When the mountain guide arrived at the inn, he made an excellent first impression, his calm, sober demeanour pleasing everyone gathered to meet him. He spoke quietly, but with authority, explaining that he had taken many ladies and gentlemen up the fell without incident, and that he would be pleased to do the same for them. However, it was essential that they understood his terms. The walk was not dangerous, but it was long, and could not be hurried; a whole day must be allowed for it. His son would accompany them, bringing provisions to sustain them on the way. And most importantly, it must be clearly understood that his instructions were to be attended to in all matters concerning the climb; for he knew the country, and they did not.
It was immediately agreed he should be hired at once, and the excursion was fixed to take place a few days hence. Now the trip was definitely to happen, the excitement of the little party was palpable. When the guide left them, Mr Ryder exclaimed that no better man could possibly have been found to take them, and Mr Gardiner agreed, declaring that in the hands of such an honest fellow, they could not go far wrong. Mr Ryder repeated his impatience to behold for himself the grandeur of the high crags, while Miss Bingley assured him of her willingness to bear any discomfort to be with him when he did so. Even the Hursts let it be known they were agreeable to ‘giving it a try.’ Only Mr Hayward, it seemed, had nothing to say. When the little group dispersed, he made his way alone into the little garden at the front of the inn; and after a few minutes, when everyone else had gone about their separate pursuits, Mary followed him.
‘You are very quiet,’ she said, as she came upon him, leaning on a stone wall and staring into the distant valley. ‘Do you still have reservations about the climb?’
He stared out into the landscape, with a preoccupied air.
‘I am not entirely happy about it, for all the reasons I gave you earlier.’
‘But now we have an excellent guide, which must relieve your mind somewhat. And if Mr Ryder’s impetuousness still makes you uneasy, Mr Gardiner’s presence will balance him out – he would never be swayed into attempting something unsafe.’
‘You are quite right of course,’ he replied, finally turning to face her. ‘To be frank, Miss Bennet, the excursion is not my principal concern at present. My thoughts are elsewhere this morning.’
Mary was surprised to see how low-spirited he appeared. For the first time since they had met, his usual liveliness seemed quite extinguished. His obvious unhappiness touched her deeply. She longed to take his hand, and beg him to confide in her; but instead she merely moved a single step nearer to him and spoke in manner she hoped would convey the depth of her sympathy.
‘Is there anything I can do to help you?’
‘I’m afraid not. This is a matter I must resolve for myself. But thank you.’ He attempted a smile, with only partial success, wished her a polite good morning, and strode back towards the inn. Mary did not follow him, but took his place leaning on the wall and looking at the hills. Something had happened. She began to feel uneasy. She plucked a blade of grass from the stone wall and wove it between her fingers. Perhaps it was nothing. She did not move for some time, but stood there, reflecting, until the cloud came up, when she threw the grass onto the ground and went back into the inn.
Mary did not see Mr Hayward again that morning. She supposed he had gone out walking alone. The inn was quiet, most of the guests occupied elsewhere. Miss Bingley and her sister had strolled down to the lake. Mrs Gardiner had insisted her husband lay down his fishing rod and accompany her to Keswick. Left to her own devices, Mary fetched a book she hoped would occupy her thoughts sufficiently to prevent them returning again and again to Mr Hayward and his unaccountable change of mood. She stationed herself on a window seat, where light streamed in from the brilliant sunshine which had burned away the clouds. She found a cushion for her back, drew up her knees and began to read.
It was here Mr Ryder found her when he marched into the inn, fresh from a stiff walk, calling loudly for a cold drink. Once he had drunk it – downing it in a single swift gesture – he noticed Mary, tucked up in her retreat. He put down his glass and, with no greeting besides pulling up a chair next to her, peered at the book in her hands.
‘Evelina. A very suitable book for a young lady on her holidays.’
Mary swung her legs off the seat and attempted to compose herself into a more suitable attitude.
‘Really, Mr Ryder, you came upon me quite unawares!’
‘I did not want to disturb you. You looked quite at your ease,’ he replied, not in the least discomfited. ‘A little like a Dutch painting, with that old window behind you. Are you fond of Miss Burney’s work?’
Mary straightened her collar, very aware of his gaze.
‘Not especially. I have begun her many times and have yet to reach the end of a single one of her books.’ She slid a slip of paper between the novel’s pages to mark her place. ‘But I persevere. I am determined to enjoy her if I can.’
‘That is a remark only you could have made!’ exclaimed Mr Ryder. ‘You realise Miss Burney’s novels are designed to entertain? They are not a task to be endured, but a pleasure to be enjoyed. If you do not like them, why do you continue with them?’
‘I feel it is a failing in me not to like them as other people do. I hoped I might teach myself to appreciate them.’
‘That is not how pleasure works,’ replied Mr Ryder gently. ‘It cannot be forced into being. It arises freely from our inclinations, which are not to be dragooned into following the tastes of others.’
He took the book from her hand and laid it on the seat.
‘It is really quite easy, once you get into the habit of it. Come, let me show you how it is done. It is the most beautiful day outside. I suggest we take full advantage of it and walk about a little. Just in the fields below the inn. Down to the stile and no further.’
He held out his hand in invitation. Mary’s first instinct was to refuse; but outside the sun shone and the birds sang. Try as she would, she did not think she and Miss Burney would ever get on; and as Mr Ryder had, as she considered it, given her permission to dislike her book, she thought she might just as well leave Evelina alone. She knew she would like nothing better than to walk in the fresh sweet air; and closing her ears to the voice that told her to say no, she jumped up and went to fetch her hat.