Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 4
Sunday morning brought relief to Mary’s fevered mind. She had spent a good deal of the previous night in restless sleep over Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mary resented that he could put her into such a state with seemingly little effort on his part. Church for Mary presented the perfect opportunity to calm her thoughts and she looked to it with great expectation. Mary was one of the first to be dressed and ready for services that morning, being seated in the morning room for breakfast a full half hour before the others. Mary did not mind the solitude, taking the opportunity to read through her prayer book.
Mary was displeased to find herself seated next to Colonel Fitzwilliam once at church. She had hoped to be seated beside Georgiana and William, offering her a welcome respite from the gentleman. Mary’s discomfort increased when at the start of worship Colonel Fitzwilliam sought permission to share her prayer book as he had forgotten his own. Mary begrudgingly assented to his request, despite the increased intimacy such an arrangement would demand. Fitzwilliam favored her with a disarming smile in thanks, causing Mary to flush inwardly and turn away with embarrassment. Mary became more flustered when the opening hymn began. She found it difficult to focus on the words of the hymn as she was so affected by Fitzwilliam’s singing. His voice was strong and harmonized perfectly with Mary’s soprano, a rich tenor that swelled and seemed to fill Mary’s senses. Mary was relieved when the hymn came to an end and Parson Geoffries rose to the pulpit. Her disposition and focus was greatly improved by the sermon, with Parson Geoffries delivering a rousing homily urging them all to acts of charity during the upcoming season. Mary was surprised to find the Colonel equally as engrossed in the message as herself. Yet, the impact of his sermon on her mood was somewhat lessened by the disapproving glares Mary occasioned to notice cast in her direction from other parishioners. Mary wondered at the meaning of these looks but endeavored to ignore them and to focus on the service.
After the service ended, Mary walked out with young William in tow, Georgiana being escorted by the Colonel and Elizabeth by her husband. As usual, the family was soon surrounded by neighbors wishing to pay their respects to the family of Pemberley. Parson Geoffries followed the family out of the church, pulling aside Mr. Darcy for a word once he had performed his obligation of shaking the hands of a few passing parishioners.
“Mary, where has papa gone?” William asked, pulling at Mary’s skirt as she stood off to the side of the crowd, watching Elizabeth and Georgiana greet fellow parishioners.
“He has gone to have a word with the parson, William. We must not disturb him,” Mary replied patting the young boy on the head.
“But, I only want to ask him a question,” William replied, before heading off in the direction he had seen his father go.
Mary sighed deeply before following William, worried that he would get himself into some mischief. William had just entered the nave of the church before Mary caught up with him.
“William, I told you we must not disturb your father,” Mary whispered in the boy’s ear. “Now, go off and pester your uncle.”
William pouted dramatically and turned to do as he was told, eliciting a silent chuckle from Mary. She made to follow him until she heard her name mentioned by the parson. Mary walked closer to where Mr. Darcy and Parson Geoffries were conversing by the pulpit in order to hear what was being said, stepping behind a pillar to avoid detection.
“Mr. Darcy, you must understand that to allow Mary to continue sitting in the front pew will only cause more discord among the congregation. I don’t bring these claims to you because one or two local bumpkins have complained, but other families of importance have come to me with their concerns,” Parson Geoffries stated sheepishly.
“Well, parson,” Mr. Darcy replied curtly, “I do not understand what business it is of theirs to be concerned about the goings on in my home or who sits in our pew during service. The young lady, for all purposes, is a member of the Darcy family and has every right to attend services at this church.”
“Mr. Darcy, please pardon me if I have misled you,” the parson interjected, his voice shaking slightly. “Miss Farthington is of course more than welcome to join us in worship here. Every child of God is welcome in His house. Rather, the issue is that she sits in the front pew. If you would be so kind as to instruct her to sit in the rear of the church with the servants. That would be the reasonable…”
“With the servants!” Mr. Darcy cut him off hastily, his voice never rising but taking on a more authoritative tone. “Miss Farthington is a gentleman’s daughter and is living under the guardianship of a gentleman who, if I may remind you, is responsible for the financial upkeep of this parish.”
