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Chapter 3
Mary’s first few days of recovery were full of good company despite being confined to her quarters. After breakfast on the first day of her recovery, both Colonel Fitzwilliam and little William Bennet called on her. Mary was quite pleased to see them both, William riding on his uncle’s shoulders, his face beaming. Mary dismissed her maid April and greeted both of her visitors with a radiant smile.
“Good morning, Fitzwilliam! Good morning, William. How is my little shadow doing this fine morning?” Mary held her arms open to the child who as soon as his uncle placed him on the ground ran to her embrace.
“Princess Mary, Mama said that you were hurt. Are you feeling better? Promise me you will not die.” William exclaimed, looking up at her with wide eyes.
Mary laughed before pulling the child next to her on the couch. “No, William, I assure you that I am well. I merely hurt my ankle, little one, and I have no intention of dying anytime soon.”
William grinned widely in response before forsaking his spot on the couch for his more preferred seat in her lap. Mary giggled before wrapping her arms around the little one to hug him anew. Fitzwilliam merely stood by the door, transfixed by the scene before him that made such a scene of domestic felicity. Noticing his gaze, Mary turned to favor him with a smile.
“Fitzwilliam, please have a seat. I have been a terribly rude host to not offer it to you sooner. Would you care for some tea? I shall ask April to bring up a fresh pot.”
“Please, do not trouble yourself. I…I merely came to escort young Master William to his princess and to bid you a pleasant morning,” he replied before bowing slightly and turning towards the door.
“No, you must stay with us, Uncle Richard. Mary has promised to tell me a story of pirates and sea monsters!” William piped up excitedly. “Princess Mary, you must make him stay, just for a little while.”
“That would be up to the Colonel, William. While we may both desire his good company, we mustn’t impose on him,” Mary corrected.
“It would be no imposition, madam. I would be obliged to stay for a moment. I would hate to disappoint young William.” Fitzwilliam paused. “Nor would I wish to disappoint you, Miss Farthington.”
Mary’s cheeks warmed at his statement, not daring to meet Fitzwilliam’s steady gaze. Mary nodded and motioned to a free chair before busying herself with the effort of ringing for her maid. Overjoyed at his uncle’s decision to stay, William bounded from Mary’s lap to climb onto that of Fitzwilliam. After William’s pleading for the story to commence, Mary favored them both with a tale of Greybeard the Pirate who outwitted a sea monster who stood guard over a secret treasure. Mary was pleased with William’s unabashed delight and surprised by Fitzwilliam’s interest in her story. The Colonel was all smiles during her tale and his applause exceeded that of William when the story was over.
“Well, little shadow, I believe it is time for you to depart for your morning lessons and I am sure that Colonel Fitzwilliam would like to visit more with your father and Aunt Georgiana. So, I bid you ado.” Mary kissed William on his head once more and bid him goodbye despite his protests to enjoying her stories far more than Latin.
“Come, come Master William. We must be dutiful soldiers of the crown and do whatever our noble Princess commands,” Fitzwilliam ordered rising from his seat to salute Mary, causing a giggle to rise from William.
“So, now I am to be royalty with an army in my command?” Mary asked, unsure if Fitzwilliam meant to mock her.
“Why yes, Miss Farthington. Young William has crowned you thus and after hearing your tales, I must concur with his conclusion. You already have one knight who has pledged fealty to you. Does your heart have room for another?”
The entrance of Georgiana prevented Mary from responding, although Mary could herself form no answer to such a question. Fitzwilliam made his exit with William in tow after greeting his cousin. Georgiana looked after him with a smile before turning to her friend. Worry soon overcame her features as she looked to Mary.
“Mary, are you unwell?” Georgiana asked as she neared her friend’s side.
“Yes…I mean no, I am well,” Mary replied, smiling gently at her friend who still looked over her worriedly.
“Perhaps you should rest then, Mary. I can call April to assist you to bed…”
“Georgiana,” Mary interrupted, “you are a dear, but really there is no need for all of that. I am perfectly fine.”
