I lay on the bed with Felicity asleep beside me, listening to her whispery breaths and the sucking sounds she made with her mouth. In the distance, I heard the clatter of carriage wheels, and a thrill of anticipation raced through me. Today was the day our guests were to arrive. The day I would see Henry Walsh again.
During the two weeks of waiting, I’d succeeded in banishing him from my thoughts much of the time. Felicity’s waking hours had increased, and I threw myself into her care and amusement. I’d given up my attempts to force Lydia to take more interest in her, having reached the point of feeling like her mother myself. I had put her to my breast several times when she awoke during the night. Miraculously, after a few minutes of sucking, she would fall back to sleep.
Felicity loved me. I could feel it in the way her hands reached out to explore my face, in her joyful smiles when she saw me first thing every morning, and in her nuzzling against me, so close I was sure she could feel the beat of my heart. When Lydia fed her, held her, showed her any affection, I fought against anger and jealousy, and an uneasy feeling that might have been fear of what was to come.
I bolted upright, my heartbeat speeding up at the sound of male voices out front. I moved quietly from the bed to the windows and pushed the curtain aside. A carriage had indeed pulled up, and from it emerged . . . Kitty! Mama would be surprised and delighted. Mr. Carstairs followed her. Charles and Mr. Walsh, on horseback, were dismounting and turning their horses over to a groom.
Mama was shouting, “They are here, Mr. Bennet, they are here! And Kitty, too!”
Footsteps sounded in the hall. That would be Lydia heading downstairs. She had likely spent the last hour preening while I lay stretched out with the baby. A sharp knock on the door and she burst in. “Mary, they’ve arrived! You must come down. Lord, you look a fright! Fix your hair and put on a different dress—that one is exceedingly wrinkled.”
“Shh! Felicity is still asleep.” She didn’t so much as glance at her daughter. “I’ll come in a minute.” I walked down the hall to my own chamber and hastily washed, repinned my hair, and hesitated over what dress to wear. I settled on a pale yellow sprigged muslin. It was cut a bit low across the bust, so I threw a netted fichu around my neck and shoulders. Before going down, I peeked in at Felicity, wondering if I should put her in her cradle. Although she was now able to push herself up and turn over on her own, there was little risk in leaving her in the middle of the bed. She couldn’t move very far. And when she awakened she would cry, and I’d hear her. I glanced once more out the window, where introductions were in progress. Lydia was shaking Mr. Walsh’s hand. I turned and dashed downstairs and out the front door.
Charles noticed me first. “Mary!” he said, planting a kiss on my cheek. He turned and looked toward his friends. “You need no introduction to these gentlemen, I believe.”
“No, indeed.” My heart was thudding against my ribs, so marked I was sure everybody would notice. Mr. Walsh stepped forward and I held out my hand. His hand, warm and so familiar, claimed mine, and I said, “How do you do, sir?”
“Miss Bennet. You are well, I hope?”
“Quite well, thank you. How is Mrs. Walsh?”
“Just over a cold, but otherwise fine. She sends her best.” His eyes were veiled, and I thought I detected a slight clenching of his jaw.
I turned to his cousin. “Mr. Carstairs, how nice to see you again.”
“Miss Bennet. The pleasure is mine.” His eyes were dancing, and I assumed he knew Jane had revealed the secret.
Kitty approached and embraced me warmly. “Hello, Mary.” Her face wore an odd look, a bit wistful and perhaps somewhat . . . repentant. I kissed her cheek and remarked upon how well she looked. Her eyes, too, held a gleam that spoke volumes.
Once inside, we entered the downstairs drawing room, and Mama rang for tea. “Please, be seated,” she said. “You must be tired after your long journey. I do apologize that at present we have no spare chambers to accommodate you. Except for Kitty, of course.”
Charles shrugged it off. “It is of no consequence, ma’am. My friend at Netherfield was more than happy to let us invade the premises. You have a full house here at present, I believe.”
The youngest occupant of the house made herself known at that moment with an earsplitting scream. What on earth? Terrified, I leaped from my chair and dashed from the room. Felicity never screamed upon awakening; she merely cried, and never in a vociferous manner. I heard Mama say, “Lydia, you had better go with Mary.”
I groaned, much preferring to see what had happened on my own. But I soon heard footsteps behind me and realized not only Lydia but Kitty, too, was on my heels. I burst through the nursery door, stunned when I glimpsed the poor babe lying on the floor screaming, her legs and arms jerking reflexively. “Good God!” I knelt down beside her and gently lifted her into my arms. “Are you all right, little Fee?”
“Did you lay her on the bed again, Mary?” Lydia asked. “If she’d been in her cradle where she belonged, this never would have happened.”
Ignoring Lydia, I ran my fingers over the tender skin at the back of Felicity’s head, then over her neck, torso, and limbs. Her cries had tapered off into little gulps by this time. Fortunately, she’d fallen onto a rug. Perhaps she’d only had the wind knocked out of her and been badly frightened, with no real harm done.
Lydia said in a cold voice, “Let me have her.”
Astonished, I gently laid the child in her arms. Felicity scrutinized her mother and resumed her wailing. It took all of ten seconds for her to be handed back to me. Lydia turned to go, but I called to her. “I’ll dress her, but she’ll be hungry. She always is after her nap.”
Lydia heaved an impatient sigh. “Botheration, can’t she wait for a while?”