Parson Geoffries started, all color draining from his face. “But Mr. Darcy, she is a negress and it is highly…”
“Parson Geoffries, you have said more than enough. Miss Farthington will continue to sit in the front pew with the Darcy family. Also, let me advise you to have a word with your parishioners in their treatment and discussion regarding the lady. Miss Farthington is to be given all of the deference and respect given myself and Mrs. Darcy. If for some reason this poses a problem for you, then I strongly advise you to begin searching for another position! Do I make myself perfectly clear, Parson?”
Mr. Darcy spat the title out with contempt, his face flushing slightly and his posture seemingly growing more tall and foreboding in the delivery. Parson Geoffries was clearly affected, hurriedly voicing his agreement before shrinking away from the man.
Mary quickly turned to rejoin the family. She could hardly believe what she had just heard. The whispers, the silent rebukes, the looks she had received all returned to her remembrance, understanding suddenly crashing on her. Tears began to stab gently at her eyes as she hastened for the carriage. Mary was too distraught to notice Colonel Fitzwilliam’s approach and ran directly into the gentleman.
“Ahh, Princess, I was looking for you. I see that once again you are not looking where you are going,” Fitzwilliam smiled down at her, reaching out one arm to steady the lady.
“Please excuse me, Fitzwilliam, I must return to the carriage,” Mary choked out as she tried to avoid his eyes, a few tears escaping from her own. The Colonel was one of the last people she wished to see.
“Good God, Mary, whatever is the matter? Are you ill?” Fitzwilliam asked in a low earnest tone as he took her gently by the shoulders.
“No, I…I just need to get away from this place and from these people!” Mary replied in anguish, her effort to contain her tears proving futile.
“Of course,” Fitzwilliam responded as he offered his arm to her. “Come, we will take a short walk down the lane so that you may compose yourself and we will be off for the house at once.”
Mary nodded her agreement, leaning heavily on Fitzwilliam’s offered arm. However much she might have distrusted the gentleman, Mary was all too eager to escape at once. After instructing the driver of the coach to meet them once the others were collected, Fitzwilliam led Mary down a tree lined road just off from the church. Spying a wooden bench a dozen yards down the lane, Fitzwilliam guided Mary towards it, willing her to sit.
“There,” Fitzwilliam whispered as he placed her on the seat. “We will rest here a bit before joining the others for home. Here, dry your eyes with this.”
Fitzwilliam drew a white handkerchief from his coat pocket and offered it to Mary. Taking the cloth, Mary mumbled a quiet “thank you” as she dabbed her cheeks and eyes. Fitzwilliam knelt on the ground before her in quiet agitation as Mary struggled to contain her tears. After a few moments, Mary began to become herself again.
“I am sorry, Fitzwilliam. I did not mean to impose upon you like this.”
“Please, offer no apologies, Miss Farthington. I am happy to be here to offer any help or comfort that I may.”
“Thank you,” Mary replied looking up at him, her eyes still wet with tears.
“You are quite welcome, Miss Farthington. Now, tell me, what has upset you so?”
Mary shook her head as if to deny his request. Fitzwilliam sighed, taking her gloved hands into his.
“Please, Miss Farthington, tell me what has happened? Perhaps I can make it right. ”
Mary regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, relishing in the feel of his warm hands surrounding hers. She was unsure if she should disclose all to the man that had been her tormentor, but the gentleness of his response and the earnestness of his look spurred her to trust him. Upon hearing Mary’s explanation, Fitzwilliam rose and paced distractedly back and forth in front of Mary, quietly uttering oaths beneath his breath.
“This defies reason! Nay, it defies every sense of Christian decency and decorum,” Fitzwilliam said angrily as he continued to pace. “To besmirch you so; it cannot be borne. I will speak to my cousin directly and we will have this parson turned out on his ear!”