Georgiana finally relented, assured of her friend’s health, before launching into a discussion of her excitement over the upcoming Christmastide. Christmas was little more than three weeks away, Georgiana reminded her, and Pemberley would soon be caught up in a whirlwind of Christmas events culminating in the festivities of Twelfth Night. Elizabeth’s Georgiana desired to enlist Mary’s assistance in visiting the tenants on Christmas Eve to hand out Christmastide baskets filled with candies, sweet meats and all manner of good things. Twelfth Night was to be especially exciting, with a small party of neighboring families from Lambton and bordering estates convening for a day full of merry making. There would be dancing, a fine dinner and sleigh rides preceded by ice skating on the lake. Mary grew excited listening to Georgiana’s description of the upcoming festivities, especially the prospect of ice skating. She had never gone ice skating before and was eager to learn, although wary of getting hurt in the process. Georgiana assured her that learning to skate was the simplest thing ever and that she and Fitzwilliam would make excellent teachers.
“This will be one of the first times that we will have the Christmas season all to ourselves. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet are spending the holiday in London with the Bingley’s and their new twins and Mary and Kitty are staying in Hertfordshire with the Lucas family. I am looking forward to such a quiet holiday,” Georgiana concluded with a satisfied sigh.
“And what of the Wickhams? Are they spending the season elsewhere?” Mary inquired, curious about her failure to mention them before.
Georgiana’s face fell at the mention of the name Wickham. “Yes, I am afraid so. They always stay at their home in the North for the holidays and will thankfully do so this year.”
An uncomfortable silence settled between them as Mary tried to understand what she could have said that caused Georgiana such discomfort. Mary then remembered Georgiana’s reaction to the miniature of George Wickham during her first tour of the house. Georgiana had paled noticeably and answered her question in a tight manner wholly unlike her nature. Mary concluded that this Wickham character must be of a bad sort to disjoint Georgiana so. She wondered what he could have possibly done to illicit such sadness and displeasure from her gentle friend.
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Colonel Fitzwilliam held true to his word, visiting Mary the next three days of her recovery, always with little William in tow. He’d listen attentively to her stories before thanking her and favoring her with a bow after the conclusion of each tale. Mary wondered at his attention to her stories and grew flattered by his compliments. After each visit, Mary felt a small hope growing within her that the Colonel could possibly favor her. She had long admitted to herself that the gentleman held a certain attraction. He was handsome, kind, easily elicited laughter from her and was very attentive, always concerned for her health and comfort during his visits.
Slowly, the sadness that had held her captive since her father’s passing gave way to a secret longing that Mary found both alarming and painful. This longing was alarming in that it was completely new and foreign to her. Mary had never been long in the company of eligible gentlemen, forever surrounded by maids, governesses and the protective watch of Lord Farthington. She hardly knew how one went about the business of infatuation or how to tell if a gentleman’s attentions were genuine or merely platonic in nature. This longing was also painful in that it unearthed an entire set of insecurities that Mary had never dealt with. Every possible obstacle to a union between herself and the Colonel presented itself as soon as she realized her growing attachment. Their age difference was one concern. He was nearly four or five and thirty while Mary was yet twenty years in age. Surely he must view her more as a child than as an eligible lady. Her experiences were so limited and unvarying while he had traveled all over the globe and studied at the finest university in the world. Then there was her social status. Mary was rich to be sure, but would the son of an earl seriously consider uniting himself with the daughter of a black slave who had no idea who her blood father was? All of these doubts and objections soon served to dampen the small flame of love that began to burn within her. Mary concluded that Colonel Fitzwilliam’s attentions were merely of a friendly nature. Yes, her reason would forever rule over her foolish heart.
However, daily afternoon visits from Georgiana did little to support the conclusions of Mary’s mind; they only added fuel to her nascent affection. While Georgiana delighted in informing Mary of the entire goings on of Pemberley, conversation rarely strayed too far from the subject of Colonel Fitzwilliam with Georgiana keeping her abreast of every action of the gentleman, including his every inquiry after Mary’s health or person.
Despite the limited nature of their conversations, Mary was pleased at the chance to grow closer to her dear friend. Mary was particularly touched by Georgiana’s attentiveness to her during her recovery. Not only would Georgiana take tea with her, but Mary was often favored with visits late at night after most of the house had gone to bed. Mary would be alerted by a soft knock on the door after which Georgiana would scamper into the room, blushing furiously as if she were breaking the law.
“Georgiana, you look positively guilty of some crime, sneaking in here at this hour!” Mary teased her upon the first late night visit.
