Mary, cup of tea in hand, paced outside the door to Nicholas’ room while the surgeon attended him. Finally, when her tea had grown cold, and Georgiana had pled with her a dozen times to sit, the door opened, and she pushed her way past Walters and into the room.
“He will be well?” she asked, taking one of his hands in her own and rubbing it to warm it. “Would not another quilt be advisable?”
The surgeon shook his head. “I would not have expected you to be like your mother.”
Mary folded her arms and glared at the man. How dare he compare her to her mother! “If I were my mother, I would need some salts by now.”
The surgeon chuckled.
“Thank you,” Mary said to Walters, who was adding another blanket to the bed. “Will he be well?” she asked the surgeon again.
“He has injured his head, so there are no guarantees.”
“Are there any other injuries?”
“Nothing is broken. Everything moves well, but there are bumps and bruises, and his ankle is swollen. He will need to stay off it for a week or two.” Mr. Sheppard gave the directions and a bottle of laudanum to Walters. “For pain if you can get him to take it.” He gathered his things. “Watch for fever, and send word if I am needed. If he wakes, keep him quiet and watch for signs of delusions or memory loss.” He patted Mary on the shoulder. “He was fortunate to have fallen without twisting.”
Mary stared down at the handsome man lying in the bed. He looked peaceful and not in pain. She supposed the pain would only be felt when he woke. Fred sat down on the edge of the bed, and Whit leaned against the bedpost. Mary took Nicholas’s hand once again. It felt warmer. The blanket must be doing its job.
“Miss,” said Walters, tapping Mary on the shoulder, “your father is here to collect your sisters.”
“Oh, are they well?” In the commotion that had happened during and after the accident, she had completely forgotten that they were the reason she was at the race to witness the accident.
“They seem a bit shaken, but they are well.”
Mary nodded. “I will be down in a moment.” Her eyes rested on Fred. “I wish to speak to Mr. Fred Hammond for a moment before I leave.”
“Very well, I will tell your father and return.”
Mary thanked him and then turned to Fred. “What were you thinking?” she asked quietly. She wished to yell it, but such a loud noise in a sick room would not do. “You could have killed your brother.”
Fred hung his head. “I know. I know that very well, Miss Mary.”
“You promised me you would not gamble to get the money for your curricle.” Pain filled her heart and her voice. “I am so disappointed. Our agreement is void, I am afraid, but I will not tell your brother about that accident. You will.”
“I swear Miss Mary, I was not gambling to pay for my curricle,” Fred plead.
“But you were gambling.” Mary knew it was not proper, but she sank down on the edge of the bed next to Fred. “Gambling leads to ruin.” She looked at Fred and then Whit. “This is a very grave example of just that fact. Gambling ruins you and everyone around you. You race a curricle, and it is damaged. Your brother feels that burden. You race across a field and nearly trample me. My ankle still feels that burden.”
“I know,” Fred whispered.
“He cares for you, you know.” Mary smiled at Fred when he looked up at her in surprise. “He has not said so with his words, but when he speaks of you, I can see the concern in his eyes. If he did not care, he would let you run to ruin without a breath of opposition, and I think he does more than breathe opposition.”
Both Whit and Fred laughed. Fred moved his hand to rest on top of his brother’s ankle. “I know it is not the thing for a man to say, but I love him.”
“I am certain you do,” said Mary.
“I was gambling for him,” Fred admitted.
Mary’s brows drew together. Surely, Nicholas would not have had a part in a gambling scheme.
Fred cast a look at Whit, who shrugged and nodded in response. “He thinks he does not have enough money set aside to marry. He worries over expenses. I know I am part of that, and I wished to help him. He deserves to be happy.”
Mary took her coat and gloves from Georgiana, who had come to remind her that they should leave. “Then make him happy by working hard and living well,” said Mary, smoothing her gloves on top of her coat.
“Those are not the gloves I gave you,” said Fred.
“I know. I did not want to have to explain why I had received a gift from a gentleman, so I will wear these old ones until I go to town. Then, in my new surroundings, no one will think to question where I got my gloves.”
“You are going to town?” Fred asked in surprise. “For a visit?”
Mary shook her head. “No, to live. First, with my aunt and uncle, and then with my sister and Mr. Darcy.”
“But you cannot leave,” said Fred.
Mary shook her head again and laying the gloves on the bed, stood and put on her coat. “I must. I would like to marry, and my prospects will be better there.”
“But there are gentlemen here,” said Fred.
“None who notice me,” said Mary, picking up her gloves.
“Who would not notice you?” asked Fred in surprise. “You are beautiful, am I not right, Whit?”
