“This is much easier if you remain still,” said Walters as he attempted to tie Nicholas’ cravat. “One should not attend a wedding fete with his cravat all askew. It really is not the thing.”
“Unless you are a rake.” Whit grinned from behind Fred.
“The door was open,” said Fred in response to his brother’s glare.
“It was not open,” retorted Nicholas.
“Open, unlocked, are they not the same?” Fred sat in the chair by the fire while Whit took a place on the window seat.
“No,” said Nicholas, “they are not the same.”
“Sir,” chided Walters.
Nicholas turned back to face his valet and lifted his chin slightly.
“Have you come to a decision?” When Mr. Bennet had spoken to the Whit and Fred about their part in starting the rumors circulating about Mary, Whit had ferreted out the information from Mr. Bennet that Nicholas had until today to make his intentions known.
“She is pretty and can tolerate you,” said Fred. He was still unhappy that he and Whit had been confined to the estate until today. Nicholas had not wished for them to have further opportunity to add to the gossip in the area regarding Mary. “The last alone should account for a great many marks in her favour.” He grinned as his brother, much to his valet’s displeasure, turned and scowled. “You must admit she has also had a positive effect on me.”
“That is an important fact,” said Walters, his lips twitching slightly.
Nicholas shook his head. “And do you have any other opinions?”
“Many,” said Whit. “However, I believe you have heard them all over the past two days.”
“Whether I wished it or not,” muttered Nicholas. He had endured speech after persuasive speech by his captives because, as they had told him when he complained, they had no one else to speak to and nothing else of greater importance to consider. Whit had gone so far as to say that considering whether Nicholas and Miss Mary would get on well was, in fact, beneficial to their reformation. In the end, both Fred and Whit decided that while it was not wise to place young ladies in positions where their reputations could be ruined, neither considered that they had done any grievous harm to Nicholas. He was, they had said, cautious to the point of absurdity. Miss Mary was going to leave Hertfordshire, and there was not another lady in the whole county that would do so well as mistress of Rosemoore or sister of Fred than Miss Mary.
“I began drawing up some papers,” said Whit. “You will wish a real solicitor to look them over, of course. But based on what I saw in your books and the information I could glean from you and Mr. Bennet, I believe they are a good start.”
“You did what?” Nicholas nearly shouted, and Fred grimaced.
“I told you not to tell him. I could have taken them to Mr. Philips on the morrow after we had heard Nick’s decision. He may not even choose her.”
“He is not a fool,” said Whit. “Your brother is logical and sensible, are you not, Nick?”
“Oh, he is,” said Walters, who was smoothing the seams across the shoulders of Nicholas’ jacket. “I doubt these seams will stay as they are once you start hopping about on that crutch, but you are presentable now.”
Nicholas took the crutch from where it leaned against the wall next to the mirror. He had only been given permission by the surgeon to be out of bed if he agreed to use a crutch for a week and a cane until after Twelfth Night. It was not ideal. The crutch made it cumbersome to get around, but at least he was not confined to his room.
“I know it is not my place,” Walters said as he tidied things and prepared to leave, “but the consensus below stairs is in favour of Miss Mary. I only report what I hear, sir.”
Nicholas hobbled over to take a seat on his bed. He had stood long enough. His good ankle was beginning to ache from the excursion of supporting his full weight. “I have listened,” he began, “and your arguments were sound. I was even impressed by the construction of your case. I dare say, if you were to apply yourselves to your studies as you have applied yourself to convincing me of things I already knew,” here he smiled and flicked a brow at his brother, who rolled his eyes, “I believe, you would do well in school and have promising careers before you.”
“Whit has an estate,” said Fred, “he does not need a career.”
“Estate management is in itself a career of sorts,” said Nicholas. He sighed. “But it is not merely a business venture. It should be a life — a good and happy life.” He hefted himself up onto his crutch. “So, in light of that fact, I have decided you are right. Miss Mary would make an excellent wife for me.” He took a hopping step toward the door. “Besides the logic of your arguments and my own opinions, I feared if I did not choose in favour of Miss Mary, I would likely find myself locked in a broom closet with her.”
“A broom closet is much too confining and difficult to arrange,” said Whit, exiting the room ahead of the others. “But, she likes to read, and you enjoy quiet, so we had selected the library.”
Fred stood at his brother’s side. “You are not making this decision based on logic, are you? Miss Mary deserves more than that.”
Nicholas placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “No,” he said, shaking his head, “this decision, while it does make sense according to the logic you have set before me, is not a logical decision. Rosemoore would profit more from a lady with a larger fortune, and waiting another year at least so that my funds could be increased would most likely be a far wiser course of action, but I would not be happy. Mary would be gone, and you are correct that there is not another like her so well suited to me, and,” he smiled teasingly, “I cannot stomach the idea of my hard work being left to you.”
Fred laughed. “So you do love her?”