Georgiana giggled, before taking a seat on the bed next to her. “Oh, but I am, Mary. My brother would be positively livid if he knew I was up and about at this hour.”
Mary laughed incredulously as she slid over to give Georgiana more room. “I should think your brother was too concerned with other matters such as running Pemberley and disciplining young William to worry about your bedtime. Why Georgiana, you are one and twenty, a grown woman, not one to be babied!”
Georgiana nodded sadly. “Yes, I share your opinion, surely I do! But, what is to be done? I cannot simply beg for him to treat me as an adult, which in itself has all the appearance of immaturity. I confess that I do not believe Fitzwilliam will ever view me as a true adult until I am married with children of my own.”
Mary sighed before grinning mischievously and poking Georgiana in the side. “Then, I suppose we will have to get you married off!”
Georgiana and Mary broke out in peals of laughter at the idea before venturing to propose possible suitors.
“How about Mr. Brambles, Mary. I take it he is without a wife and sufficiently mature enough to please my brother,” Georgiana offered, barely suppressing a laugh.
“Oh, come now. He is nearly old enough to be your grandfather. I also hear that he prefers, redheads, dear Georgiana, so I fear that you are out of luck.” Mary replied laughingly.
“Hmmm, what about Parson Geoffries?” Georgiana replied. “Surely he is in need of a wife to help him run the parish and guide the ladies in upright living. Perhaps he would be a suitable match?”
“Parson Geoffries? Heavens, no. Georgiana, you neglect one quality the wife of the parson must possess,” Mary replied struggling to affect a serious tone. Georgiana raised one eyebrow in question. “She must be very virtuous and have a great love of hearing sermons before bedtime!”
Georgiana laughed, accusing her of wickedness before they settled in a comfortable silence.
“What about Colonel Fitzwilliam? He is amiable and already has the Darcy family mark of approval,” Mary ventured, breaking the silence.
“No, Colonel Fitzwilliam will not do, either. I am sure he sees me as quite a little sister more so than anything else…”Georgiana paused as she looked at her hands intently. “However, that would not prevent you, Mary.” Georgiana teased, quickly recovering her humor.
“Oh, but the Colonel would not have me, Georgiana, I am sure,” Mary laughed nervously.
“Mary, why would you say that?” Georgiana inquired, concern etched on her face. “I am sure that any gentleman of consequence would favor you as a bride.”
“Yes, Georgiana, but my connections, my…my parentage? What of these? When I learned that I was to be sent to England after my father’s death, I soon made peace with the fact that I would most likely never marry. Luckily his generosity ensured that I would never be forced into being a servant. The best I have hoped for is a life as a single woman.”
Georgiana sat in silence for some moments, watching her friend closely who had resigned herself to a life alone. To never marry or know the joys of motherhood was a fate she had never contemplated. She supposed that perhaps one could live such a life with joy. To be a woman free from familial obligation and in possession of a fortune could be quite freeing. To think that one could simply live for oneself and make one’s own destiny. Georgiana began to think that such a life might not be so foreboding. However, Georgiana could see that Mary did not share her opinion and that her resignation to a life of spinsterhood, as some would call it, was met with sadness and regret instead of hope.
“I suppose that what you say is true,” Georgiana began. “But what about love, Mary? How could connections, parentage or society stand against the force of a man and a woman who are deeply in love? I am convinced that such a love is not just a thing of fairy tales and feminine fantasies. I have seen it realized in my brother’s love for Elizabeth. By all accounts the daughter of a poor landowner with no connections should never have dreamed of marrying a man like Fitzwilliam.”
Mary looked up at Georgiana in surprise. She had assumed that Mr. and Mrs. Darcy had begun as equals and that Elizabeth was a lady of high breeding given her confidence and skillful management of an estate such as Pemberley. Georgiana smiled and nodded in affirmation.
“Do not give up so easily on a life of happiness, Mary. You are accomplished, beautiful, in possession of a good fortune and untainted by scandal…”Georgiana paused, her cheeks flushing slightly, “I am sure that I shall see you married before myself.”
Georgiana and Mary spent the rest of the night conversing happily on other subjects, sharing stories of their childhoods and memories of their fathers. They soon found that they had much in common, despite growing up on opposite sides of the Atlantic. They had both had similar childhood stories of mischievous adventures, unwanted pianoforte lessons and difficulties mastering the quadrille. Some three hours later, the pair parted for welcome sleep.