“No,” Mary objected rising from her seat, somewhat surprised by his impassioned response. “That will not do, Fitzwilliam. The parson is not the source of the problem. Would you also bar the entire congregation from the church as well so that I might be comfortable?”
Fitzwilliam quit his pacing and faced her, before throwing his hands up in resignation and sighing deeply. “No, you are correct, but what else is to be done?”
“There is nothing to be done,” Mary resumed her seat, wringing her hands in her lap. A long silence settled between them as Mary sat deep in thought.
“I have behaved like a naïve child,” Mary began after a few minutes of silence. “I have been sheltered all my life, indulged by my father to believe that I would always be respected and admired wherever I go. New Sussex was such a place. I’d walk through town with my father to be greeted with such sincerity and warmth. No one thought it strange that I should call him father despite our contrasting shades. London, to be sure, lacked such warmth but when I arrived at Pemberley...,” Mary paused to catch her breath, tears threatening to spill forth once more. “I have been so happy here and made to feel so welcome. I forgot that the rest of the world is not as kind.”
“Miss Farthington, I will not stand by as you unjustly abuse your own character,” Fitzwilliam interjected solemnly, taking Mary’s gloved hands into his and bidding Mary to look him in the eye. “This matter with the parson is no reflection on your character, but rather brings to light the faults of others. All those who know the goodness of your heart cannot help but to admire you.”
The arrival of the carriage and horses soon interrupted their solitude. Mr. Darcy was the first to alight from his horse, soon followed by a footman who led Beauregard by the reigns. Mr. Darcy’s countenance was one of concern mixed with anger as he walked towards the pair.
“Miss Farthington. Fitzwilliam. I trust that all is well.”
“No, all is not well, cousin,” Fitzwilliam replied as he escorted Mary from the bench towards the carriage.
“You are not ill, Miss Farthington?” Darcy inquired, his anger dissipating to worry.
“No, sir. I am well,’ Mary replied, her head lowered to shield her eyes.
“Then why did you both depart on your own from the church and not wait for the carriage as expected?”
Mary stammered an inaudible reply, unsure of how to answer him truthfully. Fitzwilliam squeezed her arm lightly, indicating that he would speak for her.
“Cousin, let us discuss this once we are back at Pemberley,” Fitzwilliam interceded, a hint of irritation in his voice. “I am sure Miss Farthington is growing chilled and much desirous of returning home.”
Darcy agreed to this arrangement, mounting his horse and riding ahead of the carriage. Fitzwilliam handed Mary into the carriage where Elizabeth and Georgiana were already seated, concern etched over both of their faces.
“Miss Farthington,” Fitzwilliam whispered, still holding her gloved hand as he leaned into the carriage. “Do not worry about Mr. Darcy. I will discuss all with him.”
Mary nodded her reply, favoring Fitzwilliam with a hesitant smile as he firmly shut the carriage door. She was most grateful when the carriage finally began to move toward Pemberley. The ride home was thankfully a quiet one, Elizabeth and Georgiana satisfied to wait until another time to discuss what had occurred. Mary’s emotions were in too much turmoil for her to attempt conversation without tears. Mary was both angry and hurt by what she had heard. Part of her desired to do nothing more than to lock herself up in Pemberley and never venture into society again. However, she knew that to do so would do her more harm than good. She could not forgo all the delights the world had to offer because some people wholly unconnected with her found her unacceptable.
Mary reflected on Colonel Fitzwilliam’s kindness to her, unconsciously fingering his handkerchief as she leaned her head against the carriage window. Mary’s only comfort in the morning’s events had been Fitzwilliam’s kindness to her. He was different from the man who had driven her to distraction over the last few days and so much more like the man who had been so caring and attentive when they had first met. She watched him as he rode beside the carriage, admiring his form. He seemed to fit the role of a soldier perfectly, his figure tall, lean and broad shouldered, his posture perfectly erect as he rode tall in the saddle. Even in profile, Mary could see that his expression was stern as he seemed to glare down the road before him. Her heart twisted at the realization that he was still very upset by what had occurred. She had been surprised by the strength of his anger, reacting to the slight as if it had been leveled against himself.
