Chapter Text
Madeleine Gardiner prided herself on being a kind and sensible woman, and she was ever-conscious in her endeavour to ensure her home was one of light and laughter. Further, she strived to ensure this was not just the case for herself, her beloved husband and their three rambunctious children, but for all those who stepped over the threshold of Gracechurch Street.
She was, she believed – more than that, she knew, courtesy of the high praise she received from her friends and family - a good and understanding hostess.
That afternoon, however, the limits of her kindness and her famous understanding were being tested to their limits.
For in front her was someone who could cause even the most affable person in the world to lose their bearings. Someone, who more than once, Madeleine had to hold her tongue against, lest she cause an argument that was not worth the energy it required.
“It is,” said Mrs Jane Bennet, a woman, Madeleine often thought, so unlike the eldest daughter she named for herself, “quite chilly in here.”
It was the latest in an extensive line of complaints raised since her sister-in-law had appeared on her doorstep a little over an hour ago. Quite suddenly, and without any warning, claiming her right to check in on her middle daughter after her abrupt departure from Pemberley a week or so ago.
Madeleine knew they should have at least predicted the possibility of such an appearance, but neither she nor Edward had honestly believed his sister would willingly step foot in London. They had expected her response in a letter and were ready for any kind of reply to their own.
The woman herself, in the flesh, was a different quandary altogether.
Thankfully, Lizzy had joined her mother in her journey, and the level-headed presence of her second-eldest niece was enough to set Madeleine at some sort of ease, as the conversation continued.
Otherwise, she was not sure what she might have done.
Mrs Bennet turned to Lizzy, asking her opinion on the temperature of the room. Lizzy, an expert in placating her mother, smiled placidly, insisting that she could not feel it, though she did so in a manner that did not outright dismiss her mother’s thoughts on the matter either.
“And where did you say my brother was?” Mrs Bennet asked, as she lifted a biscuit from the tray. Madeleine noted that, despite her earlier assertions that they were as ‘dry as the desert’, she was making a good attempt at finishing the plate off.
“Out for a walk,” Madeleine replied – the same answer she had already provided at least twice in the last hour.
She could not deny that, on this – the whereabouts of Edward Gardiner and the hope for his imminent return - she and her sister-in-law were in one mind. Madeleine found herself quite desperate for her husband to walk through the door and take up the thankless task of wrangling his sister so that she would not have to.
“Edward felt his leg acting up,” Madeleine added, though she had already mentioned this too. “Since it is such a lovely day, the children and Mary went with him for a stroll. They have likely stopped off for ices.”
“It is almost time for dinner, is it not?”
“Oh Mother,” Lizzy said, with a shake of her head, and a small, fond smile on her face. “You know Uncle Gardiner would not deny the children anything.”
“That may be the case, Lizzy,” Mrs Bennet shot back. “But such indulgence is quite a slippery slope. I have told Edward this umpteen times.”
Madeleine rolled her eyes, but her sister-in-law, so caught up in her ranting, did not notice. Lizzy, on the other hand, did and offered an apologetic smile.
“Mother,” she said, in a voice that made it clear her mother, herself, was on a ‘slippery slope’ and should cease speaking quickly.
To her credit, Mrs Bennet did stop. Madeleine, relieved that she would no longer have to hear her sister-in-law’s opinion on her and Edward’s parenting, sighed.
Before Madeleine could assure that they would be home soon, she was interrupted by the sound of hooting and hollering from outside the window. Madeleine smiled, as Lizzy went to look out the window, her lips curving upwards at the sight of her cousins.
“Yes, I see them now,” she confirmed, and then paused, as if confused, or even amused. She took a second glance out the window. “Yes, I see Uncle Gardiner, the children and Mary. And with them, a gentleman?”
This was all the prompting Mrs Bennet needed to remove herself from Edward’s favourite chair and over to the window, moving with a speed that surprised Madeleine. She observed as Lizzy stood her ground, even as her mother tried to nudge her out of the way. Lizzy held the curtain up, which allowed her mother a glance of the streets outside, but did not in any way impinge on the space she herself had already claimed.
“And who is that?”
While Mrs Bennet sounded disappointed, Madeleine ignored her, crossing over to join them at the window, positioning herself so that Lizzy was in the middle of her and her sister-in-law. Kindly, Lizzie drew the curtain even further so that all three could peer into the street, though Mrs Bennet had appeared to lose interest quite quickly, and had returned to Edward’s seat.
Madeleine smiled at the sight of Edward with the children. Rebecca and Marianne were on either side of their father, a hand in each of his, as George led them. Behind them, as Lizzy had pointed out, was indeed her niece and a young man who held a fond place in the hearts of the Gardiner family.
“That is Mr Hayward,” Madeleine explained, more to Lizzy and less to her disinterested sister-in-law. She was unable to, as she said it, to hide her smile at the effortless way Mary and Tom chatted to one another – the spark of affection clear for anyone to see, more pronounced now that there was nothing to stop that spark from developing into something deeper altogether.
It had been clear to Madeleine, when Mary first met Tom, that her niece had a liking for the barrister. Madeleine was not surprised; Tom had been kind and attentive and had tried his best to befriend Mary and welcome her into London. Being from Yorkshire himself, it was clear he wanted Mary to feel as comfortable as she could in her new surroundings, knowing how daunting it could be.
