Beginning, Section II
Jump to new as of January 8, 2003
Jump to new as of January 20, 2003
"Where is Mary this morning?" Kitty whispered to Lizzy. They were seated in the drawing room with Georgiana after breakfast, and watched with growing trepidation the number of people and bouquets that began filling that room. The majority of flowers and callers were for Mary, and she had yet to make an appearance. "I did not see her at the end of the ball last night, either."
"I will send up for her," Lizzy said, and rang for a footman.
"Excuse me." Georgiana left her circle of admirers with Kitty and quit the room. She went to seek out their maids. Perhaps Babette knew what might be keeping Mary from her adoring public. She found Marie comforting a weeping Babette in the room they shared on the top floor of the house.
"Babette!" she cried, and knelt at the edge of the bed. "What is the matter?"
The maid loosed a torrent of lightning-fast French and Georgiana cursed her inability to follow. She looked at Marie in mute appeal.
"She feels as if she has failed Miss Bennet, who is extremely upset about last night."
"What happened?" As far as Georgiana was concerned, except for a small mishap concerning Miss Bingley and the supper dance, the evening was perfection itself.
"Miss Bennet was not to dance before supper with the earl, and at supper, the earl and his partner insulted her, and later she hit the colonel in the face. She and the earl had words, too."
"Oh, dear. Babette, you must not take the blame! Those horrid men! I will take care of some of this, including Miss Bennet." Georgiana stormed out and went down to Mary's room, where she entered without knocking to find that lady still abed. Mary's eyes and nose were as red as Babette's. She took one look at Georgiana and burst into fresh tears.
"Shhhhh!" Georgiana consoled, climbing into bed with Mary and holding her in her arms. "It cannot be as bad as all that. Well, perhaps Richard feels differently..." she joked, but Mary did not find it amusing.
"I never want to see any of them again! I hit the colonel, ruining all chances with him - not that I really wanted him," Mary wailed, "and now Miss Bingley is to marry the earl!"
"What?" Georgiana cried. "It cannot be!"
"Miss Bingley told me so herself. All I could do was wish the earl happy last night, and then I cried myself to sleep!"
"Well, if Miss Bingley said she was engaged, I would pay her no mind at all! Why, just last year she fancied herself mistress of Pemberley, and look where that got her! As if I would allow my brother to marry such a one as she! And whatever happened with the earl also may be repaired. He escorted you to church last Sunday, did he not? His grandmother is giving you a puppy. He sent you a bouquet last evening, and an even larger one this morning. The man is smitten, and one little mishap is not going to change that. Come now, dry your eyes and come downstairs. There are many people waiting to greet you, and the flowers! So many flowers with your name on them! Kitty and I are extremely jealous of the attention!"
"No, I do not want to go downstairs today. Maybe tomorrow, but not today. Oh, where is Babette? I need Babette!"
"Poor Babette. She is upstairs, crying her eyes out, afraid that she has failed you! I will go up and ask her to come down. Mayhap it is better if you stay here today. You will need some of the time to convince Babette that she is not at fault."
Mary dried her eyes and nodded. "You are a comfort, Georgiana. I know why my sisters dote on you."
The younger girl blushed. "I had an experience once, where I thought I was in love, but I was mistaken." There was a long pause while Mary digested this information. "But," she added briskly, "the gentleman did not truly care for me. I believe the earl cares for you, even if it is only as a friend. Love is a risk we must all take, and you have been very brave. I will have luncheon sent up on a tray later, although we hope you will feel better to join us for dinner."
"Yes, thank you. Would you see that there is enough for two? I believe Babette and I have some talking to do, and I do not wish us to be disturbed."
"Wise decision."
"What do you mean, she is indisposed!" Trowbridge exclaimed. He had called at the Darcy home that same afternoon to see if he could make sense of Miss Bennet's conversation the evening before. And apologize for the supper dance fiasco.
"She is upset about last night," Lizzy soothed, having not had time to receive a full report from Georgiana, "and needs time to recover."
The earl exploded in Lizzy's face. "She needs time? I'm the one who was informed by your sister last evening that I am engaged to Miss Bingley!"
"Oh, dear," cried Lizzy, for once in her life quite unsure what to do. She looked up at the sound of footsteps. It was her husband. One could always count on William to show up at just the right moment.