The Colonel turned as if aware of her inspection, his severe countenance softening as he noticed her watching him. Mary held his look for what seemed like several long minutes, surprising herself by her unwillingness to look away. Finally, Fitzwilliam broke the gaze, tipping his hat as he rode ahead to join Mr. Darcy.
*******************
The ride back to Pemberley was too short for Colonel Fitzwilliam; a good hard ride was what he needed to settle his mind and quell his ire. Fitzwilliam could not think back on the morning without hurt and anger battling for supremacy in his heart. The sight of Miss Farthington in tears had felt as if someone had twisted a knife in his gut. Her large brown eyes, usually sparkling with wonder and spirit, were then dull with pain and reddened with suppressed tears. She had looked so fragile then. It was a look similar to that which overcame her at the prospect of riding Beauregard when they had first met. Then he had the luxury of being able to be of assistance to her whereas now there was little he could do to heal her of this fresh wound. His impotence to right the wrong further fueled his frustration.
Sensing his cousin’s displeasure, Darcy bid him to join him in the library as soon as they arrived at Pemberley. Fitzwilliam agreed, following his cousin with a look of agitation.
“Fitzwilliam, now that the ladies are safely returned to the warmth of Pemberley, perhaps now you would be so good as to provide me an account of what transpired today,” Darcy began as he poured two glasses of brandy.
“Cousin, the heart of the matter has already been laid before you! This morning after services I came upon a distraught Miss Farthington who wished nothing more than to be as far from the church as possible. You cannot be at a loss for what the cause of her distress was?” Fitzwilliam questioned, his face reddened slightly from his anger.
“Parson Geoffries…” Darcy replied after a moment’s thought, “The poor girl must have heard it all.”
“Yes, she did indeed hear every word and was understandably most distraught.”
“Well, perhaps she can be comforted with the news that I have already spoken with the parson,” Darcy replied as he seated himself by the fire, sipping his brandy casually.
“You are not calling for his immediate dismissal!” Fitzwilliam replied, his voice rising noticeably as he moved to stand before his cousin, “Do you propose to let the man go unpunished for his slight?”
“No, I am not seeking to replace the parson. The matter is well in hand, cousin.”
“‘Well in hand’,” Fitzwilliam repeated incredulously. “I am sure if Georgiana had been the one offended, you would act differently!”
“You are wrong on that account, Fitzwilliam,” Darcy replied, his voice tight from anger. “I would have conducted myself in the same manner had my sister been involved. I am not insensible to the fact that Miss Farthington has been unpardonably offended. How would you have me act, cousin? Should I challenge the parson to a duel?”
“Of course not, Darcy, let’s not play games! There must be something more to be done than the bandying about of a few harsh words!” Fitzwilliam countered animatedly.
“All that can be reasonably done has been done. In this you must be satisfied!” Darcy stated firmly, his voice raised in anger.
The Colonel uttered an oath beneath his breath as he turned from his cousin. “I cannot stand by and do nothing to alleviate her suffering,” he sighed as he ran one hand through his dark mane.
Darcy rose from his seat, eyeing his cousin thoughtfully for a few moments. “Cousin, it strikes me as very peculiar that you have taken such a passionate interest in this matter. I have not seen you so angered for quite some time.”
Fitzwilliam straightened at this, turning to face his cousin. “I am simply concerned for her well being. Wouldn’t any gentleman be angered when a lady is so disrespected? The thought that anyone would suggest that a lady of her stature sit with the servants! My word! ”
“Yes, any gentleman would be affronted,” Darcy replied, looking at his cousin intently. “But a gentleman would also act within the bounds of reason. I wonder cousin, is there something you are not telling me regarding Miss Farthington?”