But Tom also had an understanding with Miss Ann Baxter and Madeleine feared that Mary would only find herself heartbroken.
It was, with that in mind, that Madeleine had recommended Mary the merits of being open to other experiences that London might offer. This was, albeit through the clumsy metaphor of a bonnet that she hoped Mary had understood at the time.
Of course, Tom’s understanding with Miss Baxter was now over – quite amicably, he claimed, and Madeleine had no reason to believe otherwise - and Miss Baxter’s family had recently announced her engagement to Mr Powell.
All, Madeleine thought, was how it should be. All, she had to admit, she had secretly hoped it might end up being.
That spark, now burning brighter with each day, had not – she suspected – been as one-sided as she had first thought.
“Mr Hayward?” Mrs Bennet repeated, enough to snap Madeleine from her musings.
Turning her full attention back to the window, it appeared that neither Edward, the children nor Mary or Tom had noticed them snooping, which was a relief to Madeleine. She wanted to be able to warn Mary of her mother’s arrival before she entered the house; that way, she could be, at least in some way, prepared to face her.
“And who did you think it would be?” Madeleine asked, feeling quite discomfited with the dismissive tone her sister-in-law used.
“Well, he is no Mr Ryder.”
Lizzy, who had been smiling up until this point, dropped the curtain and returned to her mother’s side. Stiffly, she picked up her teacup and took a long sip. Madeleine, too, felt exasperation, and suddenly could quite understand her sister-in-law’s insistence on coming to London in-person.
“I told you, Mama,” Lizzy said, finally. “Mr Ryder did not propose marriage to Mary.”
And that was the truth. Madeleine wondered what her sister-in-law would say if she knew what Mr Ryder had proposed instead. She would never know if Madeleine had anything to do with it.
She dreaded the backlash Mary might receive if her mother were to find out the whole truth of it.
“And that is why I am here,” Mrs Bennet said, surely, and as if she could not be dissuaded.
By now, Madeleine returned to her seat and could feel an impeding doom with each second that passed.
Soon, Mary, Edward and the children would say their farewells to Tom and return to the house. Even worse – though not because of poor Tom – Edward might invite him in to say hello, to stay for dinner.
Such a scenario would be a disaster, and she hoped it would somehow be avoided.
“Mother, please- “
But, unlike before, Lizzy could not stop her mother, who raised a hand to cut her off.
“Mr Ryder was quite taken with Mary, you know,” Mrs Bennet said, proudly, and with a raised eyebrow, to Madeleine. “I do not know why,” she added, with a small shrug, and Madeleine found herself tightening her grip on her teacup at the slight, “but it was clear he was going to make an offer. That he left without doing so is quite suspicious indeed.”
But he had made an offer, Madeleine thought, just not the kind that Mrs Bennet had expected.
Of course, Madeleine could not say that to her sister-in-law.
“Among other things, I intend to find out what Mary did,” added Mrs Bennet, even as Lizzy argued that her sister had done nothing, “and I intend to fix it.”
“It is not fair,” Marianne said, with folded arms and a pout, as they stood outside Gracechurch Street.
Mary tried her best not to laugh at the indignant look on her cousin’s face. Instead, she smiled, catching the knowing eye of Mr Hayward who, too, looked quite amused. What had begun as a stroll to the park and back had turned into a trip for ices. Subsequently, they had met Mr Hayward and he had insisted on walking them home.
“I agree,” George added, with a nod. “If we had known Mary and Tom were also coming to the Lakes- “
“Your mother and I did not know until a week ago, son,” Uncle Gardiner said, with a small, fond smile. “And we have already written to your cousin, Jane. She and Charles are looking forward to having the three of you.” He paused, before waggling an accusatory finger. “You would not have them disappointed, would you?”
George opened his mouth to reply, but found no answer came out.
He turned to Mary, and then Mr Hayward for support.
“Your father makes a compelling case, Master Gardiner,” Mr Hayward replied, straightening his posture, and using the voice Mary imagined he reserved only for the courtroom. “A written contract, agreeing the presence of yourself, Miss Marianne and Miss Rebecca,” he paused when Rebecca giggled delightfully at the honorific, “at Netherfield has been agreed.”
“But-“
“Did you, or did you not, agree to this?”
Mary watched as Marianne thought, long and hard, about Mr Hayward’s question.
“But, Mr Hayward,” Mary finally said, feeling some sympathy for her young cousins, and unable to resist joining in the fun. He turned to her – at first with a pleasant smile – and then with a more serious expression, one that Mary supposed was suitable for a barrister fighting a particularly tough case. She suspected he did it to try and make her laugh, and she would admit he was remarkably close to succeeding in his endeavour.
“Yes, Miss Bennet?”
She was disarmed, at once, by the eager and attentive inflection in his tone.
So disarmed, in fact, that, for a moment, Mary forgot what she was going to say. The effect he had on her, she found, had not abated since her departure from London. If anything, in the time they had spent together this past week, it had only become even more pronounced. Mary could not help but find her affection growing for the man in front of her; and though there was, arguably, nothing to stop her - apart from her own fear and pride and propriety - from saying so, she could not.