"I suggest, Trowbridge, that you remove yourself from my wife's presence if you are going to address her in that manner." Mr. Darcy's voice dripped icicles. "Perhaps we might take this into my study."
"Now, suppose you tell me, my lord, what really happened at my ball yesterday evening?" Darcy had escorted the earl into the study, but did not offer him a chair or a drink, sure signs of his dissatisfaction.
"I do not know, Darcy."
"Then let us start at the beginning." Mr. Darcy was not much older than the earl, and he was far from an expert when it came to affairs of the heart, but if Mary was unhappy, Elizabeth was unhappy, and his wife's happiness was paramount. Even if it meant taking an avuncular role in this situation. "You arrived at the ball and secured Miss Bennet for the supper dance."
The earl cleared his throat, nervous under the scrutiny of the older man. "Actually, I solicited her hand for the first dance, but it was already claimed, as you well know. Then I asked for the second dance, but it was already promised to Fitz."
"I see. Pray continue."
"Directly before midnight, I approached Miss Bennet, only to have Miss Bingley insist I was already her partner."
"And had you, indeed, made a mistake, perhaps, asking both ladies for the same dance?"
"I think I am not so crass as to behave in such a manner, Mr. Darcy," the earl replied, clearly affronted. "If Miss Bingley claimed, however, to be my partner, I could not declare the lady to be a liar, much as I wished it. When Miss Bennet did not protest, I could do nothing but lead Miss Bingley out onto the floor. I did not wish to embroil Miss Bennet in a contretemps and expose her to gossip."
"I think I understand. Were you present, then, when Miss Bennet upended her supper onto Mr. Morris-Smeeth's lap?"
"I was. Fitz and his partner had been invited to join us, and just when Miss Bennet so sweetly disposed of her food, Miss Bingley said something completely unrelated to the incident that was amusing, and we all laughed."
"A sally intended to be spoken at a strategic moment could look as if you were laughing at Miss Bennet."
"Gads, man, is that what she thinks?"
"I understand it was quite damning."
The earl chose to vent his feelings with a few expletives. "Would that I could see Miss Bennet and explain!"
"At this point, I think that to be extremely difficult. Especially with your engagement to Miss Bingley already common knowledge within my family."
The earl swore again. "I will not allow Miss Bingley to order my life for me - I did not, nor will I ever, propose marriage to her. I'd much prefer to propose to Miss Bennet! Now she will never have me!"
Mary and Babette spent the afternoon having a quiet coze, apologizing to each other, offering each other comfort and speculating on when Miss Bingley's engagement would be announced. When it was time to dress for dinner, Mary's spirits had revived enough that she sent word to Lizzy to let her know she would be joining the family for the evening meal. What no one told Mary was that the colonel, who had called earlier to speak with her, had been invited to dine.
In fact, only Georgiana had already come down when Mary walked into the drawing room and found her conversing earnestly with her cousin.
"Mary!" she cried, and rushed over to escort her to the sofa. "My cousin would have a word with you. He called earlier, when you were indisposed. Now he would like leave to address you." She supposed Richard was there to apologize. "Please?" she pleaded, seeing Mary begin to rise.
"Please?" the colonel added. Mary looked at Georgiana, who winked and then removed herself to a far end of the room, out of earshot.
The colonel quickly seized the advantage by sitting down next to Mary and taking her right hand in his.
"Miss Bennet, may I offer my sincerest apologies for any insult I might have given last evening?"
Mary finally gave him her full attention, and almost melted with sympathy when she saw his face. Almost.
She must have hit him between his nose and his left eye, because his eye was rimmed with black and his nose was swollen. She was amazed that a man of his vanity would dare venture out looking as he did. It was a testament to his sincerity, she supposed, that he had not only called earlier, but had returned for dinner.
"I will accept your apology, Colonel Fitzwilliam, if you will accept mine in return." With great daring, she reached up and lightly caressed his eye and the bridge of his nose. She could not believe she had done so much damage. He sighed and closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them again and took both her hands in his.
