“We will walk with you,” said Jane fastening her pelisse as she came down the stairs and hurrying toward Mary. “I have had enough of sitting in the drawing room listening to Mama repeat herself. Not one detail shall be missed since even Papa knows the receipts to be used.”
Elizabeth giggled. “He has looked so pained to have heard about the preparations so many times.”
“Mama,” Jane poked her head into the drawing room. “Lizzy and I will go with Mary. We can stop at Mrs. Cullip’s about our gowns and buy some more trim for the baby bonnets to be included in our baskets to the tenants.”
The very day after Mr. Bingley’s ball, Mrs. Bennet had commissioned dresses for both Jane and Elizabeth. Between wedding garments, gifts for family, and the last few items to be placed in baskets, there simply was not enough time to construct the number of items Mrs. Bennet deemed necessary without employing Mrs. Cullip’s services. Even Mr. Bennet had agreed it was an excellent idea, although, he, like everyone else in the household, had tired of hearing the anxious comments regarding whether the gowns would be ready on time. Three weeks! It was not enough time. Six weeks would have been better. After the new year was soon enough to marry. Mrs. Bennet did not understand the rush. This series of exclamations would be followed by fanning herself and an ample amount of clucking and at least a half dozen oh my‘s.
In fact, Mary could hear the clucking of her mother’s tongue now as she and her sisters reached Longbourn’s front door.
Elizabeth linked arms with Mary and leaning close whispered just loudly enough for her sisters and Mr. Hill to hear, “With her nerves in such a state, Mama may expire before Papa, and then any of us marrying Collins would have been a waste.”
“It is a brisk one today,” said Mr. Hill with a smile that Mary was certain covered a chuckle at Elizabeth’s comments. He pulled the door open. “You will return before the sun drops?”
“We will,” Jane assured him. “Ah,” she pulled in a deep breath and released it. “Even cold toes will not diminish the pleasure of walking to town and not hearing our mother for the entire time.” She bit her lip and looked sheepishly at her sisters. “I know I should not say such. It is very unkind, I am sure. However, as the prospect of having my own home looms, I find it difficult to stay content here.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “You will still have noise at Netherfield unless Miss Bingley lives elsewhere.”
“Perhaps she will marry,” said Mary. “There must be some gentleman who would wish for her money.” There was, in Mary’s opinion, very little else that Caroline Bingley possessed that was of value. Miss Bingley was pretty enough as long as one did not attempt a conversation, for when she opened her mouth and began spewing her vitriol about how things were not done as they should be, her beauty faded. Perhaps, in London, Miss Bingley would have better things about which to speak. Perhaps it was just being discontent in Hertfordshire that made her so disagreeable.
“One can hope,” said Jane. “Miss Bingley did attempt to look happy for me at the ball, but she could not hear of Mr. Darcy’s engagement without a decided look of contempt. I fear I shall have to feel, if not hear, her displeasure since my sister had the audacity to crush any hope Miss Bingley had of becoming Mistress of Pemberley.”
“I am sorry,” said Elizabeth.
The smile on Elizabeth’s face let both Jane and Mary know that she was not sorry in the least. While Jane and Elizabeth continued speculating about their new lives for some distance, Mary was happy to listen, but her heart was not above envying her sisters their good fortune, and, as a result, a small amount of melancholy crept in.
“But,” said Elizabeth after voicing some concern over being so far removed from Jane, “I may have Mary to keep me company. That is unless we can see her settled in her own home.”
“Do you wish it?” asked Jane.
“To have my own home? Yes, very much. I should enjoy the duties greatly,” replied Mary. “But, I fear, it may never be.”
“Oh,” said Jane, dropping Elizabeth’s arm and coming around to take Mary’s free arm, “why ever not? There must be a man of good standing who would wish for a wife as capable as you.”
“Men wish for pretty wives,” said Mary.
Jane blinked. “You are pretty.”
Mary lifted her shoulders in as much of a shrug as one could when both her arms are being held by her sisters. “To you, perhaps, but you are so good, Jane. You see only the best.”
“Jane is right,” said Elizabeth. “None of us is so beautiful as Jane, but none of us is so lacking in good looks as poor freckled Mary King.”
“Lizzy!” cried Jane.
“Freckled she may be, but she is not poor,” said Mary. “She will have ten thousand pounds upon her grandfather’s demise.”
“She most certainly is poor,” insisted Elizabeth. “She is marrying Mr. Collins. Not even twenty thousand pounds could make that any more bearable! He is so very odious and dull.”
Jane and Mary allowed that to be true, and they spent a few moments voicing their pity of Miss King before Elizabeth returned to the subject of Mary’s future. “If I am to help you find a husband, you must give me some information about the type of man you would prefer.”
“I am not ordering a dress,” said Mary.
Jane laughed. “No, a dress is not so important as a husband, for if you do not like the gown, you can give it away or toss it in the fire. You cannot do that with a husband.”
Mary laughed but refused to answer, so Elizabeth answered in her stead.
“If I remember correctly, you wish for a man of means, but his wealth does not have to be great. He must, however, enjoy discussing serious topics — at least beyond the weather. He must respect you for your intelligence and allow you to question things.” Elizabeth squeezed Mary’s arm. “Is that about right? Oh, wait! He must not be a clergyman.”
Mary nodded mutely, dumbfounded that Elizabeth had remembered what was said as they sat in the drawing room the night of the ball.
“And,” Elizabeth lowered her voice to a loud whisper, “there was someone of whom you were thinking. You must tell us.”
Mary shook her head.
“Then, I must guess,” taunted Elizabeth.
“Lizzy, if she does not wish to tell us, she does not have to,” scolded Jane before adding, “although it would make our job of finding someone similar much easier if we knew.”