“Come on, Mary,” Rebecca chirped up, with a delighted grin. “Please tell him!”
“Tell him?”
Mary, at first, was confused at the suggestion from her young cousin – and wondered why Rebecca was urging her to tell Mr Hayward her feelings.
Until that was of, of course, she caught her uncle’s eye, and George and Marianne’s smiles and remembered exactly what they had been discussing.
She laughed, despite herself – a loud, pure sound she had only recently become familiar with.
Mr Hayward chuckled too – though he had to have no idea why she was laughing – before schooling his features back into a serious expression.
Mary was determined and did not look at him, lest she become distracted again.
“What I was going to say,” she continued, straightening her glasses, and adopting a posture quite like Mr Hayward’s, “is that this written contract was agreed under different circumstances. At a time when young Master Gardiner, Miss Marianne and Miss Rebecca all believed only their parents were going to the Lakes. Surely, this latest information should be used to form their opinion again. If that opinion has changed- “
“Then perhaps the original contract should not stand.”
Mr Hayward finished her thought, quietly and almost absent-mindedly, with a thoughtful hand under his chin.
“Exactly!”
Mary said it, louder than she intended. She felt herself blush, as the children cheered and began to appeal their father again, this time using Mary’s logic against him.
Uncle Gardiner chuckled, while Mr Hayward nodded in approval.
Mary hoped the warm late afternoon weather could account for the redness of her cheeks.
“Look at what you’ve done,” Uncle Gardiner said.
At first, the words made Mary recoil, just a little. These were words she had heard many times in her youth. Mostly from her mother, occasionally from her sisters, rarely from her father.
Quickly though, she came to the realisation that the words from Uncle Gardiner were different, tinged as they were with the amusement of a father being petitioned by his three children, and who had found he could not trust even who he supposed would be his truest allies.
He did not mean it cruelly and that made all the difference to Mary.
“I would not disappoint your cousin,” Uncle Gardiner finally said, with both the love but also the authority of a father, to his three children. “Now, I believe the matter is settled, yes?”
He looked up from the children’s faces. Their expressions, to Mary, implied it was less settled and more the debate postponed for the time being.
“Tom, would you like to join us for dinner this evening?”
“I would,” Mr Hayward replied, and it made Mary’s heart lift, “but I cannot.” And then it sank. “I have work to catch up on, especially with our expedition to the Lakes looming. You were right, Mr Gardiner, that the law would not stop, but-“
Uncle Gardiner nodded, clearly happy with the explanation.
Mary understood too, though found herself quite deflated by the prospect of his absence at the dinner table.
“Understandable, Tom,” he said, and then he winked at Mary. “We have already managed to steal him away from the courts for the duration of our trip. We should not push our luck, eh?”
Uncle Gardiner shooed the children inside, after bidding goodbye to Mr Hayward and assuring him that he would pass along his sincere apologies to Aunt Gardiner.
Mary turned to Mr Hayward when they were alone.
“My aunt would not have given up so easily,” she admitted, with a small smile.
Part of her wished she could be as bold or as persistent. She thought, somehow, that if she asked, she would be able to convince him to stay for dinner.
More than that, she wanted to.
But that would be far too forward, especially from a woman who, only last week, had planned to go to Italy with another man.
And Mr Hayward – well, he did not appear that heartbroken by the conclusion of his understanding with Miss Baxter. He had even told Mary and the Gardiners that things had ended quite well between the two of them, and that he only wished her the best for the future.
Only a few days ago, the engagement had been announced, and while Mary did not note a change in his demeanour at the news, that did not mean he did not feel it.
Mr Hayward nodded.
“I know,” he said, with a laugh, and then tipping his head in her direction. “Please tell your aunt that I will make it up to her.”
And Mary saw something in his eyes then – just a gleam but enough – that said something else, the meaning behind the words.
I will make it up to you too.
But surely, Mary thought, she was simply imagining that.
“Good evening, Mr Hayward.”
“Miss Bennet.”
Mary watched him go, unable to hide her smile. She was so distracted that she did not, at first, notice Aunt Gardiner emerging from the house, nor how harried she looked while doing so.
“Sorry for our delay,” Mary said, with a nod of her head, her attention still partially on Mr Hayward’s retreating form. “The children wanted ices, and then we met Mr Hayward and- “
“Mary,” Mrs Gardiner cut across her, looking regretful that she had to do so. It was the tone she used that snapped Mary’s full attention to her. How Mary knew her next words before she said them, she did not know, but she felt her stomach coil horribly at the confirmation she dreaded.
“Your mother is here.”
Thankfully, Lizzy was there too.
That was Mary’s first thought, after she had entered the house, discarded her coat and bonnet, and took a bracing breath before entering the parlour where her mother waited.
Where her mother had been waiting for her, for – according to Aunt Gardiner – for almost an hour.
“Finally!” Her mother exclaimed, all the while remaining seated in place, giving her one cursory glance before turning her attention away again, shaking her head as she did so.
“Mary, it is so good to see you.”
As if she was trying to soften the blow, Lizzy swept towards her without letting her mother utter another word, wrapping her in her arms and holding her close.
“I am sorry,” whispered Lizzy.