"Miss Bennet, I wish to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. You came into my life like a breath of fresh air, your brilliant eyes sparkling - so full of life! I admit you took my breath away, and you have continued to amaze me! I know I am only a second son, and you are without very many prospects as well, having not much in the way of face or fortune, but if we truly loved each other..." He hurried on. "I had heard from others how rigidly you patterned your life, and how you irritated everyone with your sermons and your sayings, and I realized last night when I saw you drop food in that little chap's lap that you had come so far from that mousy, prosy little chit you seemed when we met at Darcy's...Miss Bennet?"
Mary had been sitting quietly through the colonel's declaration. At first, she felt flattered that he honored her with such a proposal, but the longer he talked, the more insulted she became. No face or fortune! The words were true, but they still stung. Then he had pronounced her mousy and prosy! She felt he had gone too far and she held up a hand to forestall any more words.
"I believe, Colonel Fitzwilliam, you have said quite enough! While I am indebted to you for tendering my first complete proposal," she said, remembering the aborted one of Squire Mayfield, "I pray you will quit while you are ahead and give me no cause to darken your other eye. I value your friendship, colonel, but I am afraid we will not suit. I admit, I had hoped for a proposal from another quarter, but I have since learned that it will not be forthcoming."
She burst into tears and ran from the room, leaving Georgiana to berate her cousin for upsetting her friend.
"But I only proposed!" the colonel protested, just as a concerned Lizzy came flying into the room, followed by her frowning husband, both having passed her weeping sister on the stairs.
"And her acceptance of said offer has caused her to shed copious tears of joy, I suppose," Lizzy said sarcastically.
"Actually, Miss Bennet has refused me."
"Refused you what?" Mr. Darcy asked his cousin, who was now on his feet and headed toward the drawing room door.
"The colonel's proposal," Lizzy muttered to her husband.
"Your servant, Elizabeth. Georgiana. Darcy. I will be unable to stay for dinner." With a stiff bow, he left.
The three remaining occupants of the room were still standing, and silent, when Kitty walked in.
"What?" she asked in bewilderment. "Where is the colonel going? He only just arrived! Something has happened, hasn't it? It's Mary, isn't it? I always miss the most interesting events!" she wailed.
"I expected you to be basking in the bosom of the Darcy family right about now," a familiar voice bitterly exclaimed. The Earl of Trowbridge sat down opposite his rival, a glass in one hand, a half-empty bottle in the other. He took one look at the colonel's face and burst into laughter.
"Don't speak to me, I beg you, Trowbridge, of bosoms or Darcys. She refused me, you know. I began a harmless flirtation, hoping to increase her confidence and her consequence, and I fell heels over head in love with the chit."
"Taking your frustrations out at Jackson's then, were you?" The earl said with mock sympathy, raising his glass to indicate the colonel's face. "Did no one tell you that you are allowed to fight back?"
"Actually, I earned this facer last evening." He glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention, reluctant to mention her name in public. "From Miss Bennet."
The earl laughed even harder. "Gads, she is a lady worth knowing, isn't she? And now she has refused your offer." He shook his head, as if he found this unbelievable.
"I ought to call you out, Trowbridge!" The earl received an angry glare. "It's you she wants, and she is convinced it will never happen, and that I cannot understand! You're as available as I, even more so, considering your title and fortune, and you are one the hanging out for a wife. Besides, you are in love with her!"
The earl nodded, unable to deny the truth. "There is something so unique about her, I cannot describe it. She never tries to be anything but herself, whether she dresses up and dances till dawn or looks like a dowd and hauls a stack of books about Hatchard's. She is kind, generous and loyal. She is attentive to old ladies and loves animals. Sadly, I am no longer available, if the young lady is to be believed. It seems my partner at supper last night," he added, reluctant to mention her name either, for completely different reasons, "told the lady in question that we are to be leg-shackled directly."
"The devil you say!" the colonel shouted, rising up from his chair. Distracted beyond reason that day, not even Georgiana had thought to inform her cousin of this tidbit of information. Heads turned in their direction and he sheepishy sat back down. And took a few hits straight from the bottle given to him by one of the stewards. "Sorry. That other female, who is no lady in my estimation, deserves to be horse-whipped!"
The earl nodded and the two sat in silence for awhile, content only to drink and make the occasional comment about the female they were both coming to despise.
"Words cannot begin to describe that wench."
"'The most important tradesman's daughter to ever enter London society' comes to mind," the colonel growled.