Nicholas nodded slowly. “I do, and it is a fact, I believe, I would have come to realize eventually, but –”
“But not in time?” Fred completed the thought.
“Yes.” Nicholas hobbled out of the room. “She would have been gone before I had come to my conclusion. So –” He stopped at the top of the stairs and handed his crutch to Whit as Fred wrapped an arm around him to help him descend. “I do not condone your actions — any of them,” he said sternly, “but I will thank you for the results if she accepts me. Otherwise, you will be sent to Bath immediately.”
~*~*~
Mary stood beside her younger sisters at the church. Extra boughs of evergreen had been brought into the church and decorated with purple and white ribbons, giving the room a festive look and a pleasant woodsy fragrance. Elizabeth and Jane, who waited at the side in the back with their father, looked beautiful. Mary hoped that one day, even if she was not so happy as her sisters appeared to be, she might get her chance to stand in a fine gown and wait for a gentleman to pledge himself to her. Hope flickered briefly in her heart before she could stop it.
Sunday, on his return from Rosemoore, her father had told her of his discussion with Mr. Hammond and had drawn out a confession from her regarding her feelings for that gentleman. She knew that today, if Mr. Hammond attended the wedding breakfast, she would know whether or not he returned them, for, her father had said, Mr. Hammond would not be accepted if his feelings were any less than her own. It was not right, her father had also said, for any lady as deserving of happiness as Mary was, to be married just to quell a few rumors.
However, Mary had heard the whispers this morning when Mrs. Long and Lady Lucas met her mother at the church and felt their looks of censure. Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long, as well as Aunt Philips, would not let any rumor be quelled easily. If Mr. Hammond did not accept her — a small commotion at the door to the church interrupted Mary’s thoughts. Turning, she saw a rather disgruntled Mr. Hammond entering the church with the assistance of his brother and Whit.
Hope flickered once more in her heart as he smiled at her and gave a small nod of his head in greeting. He took his crutch from his brother and then, straightening his sleeves, used the crutch to hobble to his place. She could see that his face was bruised on the right side, but aside from that and the hobbling, he looked well. She had heard he was recovering well, but not having seen him, her heart had not fully accepted the fact. However, now, upon seeing him, her heart sighed in relief.
“Why is he here?” asked Lydia, raising an eyebrow and looking inquisitively at Mary. To say Lydia had been a trial was to say that the ocean was a mere pond. Lydia had, at every opportunity over the past three days, made certain to comment in some fashion on Mary’s near swooning over Mr. Hammond and the secret gift of gloves. In her version of events, the gloves were a gift secretly given by Mr. Fred Hammond on his brother’s behalf. No amount of correction could change her mind. In fact, the more the truth was asserted, the more fanciful and romantic Lydia’s story became.
“He is a friend, I suppose,” said Mary.
Lydia smiled and whispered something to Kitty, which caused Kitty to cover her mouth to contain a giggle.
“He is handsome even with a few bruises.” Mary pulled her head away from her mother, who had leaned close to whisper this important information in her eldest, unmarried daughter’s ear. If only Mrs. Bennet knew how to whisper, the comment would have been easily ignored, but sadly, Mrs. Bennet was incapable of subtlety on any level. “Smile,” she hissed with a jab of her elbow into Mary’s side. “You cannot allow another chance to escape. The Lord knows you will not have an unending supply. That you have a second is miracle enough.”
Mary drew in a deep breath, trying to ignore her mother’s criticism that went on to elaborate on how it was unlikely that any man in town would be interested in such a serious girl.
“Mr. Bennet,” said Whit just as everyone took their places at the front of the church. Mary watched, curiosity suffusing her, as her father nodded and, after whispering something to Mr. Darcy that made Mr. Darcy smile broadly, left his place and went to have a whispered conversation first with Mr. Whittemore and then Mr. Hammond, who could not contain his shock, no matter how he attempted to school his features. Then at the conclusion of the discussion, Nicholas rose, and with Whit and Fred trailing behind, slowly made his way to a side room at the front of the sanctuary.
“Mary,” her father stood before her. “Come.” He took her hand and led her toward the same room where Mr. Hammond had gone. “All will be well,” he assured her.
Mary glanced over her shoulder as she walked. “Why is Mr. Darcy coming with us?”
“Mr. Whittemore might need his assistance,” replied her father with a chuckle.
“I am very confused.” Surely, they were not to discuss Mr. Hammond’s decision now when her sisters stood at the front of the church and the few family and friends who had gathered awaited the ceremony.
She glanced at Jane and Elizabeth. Jane was dabbing at her eyes again as she had been all morning. Tears of happiness she had said. Elizabeth was smiling as if she understood what was happening, and she probably did since Mr. Darcy was somehow involved.
“All will be made clear in a moment,” her father assured her. “I had hoped we might have this completed before now, but Mr. Hammond is injured and cannot move so quickly as he normally does.” He led her into the room and to a chair next to Mr. Hammond.