Mary would not have had to ask her what for, even if she had the chance.
Their mother was quick to speak up as Lizzy pulled away, and Mary stood across from their mother, as if awaiting sentencing for a terrible crime. With her hands folded in front of her, she could feel yet not stop the absent-minded fiddling with her fingernail. A comforting hand closed over hers, and she turned to smile at Aunt Gardiner, before facing her mother again.
“You left so suddenly,” Mrs Bennet said, with an air of displeasure, and none of worry. “We have much to discuss, Mary.”
Mary reflected that she had been foolish to believe her mother would just let things lie after a letter from Uncle Gardiner.
Of course, she would require more information. That she had travelled all this way to receive it unsettled Mary even further.
It was information that Mary did not feel comfortable sharing with her mother. She was thankful, again, for Lizzy, and that she had clearly not said anything about their conversation the night before her departure.
Mary was, then, more thankful for her sister than words could say.
“And you could not send us a letter?” Uncle Gardiner asked, sternly. “Rather than showing up unannounced?”
“Edward,” Mrs Bennet said, with a reproachful tone. “My unmarried daughter absconded from Pemberley with a young man in the early hours of the morning, and you expect me to be satisfied with a letter from yourself? If you were in my position, would you not do the same?”
Mary watched as Aunt Gardiner shook her head, and Uncle Gardiner clearly bit down a retort, though she was not sure exactly what he could say to that.
There was, Mary admitted, an air of logic about it.
“Mother,” Mary said, but she was unable to say anything further, as the woman in question shook her head and tutted in her direction.
“We will speak soon, Mary,” she said, pursing her lips and focusing her attentions on her brother. “I would like to speak to your aunt and uncle first, if you would not mind.”
“But-“
Lizzy’s objection was similarly rejected.
Mary had no choice but to be pulled from the room by her older sister, who sensed the wisdom in a quick retreat, all the while sending an apologetic look to her aunt and uncle.
“What is it you wish to say, Jane?”
Edward’s voice was as measured as ever, when confronted by his sister, once Mary and Lizzy had exited the room.
“You know very well,” said Mrs Bennet, with a scowl. “Mary, an unmarried woman, spent an extended period of time alone in a carriage with young Mr Ryder, an unmarried and eligible man, and you did not even petition him to obtain a special license?”
At least, thought Madeleine, she was straight to the heart of the matter.
It became clear, now, why Mrs Bennet had wanted to speak to Edward directly.
“There was no need,” Edward replied, plainly. “The pair of them did not wish to marry. Mr Ryder did not make an offer of that kind, as Lizzy has told you multiple times. Given the circumstances, it would have been rash to force them into marriage.”
Jane made a tsk sound, all the while shaking her head.
“Circumstances?” she hissed.
“Only family were present at Pemberley, correct?” Madeleine asked. “And Mr and Mrs Collins, though I believe we can count on their discretion. It may not be ideal, may be quite scandalous, but so long as it stays with those who swear to not speak of it, it does not require such drastic measures. Would you not agree with that assessment, at least?”
Mrs Bennet nodded slowly, which surprised Madeleine.
“But why,” she said, always a woman determined to have the last word, “would Mary run off like that? It is most unlike her. If not to snare Mr Ryder, then why?”
The use of that word and its tone forced Madeleine to do what was so common when in the presence of her sister-in-law. She took a deep breath, counted to ten, and then went to reply.
However, Edward got there first.
“I cannot speak for Mary,” he said, quietly. “But perhaps you should reflect on your own conduct, sister, before questioning her actions. If she was truly happy at Pemberley, it is fair to suppose that she would have not wished to return to London at all.”
“I was ill, Edward.”
“And yet,” Madeleine said, without a thought, “you appear quite well now.”
It was clear this conversation was getting them nowhere. What Mrs Bennet wanted for Mary and what Mary wanted for herself were opposed.
“I found the presence of all my daughters,” Jane said, pointedly, “and the delightful company they keep, to be quite reviving.” She shook her head and put her hand to her forehead. “You cannot know how the past few days have affected my nerves.”
“Then what do you hope to accomplish?” Edward asked. “You knew Mary had arrived here safely. Both Lizzy and I made it clear there was no proposal, or prospect of marriage between Mary and Mr Ryder.” He held his hands up. “Why?”
Madeleine knew why; Mrs Bennet had told her as much, before Edward, Mary and the children had returned.
“I have come to fix things, Edward,” snarled Mrs Bennet. “As I clearly cannot trust you to have Mary’s best interests at heart, in times such as these.”
Madeleine held onto her husband’s arm at the accusation, which while only directed at Edward, did feel levelled towards her as well.
She only hoped that Lizzy was managing to keep Mary’s spirits uplifted.
Without any clue where to go and wishing to be as far from her mother as she could, Mary pulled Lizzy up the stairs to her room. Once safely ensconced in what had become akin to a sanctuary, Mary sat on the bed and let out a long sigh, putting her head in her hands, and cursing her stupid decision all over again.
“Mary,” Lizzy said, softly. Beside her, Mary felt the mattress dip and her sister’s hand on her shoulder. “Mary, all will be well.”
Mary felt she was sick of hearing such sentiments, as well-meaning and kindly delivered as they were.