"How about 'tangerine-tinted buffoon?" the earl countered.
The colonel raised his bottle to acknowledge the earl's excellent words. "Stuffed parrot with a pearl necklace!"
"Feathered witch!"
"Conniving shrew!"
The more they insulted Miss Bingley, the more they drank. The more they drank, the more foxed they became. The more foxed they became, the more base their insults.
"I have it, old boy! Haymarket ware!"
"Lady-bird, lady-bird, tweet, tweet, tweet!" The earl howled at his own jest.
"If her brother were here, he'd call us out," the colonel maintained.
"If her brother were here, he'd call her out!"
"Cold-hearted harpy!"
"Jezebel!"
"Light-skirt!"
"Trollop!"
"Wanton!"
"Whore!" they shouted together.
The earl looked around at the attention they had garnered from the other members of the club and, with a devilish gleam, raised his glass.
"Fitz, I propose a toast!"
"A toast, a toast, we must have a toast!" the colonel roared. "To Miss Bingley!"
"Yes, to Miss Bingley! The greatest whore in Christendom!"
"Aye! Aye! The greatest of whores. Long may she reign!"
Several club members, known for either being great gossips, or having wives with wagging tongues, practically ran from the room. Others began whispering among themselves. Miss Bingley must have committed some atrocious crime to be so mentioned in White's. Others ran for the betting book, certain the lady would be much aligned by daybreak.
The remains of several bottles at their elbows, Trowbridge and the colonel finally pulled each other up from their chairs and swaggered into another room, where Charles Bingley sat playing cards with Fitzwilliam Darcy. If Bingley heard a word from the other room, he gave no indication. Darcy took in the inebriated condition of the colonel and the earl without comment, as well, and promptly called for their carriage.
The top-heavy gentlemen were taken to Bingley's town house, where they were put in guest rooms by a motherly Mrs. Bingley. Bingley and Darcy, having already discussed the entire situation, began to put their plans in action.
"I cannot understand why you must go home!" Lizzy wailed. She was watching Babette supervise the loading of Mary's trunks onto Mr. Darcy's best carriage, lent for the occasion at her husband's direction.
If there was one good thing to come of all this, Lizzy supposed it was the growing affection between her husband and her next-youngest sister. Who would have imagined, several weeks ago, that Mary and William would become such friends?
"I am leaving because there is nothing here for me, Lizzy, you know that." It had been three days since the ball, and in that time Mary had grown fretful and fearful. No announcement had appeared in the paper concerning Miss Bingley and the earl, but Mary knew it was only a matter of time before it happened. She wanted to be as far away from Miss Bingley as she could when it did. If she stayed, she would be forced, at some point, to see the man she loved with a female she despised.
Lizzy and the rest of the household, including Babette, had kept her sheltered from the sordid gossip surrounding Miss Bingley, on Mr. Darcy's orders, so she had no indication of that female's fall from favor among the ton. They could understand the reasons for agreeing to his suggestion on this. However, they did not understand the continued absence of the earl from their home, not knowing it was at Mr. Darcy's insistence.
Now it was time for Mary to go home. Fortunately, Babette was to accompany her, and remain at Longbourn, again at Mr. Darcy's insistence. For that, Mary was grateful.
Lizzy, however, was not happy with her husband's handling of the situation - Mary should be made to face up to her troubles, not run away from them! However, William had made it quite clear that his plans were the best for Mary.
"I know, but we shall miss you dreadfully!" she now told her sister. "Kitty is sulking, afraid Mama will call her home, too, and Georgiana is in the doldrums because she says she is losing a dear friend. I, too, will miss a dear sister and companion."
"It is not as bad as all that, Lizzy. Jane is still in town, and you have a large circle of friends. I will keep Mama from sending for Kitty. She will be much too busy, anyhow, berating me for ruining such a good opportunity to find a husband. Well, I have no intention of telling her anything..." Mary climbed into the carriage beside Babette before she started to cry. "Goodbye!" she called as she was driven away.
The evening of Mary's departure, Elizabeth waited exactly five seconds after her husband joined her in bed before pouncing on him. Literally. And it wasn't a precursor to a warm, cozy evening in each other's arms she had in mind. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now.
