the man, and he to know her, when he wouldn't let her learn anything about him?
It was undeniable that he was a gifted pianist himself. As he demonstrated the scores to her, his fingers glided up and down the keys, nimble as young hares, never missing a single note. The music flowed up from the piano forte as though summoned by magic. But, however talented he was at playing, his teaching method seemed to be half composed of displaying his skills and half expecting her to copy him.
“Well, there is one thing I am now absolutely certain of,” Mary said, turning a page.
“And what is that?” Mr. Haskett inquired.
“You are most surely not a teacher,” Mary replied.
Mr. Haskett laughed slightly too loudly for polite society, then covered his mouth with his hand. “I beg of you to forgive me, Miss Elridge.” Despite his apology, his eyes still glinted in a way which suggested that he was either not familiar with the way one ought to carry oneself in proper society, or that he did not much care for it.
“But it is true,” Mary continued, “You have been here all morning and not only have you not told me a single thing about your life, but I have learned no new skills whatsoever. Perhaps I ought to fire you?”
“I do have a bit of advice to help you with,” Mr. Haskett replied.
Mary was feeling bold, especially in the absence of her parents, and this was heightened by the frustration which Mr. Haskett's presence was causing her. “Pray tell, Mr. Haskett.”
“I would advise that when a man is teaching you piano forte, you keep on playing, so that your parents do not get ideas about what is happening and banish him forever.”
Mary felt her face and chest grow very hot all of a sudden. It was not so much what he said, although what he said was indeed improper, but the very tone of his voice as he said it which made her uncomfortable. “Mr. Haskett!” she whispered harshly, her eyes aflame as they locked with his.
“I am terribly sorry,” he replied, “I did not intend to... I...”
“I am not familiar with the sort of society where that is acceptable, nor do I intend to be,” Mary said, standing up. “I am sorry but I must leave now.” She turned around and left the room, headed for her bedroom.
She was still none the wiser as to who, exactly, this man was, but she was not about to tolerate such remarks from him either. Somehow she knew that she was expected to charm and enamour him... but how can one charm and enamour a person they do not know the slightest bit about?
She had barely closed her door when it slid open and her mother walked in, looking incredibly stressed, clutching her smelling salts. “Mary, I hear you have walked out of your piano lesson with Mr. Haskett.”
“I have, mother, he said something quite improper. I am sure you understand,” Mary replied.
“What was it that he said to you, Marianne?” Lady Elridge sat down on the edge of Mary's bed.
She shook her head. “I will not repeat it. However he implied something most improper and I will not reward him with my company if that is what I am to expect.”
Mary's mother sighed deeply. “Mary, I understand why you left the room, and I am proud of you for protecting yourself. However unless what Mr. Haskett said was so absolutely profane you cannot marry him, I must ask you to give him another opportunity. Did he say such a thing?”
Mary shook her head. “No, he did not. It was merely improper, a little insinuative and thoughtless, not profane.”
“Then you must give him another opportunity. If not for your own sake, at least to satisfy me that you made an effort,” her mother replied.
Mary furrowed her brow and sat down beside her mother. “But why? I know nothing of this man. If I at least knew who he was, something about him to explain what I ought to expect. At this moment I do not know what will happen subsequent to any interaction or conversation. I cannot live with this.”
Her mother held her hand. “Mary, I cannot tell you who he is. I wish I could, I truly do, but the only condition under which he would court you is that you must know nothing about him.”
“Mother, I cannot decide whether to marry a man based on nothing,” Mary replied.
“You will not decide, Mary. He will,” her mother corrected her. “Your father and I know that he is a perfect candidate, however he is not certain of you and you must prove yourself to him.”
“Then inspire me, mother,” Mary contested. It was painful to be answering back at her own mother so much, but the situation felt so dire. “Please, tell me something, anything that will redeem his character in my eyes.”
Lady Elridge looked about the room, then stood, peered out of the door and down the hall, and, satisfied they were truly alone, closed the door. “Very well Mary, I will let you know one thing.”
Chapter Three
Mary held her breath, but the result was underwhelming.