“Indeed,” agreed Whit.
Mary laughed and shook her head. “No, my sisters are beautiful. I am merely acceptable.”
“My brother loves you,” Fred blurted.
Mary halted her departure and turned back. “No, Mr. Hammond sees me as a friend and naught else. No matter how I wish it were otherwise, that is how it will always be.”
“You love him?” asked Fred.
“It does not signify.” She paused. Her heart did not wish to leave, but it was as she had said: Mr. Hammond was merely a friend. Tears stung her eyes. “He is my friend, so will you please send word if his condition changes?”
Fred promised he would, and Mary, with a heavy heart, turned to leave once again.
“Miss Mary?” called Whit.
“Yes.”
“When will you be leaving for town?” he asked.
“Two days after Christmas.”
“Unless you are betrothed before then?”
Mary shook her head and laughed. These two were persistent. “Yes, unless by some miracle, I am betrothed before then.” She turned once more before leaving the room. “Send word,” she reminded them and then she was gone.
“I like her,” said Fred, “and not as you are thinking. She is quite perfect for my brother.”
“She is,” said Whit, “and how fortunate for us that she loves him.” He clapped his hands softly and rubbed them together. “Well, Fred, we have just over a week to orchestrate a Christmas miracle for Miss Mary.” He pulled a chair close to the bed and, dropping into it, blew out a breath. “Not beautiful? What idiot told her that?”
~*~*~
Mary dried her eyes again and allowed herself to be helped into her gown for dinner. Georgiana and the colonel had returned to Longbourn from Rosemoore with Mary, but after a short conversation in the drawing room — long enough to be civil but not so long as to be an imposition — Georgiana returned to Netherfield and the colonel accompanied Darcy to Meryton to call on Colonel Forester and see what was to be done about Wickham. It was not as if the gentlemen held Mr. Wickham in any sort of esteem, Elizabeth had explained to Mary later, but they did esteem Wickham’s father and Darcy’s father and knew that it would be expected that the Darcy family pay at least a small amount of respect at Wickham’s death.
“He certainly does not deserve it,” Elizabeth added as she fastened Mary’s gown. “The way he spoke of Mr. Darcy to one and all — no one would expect Mr. Darcy to lift more than a brow at the news of his death.”
“Then it is a wonderful demonstration of the character of both,” said Mary. “Nothing could prove Mr. Wickham wrong to any greater degree than to have the man he disparaged seeing to his final accommodations.”
Elizabeth wrapped her arms around Mary’s shoulders from behind and squeezed her tight. “Mr. Darcy said the same when Colonel Fitzwilliam suggested they owed the man nothing after all he has done.” She released Mary and turned her around in a full circle. “Aside from the red of your eyes, you are quite acceptable.”
“You do not need to attend the dinner,” said Jane. “No one would fault you for retiring to your room with a headache. You have been through quite an ordeal today.”
Mary shook her head. “Mama would be displeased. She expects me to be pleasant to the colonel.” Mary’s brows rose as she rolled her eyes.
“You do not like Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Jane’s eyes shone with mischief. “He is the son of an earl.”
Mary shook her head. Jane was attempting to lift her mood and for that she was grateful. However, the suggestion that she would be an acceptable choice for someone like Colonel Fitzwilliam was not so thankfully received. She had received her mother’s instructions on how to attract his attention three times in the past day with the last reminder coming just before her sisters arrived to help her get ready for the evening. “As I told our mother, he is the second son of an earl, and though not the heir, I am certain he is expected to marry well. I am not an heiress nor are my relatives gentlemen of influence. I will be cordial and all that is proper, but I will not put myself forward.” She paused. “Besides, you know my heart is currently engaged elsewhere.”
“You told Mama that?” Shock suffused Jane’s face.
“Oh, not the bit about my heart,” Mary explained quickly. “I would never tell Mama anything about that!”
“We have one wise younger sister,” said Elizabeth with a smile. “Shall we descend to the sitting room before Mama begins to screech for us to be quick because the gentlemen will soon be here?”
Mary laughed. “You are both very good to be attempting to lift my spirits.”
Jane hugged her. “I will not begin a discussion about how you deserve to be well cared for, or my eyes will be as red as yours.”
“Do I look very dreadful?” Mary asked attempting to take a last look in the mirror before her sisters pulled her away.
“No, not so very dreadful,” said Elizabeth. “Anyone with sense will understand your appearance. Therefore, it is only our mother and younger sisters that will be of concern.” And with that, they left Mary’s room and descended the stairs to begin a dinner party that would be less festive than Mrs. Bennet wished.