"Fitzwilliam Darcy!" she almost barked, having pinned him as best she could to the mattress.
"Elizabeth?" he questioned calmly, knowing full well where this conversation was leading. He also was enjoying the fact that he was being held captive by his wife. The topic of discussion was not what he would have chosen, but when they were finished...
"Pay attention, William! I want to know everything there is to know about Mary and Trowbridge!"
"Such as..."
"Such as why you sent Mary home. Why hasn't Trowbridge called? What is happening between him and Caroline Bingley? Where did those ugly rumors about her begin? What has Charles to say in all this? Jane called today and all she could tell me was that the colonel and Trowbridge had - what was the term? - shot the cat and were too ill the next morning to raise their heads from their pillows. Have they called each other out? Has Charles called Trowbridge out? Has Trowbridge called Caroline out? What is going on?" The fact that she did not wait for any answers, and punctuated each question by pushing him further into the mattress, meant he had to wait for her to hear his replies.
"Are you quite finished?" he wondered when she quit pressing on his shoulders.
"Oh! Why, yes, I am. For now," she added pertly, allowing him to sit up among the pillows.
"Thank you. I sent Mary home because Trowbridge and I do not wish her name to become linked with any of this mess."
"You are too good to us," Elizabeth murmured, recalling another incident where he helped her family, but she let him continue.
"Trowbridge will not call on us until Caroline has been settled elsewhere, and as far as I can tell, he has not offered for Caroline, no matter what she or Mary says. I wish I could tell you I do not know where those rumors concerning Caroline originated, but that would not be the truth. Actually, Fitz and Trowbridge started them the other evening at White's, while they were, um...shooting the cat. No one has called anyone else out, either. Charles could have called both gentlemen out that evening, but chose not to, having learned beforehand from a good friend exactly what his sister has been up to these days. As for Trowbridge calling out Caroline, she is going to be much too busy getting caught in parson's mousetrap to meet him at Hampstead Heath. Her new husband might take exception to his wife fighting a duel, as well."
"Husband?" Lizzy choked. "I did not even know she was engaged. Well, I thought she was engaged to Trowbridge, but..."
"Elizabeth? You have far more important things to worry about than the future of Miss Bingley. Your sister will be settled soon, too, if Trowbridge has any say in the matter. They will work this out amongst themselves. I have something more interesting in mind for you..."
Lizzy sighed, but it was not an unhappy sound. If the look in William's eyes was any indication, it was going to be a long night.
Caroline saw the militant look in her brother's eye and sighed. It was going to be a long night. She didn't realize at the time just how long.
"You will come downstairs and attend Louisa's card party," he told her.
"No! Do you know what those people are saying? I have never been so embarrassed in my entire..."
"Oh, come now, Caroline, I can name several incidences where you have been embarrassed," Charles replied smugly. While he had been reluctant to enter into this mad scheme at first - after all, Caroline was his sister - he was warming to it quickly.
"Possibly," she conceded with a sniff, "but never like this! This is my reputation we are talking about!"
"Yes, and if you had been guarding it better, you never would have made an enemy of the Earl of Trowbridge! Now come along, sister dear. It's time to play, er, um, cards."
This was the tricky part, getting Caroline downstairs. Luckily, Jane was the best wife ever. She came to the door and very quietly, and sweetly, coaxed Caroline down to the drawing room, having convinced her that there was nothing to fear.
Charles' own worst fear, however, was that Jane would learn of the plot he and Darcy had concocted. She would never have played along had she known, and he was still worried she would discover it in time to stop it from happening. He didn't know Mr. Darcy had explained the entire situation to Jane and she was playing a part, too. She, too, was unhappy about the circumstances, but as the injured party in all this had been Mary, she reluctantly agreed to the plan.
"Caroline," she now said softly, "I wish to introduce you to yet another member of the Fitzwilliam family, the Rev. Mr. Morris-Smeeth. Mr. Morris-Smeeth, this is my dear sister-in-law Miss Bingley. Caroline, dear, won't you show Mr. Morris-Smeeth into Louisa's conservatory? No one may gossip if they don't see you," she whispered.
Caroline nodded. Jane was sweet, really, to help her avoid the horrid stories that had been swirling about society these past few days. She vaguely recognized her escort from the Darcy ball, but did not connect this ill-favored man with the one who had received a baptism of food at the hands of Miss Bennet.