“Mr. is not Haskett's true title,” her mother explained. “He occupies a most prestigious position in society, and it is a true blessing to us that he will consider you for his bride. Due to his... more sheltered upbringing at times he may act improperly and thoughtlessly. But this is because it is not often that anyone has corrected his ways. If you can see past this, I assure you that no better future awaits you than the one you could enjoy with Mr. Haskett.”
Mary sighed. “I wish you could tell me more.”
Lady Elridge rested a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder. “When it is right for you to know, you shall know.”
Despite a good night's sleep, Mary awoke more confused than ever.
Mary knew, from what her mother had told her, that Mr. Haskett was most certainly a wonderful man and an ideal husband. She did not for one moment distrust her mother's wisdom or judgement. What she did doubt, however, was her own ability to act according to the circumstances. Because she was still not truly aware of what the circumstances were. She knew she would have to see Mr. Haskett again for a lesson that afternoon. But she did not know what to do, especially not now that she felt pressure to impress him.
“I cannot do this, mother,” Mary said as soon as she found her mother alone.
“Whatever do you mean, Marianne?” her mother replied.
Mary sighed. “I cannot let a man I do not know court me. I know nothing of courting as it stands, and to try and fathom the mysteries of courtship with a man who is an enigma... I cannot.”
Her mother shook her head sternly. “You must.”
“How? Whatever can I do?” Mary asked. Her patience was wearing thin.
Mary's mother shook her head again, this time more slowly, and sniffed her phial of smelling salts. “Mary... I feel you have been a bit... disorderly of late.”
Mary did not deny it. She nodded. “I am confused, I am tired... I do apologize mother...”
“And there it is again,” her mother replied, “I am not sure that you are ready for courtship if you cannot master simple manners.”
“These are difficult times for me, mother. I assure you I can manage myself through them.”
“That is not what you have displayed thus far,” her mother corrected her, “and it is precisely during hard times when a lady ought to shine as a beacon of civilization, not revert to the ways of girls and boys.”
Mary furrowed her brow. “But I do feel like a girl,” she said after a brief pause. “I...” Tears welled in her eyes. She did not want to cry, but it was all far too much. All she wanted, all she needed at this moment was a little understanding from her mother. In return, Mary was getting chastised.
Lady Elridge softened a little upon seeing how frustrated her daughter was. She walked up and handed the girl a handkerchief for her tears. “Here... I know that this is not easy for you. This is not easy transition for any young woman. But it is something we must all do, and do with a brave countenance.”
Mary wiped the tears from her eyes and looked back to her mother. “But like this?”
“Every courtship has its challenges, Mary, it is up to the woman to
meet those challenges with dignity and strength.”
Mary nodded, but did not feel as reassured as she would have liked.
“If you wish... I can excuse you for a few days. Not long. But a few days deeper in the countryside, at a rural retreat. There you may have some time to recover from your emotions, and approach your courtship with renewed vigour.” Her mother suggested.
“I would very much like that, mother,” Mary replied.
“Then it is decided. Three days and two nights only, in a rural retreat in Oxfordshire, so that the country air may strengthen and revitalize you. And then you are to return immediately and court Mr. Haskett in earnest,” Lady Elridge insisted. “You shall be escorted by your cousins, Thomas and Antoinette. He shall ensure the two of you behave properly and are safe, and she shall ensure that you get the full rest you require, and plenty of country air.”
Mary was thrilled by this. Antoinette was about her own age, and had been her dearest friend since early childhood. She was also intelligent, informed, and amiable. She was the perfect companion for this three day retreat, not least of all because of all people Antoinette would be able to tell Mary what she was to do.
* * *
That very evening Antoinette's landau pulled up outside the house, Mary's bags were secured, and they were on their way to the countryside. The two girls were on their own inside the landau, with Thomas Gibbs riding on an elevated seat behind the driver. Even so, it took until the house was out of view for Mary and Antoinette to relax enough to begin to discuss the mystery of Mr. Christopher Haskett.
“If you ask me, it sounds perfectly thrilling,” Antoinette said with a slight sigh. “Like something out of a story.”
“But it is not so in real life, Annie.” Mary shook her head. “It is so much more complicated and confusing. I wish I knew what to do, like the ladies in our books always know.”
Antoinette nodded. “I understand. I too wish things were clearer to me.”