“Are you accusing me of some sort of impropriety? If you are, sir, speak it plainly now so that I might have my justice,” Fitzwilliam challenged, his voice deceptively even.
“Heavens no, Fitzwilliam! Despite your purported reputation as a wooer of ladies I know you are no cad! However, your interest in Miss Farthington has caused me some concern, not so much for the lady as for yourself!”
“For myself?” Fitzwilliam repeated incredulously. “Whatever could you mean, Darcy?”
“Only this cousin,” Darcy replied as he stepped toward him, his face flushed from their exchange. “You appear in great danger of losing your heart, nay, even your good sense if you persist in your attentions to a lady so far below your own status.”
Fitzwilliam stared at his cousin in disbelief. The Colonel was at a loss to understand why Darcy would conclude that he was considering attaching himself to Miss Farthington. He was further dumfounded to hear Darcy speak of the danger of attaching oneself to a woman of low social rank, when he had withstood the wrath of both Aunt Catherine and Lord Matlock to secure the hand of Elizabeth.
“You look at me now, cousin, as if I am in possession of two heads. However, you cannot think me blind to the signs of your growing attachment. You have visited the lady every day of her confinement and once she was pronounced well, you attended her as a most dutiful suitor. Elizabeth has noticed this as well,” Darcy challenged, pacing the room slowly and eyeing his cousin angrily as he spoke. “I have also noticed a change in your demeanor. You have been noticeably pensive and distracted, especially when Miss Farthington is in the room. Your eyes barely leave her person and your conversation is littered with praises for her. Is it no wonder that I believe you are in danger of forming a most unsuitable alliance? Your behavior this morning, nay, during this very conversation confirms all of my suspicions.”
Fitzwilliam turned from his cousin, walking over to the fireplace and leaning against the mantle. He could not deny the veracity of Darcy’s conclusions. He found himself enchanted with Miss Farthington upon their first meeting and his admiration for her only grew with each subsequent encounter. While he did find her uncommonly beautiful, he also was drawn to the liveliness of her mind, her shyness, her way of rallying courage when she was confronted and her motherly and affectionate way with young William. He found that he could not keep himself from seeing the lady every day or from monopolizing her attention through some moment of teasing or flattery. His feelings had been so new and had seemed to form so naturally that he had yet to name them.
“I have no wish to deny these charges,” Fitzwilliam replied, turning to look at his cousin earnestly. “I dare say that I am well on my way to being very much in love.”
Darcy started at this confession, crossing his arms over his chest as if he were chastising a child. “You cannot be serious with these claims, Fitzwilliam! An alliance between yourself and Miss Farthington would simply be unacceptable. You must see this!”
A new anger rose in Fitzwilliam’s chest as he quit his place by the fire and stood firmly before his cousin. “I do not see this! Why should I see this?”
“Come, cousin, you are a man of the world. You cannot be insensible to the ways of society or the duty due to your family. She is rich to be sure, but what of her family or her parentage? Yes, she bears Lord Farthington’s name but this is all she shares with the gentleman!”
“You speak of duty to one’s family and connections! How ironic to hear these words from you, Darcy,” Fitzwilliam spat out.
“This is not about me, cousin. Our situations are in no way similar. Mrs. Darcy’s sire is a gentleman while that of Miss Farthington is a slave. There is no way to hide what she is. How would Lord and Lady Matlock react? Or better yet, what sort of reception would your beloved receive when presented to the ton! What you experienced today is only a small taste of the censure you both would receive. I cannot even begin to think of the children. You must consider their prospects as well.”
“I believe you have spoken enough,” Fitzwilliam replied through gritted teeth, turning from his cousin and heading for the door.
“Richard,” Darcy caught his cousin by the arm bidding him to halt his escape. “I do not say these things to hurt you nor to insult Miss Farthington. Indeed, Mary has become a much treasured friend and member of this household. I would do nothing to harm her or to impede her happiness. However, you must concede that to marry her would be beyond the bounds of reason. You cannot deny or escape who she is.”
