“Did you share your story like we rehearsed?” asked Whit as he and Fred drove home from church on Sunday.
“I did, but I still say this plan of yours is not your best work.”
The two young men had shared updates on Nicholas’ progress with all who asked that morning. They had also spoken about the horror of the accident and the noble way that Miss Mary had organized for the surgeon to be called and Nicholas to be tended. They had occasionally slipped in a casual reference to the fact that she had called Nicholas by his Christian name and how she had stayed to make certain he was resting well in his room before she left.
“We have very few days to arrange a marriage,” said Whit. “It is not the best idea; I have granted you that already, but it is a plan. If he were not unconscious, we might be able to lock him in a room with her and force a marriage. But he is not conscious, so a bit of gossip about a possible understanding is best.”
“He will not like it and neither will Miss Mary. If we hurt her…”
“We are helping her,” Whit assured Fred once again. He had had to do so many times over the course of the previous day when they were practicing their tale and then again this morning as they prepared for church. The conversation continued in this vein for the remainder of the trip to Rosemoore. There would be a period of silence followed by some declaration of guilt by Fred and a reasoning away of that guilt by Whit.
Jumping down from the curricle, Fred once again began to voice his concerns. “It just seems there would be a better way.”
Whit bounded up the step and into Rosemoore. “We should check on his progress.” He handed his coat and hat to Mr. Fraser and, with Fred close at his heels, took the stairs two at a time.
“We could have just told him what we know. He can be reasonable at times. It might have worked.”
Whit’s hand rested on the door to Nicholas’ room. “He would insist on having all his accounts squared away, and she would be gone before that happens. We leave at the end of this week. Who will assist him when we are gone?”
“About that,” said Fred as Whit pushed open the door. “I was thinking I might not go to Bath. It might be best if I stay at Rosemoore. I can write to Mother and explain what has happened.”
“Do not write to Mother.”
“Nick!” Fred rushed across the room to his brother, who was sitting up in bed. “When did he wake?” he asked Walters.
“About an hour ago.”
“Have you sent word to the surgeon?”
“I dared not leave my post. He was threatening to get out of bed.”
“I am not ill,” Nicholas protested. It was a weak attempt, and he knew it. He doubted that he would be able to make it much further than the door to his room, but sitting in bed was not something he liked to do.
“Yes, you are ill,” retorted Fred. “Has Walters told you what day it is? It is Sunday! You have been unconscious for the best part of three days. You are not leaving your bed until the surgeon says you may.” Fred folded his arms and glared at his brother. “Whit and I will relieve you, Walters, so you may dispatch your messages.”
“More than one, sir?” Walters asked.
“Yes, a message to Longbourn to inform them that my brother has awakened and is doing well.”
“Of course, sir.” Walter bowed and left the room.
Nicholas leaned his swimming head back against his pillows, resigning himself to the fact that he was not going to be allowed out of bed for a while. “Why is he sending word to Longbourn?”
“How much did Walters share with you of what happened?” asked Whit, taking up his position of leaning against the bed post.
“He said I was thrown from my horse.”
“Do you remember it happening?”
Nicholas groaned as he attempted to shake his head. He watched the silent conversation that passed between Whit and his brother. “Was this your doing?”
“In part,” admitted Whit.
“We were racing and did not see you until it was too late,” added Fred, pulling his chair a bit closer to the bed. “I will tell you all that has happened as long as you promise not to interrupt me or raise your voice.”
Nicholas eyed his brother. There was something different about him. Typically, Fred would be dancing his way around whatever it was that happened in an attempt to stay out of trouble, but today, he was willing to tell all? “I will try.”
And so, Fred told his brother the full story.
“So, you are sending word to Longbourn because Miss Mary asked you to do so?” His voice sounded surprisingly calm even to him. His brother had just confessed to partaking in a scheme that had ended in death for one man and injury for Nicholas.
Fred nodded. “She insisted.”
“And you say she was here.”
“And at the scene of the accident,” added Whit. “Barked out orders for your care before collapsing in tears.”
“She was crying?” For him? Why would she be crying for him?
“You looked like you were dead,” said Fred.
“Oh.” Nicholas let that bit of information sink into his mind. He supposed that any female would cry if she thought a person she knew had died.
“She called you Nicholas,” said Whit. “Pushed her way through the crowd and held your hand until Fred had determined you were not dead.” Whit took a seat on the edge of the bed.
“Was she there to watch Fred ride?”
“No, she was there to gather her sisters. Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty were there to see Fred ride.”
Nicholas closed his eyes. He was having the devil of a time trying to piece together whatever it was that Fred and Whit were trying to tell him.
“There’s more.”
Nicholas opened his eyes and looked at his brother.
“I promised Miss Mary I would tell you.”
“Tell me what?” His mind raced with possibilities of what Fred might have to share about Miss Mary. None of those thoughts came close to what Fred shared.
