Mr Ryder visited Gracechurch Street again a week later, and once more laid himself out to be as winning and as personable as possible. He brought with him a pound of the very best coffee and presented it to Mrs Gardiner with a flourish, hoping it would make up for all the pots of it he had enjoyed in her house. He was gracious and charming, until even her aunt began to unbend a little, admitting he was excellent company when he chose to be. Mary did not disagree, for Mr Ryder was indeed very amusing; his stories of the grand state kept by Lady Catherine de Bourgh at Rosings always made her laugh, even when she knew it was wrong to do so – she was sure Dr Fordyce would not have approved of such ill-directed levity. So, the days passed by agreeably enough, and Mr Ryder became an ever more frequent guest. But it was his friend whom Mary longed to see – and still Mr Hayward did not appear.
He wrote to the Gardiners apologising for his absence, blaming it upon the legal case with which he was still much engaged, and declaring that he hoped to be sharing their excellent suppers as soon as he was free to do so. It was a friendly, chatty letter, and at the end of it he sent everyone his best love. Mary spent a great deal of time brooding over the precise application of that phrase, trying to decide the exact proportion of his affection which might have been addressed to her. He added that he hoped to see them all very soon – but as there was nothing more specific in the way of date or time attached to his note, it did not give Mary a great deal of comfort.
In the end, it was Mr Gardiner, one night at dinner, who put an end to all her silent conjectures. ‘I ran into Tom Hayward today,’ he declared, as he stood at the table, carving what promised to be an excellent leg of lamb. ‘I was up near Chancery Lane, and our paths crossed. He was in a great hurry – black gown on, papers under his arm – but sends his regards to everyone. Says he misses us all very much.’
Mary picked up her napkin and, with great self-control, laid it carefully on her lap.
‘I think it is most remiss of him to have left us alone for so long,’ declared Mrs Gardiner. ‘Surely he could have spared a few hours to call?’
Mr Gardiner began to place the carved meat onto plates and hand them round the table.
‘I know you are only joking, my dear,’ he said, with the merest hint of reproach in his voice. ‘But that is a little unfair. Tom really has no choice. The case he is embarked upon is of the very first consequence to him, and he must devote every minute towards his prosecution of it.’
‘I consider myself admonished,’ replied his wife. ‘But my remark was not so much a complaint, more a confession of how much I miss him. We all miss him, I believe.’
She glanced at Mary, who did not catch her eye.
‘What is this case about,’ she asked, ‘and why is it so important to Mr Hayward?’
Mr Gardiner sat down, his carving duties over, and poured himself a glass of wine.
‘I cannot tell you much about the detail of it,’ he replied, ‘as the law is not really my line. But I understand Tom is one of those acting for a great commercial concern – well, I suppose I may say it is the East India Company – on some question of contracts made or not made, honoured or not honoured.’
‘That sounds like a very big step for him,’ murmured Mrs Gardiner.
‘It is indeed,’ agreed her husband. ‘He has already had one notable win this year. If he can bring this one off with the same success, it will be of great advantage to him.’ He picked up his knife and fork, ready now to attack his lamb. ‘Both reputationally and financially.’
‘It could quite make his name, then?’ Mary asked.
‘I believe so. He told me it could produce a very material change in his circumstances.’
‘I’m sure we all wish him the greatest good luck,’ said Mrs Gardiner, ‘but I look forward to having him back amongst us and hope we will see him soon.’
‘That may be sooner than you think,’ replied Mr Gardiner, ‘as I took the opportunity of our meeting to quiz Tom about our trip to the Lakes.’
The original plan for their excursion had been to leave in August, and thus avoid the hottest and most uncomfortable season in the City. But, as Mr Gardiner explained, that date had begun to look increasingly uncertain, as his business affairs threatened once more to require his presence in London just at the time they should have been taking their leave of it.
‘But I could not endure your being disappointed of your holiday again,’ continued Mr Gardiner, looking fondly at his wife, ‘so I took it upon myself to make other arrangements, to ensure that this time you should have the wish of your heart gratified, exactly as you deserve.’
Mr Gardiner had decided that the best solution was to bring their trip forward to the first week of July. If they could travel then, the whole holiday might be accomplished before his affairs became pressing. On hearing his plan, Mrs Gardiner rose from her chair, went to her husband’s side and kissed him warmly on the cheek.
‘How kind of you to think of all this,’ she cried. ‘It is the sweetest thought. But that is only two weeks away! Can it be managed in that time?’
Mr Gardiner believed it could, as he had already embarked upon some of the more pressing necessities – he had secured their rooms at inns, arranged places on coaches – had done all he could to ease matters, acting on the presumption Mrs Gardiner would be happy to go. As her aunt assured her husband that nothing would please her more, Mary’s thoughts were elsewhere, concentrated on the only question which really concerned her – would Mr Hayward join them, or would he be obliged to stay behind?
‘I described my plans to Tom,’ continued Mr Gardiner, as if he had read her mind. ‘I hoped very much he would still be able to join us, for we should all be sorry to lose his company. And he told me it was entirely possible, for his case must be done with by then.’
‘Oh, I am so glad,’ exclaimed Mary, overwhelmed by relief. She would see him and talk to him. They would be together for the duration of the holiday.
‘He will not travel up with us, as he is not exactly sure when he will be free to leave. But we shall meet him at our inn, where I think we shall be a very comfortable little party,’ said Mr Gardiner, entirely satisfied that his plan had been so well received. He was about to serve himself a little more lamb when a thought struck him.
‘Ah, Mary, I nearly forgot. Tom asked me to give this to you.’
He pulled from his pocket a small book, brand new, still in the bookseller’s wrapper. Mary took it, holding it in her hand for a moment, so pleased with the gift that she was almost afraid to open it.
‘What is it?’ asked Mrs Gardiner, as Mary uncovered it. ‘Is it more poetry?’
‘No, not exactly. It is A Guide to the Lakes. But it is by Mr Wordsworth, so I imagine it will have something of the poetic in it.’ She turned to the title page, and gently smoothed the paper under fingers. ‘It contains everything in it a traveller could wish for – he recommends walks, rides, and even inns!’
‘Yes,’ said Mr Gardiner, ‘I chose those we are to stay in from it.’
Her uncle turned to her aunt and went on to describe in some detail the characters of the inns, and the accommodation they promised; but Mary was not listening. In the middle pages of the Guide, she had found a single folded slip of paper – a note from Mr Hayward.
My dear Miss Bennet,
Here is something to occupy you on the journey north.
Please study it closely as I shall be sure to ask you questions about it when we meet!
I am sorry to have been such a stranger these last weeks. But when we see each other again, we shall walk in Wordsworth’s footsteps, which I hope will mean as much to you as it does to me.
Please take this as notice I intend to stride up as many green mountains as may be achieved in the time we have. Perhaps we may venture a few hills together?
Tho. Hayward
Mary looked up to see if the Gardiners had noticed her reading the letter. When she saw they were deep in conversation and had not observed it, she slid the slip of paper gently back into the Guide, suffused with pleasure and relief. He had not forgotten her. She was still in his thoughts. As she looked around the room, she realised that she had never been so happy as she had been these last few months at Gracechurch Street. As her eye passed over the comfortable surroundings, as she took in the excitement with which her uncle and aunt were now eagerly discussing the trip they would so enjoy, Mary knew she owed a great deal of her newfound contentment to the Gardiners, and to the healing, restorative powers of their home. But she understood too that if anyone could be said to have completed that happiness, then that person was Mr Hayward. It was perhaps not surprising that she carried the Guide to the Lakes to bed with her that night and placed it under her pillow, touching it now and then to assure herself it was still there.