Kitty sent me a look behind our sister’s back. “Lydia—”
“Oh, don’t you start, Kitty. You know even less than Mary about babies!”
“I believe Mary knows more than either of us,” Kitty said. “I was simply going to suggest you return to the drawing room, and Mary will bring the baby to you when she’s ready for her feeding. Will that suit, Mary?”
“Perfectly,” I said, and Lydia beat a hasty path to the door.
“She doesn’t seem to . . . Jane said she hasn’t yet developed motherly feelings for Felicity,” Kitty said hesitantly. Her hands flew up to straighten her coiffure.
“No.” My conscience wouldn’t allow me to lay all the blame on Lydia. “Perhaps it is partly my fault. I’ve been too eager to step in.”
“I don’t think so, Mary. Look how hastily she left the room, hardly before you had determined Felicity wasn’t hurt.” She had dropped down on the bed, and her foot swung back and forth. Clearly, she was nervous about something, and I thought I knew what.
“Yes. But do consider how long she has been deprived of company other than her family. I think she’s desperate to be in society again.” Why was I defending her? Guilt, came the answer, insistent and unmistakable. I set about tying a fresh nappie on the baby, who did not appear to have sustained any injury from her unfortunate encounter with the floor.
“Will you watch her while I find her a fresh dress?”
“Of course.” Kitty jumped up and fastened her eyes on Felicity. “Oh, she smiled at me! She really is adorable.”
I had walked over to the little trunk where I kept Felicity’s clothes, and when I returned, Kitty was looking at me in an odd way. From the glow in her eyes, and her inability to sit still, I could tell she was bursting to tell me of her betrothal.
She grabbed hold of my hand. “Mary, I have some exciting news.”
I smiled. “What is it? Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“Mr. Carstairs and I are engaged!”
I did not have the wherewithal to pretend total ignorance of the situation. “I confess Jane told me she thought you two might make a match.” She looked a little dejected, so I quickly embraced her and kissed her cheek. “I’m so happy for you, Kitty. I think he is a fine man.”
“Do you, Mary? I-I hardly allowed myself to become acquainted with him until after you left High Tor.” Her face flushed, but she went on. “I had so foolishly fixed my affections on Henry—he says I must call him by his Christian name now that I’m to be in the family—I had overlooked his cousin altogether. But I believe we are much better suited than Henry and I ever would have been.”
She hadn’t said she loved Mr. Carstairs, but her obvious delight at her betrothal signaled deep feelings for him. I tugged the white dress over Fee’s head and asked, “When did you first begin to feel an attraction to him?”
“After you left, Henry quit calling, but Andrew visited us every few days. He always had a funny story to tell me about one of his parishioners, or the things he and Henry got up to when they were boys. And he was so solicitous of my comfort. I felt more and more at ease with him, and after that, my esteem for him grew.” She smiled playfully. “It didn’t hurt that he was such a fine dancer!”
“I remember that,” I said, “from the evening at Linden Hall when we all danced. But I don’t believe you liked him then.”
I began pushing Felicity’s arms into the sleeves. We were quiet for a moment, and then Kitty said, “I’m sorry, Mary. My foolishness has caused pain for both you and Henry. I only hope it is not too late to repair things between you.”
I glanced up. Kitty’s head was tilted slightly and her brows were drawn together in a frown. Her expression was quite sincere, a quality not in evidence on the morning she apologized to me and then demanded I leave High Tor. I was astonished at her newfound confidence and maturity, proven by her willingness to shoulder some of the blame for the way things stood between Henry and me. Andrew Carstairs must be having a salutary effect on my sister. And it would have surprised me if Jane had not also had a hand in Kitty’s transformation.
I wasn’t certain, but I strongly suspected Jane had told Kitty of Henry’s proposal. “I’ve been foolish too, Kitty. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, and I am still not. Mr. Walsh and I parted on very ill terms. He expressed a good deal of anger and bitterness toward me. I’m not sure ‘repairing things’ is possible, or even desirable,” I said, picking up the baby and starting for the door. “Will Andrew speak to Papa today?” I asked, hoping to discourage any further questions.
“I believe he is doing so right now.”
We heard Lydia’s giggles on the way downstairs, and when we entered the drawing room, Mr. Carstairs and my father were indeed absent. Mr. Walsh and Charles were stranded with Mama and Lydia. Both men rose, and Charles immediately said, “At last, I have the pleasure of meeting my newest niece! May I hold her?” I passed Felicity into his arms.
“It’s surprising she is still alive, after Mary let her fall off the bed,” Lydia said in a scornful tone.
The room went quiet. I bit my lip, furious with myself because I could feel the cursed flush spreading upward from my neck. Now that I’d handed Fee over to Charles, I had nothing to do with my hands, nothing to occupy myself, so I simply stood there. Nobody leaped to my defense, and Lydia nattered on. “But she is the next best thing to a nursemaid. I declare, sometimes I believe Mary considers herself Felicity’s mama.”
That was too close to the truth to deny. I found a vacant seat and snapped out of my daze to see Henry Walsh studying me with kind eyes. He handed me a cup of tea, as he’d done on another occasion, at High Tor.
“Thank you,” I said, watching him. His look had swiftly reverted to one of indifference. He nodded briefly before walking over to Charles and taking Felicity from him. I gulped my tea, hoping its restorative powers would prop me up.
The drawing room door was thrown open, and Papa and Mr. Carstairs came through. “Well, Mrs. Bennet,” said my father. “It seems we are to have another wedding.”