“All will be well?” She mimicked, all the while ignoring the flash of hurt that crossed Lizzy’s expression. “Mother is downstairs, most likely plotting the best way to remove me from London, and back to her side.”
The thought had played in her mind, repeatedly, when Aunt Gardiner told her that her mother was here. Surely that was the only thing her mother would want of her; if she could not be married like her sisters, then she was better off, in her mother’s mind, with her.
But Mary had resolved, once the dust had settled on her ill-thought acceptance and later rejection of Mr Ryder’s proposal that she would not, could not, be forced to live with her family again. That she would find her own way, as she planned to do before her mother sent that blasted letter intimating that she was on – or at least remarkably close to being on - her deathbed.
“I will not let her,” Lizzy said, determinedly, dropping her hand from Mary’s shoulder, and leaning closer to her, leaving Mary to wonder why she would only draw closer when she had just lashed out at her so. “Why do you think I came with her in the first place, Mary?”
Mary paused, looking up at her sister. She put her panic aside, at least for the moment, and was able to offer her older sister a small smile.
“I am sorry for snapping at you,” she said quietly. “This is not your fault.”
“I have been worried,” admitted Lizzy. Mary watched, as Lizzy, usually so certain and sure, looked down at the floor, instead of making direct eye-contact with her.
“I was worried you would be angry at me for writing to our aunt and uncle. I do not believe you are, but if you were, I apologise. Maybe I let myself believe I knew what was best for you, and I apologise for that too. But you seemed so set on going to Italy, and I could not bear you ending up unhappy, Mary.”
There was a pause.
You said something when I asked if you loved Mr Ryder,” Lizzy continued. “How love does not always signify.” She shook her head. “For some people, that may be enough, in loveless or marriages arranged for the sake of convenience. But it should not have to be. And to make a risk like the one he was asking you to make, Mary.” She took a shaky breath. “I believe you should love the person you are making it for, do you understand?”
“Yes, I do,” Mary admitted, quietly. “I was not angry.” Lizzy sighed then, an exhale that appeared so similar to relief. “If anything, I was grateful, and relieved. I would have explained to Aunt and Uncle Gardiner anyway, but you made it easier. Truthfully, I regretted my decision the minute Pemberley disappeared.”
But, Mary thought, she did not regret that she had gotten out from under their mother’s thumb, that she had been embraced so readily once more by the Gardiners, so much so that she was due to join them on their trip to the Lakes soon.
She would not let her mother spoil something that she so looked forward to, maybe more than anything she had before.
“You seem different,” Lizzy said, their hands still locked together, before giving her a slight nudge with her shoulder, a playful smile on her lips. “I saw you, at the window, you know?”
Mary felt her heart stop, momentarily, especially at the teasing in Lizzy’s tone and the look on her face.
“You saw?”
“Aunt Gardiner told us that Mr Hayward was the man accompanying you all home,” Lizzy said. “The same Mr Hayward you described as the kindest man?” Lizzie paused. “Of course, you did also mention his understanding so- “
“His understanding is over,” Mary interrupted, not able to bear the thought of Lizzy thinking poorly of Mr Hayward, or herself, or making assumptions that were untrue. “My friend Miss Baxter – Ann – is due to marry another. She is incredibly happy, I believe. Mr Hayward seems content, too. At least I believe – I hope.”
Mary did not miss the way Lizzy’s eyebrows shot up, nor did she miss the brightening of her already prominent smile.
“Ahh,” Lizzy said, with a nod.
Mary was grateful, however, that her sister said not a single word more.
Aunt and Uncle Gardiner removed themselves from the room for what Mary had deemed - at least in her head - ‘the interrogation’, which happened after a quick and quiet dinner. Even the children sensed the dour mood and had not said much, their earlier energy seemingly sapped by the tension in the room.
Truthfully, Mary was exhausted and would have much rather escaped to her bedroom, to her books and her own thoughts, than have this discussion with her mother. But she also knew it needed to be done, and that, even if she could hide from it longer, she shouldn’t.
Lizzy, at Mary’s request, stayed. Their mother agreed, though Mary suspected this was because she thought Lizzy might be her ally, rather than Mary’s. While Mary knew she had to face her mother herself and her own words had to be heard in this situation, the moral support of her sister felt vital.
Mary thought she had never been as appreciative of Lizzy’s presence, as she was in that moment.
“Mary, I cannot hide my disappointment,” Mrs Bennet said, looking tired, and fed up. London, she had said, moments before did not suit her, and she was loath to be in this place on Mary’s account.
Mary had to bite down her reply; that she did not need to be in London in the first place.
“Still, there must be a way to salvage this,” added Mrs Bennet, with a half-hearted smile. “Now, I thought we would write to Mr Ryder and ask him to call. We could learn, during the conversation – subtly, of course - why he did not propose, and ensure it does not happen again.”
Mary was too stunned to reply.
Lizzy looked to the ceiling, as if pleading with God Himself for help.
“It is awfully generous of me,” continued Mrs Bennet, “especially as it will require myself and your sister to remain here for a longer period. Still, it is a mother’s duty to see her daughters happily settled and I am willing to make that sacrifice.”
“No.”