"This is most kind of you, sir," she began reluctantly, trying to point out one of Louisa's prized orchids. "It came from..." Was that his hand at her back? "It was imported from..." Yes, there was that hand again, this time on her arm. "I believe..."
She tried to continue, but the man had backed himself up against one of the glass walls, had pulled her up against him and was desperately trying to get a hand up under her...
"Unhand her, you cad!" Charles cried dramatically from behind his sister. "What is the meaning of this?"
"But...but...Miss Bingley started it," the parson insisted.
"Yes? How so?" Charles demanded.
"Yes, how so?" Caroline echoed.
"Well..." The lecherous little man mumbled something about a reputation and wild stories concerning the wanton Miss Bingley.
"Speak up, man, I would know how this happened!" He stared hard at the other man, and then he winked, Mr. Morris-Smeeth's cue to ensure his own happiness.
"I was trying to look at these orchids, Mr. Bingley, when Miss Bingley grabbed me and pinned me to the windows and began kissing me all over. I wasn't doing anything, sir, honest!"
"What?" Caroline's face had become as brilliantly-hued as her gown, and the three feathers in her hair bobbed up and down in righteous indignation. "I never - he tried to - Charles!" she wailed.
"Caroline," he calmly replied, so proud of his own acting, he was about to burst. "I believe we should take this elsewhere. We are drawing a crowd, and your reputation is already in shreds. Shall we adjourn to the library, sir, where we might discuss settlements and such?"
The two men walked away arm-in-arm to a door at the end of the conservatory, talking as if they were long-lost brothers, leaving Caroline gaping like a fish before she turned around and ran back to her room.
When she tried to run away later that evening, climbing out of her bedroom window on a rope made of sheets, her brother was waiting below with the little lecher, a minister and a special license, and tied her future up for her even better than she had tied her sheets.
Now Mary knew why Lizzy always took such long walks every day when she lived at Longbourn. One could not hear Mama's voice from Oakham Mount. It had been two long weeks since Mary's return home, two weeks spent listening to her mother nag her constantly about her wasted time in London. The woods and fields about Longbourn and Meryton became her refuge.
She was just back from one such walk when she heard her mother in the sitting room with a guest.
"Oh, Squire Mayfield," Mrs. Bennet gushed. "How lovely of you to call. I have been sitting here all afternoon with only my nerves for company. Won't you have some tea? I vow, this wintery afternoon is wet and damp, and my..."
Oh, no! Not the squire! Mary had no doubt as to why he had called. He called almost every morning since her return, eager to finish his proposal, she imagined. Mama, of course, had resumed encouraging the squire in his pursuit of a Bennet bride.
Hill," Mrs. Bennet shrilled when tea arrived, "please fetch Mary. I know you were about to make an interesting offer to my middle daughter, sir, before she went to London. A pity about London, of course. One is sorry she did not take, but I'm sure her sisters did their best! The squire has come to call," she pointed out unnecessarily to her daughter as she entered the room. "Take off those glasses," she hissed.
Mary left her tiny spectacles squarely on her nose and prayed for someone, anyone, to deliver her from this impending interview. She resisted an urge to stick her tongue out at her mother's retreating back when that lady left the room on the flimsiest of excuses. She refused to sit when the squire bid her to do so.
"Whatever you have to say, sir, I hope you will say it and then leave. I am in no mood to be trifled with today." Militantly she crossed her arms over her chest and waited.
"Miss Bennet, I -" He struggled for words and she ran out of patience.
"If you cannot form more than two words, sir, then your time is up, and I bid you - " From out in the hallway she heard a shriek from her mother, but she did not wait to hear its cause. Still dressed in her bonnet, gloves and a thick spencer, she slipped out of the French doors in the sitting room and took off across the back lawn at a run.
She didn't go far, just into the walled garden at the end of the path. There was an unfamiliar coach and four at the front door, but she paid it no heed. Her head ached and she wanted to be alone.
She sat sulking on one of the low stone benches for a good fifteen minutes, trying to ignore her freezing backside, when she saw a dear, familiar person approach.
"Go away!" she called out to the earl. "I have nothing to say to you!"
"A pity," he gently replied. "I have a great deal to say to you."