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On the fifth afternoon of her recovery, Mary sat curled up with a book by the fireplace, her injured ankle elevated on a cushion. Mary’s choice for that afternoon was a weathered copy of Paradise Lost. The volume had belonged to Lord Farthington and his father before him and was now one of her most treasured possessions. Mary sat fingering the fine leather spine laced with gold etching when she was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Come in, please,” Mary called, resting the book on her lap.
“Good afternoon, Mary!” Elizabeth greeted brightly as she entered the room, two large volumes clutched to her chest. “I have raided the library, for you Mary. I know how much you like to read and I thought your injury would allow you the opportunity to sample more of Fitzwilliam’s library.”
Mary returned the pleasant greeting, happy to have a chance to converse with Elizabeth and equally enchanted by the prospect of a new book. Elizabeth handed the two volumes to Mary before taking a seat across from her.
“‘The Confessions of Saint Augustine and Evelina; or, The History of a Young Lady’s Entrance into the World,” Mary read aloud before looking to Elizabeth questioningly.
“I thought that perhaps you may be interested in reading a little philosophy and theology. My younger sister, with whom you share a name, took great pride in reading much theology,” Elizabeth said with a wry smile. “I confess that Fordyce held little beauty for me and of her suggestions for my reading Augustine was the only author that I truly enjoyed. As for the other volume, that one is from my personal collection. I perceive that you are a young woman on whom the delights of satire will not be lost.”
“Thank you, Elizabeth,” Mary replied as she placed the volumes on the table. “I shall read them as soon as may be.”
“Good, I hope that you enjoy them and that in a few days time you’ll be able to forage through Pemberley’s massive library on your own once more. When I first came to be here, the library was my favorite place,” Elizabeth began as her face took on a wistful look. “I’d spend hours there combing the shelves for books to devour. There were so many that at first I was overwhelmed!”
“I should like to explore those shelves myself in a few days time,” Mary replied.
“Indeed you shall,” Elizabeth smiled good naturedly. After dismissing April, Elizabeth turned to Mary, regarding her gently before proposing a question. “I hope that you have not found your confinement too, shall we say, confining?”
“No, not at all,” Mary replied eagerly. “I find that I do not want for amusement or visitors. Georgiana has brought me some thread and needles for embroidery and she visits me, often twice a day. Sometimes she joins me for Colonel Fitzwilliam’s visits with William. The Colonel is so kind to visit me so often, he has never missed a morning story and as I was surprised by his interest in children’s tales, I find that I enjoy his company a great deal. I often wonder how little William will cope once the Colonel leaves, as he is quite taken with his uncle and Fitzwilliam is so easy with him. You’d hardly know the two had been separated for two years!”
Elizabeth started at Mary’s speech, a mild look of surprise spreading across her features. Unbeknownst to Mary, despite all her reasoning against the likelihood of an attachment between herself and the gentleman, her countenance when speaking of him had all the looks of a woman completely infatuated. She involuntarily smiled a most becoming grin and her eyes became more lively and animated.
“So, Colonel Fitzwilliam has visited with you every morning?” Elizabeth pressed, one eyebrow arched in thought. “That is quite kind of Richard. Tell me, how do you find him?”
“Fitzwilliam?” Mary questioned in turn. “Well, I…I find that he is an amiable man who is both kind and witty. He is all smiles and politeness and can carry a conversation with more ease than I have seen in most other men of my acquaintance. I confess that I can find little to dislike about the Colonel.”
“Yes, Richard is all charm and gallantry. Few women could be immune to such pretty words as flow from his tongue or such devoted attentions,” Elizabeth replied dryly before pausing a few moments in thought. “Tell me Mary, has Colonel Fitzwilliam ever visited you alone?”
Mary’s cheeks warmed; alarmed at the turn the conversation was taking. “No, he has not. The Colonel escorts young William to my sitting room each morning to hear my stories. April attends me during these visits and sometimes Georgiana joins us as well. It…it is all quite innocent, Elizabeth. If…if I have done anything improper…”
“No, Mary, you mistake my intention,” Elizabeth interrupted leaning forward to place a hand over Mary’s. “I did not mean to suggest any impropriety on your part or that of the Colonel’s. I…I merely seek to offer you some sisterly advice. Though you are nineteen, Mary, you are yet young to society and the attentions of gentleman. The effect Fitzwilliam has on you has not gone unnoticed by me. I have noticed the turn of your countenance when speaking of him and the modest blushes and looks when he is present.”