Mary did not realise she had said it at first. Even Lizzy looked at her, surprised by the frankness with which she raised her objection. The sharp word, one she could not recall ever saying to her mother, escaped her lips before she had the chance to even think about it.
“No?”
There was a decided change in the air when Mrs Bennet repeated the word as if Mary had said something obscene instead.
“No,” Mary repeated, a little surer this time, but still finding herself a little lost against her mother’s intense stare. As much as she wished she could look away, that would not solve anything. If anything, Mary knew it would only make her more likely to cave in and go along with whatever her mother wanted.
She could not do that anymore, not if she hoped to take her life into her own hands and carve out a path of her own. One that she could be proud of and more than just content with.
“Mama,” Mary continued, taking advantage of the stunned silence of the older woman, “I am grateful that you would come all this way, simply for my happiness,” even if Mary did not believe the words, flattery was the easiest way, “but I do not want to marry Mr Ryder. Of that I have become quite sure. This whole situation has been a-a misunderstanding,” not quite, but Mary could not be compelled to tell her the truth. “He is a dear friend, but I do not love him.”
Her mother continued to look at her, open-mouthed.
“And I do not see the sense of marrying someone that I do not love,” she continued. “I have waited all this time. If I were to marry at all, I think - no, I know - that love is what I would desire, more than anything else.”
Mary took a deep breath, quite relieved that she had managed to say all that she had intended without an interruption. She risked a sideways glance to Lizzy, who looked as though she was both smiling and fighting laughter at their mother’s expression.
It was, Mary thought, quite funny to look upon.
That was until her mother scoffed. A sound Mary was intimately familiar with, had heard plenty of times in not just her childhood but beyond its confines.
She braced herself for the storm.
“Love?” Mrs Bennet said, incredulously. “If you marry?” She shook her head. “A rich, good-looking man is interested in you, Mary, willing to overlook all your flaws. Even after we speak with him, if he is still not willing to propose, we could have his hand in moments, given the events of the past week.”
There was a sharp pause as Mrs Bennet let her words settle. Mary did not even want to dignify the idea with a reply, especially her mother’s use of ‘we’. When her mother noted her silence, she simply continued, as if she hadn’t said it at all.
“And love?” She let out a short, hurtful laugh. “You were willing to marry Mr Collins, and did you love him?”
Mary clenched her fists against her skirts at the reminder that she could have been her family’s salvation, had it not been her mother’s insistence that Lizzy would be Mr Collins’ bride. Still, there would be no use, Mary knew, in reminding her mother of that fact.
And it had all happened years ago, Mary thought. Practically a lifetime ago.
Before she had found a life here in London. Before the Gardiners had embraced her, before she made the acquaintance of the people she now counted as dear friends, before she realised there was more to life than just marriage or misery.
Before-
She shook her head of the thought before it took form. It was not the right time to be thinking about Mr Hayward.
“I have changed, mother,” Mary said, calmly, in response. “I am not the same person.”
“Well,” Mrs Bennet huffed, “change back again!”
“Mother.”
Lizzy’s admonishment at Mrs Bennet’s raised voice brought the room to complete silence.
“What will you do?” Mrs Bennet finally said, sagging against the seat she had claimed when she arrived. “How will you support yourself, if you do not marry?”
Mary realised she did not have a complete answer to that question yet.
But something niggled in the back of her mind, a half-formed idea that had not had time to take root and sprout yet. And still, something about it felt right.
“I will support myself,” she said, surely. “I will become a governess, for older girls. I will teach geology and philosophy and-“
“Preposterous!”
“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea, Mary.”
Mrs Bennet clicked her tongue at Lizzy’s agreement. Mary felt bolstered by it, and suddenly quite sure she could make a good go of it, even if she was not entirely sure where she would start.
But it seemed, faced with her two daughters, Mrs Bennet could not find the words to voice her opposition. In fact, she looked quite defeated.
“I have tried. Let the Lord know that I have tried to be patient with you Mary,” she said, tiredly.
“I had no one. Five daughters, no son to support us,” Mrs Bennet continued. “Your father did not care, because he would be dead and dead men do not need to worry about their wife and daughters.” Her voice trembled slightly. “I just wanted you all to be settled and secure.”
Mary sighed. Beside her, Lizzy stood and perched herself on the arm of their mother’s chair.
Lizzy, who Mary thought, was a much kinder and patient woman than she was. For Mary could not help but see the words, in part, as another ploy to manipulate her.
Still, she also knew there was truth in what her mother said, and a certain fatigue in her voice when she said the words aloud, almost as if she had never admitted them to anyone before.
Mary could understand her, as much as she knew she could not bow to her, not this time.
“And I appreciate that, mother,” Mary said, quietly, a simple way to sum up such complicated emotions. “We all do.”
Lizzy nodded her agreement.
“But you must let me follow my own path,” she continued, before her mother could say any more on the subject. “This is my choice.”
And because she would not stoop herself to begging, Mary smiled at her mother and stood.
It signalled to them both that the conversation was over, and the case quite succinctly closed.
Her mother, she was pleased to note, had nothing more to say.
Lizzy was more than pleased, the next day, to finally make the acquaintance of Thomas Hayward. Quite by accident, really, when the door to the Gardiner residence rapped with a cheerful rhythm and Lizzy, being just by the stairs, and the household staff occupied, answered.