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"I have brought your puppy, of course."
"He's here?" she cried, the first sign of happiness crossing her face since her return home. "I must -" A smooth mask of indifference came down over her features. This man, of all people, did not deserve any consideration whatsoever. "I will see him later, when I return to the house," she said woodenly.
The earl shrugged. "I left him in the sitting room with your mother and some dolt who says he is your fiancé."
"What? Fiancé?" she shrieked. She wasn't her mother's daughter for nothing. "We'll just have to see about that!" Mary jumped up from the bench and stormed back to the house with Trowbridge hot on her heels. She entered the house through the French doors only to find the room empty. Outraged, she turned around and ran squarely into the earl.
"Watch what you are about, my girl," he warned, putting his hands on her shoulders and peering into her astonished face, his gray eyes warm and tender. "There are no pugs to save you now." With that, he kissed her soundly. Mary sighed with delight, kissing him back with all her heart, and put her arms up to curl about his neck until she remembered his own engagement. Twirling about, she stalked away from the earl and sat down on the sofa.
"I cannot. You are promised to Miss Bingley, remember?" A shriek from the hallway told her Mama was listening at keyholes again. Mary ignored her.
"I never was, nor ever will be, engaged to Miss Bingley."
"But-" To her surprise, the earl dropped down on one knee at her feet and took one of her hands in his.
"But I would gladly be engaged - and married - to you, my darling, if you will only let me. I...I tried too hard to be a gentleman the night of the ball, and when you did not protest Miss Bingley's actions, I thought you did not feel for me what I felt for you. Mary, dear, I beg your forgiveness, and if you will accept my proposal, you will make me the happiest of men. Will you marry me?"
"You have waited a fortnight to ask me for forgiveness," she pointed out to him calmly. "Why should I listen to you?"
"If I have been conspicuous in my absence of both an apology and an offer, I am sorry. It was your own brother, Mr. Darcy, who suggested I wait until you were settled once again in your home before approaching you. I thought it best to wait until the puppy was ready to be taken from his dam."
"Yes, well, I would have been much happier had the apology and the offer come much sooner. The puppy could have come later. But I have heard no specifics, and must suppose this to be along the lines of the colonel's proposal. Tell me, my lord, am I mousy? Prosy?"
"What? My love, you are neither of those! Who would dare say such things?"
"No one important," Mary replied, melting at his endearment. But she needed to hear that all-important sentence, just once. "However, I am not sure I wish to accept your proposal. I have yet to understand if your heart is engaged."
"My heart," he acknowledged, "my soul, my body," he added, earnestly kissing her hand. "My life. Please, marry me, because I love you. I cannot live without you."
"I love you, too." A shriek loud enough to wake the dead whistled through the keyhole, and Mary laughed. "But I give you fair warning. I come with all sorts of baggage, sir. That," and she indicated the hallway, "is only one such part of it." She looked at him with tenderness, still kneeling on the floor, and took pity on such an uncomfortable position. "Oh, hang it all, Simon, I cannot know my own mind when you are down on the floor!" She stood up, pulling him with her and to her, and then she kissed him.
"I take it you accept, then, my love?" he asked dreamily when he could pull himself away.
"I accept, Simon, with all my heart!" He led her back to the sofa and would have kissed her again, but she held back. "What happened to Miss Bingley?"
"She became engaged to someone else. And if her brother had any say in the matter, the wedding is already passed. It was scandalous, really, the way she was found in a compromising position with Mr. Morris-Smeeth, and this after a pair of drunken sots maligned her good name in White's one evening..."
"The groping little parson?" Mary's heart was filled with happiness at that thought, and several more.
"Never say he groped you, my love! If I had known, I would have called him out!"
"There were plenty of people injured the night of the ball, Simon, so I imagine it is just as well you did not know. But what of Colonel Fitzwilliam? I hurt him terribly."
"Yes, you did. Fortunately, his heart was not so engaged that he put a period to his existence. You might be pleased to know he has been seen escorting Miss Kitty and Miss Darcy about town."
"Kitty? That is extraordinary!"
"You are the extraordinary one, Mary. And Grandmother and Sarah will be so pleased to know you have accepted me."
"They knew you were coming to Hertfordshire to propose?"