At this Mary looked away, lowering her head in embarrassment. Had her feelings been that evident, even before she was sure of them herself? Mary began to feel as if she were a silly school girl and chastised herself inwardly. If Elizabeth had noticed such things, surely Colonel Fitzwilliam had.
“Mary,” Elizabeth said gently as she moved to sit on the settee beside her. “What I say to you now is out of the most sisterly concern. It is not a judgment on your character, for you are one of the sweetest and most honest persons of my acquaintance. Do not let the Colonel’s charms so easily claim your affections. Many a young woman has been charmed by an officer in regimentals, including my younger sisters…and myself.”
Elizabeth paused to see the effect of her words. She was relieved to see that Mary displayed neither mortification nor anger at her advice but sat listening to her attentively. Elizabeth smiled warmly and squeezed Mary’s hand before continuing.
“When I first met my husband’s cousin over six years ago, I too was affected by his easy manners and attentions. I believe Mr. Darcy even had cause to be jealous…but that was months before I came to love Darcy as I do now. However, I knew that Fitzwilliam’s obligations and lack of wealth would prevent those flirtations from maturing into anything more. I do not mean to suggest that Fitzwilliam is to blame, for he cannot help his friendly nature and it is always done in the most innocence.”
Mary regarded Elizabeth for a few moments, surprised and somewhat saddened by her speech. The objections and doubts crafted by her mind returned to assault her heart anew.
“I believe you say these things because you are afraid of my pledging my heart only to have it broken. But, let me assure you, Elizabeth that my heart is not in danger. It is forever ruled by my good sense. Yet, I thank you for your advice. I...I know it was most kindly given and I will consider it thoughtfully.”
Elizabeth smiled sadly. “Well, I am glad to hear it. However, I came to visit with another purpose in mind. I wanted to talk to you about preparing for the season.”
“The season? We are to leave for London already?” Mary questioned, somewhat saddened to be quitting Pemberley so soon.
“Yes, but not until after Twelfth Night. We will arrive in London at the start of the season with the entire family and Colonel Fitzwilliam. It can be quite overwhelming with all of the social obligations. There will be dinners, balls, breakfasts, plays and operas to attend. There will be so much for you to experience. For my part, I could do without so many balls and polite visits with acquaintances. However, I do take delight in making sport of our neighbors and the season provides so many opportunities for that,” Elizabeth laughed to herself.
Mary’s eyes grew wide; her slight vexation over their previous topic of conversation fading in comparison to her anxiety over the season. She was not yet prepared to experience the season, assuming that her winter and spring would pass uneventfully at Pemberley. She thought of all the balls and dinners with some concern. “I fear that my wardrobe may not be sufficient for so many events, Elizabeth.”
“Do not worry, Mary. The tailor and seamstress will be arriving in a few days so that you can have some new dresses. You will soon have so many gowns that you will lack trunks to transport them in!”
Elizabeth and Mary laughed lightly before embarking on a long discussion about the season in London, Elizabeth sharing her experiences of her first introduction to London society as Mrs. Darcy including amusing stories about flamboyant ladies in draped in orange with gaudy feather adorned turbans. So they passed the next full hour before Elizabeth was called away to help settle a dispute between two housemaids. Her maid April arrived soon after Elizabeth’s departure.
“This has just arrived for you, miss,” April announced as she handed a letter to Mary.
Mary read the name on the missive in relief, “It is from Mr. Brambles! I had wondered when he’d remember to write. Thank you, April.”
April curtsied slightly before going to the dressing room to attend to matters. Mary eagerly broke the wax seal before reading the letter:
Dear Miss Farthington,
My deepest apologies for neglecting to write to you sooner. Business of the utmost urgency regarding your late guardian’s estate detained me. Rest assured that all matters are well in hand and that your future is secure.