Lizzy recognised him, at once. He was the man Mary had been speaking to, only a few days before, outside.
At first, he looked expectant and then confused.
Lizzy could have laughed at the look on his face, if she did not feel sorry for the poor man and his confusion.
“Mr Hayward, I presume?”
His confusion only served to grow. Before he could say anything, however, he was saved by Aunt Gardiner, who appeared behind Lizzy.
“You will have to excuse my niece,” she said, with a shake of her head. Lizzy could tell that she too was resisting the urge to laugh. “She has been married for quite a few years, and yet still finds ways to act like a child.”
“Your niece?”
”Yes, Mary’s sister.”
Lizzy could see he was, in his head, trying to deduce which one of the Bennet sisters she was.
He appeared to quickly realise he had no way of knowing and smiled instead.
“It is a pleasure to meet one of Miss Bennet’s sisters,” he said, finally, with a nod of his head.
“And what can we do for you today, Tom?”
Lizzy let her aunt take over the conversation and slinked away to the parlour, where her mother sat in silence. She had appeared to accept Mary’s declaration last night - and Lizzy had been so proud of her sister she thought she might’ve burst - though had spent the better part of the morning in her bed.
She had risen when Lizzy had told her that Mary was out with the children at the park. Lizzy knew that the sooner her mother was back at Pemberley and out of Mary’s hair, the better it would be for all of them.
“Who is that at the door, Lizzy?” Asked Mrs Bennet. “There will be a draft if your aunt insists on standing there much longer chatting.” Her voice raised, ever so slightly, but loudly enough that there would be no doubt Aunt Gardiner would hear.
Lizzy was saved from an explanation, as small, excited footsteps echoed in the hallway and the loud exclamation of ‘Tom!” from the Gardiners only son answered it quite quickly.
“Tom?” Mrs Bennet asked, with a confused look on her face. “Lizzy, do we know a Tom?”
“Mr Hayward,” Lizzy supplied, knowing it was pointless to point out to her mother that there were people the Gardiners knew that she did not. “The man who was walking with Uncle Gardiner, Mary and the children yesterday afternoon.”
“Oh, him.”
“Mother, please,” Lizzy said, without any hint of indulgence, as she came to sit beside her on the settee.
She had, this afternoon, chosen to vacate their uncle’s seat, claiming it had given her a bad back and that he really must have it replaced.
Uncle Gardiner, Lizzy suspected, would not heed such advice and would instead be quite happy to have his favourite chair back.
Before her mother could say anything in reply, the room filled with the Gardiner children, Aunt Gardiner and a slightly nervous looking Mary, her volume of poetry in hand. Mr Hayward entered behind them, looking equally as anxious as her sister, but smiling, nonetheless.
“Mr Tom Hayward, may I introduce you to my sister-in-law, Mary’s mother.”
“It is a pleasure, Mrs Bennet.”
Her mother, to Lizzy’s surprise, forced a smile, and eked out a small, “Good afternoon.”
Clearly it was for propriety’s sake, but it was a small victory, nonetheless. Lizzy supposed it was better than she had expected of her mother.
“And my niece,” Aunt Gardiner said, as if she had planned to ignore whatever Mrs Bennet did or did not say anyway. “Mrs Elizabeth Darcy.”
In contrast to her mother, Lizzy stood and walked across to the man. She gave a small curtesy, and he returned with a quick bow.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr Hayward,” Lizzy said, before he could get his words out. She looked to Mary who appeared – if still nervous – now a little relieved.
“The pleasure is all mine, Mrs Darcy,” he said, with a charming smile. “I did not mean to intrude,” he added, as an aside to all in the room.
“It is not an intrusion at all,” Aunt Gardiner said, with a reassuring smile to him. “You know you are welcome here, Tom.”
Lizzy chose to ignore the snort of derision from her mother’s direction – thankfully, it appeared that Mr Hayward either did not hear it or too chose to ignore it. As did Aunt Gardiner and Mary.
“Still, I did not realise you had visitors,” he said, with a short bow to Aunt Gardiner. “I simply wished to speak to Mr Gardiner and thought I might catch him here, rather than his offices.”
“You have business with my brother?”
Lizzy sighed; predictably, at the mention of her brother, her mother had become suddenly interested in this conversation that, moments before, she seemed loath to be part of in any way.
“Tom is a friend of the family,” Aunt Gardiner explained, for Mrs Bennet’s benefit. “He helped Edward with a legal matter, some years ago, and used to board with us.”
“A legal matter?” Mrs Bennet asked, her eyes narrowing, as she elected to take another look at Tom.
By this time, the children had been sent upstairs – and they did not argue, as they were so prone to, when the alternative was to sit with their Aunt Bennet. Lizzy had resumed her seat by her mother and was quite interested in the circumstances of Mr Hayward’s acquaintance with her aunt and uncle, herself.
Aunt Gardiner had taken up Uncle Gardiner’s seat, clearly ignoring Mrs Bennet’s warnings from earlier that morning - while Mary stood between the two. Mr Hayward stood in front of them, as if he were on trial himself.
Lizzy thought, feeling quite sorry for the man, that, in a way, he was.
