“You are well?” Mary asked the question in a whisper to Mr. Hammond as she took her seat. His expression mirrored her own feeling of unease.
He smiled and nodded. “I am well, aside from requiring a crutch to get about and a few headaches.” He glanced at his brother. “Although I am not certain if the headaches are from my injury or due to the company I keep.”
“Likely both,” Mary replied.
“Indeed.” He noted how his brother’s ears reddened and his gaze dropped as Mary gave Fred a pointed look. “It appears that a good deal of conspiring has been going on while I have been recovering.”
“Not just while you were recovering,” said Darcy with a sheepish grin.
“I am very confused,” said Mary. She looked around the group of men.
“Shall I begin?” Mr. Bennet looked first to Darcy and then Fred and Whit.
“You are her father,” said Whit.
“True, I am that.” Mr. Bennet chuckled. “It seems that there are those among us who are as desirous to see you happy as I am, Mary. However, they are a trifle less patient.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “You are well-loved.”
Mary’s brows furrowed and looked around the group of men again. Fred, Whit, and even Mr. Darcy were nodding their agreement. The idea that these men cared about her happiness was pleasant, to be sure, but why they should insist upon sharing their sentiments now, when one of them should be getting married was rather perplexing. Certainly, this was something that could have been discussed after the wedding.
Mr. Bennet caught Mary’s uneasy glance toward the door to the sanctuary and sighed. “As you and Mr. Hammond both know, there are rumors which were started in an effort to force an arrangement between the two of you. There are those who were of the belief that each of you cares deeply for the other.” He smiled as Mary’s cheeks grew rosy. “We will not speak of that at present as such things are best left to be declared without an audience. Suffice it to say that I believe neither of you is indifferent to the other, and since I know that Mary is anxious to be free of Longbourn — for reasons that are both understandable and a constant reproach to me — we,” he waved his hand to encompass the group of men, “have contrived to purchase a special license. Should you wish it, your sisters are not opposed to the thought of you sharing this day with them — which is why this discussion must happen now and not later.”
“How?” sputtered Nicholas, looking at Whit and Fred. “You were confined to the estate. I know you did not leave.”
Fred shrugged. “Confined perhaps but not unable to entertain visitors.”
“I must take the greatest share of the blame for the license,” admitted Mr. Darcy. “When I saw how you looked at your brother when he was talking with Mary in the garden and then learned from Elizabeth that the gentleman Mary had mentioned when we were talking on the night of Bingley’s ball –”
“She was not to say a word!” cried Mary.
“Yes, I know. She told me that, too. I do hope you can come to forgive us,” Darcy added. “It seemed a reasonable chance to take, and Bingley agreed that time was of the essence.”
“You were going to leave,” explained Fred. “We could not wait.”
“I was agreeable to it all as long as no one forced the issue beyond the ill-conceived rumors.” Here Mr. Bennet raised a brow at Whit, who attempted to look chagrined but, Mary thought, seemed to fall short of the emotion. “So, we will leave you to discuss what is to be done about the license. Gentlemen,” Mr. Bennet motioned to the door at the far end of the room, which led to the churchyard.
In a moment, the room was empty of all but Mary and Nicholas.
“This is rather awkward,” said Nicholas.
“Very,” said Mary. Her eyes watched her hands twist nervously in her lap. She could not look at him. He knew about her feelings for him, but she had yet to learn if they were returned.
“I must apologize for the scheming of my brother and Whit, although I am finding it a challenge to condemn them for it.” Mary’s head popped up and her eyes searched his. He hoped that at the end of what he had to say he would still find it difficult to condemn Fred and Whit. “I have wished to take a wife for about a year, and to that purpose, I have planned. According to my timeline, marriage could be considered in two years’ time if the estate continued to produce as it has. And with the additional field from Mr. Bingley, I hoped to ensure my success if not advance my timeline. It was a well-thought out and arranged plan, but it was, perhaps, not wise.”
“It sounds wise to me,” said Mary. “One should not rush into marriage unprepared.”
Nicholas nodded. He had noted over the last year how he and Mary often agreed on the same course of action. In so many of their discussions, as they sat watching others dance, they had come to similar conclusions. He prayed that this would be another of those times. “I have come to realize recently that we do not always the luxury of time. Had I not seen the horses coming to the hedge when I did and attempted to slow and turn my horse, I might have suffered the same fate as Mr. Wickham.” Seeing the tears that gathered in her eyes, he took her hand, hopeful that he would be accepted and that she felt at least a portion for him as he did for her. “It is not that Rosemoore is not in a position to support a wife and family. It is and has been for some time.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “But I was being overly cautious.”
“No, you must think of your father and mother as well as Fred,” said Mary.
“There is no need to fear. Their needs will be met.”