A most welcome event occurred during my first days in London that have made the visit more worthwhile where you are concerned. While attending to business in London, I was privileged to meet Lord Farthington’s nearest blood relations, his nephew Mr. Derek Peterson and his mother Mrs. Beatrice Peterson. The Peterson’s are a fine and elegant family who hold your late guardian in high esteem and supported his endeavors in the movement here in London. I regret that you were unable to make their acquaintance during our time in London as Mr. Peterson and his family were out of town. This I was able to relate to them upon our meeting and they expressed equal regret, having heard much of your growth and development from Lord Farthington’s letters. Mrs. Peterson herself insisted on writing you to in the near future to extend to you an invitation to join them in Brighton during the summer months. They are quite eager to meet one whom they regard as a cousin.
I regret that business further prevents me from returning to Derbyshire in the near future but should you need assistance in anyway, do not hesitate to ask me. You may reach me through the address on this letter. My most sincere prayers for your health, happiness and safety.
Sincerely yours,
Thomas Brambles, Esq.”
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On Saturday afternoon, the eight day of Mary’s confinement, Dr. Edwards returned to Pemberley to check on her progress. Much to Mary’s delight, he proclaimed her ankle sufficiently healed to resume scampering about the countryside. As soon as she was able, Mary donned her coat, bonnet and gloves to take a short turn in the now barren west facing gardens before nightfall. Mary was pleased at the freedom to walk about Pemberley once again and relieved to be free from Colonel Fitzwilliam’s daily visits. Following Elizabeth’s advice, Mary worked to quell her affections for Fitzwilliam. However, she found enduring his visits, filled with intent stares and flattery, were exhausting to her resolve. It appeared that no matter how Mary worked to ignore his pretty words and appear unflustered by his smiles Fitzwilliam remained unmoved, continuing his visits and even conniving to increase the length of his stay. Although the visits continued unabated, Mary did begin to notice some changes in the Colonel on the previous morning’s visit. Fitzwilliam dropped the pretense of merely escorting young William or staying simply to appease his young cousin. His speech was colored with less flattery and pretty words and marked by more silence and stares. Mary found this new mode of intercourse even more unnerving, growing flustered and embarrassed under Fitzwilliam’s steady gaze. Whenever Mary chanced to look up from young William, she was met with Fitzwilliam’s dark blue eyes fixed upon her. Mary began to wonder if Fitzwilliam was more than just a natural flirt and especially took pleasure in her discomfort, choosing an alternate strategy of vexing her.
That morning’s visit was much of the same. Soon after his arrival, Fitzwilliam took his place by the fire, leaning with one arm on the mantle as he watched her steadily. When Mary chanced to look up some moments later, she found his position altered but his gaze unchanged, now sitting across from her, his head propped on one bent arm. After the story was finished and Mary dismissed young William, Fitzwilliam lingered for a moment. He took a seat across from her, looking at the fireplace with a somewhat pained expression on his face.
“Fitzwilliam, whatever is the matter?” Mary asked as she rose and stepped towards him.
Moving as if startled, Fitzwilliam turned to regard her before quitting his seat and stepping back from her. “Forgive me, Miss Farthington. I fear I have lingered too long causing you undo stress. I take my leave of you, but let me express my happiness at your renewed health,” at this Fitzwilliam took her hand and bowing, softly kissed the back of it before leaving abruptly.
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Mary could still feel the warmth of the Colonel’s lips on her hand as she made her way down for dinner. While she was eager to sup once again with the entire family, she looked to meeting again with Fitzwilliam with some anxiety. Much to her pleasure, Mary was not seated next to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but by Georgiana. Dinner passed with little conversation offered by Fitzwilliam who sat across from her and Mary was content to chat with Georgiana and Elizabeth throughout the meal. The effort of making conversation distracted Mary from the rising feeling of vexation that Fitzwilliam’s constant gaze prompted in her. Mary was relieved when the ending of dinner allowed for her escape to the sitting room where more distance could be put between them. However, distance was denied her when a game of whist was called for by Georgiana. Much to Mary’s consternation, she soon found herself a loser to a surprisingly expert Georgiana.
“Well, now that my little sister had caused us all to look the fool by trouncing us in a game of whist, I think it is time for a little entertainment,” Darcy announced as he rose from the card table to seat himself by the fire.
“Yes, yes,” Elizabeth agreed enthusiastically. “Mary, would you favor us with playing a song? You play so beautifully and we have not had the pleasure of hearing you for some time.”