“You are a barrister, correct?” asked Lizzy, before her mother could say anything else. She noted, in her periphery, Mary sending her a thankful smile.
“Yes, Mrs Darcy,” he said with a nod of his head. “That is correct.” He paused. “Though today, it was not a legal matter I came to speak with Mr Gardiner about, but a personal one.”
“Oh yes,” Aunt Gardiner said, picking up the thread of conversation from the nervous young man, quite expertly. “You see, Mr Gardiner and I are planning a trip to the Lakes soon. We have asked Mary and Tom to join us.”
“Delightful!” Lizzy said, with a smile, and she noted a quick look between Mary and Mr Hayward that betrayed their excitement at the prospect.
“The north?” Mrs Bennet said, with disdain.
“Yes, mama,” Mary said, curtly. “That is the general direction of the Lakes.”
If Lizzy did not know her own sister’s voice, she would not have expected the words to come out of her mouth.
But they did.
Mary was different indeed, Lizzy thought, and was all the better for it.
Mrs Bennet did not say anything, looking too embarrassed to do so.
Mr Hayward looked at the floor, briefly – and Lizzy noticed the ghost of a smile on his lips as he did so.
This man, she thought, would get along exceedingly well with her own husband.
“And what did you wish to tell my brother that required your visit today?”
Instead of faltering at the words, and the tone of them - which, Lizzy believed, made it appear Mrs Bennet was mistress of Gracechurch Street when she was very clearly not - Mr Hayward simply nodded.
“I did not wish to intrude, Mrs Bennet, especially in the midst of your visit,” he explained. “It is only that your kindly brother has been hard at work planning this journey, and I wished to inform him that my superiors have kindly accepted my leave of absence for its duration, as soon as I could.”
He was direct, to the point, and quite strong in the face of her mother’s clear scrutiny.
Yes, thought Lizzy, he would get on with Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy quite well indeed.
“I am so sorry.”
These were Mary’s first words when Mrs Bennet vacated the room, citing a headache and a requirement for more rest before she and Lizzy left for Pemberley in the morning, barely giving Mr Hayward a passing glance as she did so.
Mary watched as Tom let out a sigh of relief and then appeared to remember himself and stand up straight.
“I am sorry,” she repeated the words again.
“No, I am sorry,” Aunt Gardiner said, with a sigh. “I only knew that, once the children had given you up, it would be pointless to send you away without introducing you. Please forgive me, Tom.”
But, to Mary’s surprise, Mr Hayward only smiled. In that smile, he told her all she needed to know, and expressed that while, understandably phased by her mother, he did not blame her or her aunt for her actions or words.
He had, Mary thought, stood up to her quite admirably.
Lizzy clearly thought so too.
“Well, that certainly was a pleasure, Mr Hayward,” she said, with a laugh. “Mama could not argue with your reasoning at all, could she Mary?”
“No,” Mary said, aware of her smile and not inclined to stop, “she could not.”
“I was simply being truthful,” said Mr Hayward. “After all, Mr Gardiner did ask me to tell him as soon as I knew.”
“And I will make sure the message gets to him.” Tom nodded his thanks, and Aunt Gardiner gave a knowing smile. “I will not ask you to stay for dinner, Tom,” she added. “Though please do not believe this a reflection on yourself as much as it is on,” she whispered, “current company.” She paused, at the gasp that statement drew from Lizzy - her mock indignation clear. Aunt Gardiner laughed. “Lizzy of course excluded.”
“Of course.”
With that, Aunt Gardiner swept out of the room, leaving Mary with Mr Hayward and her sister.
“I should be on my way,” he finally said. “I would not wish to intrude any further.”
And while he said it in jest, it struck Mary in a way she felt deeply.
“It is not an intrusion,” she said, and she hoped he believed her.
Mr Hayward looked deeply touched by the words. Mary wondered if it was a trick of the light or if he was really was blushing as she suspected.
Lizzy cleared her throat, breaking the quiet moment shared between them. Mr Hayward quickly wished Lizzy and her mother a safe journey the next day, and assured Mary that he would call when work allowed him, for they and the Gardiners had their journey to the Lakes to plan.
Mary was glad to find that his excitement was just as palpable as her own.
“I see as well,” Mr Hayward said, taking notice of the volume of Lyrical Ballads that Mary had dropped on the nearest table when she had arrived home, “that you are continuing your study of poetry, Miss Bennet.” He paused. “I will certainly keep that in mind.”
“You enjoy poetry, Mr Hayward?”
Mary almost frowned at Lizzy’s question, before realising she was not being rude, merely inquisitive in her usual-Lizzy way.
Mr Hayward nodded, and even though he too looked slightly confused by her question, he replied.
“I have made it my mission to open Miss Bennet’s heart to the wonders of the written word. I am pleased to see I may be succeeding.”
He could not be closer to the truth, Mary thought, if he had tried.
When Mr Hayward departed, Lizzy turned to Mary, and looked at her as if she had just figured out something important. Mary found she did not have to wait long, when Lizzy laughed.
“I did wonder,” said Lizzy, knowingly, “where your interest in poetry had come from.”
Mary had, in the course of the past two days, been quite grateful for her sister.
She was, right now, even more grateful that she said no more on that particular subject.