Mary had been seated next to Colonel Fitzwilliam and across from Miss Darcy at dinner, and now, as the card tables were being set up, she found herself being placed in a group with him. It would not have been so torturous, for the Colonel was a great conversation partner and master storyteller, but her mother was anything but subtle about the reason for Mary being thrust upon the gentleman.
“I do apologize, Colonel,” Mary whispered. “My mother is desperate to see us all married, and since I am serious, and your rank indicates that you are as well…” his brow flicked up in question “My mother’s philosophy,” Mary explained.
“I am happy to have such good company, but I dare say I would not have a chance of winning your heart even if I were at liberty to attempt it.”
“You are too kind, Colonel.” Mary’s cheeks flushed.
“Oh, no,” he replied with a wink, “I am never that. Harsh and stern and blustery but never too kind. I have a reputation to protect, Miss Mary.”
She laughed. “I shall keep your secret then.”
“I am ever in your debt.” He waited for her to be seated and then took the seat to her right.
Several games were played, and partners were shifted from one table to another. Mrs. Bennet was not known for her subtlety or sense in matchmaking, but she was a proficient at hosting soirees. It appeared to be her greatest gifting.
Mary and Colonel Fitzwilliam were now seated at a table near where Kitty and Lydia were making up a set with Miss Bingley and Miss Darcy. Conversation carried from one table to the next, and Mary listened half to what was said at her own table and half to what was being said at the table next to them.
Lydia was intent upon learning all she could of the latest fashions in London and agreed wholeheartedly with Miss Bingley that although Meryton was not completely without some sense of fashion, it was at least a season or two behind town.
“I do not find things to be backward here,” said Georgiana.
“You have only arrived and seen little of the inhabitants.” Caroline’s tone was condescending. “The Bennets do things much better than others. On Sunday, when we attend church, take note of the hats. You’ll not find a feather in the lot.” Caroline leaned close to Lydia. “Feathers are the thing right now, you know.”
“I do,” Lydia said with longing, “and I should have several if Papa would allow me to go to town.”
Caroline patted Lydia’s hand. “Perhaps I can take you one time. You seem to have potential that shines beyond this small part of the world. I think you could do very well in London with a little guidance.”
Mary glanced over at the table in time to see Georgiana roll her eyes at the comment. There was obviously no love lost between Miss Darcy and Miss Bingley.
“I do not own a single feather,” said Georgiana. “I find them silly.”
“Silly? My dear, you have a lot to learn before your come out. Silly or not, you will have to accept the trends or be labeled a wallflower.” Caroline lifted her chin.
“I shall wear what I like,” said Georgiana defiantly. “I would rather stand by the wall and watch others anyway.”
“Oh, my dear, dear Miss Darcy, such an attitude will not do. You shall never make a good match standing near the wall.”
Georgiana huffed.
Lydia sighed with longing. “I should love to see the soirees in town, but Papa will not pay for a season. He sees no need.”
“You poor girl,” Caroline cooed. “I shall have to see what can be done about that as well. I am certain taking an unschooled country miss, such as yourself, under my care and turning her into a sought after dance partner would be delightfully fun and raise my worth in the eyes of many.” She leaned toward Lydia again. “You must always look for ways to increase your standing. It improves the quality of the gentlemen who call on you.”
Mary could not refrain from rolling her eyes at the comment. Lydia, however, found the information enlightening and said as much. Did the girl not know she had just been disparaged? Mary shook her head. Such foolishness!
“I heard there was a race today,” Caroline said as she laid down her cards and took the game.
“Are there such things in London?” Lydia asked.
“Oh, there are tracks, but I have never been to a race. It is a gentleman’s game, after all.”
“It was rather exciting until…well…until it ended abruptly,” Lydia whispered. “And such a spectacle it was — horrendous, of course — but a spectacle none-the-less.”
“It is not something we should discuss,” said Georgiana. “A man died.”
Caroline patted Georgiana’s hand. “A bit of news is all we are sharing,” she assured. “Nothing more. These are the things that are discussed by ladies all the time when they are not with the gentlemen.”
Darcy who was seated next to his cousin and across from Mary cleared his throat. “Georgiana is correct, Miss Bingley. It is not something that she is allowed to discuss. It was a tragedy and should be treated as such. Find a different topic of conversation.” The topic shifted to music and dancing at the table next to them and thankfully remained on that topic until the tea table was laid and the cards retired.
Mary was thankful when the party from Netherfield departed, and she could once again retire to her room. It had been a long day, and her head hurt. She snuggled down into her bed and sent a silent prayer heavenward for Nicholas as the tears she had fought to contain all evening were finally allowed to flow.