Fitzwilliam was too angry to offer his cousin a reply. Shrugging off his grip, Fitzwilliam left the library with determined steps. In his anger, he barely acknowledged Georgiana standing in the hall before the library doors, her face drawn in worry. He managed a few clipped words of greeting before brushing past her to descend the stairs. Georgiana watched his flight with alarm, following his figure as he called for his coat and horse and hurriedly quit the house.
********************
As soon as she arrived home, Mary made her way to her rooms, refusing to speak with Elizabeth or Georgiana despite their renewed entreaties. More than anything, Mary wanted to be alone, instructing April to allow no one admittance and to inform the household that she would forgo her afternoon meal. Mary fell back onto her bed, curling her legs toward her chest as she bent her head to meet them. A deep longing for her home overcame her, causing fresh tears to fall from her cheeks. Mary did not know how long she lay like that, passing in and out of sleep, before a gentle knock at the door caught her attention.
Mary was surprised to find Georgiana at her door holding a tray full of all sorts of good things to eat as well as a pot of hot tea. Georgiana smiled tentatively, thanking April for allowing her in, as she made her way over to the table by Mary’s bed.
“I hope you do not mind a visitor and are not too angry with April. She told me when I visited earlier that you were forgoing food and company. I convinced her that it would be cruel to allow you to starve of both food and guests,” Georgiana chirped brightly as she placed the tray before Mary.
“How very clever,” Mary replied, a faint smile registering in her eyes. “I guess I have no choice but to enjoy both the company and the meal.”
Georgiana chuckled as she handed Mary a cup of tea, “I suppose that will have to do for an invitation.”
“I apologize. I am not feeling myself today,” Mary murmured sipping her tea lightly.
Georgiana sighed deeply, looking from her cup of tea to her friend with concern. “Mary, will you please tell me what happened today. I have been so anxious for you. You looked upset in the carriage.”
“Oh Georgiana, I can barely stand to repeat it without crying,” Mary replied rising from her seat.
Georgiana rose from her seat to stand beside her friend, her brow knit with worry. “It must have been awful. Richard and Fitzwilliam had a terrible argument over it soon after we arrived.”
“Arguing? Over me?” Mary exclaimed, her eyes widening.
“I have never seen Richard so angry as when I passed him in the hall. He was in quite a state and quit the house directly. No one is sure where he has gone,” Georgiana continued, not noticing Mary’s growing alarm.
“No, this will not do! I did not mean to be the cause of such a fight,” Mary exclaimed, turning from her friend and walking towards the window. A heavy snow had begun to fall, coating Pemberley in a fresh coat of white powder. Mary grew more alarmed over Fitzwilliam’s sudden departure. “I…I should not have even told him. I have already been the cause of enough trouble today.”
“Mary! I am sure you are not to blame. Why would you ever blame yourself?” Georgiana asked, crossing the room towards her.
Moved by Georgiana’s concern and unwilling to cause her friend more anxiety, Mary related all that had occurred that morning. Georgiana was shocked and angered by what she had heard and also confused. She refused to believe that Parson Geoffries was capable of such behavior, but she also could not doubt Mary’s account. Georgiana was also surprised by the conduct of her neighbors and acquaintances, being completely unaware of the whispers and rude treatment Mary had suffered. However, Georgiana was encouraged by her brother’s defense of Mary and the Colonel’s kindness to her.
“I am so sorry, Mary,” Georgiana began after the two had sat in silence for some minutes.
“Sorry for what, Georgiana? You have done nothing but been a good and loyal friend.”
“I could have done something, Mary. Those were my neighbors and friends that treated you that way. I should have defended you or been there to protect you, but I wasn’t even sensible enough to notice what was going on. I have been a terrible friend to you.”