"They hoped I would once I announced I was delivering your puppy in person."
"I am so glad! Your family is wonderful! Oh, Simon, you must meet my parents! Well, Mama, I am certain, you have already met. You must address my father! Oh!" A sudden thought came to mind. "How did you know about the dolt who said he was my fiancé?"
The earl laughed, pulling her to him for another quick kiss before rising up and walking her to the door. "Your mother said he was, and I told her it would be over my dead body. After I produced a special license, you never saw her get rid of a person fast enough. Is she always thus?"
In reply, Mary quickly opened the door, which swung into the room, and her mother toppled over onto the floor at their feet.
"Welcome to the Bennet family, my love."
Between them, the earl and Mrs. Bennet had compromised. She would organize a ceremony and large wedding breakfast for the first week in December, and he would foot the cost of bringing both families to Hertfordshire quickly for the event.
The young lovers were not given much chance to be alone, but Mrs. Bennet, in high gig the evening before the wedding, had finally allowed them a few moments together.
"I thought this would never come," the earl admitted, holding her hand as they sat side by side on the sofa.
"Nor I," Mary replied with a very soft sigh. "Any regrets?"
"Only that I never had the chance to quiz you the evening of the ball over what you thought of my card."
"Card? What card?"
"The card that accompanied my flowers. I was sure you had read it when you agreed to the supper dance. It was to be my opening to propose that night," he admitted.
"I never read it! Wait here." She untangled herself from his arms and ran upstairs, dug through the few items Babette had left unpacked on her dressing table, and then rejoined her beloved in the sitting room.
"Here it is."
"You saved it?"
"Of course I saved it! It was still in my reticule, which I rarely use, in any case. Let me read it..." One side had his name printed on it, the side she had seen the night of the ball. She turned the pasteboard over. He had written only Proverbs 31:30.
Mary smiled. This was part of the proverb of the Virtuous Woman. While she had learned in the last several months that there was more to life than a homily, she had, at last, found someone who also treasured her more spiritual side.
"Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain; but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised," she quoted softly.
"That is how I feel about you."
"Any more questions I may help you answer?" she asked sweetly.
"Yes, there is one other. Why, when Bruiser is the spawn of Butcher," and he looked down fondly at the calm little puppy sprawled contentedly at their feet, "is he not adverse to my company?"
Mary blushed prettily. "Because Bruiser is my dog and I have trained him to accept the attentions of gentlemen. One particular gentleman, at that." Much like I had to for myself, she thought, knowing that she had finally emerged from her self-induced cocoon. Finally.
The new countess was more beautiful than her old friends and family could imagine, and the groom was extremely handsome in dove gray with a white embroidered waistcoat. Colonel Fitzwilliam had agreed, surprisingly enough, to stand up with the earl, and Kitty and Georgiana, as bridesmaids, wore matching velvet gowns.
Among the guests, most of them housed at Netherfield, were the Darcys, the Bingleys, the Gardiners, the Collinses, the Hursts and the Harveys. Conspicuous in her not-unwelcome absence was the new Mrs. Morris-Smeeth. Mr. Bingley assured them all, however, that Caroline was settling nicely into her new role as the wife of a country parson.
Not surprisingly, the now-dowager countess and her dogs were staying at Longbourn, where she and Mrs. Bennet rubbed along quite amiably. Mrs. Bennet was in awe of the dowager for all of about fifteen minutes, and had endeared herself to the unaffected old lady after admiring her pugs. One of Butcher's many vicious little offspring was left behind as a gift after the wedding. It became a faithful companion to Mary's mother, who unfortunately had not the patience to train her puppy as well as her daughter had, and was a nightmare for her father.
After Mary and the earl were wed and feted, and had embarked on their honeymoon, for they were to spend Christmas at the earl's home in Wiltshire, Lizzy and Jane announced that they both were in interesting conditions and that the elder Bennets would soon become grandparents. Mrs. Bennet cried, hugged her daughters and their husbands (to the consternation of Mr. Darcy) and then roundly attacked Kitty for not having as much success in London as her sister had enjoyed.
And one of the earl's many wedding gifts to Mary? His copy of Fordyce's Sermons. "I told you I would have you see it one day, my love, did I not? What I could not tell you at the time was that it is always kept on a table next to my bed."