“She promised not to tell you about the incident because she wished for me to change my ways.” Fred hung his head. “She was so disappointed when she heard that we had been racing for wagers when you got hurt. She sat right there on the edge of your bed and told me that gambling leads to ruin.” He shook his head. “I’ll never do it again.”
Nicholas thought back to the day he had been called on my Mr. Halward and the conversation he had heard in the library. “So that is how you saw her hair down and noticed her curves?”
Fred’s eyes grew wide, and he looked at Whit before nodding.
“You should close doors when you speak of such things.” Nicholas closed his eyes again. The pain in his head was not so great as the pain in his heart as he asked, “Are you determined to have her?”
“Have you not listened?” Fred asked in surprise.
“I have listened. She was at your side when I was injured. She inspires you to be a better man, and you find her desirable.” The last word nearly caught in his throat.
“You are a blockhead,” declared Whit, gaining Nicholas’ full attention. “The woman loves you, not your brother. She was weeping at your side when you were injured. She spoke to Fred about his behaviour as if he were her younger brother, and well…” He paused for a moment. “No, that’s it. I cannot deny she is desirable. Not so lovely to look at, perhaps, as her younger sisters, but when she speaks…” He shook his head. “There are few who can outshine her.”
There was a knock at the door.
“I assume that is the surgeon,” said Whit rising.
“Marry her, Nick,” said Fred, rising to follow Whit from the room. “Do not wait for the money to be in your accounts. Marry her.”
~*~*~
Mr. Bennet waited for the door to open. Mr. Sheppard waited with him.
“Shall I examine him first or do you wish to have your say before I do?”
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “There will be no more injuries after my speech than before, so set about what you need to do, and I will do likewise. Of course,” he cautioned, “whatever you hear is, as always, to be kept in the strictest confidence.”
“As always,” Mr. Sheppard agreed as the door opened, revealing a rather shocked Fred.
“Do not go far,” said Mr. Bennet as Whit and Fred slipped out of the room. “We might have a thing or two to discuss before I leave.”
Fred swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled as he closed the door and heard the lad whisper, “Not your best plan,” rather crossly to his friend.
Nicholas shifted to sit up in his bed. “Mr. Bennet, I am surprised to see you. Is there something I can do for you?”
Mr. Bennet took the chair that Fred had just vacated. “You know, it was not long ago that I sat in a chair next to a bed and discussed the marriage of one of my daughters. I do hope it will not become a habit.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Mr. Sheppard chuckled as he tested legs and arms, watching for signs of pain.
“I had quite an interesting conversation with my wife after church.”
“I still do not follow.” Nicholas winced at the pain in his ankle as the surgeon moved it.
“It seems that my daughter Mary, as shocking as it is to me, got carried away with emotion the other day and threw herself on you while using your Christian name.” He tilted his head and gave a small shrug. “At least that is the tale that is being circulated.” He crossed his arms and rested back in the chair. “Now, I also know that when I came to collect Lydia and Kitty, Mary was here in this room with you and your brother.” He held up a hand when Nicholas opened his mouth to protest. “I know you were unconscious,” he assured him. “There is also the matter of a gift that was given to her by your brother. Something, my wife assures me, Mary would not accept if there was not some kind of understanding.”
Nicholas sighed. “I have just recently been made aware of much of what you said.”
“So it is true?” Mr. Bennet asked.
“I assume it is to some extent. As you said, I have been unconscious and can only rely on what my brother and his friend have told me.” Nicholas paused while the surgeon rested his ear against his chest to listen to his heart beat. “The gloves were given to replace a pair that ripped when my brother caused Miss Mary to stumble.”
“That is what Mary claimed as well.” Mr. Bennet smiled. “My daughter does not often display emotion, but she has been a watering pot since Thursday last, and I suspect you are the reason.”
Nicholas felt his face flush.
“What I need to know is how to proceed with these rumors. They are small at present, and there is a chance that they can be stopped without too much damage to Mary’s reputation. A lady can become overwrought at the site of a tragedy, after all. And Mary will be leaving shortly after Christmas, so the length of time she would have to endure any sidelong looks and whispered comments would be short. However, as I am certain you can surmise, that is not the only way in which we can deal with these rumors. The choice is yours, Mr. Hammond. You are a fine upstanding young man. I would not be opposed to giving you Mary if you loved her. However, I would caution you not to choose that option if you do not love her, for a marriage of unequal affections is not something I would wish on either her or you.”
Mr. Bennet stood to leave. “I trust you will attend the wedding breakfast.”
“You do not wish to know my answer?” Nicholas asked in surprise.
Mr. Bennet shook his head. “Not at this moment. Such a decision must not be made in haste. The wedding is on Wednesday.” He paused before moving to leave. “I have not always done right by my Mary, Mr. Hammond, but in this, I am determined to do better. She is a good girl and will make you or someone else a fine wife, but she deserves happiness — something she has not had much of lately.” He gave a small bow. “Now, I do believe, I must have a word with your brother and his friend.”
Nicholas nodded. “Send them to me when you are through.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled and left as Mr. Sheppard began to give his instructions of what was and was not allowable to Nicholas.