“But what of their extravagances?” she asked quietly. It was not polite to mention it, but she needed to know. She would not have him place himself or his family in a precarious position no matter how much her heart wished to accept him without considering anything more than what it wanted.
He blew out a breath. “I cannot say that my father will not do something to place a strain on my finances, but he could do that no matter how much I prepare.” His thumb brushed back and forth across the back of the hand he held. It felt so very comforting to have her hand in his and to be able to speak to someone who understood his difficulties. This was not something he wished to risk losing. If she left, she might not return, and if she returned, it might be as a married woman. Neither option was acceptable. He had come to realize this fact not long after he had awakened from his fall.
“After I was thrown from my horse and I was insensible to all that was around me, it was as if I was in a boat on a lake. I knew the waters were calm because the boat merely rocked gently. As I lay in this boat, I heard voices calling to me from the shore, and I attempted to sit up to see them. However, a hand, heavy as a ball of iron, held me in my place. I could only lie and listen to the calls, and for a moment, I felt it too great a burden to distinguish one from the other. While I felt a longing to see who called, I also felt a desire to sleep and drift further away from the shore into a peaceful solitude.”
Mary’s free hand covered the hand that held hers. “Oh, Nicholas,” she whispered. How close had he been to being lost to her forever?
He brushed a tear from her cheek. “And then I heard one voice cut through the others — clear as a bird’s song on a summer day — and a warm hand held mine, much as it does now. It was you, and I could not leave you then, just as I cannot bear now to have you leave me. I have considered these things since waking, and I have come to the realization that you, Mary, are more than just a friend. You are something far more dear to me. You are my heart. Say you will accept me and the license that has been secured for us. Be my mistress of Rosemoore, my helper, my wife.” His free hand lay on her tear stained cheek, his thumb brushing away tears.
She lifted his hand and kissed it. “Oh, Nicholas, when I saw you lying there seemingly lifeless, I felt as if my heart had been ripped from my chest. And then, your brother said you lived, and my relief was so very great.” She shook her head. “I cannot explain it, but I knew at that moment that my heart would never belong to another. My poor father and sisters have watched me cry so many times these past few days, but not because I worried for your health — though I did — I wept at the thought of leaving Hertfordshire and you. I would be pleased –” Mary smiled through her tears, “No, I would be delighted to marry you.”
The door at the end of the room cracked open just as Nicholas stood to draw Mary into his embrace.
“Are you finished? We are getting cold.” Whit’s head poked through the small opening.
“Then I suggest you find the main entrance to the church and use it,” said Nicholas.
“But what is your answer?” Though Whit’s head still poked into the room, he was obviously struggling against someone who was trying to pull him back.
“I have not prepared to leave Longbourn,” said Mary.
“We have seen to that,” Whit slapped his hand in the direction of whoever was attempting to extract him from the room. “Fraser also knows to expect Miss Mary. Not a thing has been left undone.” He finally lost his struggle, and the door slammed shut for a moment before reopening.
“He is persistent,” muttered Nicholas. “What shall I tell him, my love?”
“Wedding papers?” Mary asked, peeking her head around Nicholas’ arm.
“All set but can be amended in a moment’s time. Your uncle is willing to do whatever is necessary, and his clerk’s replacement is not so bad a fellow — relatively bright.”
Mary laughed. “Then, find the entrance to the church, inform my sisters and the parson of the change, and have my father come escort me from this room — but,” he had turned to leave, and she waited until she had his attention once again, “not for about three minutes. Now, go away.”
“Right away, Miss Mary.”
The door clicked close, and Nicholas did not waste a moment in claiming her mouth with his.
Later, when a soft rapping came at the door, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I have never done anything this impetuous.”
“Nor have I,” she replied. “I am a cautious creature, you know.”
“As am I, but we should not be cautious to a fault, would you agree?”
“I would indeed.” She lifted onto her toes and placed one last kiss on his lips as the door opened. “You know, a fortnight ago, I had thought this would be a very bittersweet Christmas.”
“And now? It is but a week away.” He accepted his crutch from Mr. Bennet and released Mary to take her father’s arm.
She bit her lip as if to keep her smile from spreading too widely and her eyes shone with delight. “Now, it shall be the most joyous ever.”
“I do hope that there will be others that will outshine it,” said her father, “but it does me good to hear you say such. Come along. Your mother is beside herself with nerves at the delay. Shall we surprise her with this announcement?” There was a twinkle in his eye.
Mary nodded, and with a last look over her shoulder at Nicholas, left the room on her father’s arm.
Nicholas allowed Whit to straighten his cravat and jacket and did not even growl at any of the rather inappropriate congratulations Whit and Fred gave him. In fact, he had to agree with at least one, though he would not say it aloud. This would be one very Mary Christmas.