Mary shook her head. “I do not wish to endanger a friendship by being thrown into his path.”
“We are not Mama,” said Elizabeth before leaning around Mary to say to Jane, “he is a friend. Who might be a friend of Mary’s who is also a gentleman?”
Jane’s eyes grew wide, and a smile curled her lips. “Oh, I do not need to guess. I believe, I already know.”
Panic gripped Mary’s heart. No one knew of her admiration of Mr. Hammond. She had never mentioned a word of it to anyone, nor had she ever acted fluttery around him — even if her heart always did.
“Do tell.” Elizabeth’s voice was rife with excitement.
“No,” replied Jane, “if Mary will not name him, then neither will I.”
Mary breathed a sigh of relief, but her respite was to be short lived.
Jane was not often the mischievous sort. However, it seemed much had changed since she had become betrothed, for with only a hint of a smile and in her sweetest voice, she added, “I must say, however, that I thought him very solicitous to you on Sunday when our mother was behaving so poorly.”
“Mr. Hammond?” Elizabeth gasped.
Mary’s cheeks no longer felt the crispness of the December air but flushed warmly. “You mustn’t say or do anything,” she demanded. “I do not wish to be forced on any man.” She stopped walking and pulled free of her sisters’ arms. “Promise me.”
Jane looked contrite for a moment. “I can only promise, Mary, that you will not be forced on any man. I am not my mother.” The slight smile from before returned to her lips. “However, I am not above arranging for a meeting where both you and he might be in attendance.”
Mary narrowed her eyes.
“I will go no further than seeing you in the same room,” Jane assured her.
“Nor will I,” said Elizabeth. “Although, having been forced on a man by Providence, I can say it is not so terrible a thing.”
“Well,” Mary folded her arms, looking first at Jane and then Elizabeth, “if Providence so wishes to force me on a man who already loves me as Mr. Darcy did Lizzy, then, He may do so.” She held up a finger as both sisters smiled. “But, neither of you is Providence.”
Jane sighed. “No, we are not, but we can ask Him to intercede, can we not?”
Mary rolled her eyes and sighed. It was probably the best for which she could hope. “If you wish to pray for me to fall into a compromise, you may — an innocent compromise,” she added quickly.
Elizabeth laughed. “Very well. We shall not pray for you to be seduced.”
“You may wish to pray the same for Lydia,” Mary added dryly before continuing on ahead of them.
~*~*~
Mary left Jane and Elizabeth at Mrs. Cullip’s door and hurried on to order the things Mama needed. She checked the list as she walked. Reaching the place where she needed to cross the road, she peeked up to make certain her way was clear before stepping into the street to cross over. She was only two or three steps into the road when a curricle driving at a rather a fast speed rounded the corner and began to descend upon her. Gathering her skirts, Mary raced across the road and had barely gained her footing on the walkway when the carriage passed. She stood watching after the curricle, feeling slightly shaken by the ordeal.
“Now, who would drive such a fine vehicle at such a speed through town?” Mr. Wickham inquired from behind her.
“I do not know,” she replied as she turned to greet him.
He offered her an arm. “Allow me to see you safely to your destination.”
“I thank you, but I believe I can manage on my own.” Mary had no desire to be seen walking the streets with a gentleman unaccompanied by her sisters — especially not this particular gentleman. “In fact, propriety says I should not accept your kind offer. Tongues may wag.” She tipped her head and gave him a serious look. “I am convinced neither of us would wish for that.” It was not a question. It was a reminder that she hoped he would take.
He shrugged and affected a casual pose, resting his weight on his left leg and folding his arms. “I cannot see how my escorting you from shop to shop would cause such a stir.”
Mary scowled. “I had taken you for a more intelligent sort of fellow.” She turned her eyes to her list. “Now, if you would kindly step aside and allow me to get on with what needs doing.” She looked back up at him, but he remained infuriatingly nonchalant and in her path. “Oh, very well. If you are so inclined to continue feigning ignorance, allow me to explain. My sisters are not with me. I left them at Mrs. Cullip’s. If I am seen walking arm in arm with you — unaccompanied,” her brows rose to punctuate the word, “it will appear as if there is some understanding between us, which there is not.” She silently tapped a toe inside her boot in impatience. The day was not growing any younger, and she had things to do — not to mention that her toes and fingers were becoming decidedly cold, and a few moments inside a shop would be welcome.
He smiled a slow, lazy smile at her. “We would not want that, would we?”
“No, we would not,” she said curtly.
“Although,” he said, his smile growing, “I would not mind having brothers as well to do as Bingley and Darcy.”
Mary shifted uneasily. “Well, Mr. Wickham, if you will not move, I will have to take my chances crossing the road again and go find my sisters.”
He chuckled and finally stepped to the side to allow her passage.
Mary huffed. “Truly you are a most perverse man,” she muttered as she passed him.
He grabbed her by the arm. “I would mind my tongue if I were you.” His tone was nearly as pleasant as it had been a moment before, but his eyes spoke darkly, causing a shiver to skitter up her spine.
Mary tugged her arm away from him. “And I would mind my manners if I were you.” She allowed the anger and frustration she was feeling to shine brightly in her eyes.
Again, he laughed, but at least, he turned and left her alone. She watched him move down the street for three rather loud beats of her heart before scurrying into the Mr. Elbeck’s shop and placing her order for flour, sugar, and tea. After a few minutes of standing in the warmth of the shop and rubbing her fingers to warm them while her nerves regained their calm, she peeked cautiously out the door. Confident that she would be accosted by neither curricle nor infuriating officer, Mary hurried down the street to visit Mr. Fitzhugh and order the ham.