“Darcy has told me much about your talent, Miss Farthington, and I have been all anticipation to hear you for myself,” the Colonel added, becoming more animated as he rose and stood before Mary. “I wonder if your voice is as enchanting in song as it is in reciting tales of fancy,” he added in a lowered tone for Mary’s ears alone.
Mary flushed inwardly despite herself, before muttering her intention to play. Taking Fitzwilliam’s offered arm, Mary allowed herself to be escorted to the pianoforte.
Seating herself before the instrument, Mary began to play and sing a folksong her father had been fond of and had asked her to play often after they had finished their evening meal:
The water is wide, I cannot get o'er
And neither have I wings to fly.
O go and get me some little boat,
To carry o'er my true love and I.
A-down in the meadows the other day
A-gath'ring flow'rs both fine and gay
A-gath'ring flowers, both red and blue,
I little thought what love could do.
I put my hand into one soft bush,
Thinking the sweetest flow'r to find.
I prick'd my finger to the bone
And left the sweetest flow'r alone.
I lean'd my back up against some oak,
Thinking it was a trusty tree.
But first he bended then he broke,
So did my love prove false to me.
Where love is planted, O there it grows,
It buds and blossoms like some rose;
It has a sweet and pleasant smell,
No flow'r on earth can it excel.
Must I be bound, O and she go free!
Must I love one thing that does not love me!
Why should I act such a childish part,
And love a girl that will break my heart.
There is a ship sailing on the sea,
She's loaded deep as deep can be,
But not so deep as in love I am;
I care not if I sink or swim.
O love is handsome and love is fine,
And love is charming when it is true;
As it grows older it groweth colder
And fades away like the morning dew.
When Mary had finished her song, everyone applauded loudly asking that she favor them with another. Mary agreed, but asked that she not be forced to sing. When she began playing once again, Georgiana, Elizabeth and Darcy began to chat quietly among themselves while Fitzwilliam made his way to Mary’s side. He stood silently by the instrument, leaning ever so gently against it as he watched her. Mary’s annoyance returned at his renewed inspection of her person, prompting her to return his look with some irritation.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam. Tell me, is there something about my playing or my appearance that is objectionable to you?” Mary challenged flashing him an angry look, her voice deceptively even.
“Why would you suppose a thing like that?” Fitzwilliam questioned in reply, sipping lightly from his glass of brandy as he grinned wickedly.
“I have noticed that there have been but a few moments this evening when I am not under the scrutiny of your eye. What else am I to suppose but that there is something about my person you find offensive?” Mary replied, before returning her attention to her playing. She had already misplayed several notes, her hands slightly shaking from nervousness and ire.
“Ah, you are a perceptive one, Princess. I confess that there has been one aspect of your person that has caused me great consternation as of late. For my part I am dumfounded as to why you persist in wearing that awful bombaze. The look of mourning does not suit you.”
Mary started at this, misplaying another note as she lifted her chin in defiance before replying in a barely civil tone. “I was unaware that you were so well versed in women’s fashions, Colonel. Perhaps you should consider a change of occupation.”
Fitzwilliam seemed to take little notice of her increased anger, laughing gently in response to her thinly veiled insult. “I must contradict you on that point, Princess. Women’s fashions hold little interest for me. I am much more inclined to occupy myself with the observation of the beauty of a certain lady.”
Mary gasped audibly before quickly ending her song. The room broke out in light applause, their companions having seemingly taken little notice of their heated exchange.
“May I escort you to your seat, Miss Farthington?” Fitzwilliam asked, offering his arm with all politeness.
Mary curtly nodded her consent, lightly touching her hand to his bent arm and walking with him to her seat. Mary could barely focus for the rest of the evening, her mind engaged in thoughts of Fitzwilliam. While the man had intrigued her before, now she found him positively infuriating. Yet, she realized that she was more disappointed in her reaction to his teasing than angry at the Colonel. She could not fathom how he easily elicited such strong reactions from her. Since his arrival, she had experienced such emotions that were unlike her, from infatuation to embarrassment and now anger. Mary considered apologizing to the Colonel for her incivility, but could not bring herself to look at the gentleman much less to speak to him. Mary was more than relieved when the night finally ended and she could retire to the sanctuary of her rooms. She looked forward to attending services in the morning, having missed service last Sunday due to her injury. Mary made a note to especially pray for patience on the morrow.