Mary smiled weakly, before hugging Georgiana tightly. “Oh, Georgiana, you have been the best of friends to me,” Mary replied, fresh tears forming in her eyes. “You have welcomed me here as if I were a sister and treated me with such kindness. I should have confided in you. I did not want to burden you with my problems, but all I have done is cause you to worry,”
Mary paused, observing her friend thoughtfully. It would not do for them to go back and forth over who was the worst friend. Mary grinned mischievously, having come up with a solution. “If you will agree that you are indeed a superb friend, I will pledge to tell you everything as a friend aught.”
Georgiana smiled broadly, nodding her head in agreement as the two embraced. Mary and Georgiana laughed gently at the sight of each other’s tears. They were then content to enjoy their luncheon, occupying themselves with discussion of happier subjects.
**********************
Mary soon found herself in better spirits thanks to Georgiana’s gentle attentions, the unpleasant events of the morning being forgotten for the moment. However, she could not help but be concerned over Fitzwilliam’s argument with Mr. Darcy, taking all the blame for it upon herself. Mary’s concern only grew when Colonel Fitzwilliam did not return to join the family for dinner. The snow had begun to fall more heavily and showed no signs of abating before sunrise. Neither Elizabeth nor Georgiana had received any word from the gentleman and Mr. Darcy looked in no mood to entertain her inquiries regarding his presence. Dinner was mostly silent and awkward, increasing Mary’s unease. Elizabeth ventured to offer some conversation during the meal, but most of her efforts were returned with silence.
After the meal, Mr. Darcy opted to adjourn to his library in solitude for the remainder of the evening, leaving the ladies to entertain themselves in the sitting room. Mary sat with Georgiana and Elizabeth until about nine in the evening, attempting to employ her energy in reading. As the minutes passed, Mary’s agitation grew until she bid her companions good night and made to retire to her chambers. On the way to the stairs, Mary was surprised and pleased to encounter Fitzwilliam just returning for the night.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Mary greeted him, a look of relief spreading across her features as she hurried towards the gentleman.
“Good evening Miss Farthington,” Fitzwilliam replied, returning her greeting with a sad smile as he bowed to her.
Mary gazed at his face in concern. His blue eyes which normally seemed to sparkle with mirth were now weary and drawn. His hair was disheveled and a light stubble lined his face, lending to his overall unkempt appearance. It pained her greatly to see him in such a state, even more so at the thought that she may have contributed to the cause.
“Are you well, Fitzwilliam? We were all so anxious when you did not return for dinner. And with it snowing so heavily I feared for your safety. The roads, were they very bad? You do not look well at all,” Mary confessed, her words spilling out in a rush as she wrung her hands.
“Were you very concerned, Princess?” Fitzwilliam inquired in a low voice, his lips curving into a sad smile as his eyes searched hers.
“Georgiana told me that you had a fight with Mr. Darcy,” Mary replied as she held his gaze, her eyes becoming wet with unshed tears. “I began to be afraid that you would not return and that I had a hand in driving you away.”
Fitzwilliam’s face fell as she spoke these words, his brow furrowing slightly. He took a step towards her, closing the small distance that separated them, as he stretched out one hand to caress her cheek. “Mary,” Fitzwilliam whispered as he bent his head towards her, “you could never drive me away unless it was your most earnest wish.”
Mary leaned into his touch, shivering slightly at the heady mixture of his closeness and the sound of her Christian name on his lips. While Mary was frightened by the strength of the feelings that coursed through her, his expression frightened her more. She saw in his countenance a look of such longing and desire that she did not trust herself to fully comprehend its meaning. Elizabeth’s words of warning surfaced again to give her pause, but they were silenced by her heart’s protests.
Mary was not sure how many moments they were employed thus before Georgiana and Elizabeth’s collective gasp broke the spell. Mary instantly drew back from the Colonel, her eyes darting from the gentleman to her guardian and friend. Mary suddenly felt ashamed for allowing Fitzwilliam such liberties and for her response to his touch. She cast him an imploring wide eyed glance before running from the foyer for the safety of her rooms.