When Lydia and her little family arrived at the inn, Lizzy at once spirited our sister away while Mr. Darcy and Mr. Walsh took Captain Mason in hand. Lydia had passed the baby to me after Elizabeth hugged and kissed the niece she’d never met, and I held her in my lap to play pat-a-cake and peekaboo. Although Fee seemed perfectly happy with me, there was nothing in her behavior to suggest she remembered me. Every so often, I glanced toward my sisters. Lydia’s countenance had grown flushed, and she seemed agitated. Lizzy’s face bore a stern expression, and her hand gripped Lydia’s arm firmly. I had no doubt she was telling her how I had suffered and demanding she behave with decorum.
On the whole, she did. Such was the state of my emotions, I took no note of what she said, but only wished to observe her with Felicity, to try to judge if she truly had developed those motherly qualities which she previously had lacked. As the evening wore on, however, Lydia couldn’t resist a few unkind remarks. “Mary is not in spirits,” she said, and later, “I declare, Mary, you are duller than usual tonight.” To my astonishment, I heard Captain Mason say softly, “Lydia, that is unkind.” She quickly lowered her head, so I couldn’t see her expression.
With that, Mr. Darcy scooted his chair back and rose. “It has been a long and trying day, especially for Elizabeth and Mary. Perhaps it is time to say good-bye.”
Lizzy was staring pointedly at Lydia, whose face bore a petulant look. “May I have a private word with you, Mary?” she asked after a moment.
Startled, I nodded my assent and we moved to one corner of the room. Mr. Darcy and Henry had engaged Captain Mason in conversation, while Lizzy entertained Fee. I waited for Lydia to speak.
She wouldn’t look at me. Her words were rushed and her color heightened. “I only wanted to say thank you, Mary, for all you did for me and Felicity. Even though I think it was horrid bad of you to try to take her away from me, I know I could never have managed without your help. So, I am grateful to you for it.”
“Taking care of Fee was a privilege.” I felt myself choking up but blinked back the tears. “She’s a wonderful child, and I shall miss her very much.” I was strongly tempted to dole out some advice regarding Felicity’s care but concluded Lydia now knew more about that than I. “I wish you happy in your new life in America. You will write, of course.” She kissed my cheek and, without giving me a chance to do likewise, scurried back to the others.
Lydia made as if to take Fee from Elizabeth, but before she could do so, I asked, “May I hold her a moment, just to say good-bye?” Lydia’s lips thinned, but she stepped aside so I could take the baby from Lizzy’s outstretched arms. I walked toward the far end of the room, rubbing my cheek against her dark curls.
I was not Felicity’s mother, and yet my whole being cried out that I was. That it was not right for Lydia to separate me from her. When I had arrived at Longbourn after Fee’s birth, broken and dispirited, it was Fee who made me whole again. She who, by the mere fact of her existence, showed me how I might get on with my life. Felicity had proved to me that no matter how low one’s spirits may sink, life holds something in safekeeping to present at the most fortuitous moment. She had filled the emptiness in me with her innocent and trusting love, and I prayed I had given her that gift in return. I would give her up to Lydia, as indeed I must, but I would hold her in my heart forever.
Tears streamed down my face, dripping onto the bodice of my gown. I felt a gentle arm slide around my shoulders, and Lizzy was there, comforting me, her voice sounding a little wobbly. “Come, dearest, it is time to let go. Dry your tears.” She blotted my face with a handkerchief.
I inhaled an audible breath and, with a supreme effort of will, regained my composure. I could not allow Lydia to see my anguish, the true depth of my sorrow. She was taking Fee to America, and there was nothing I could do but accept it. “I’m ready,” I said, and placed Fee in Lizzy’s arms.
Within moments they were gone. And there we sat, Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy, Henry, and I, in the private dining parlor of the Twin Anchors, drained and silent. The clatter of plates, glasses, and serving dishes being cleared by the servants barely penetrated my fog. Certain the others were worried about me, concerned for my feelings, I thought perhaps I should be the one to speak first.
I glanced up, catching Elizabeth’s eyes. “It’s true, what Papa and Kitty said about Lydia. She has settled into motherhood, and in a most natural way. She can even eat while Fee bounces about on her lap or falls asleep on her shoulder! Instead of depending on someone else to see to her daughter’s needs, she takes care of them herself. One can tell Felicity trusts her, loves her.” A throbbing ache in my throat stopped me for a moment. “Lydia must be given credit for making such strides.” I rose and walked over to the windows, staring into darkness. I wanted to hide the pain I knew must have shown in my eyes.
“I suppose we must give credit where it is due,” Elizabeth said. “She is a different person with Felicity than what Jane had described. But overall, Lydia’s behavior, her manners, continues to be wanting.”
“I thought her not as uncontrolled in her behavior as in the past,” Mr. Darcy said.
“Perhaps the influence of Captain Mason had something to do with that,” I said, returning to the table.
Henry, who had remained quiet during this exchange, now said, “She is so unlike the rest of you.” He spoke so softly, he almost seemed to be talking to himself. Then he looked at us squarely. “My pardon, but I can hardly credit that she is from the same family.”
Mr. Darcy chuckled, but Elizabeth and I glanced at each other, unable to hide our chagrin.
“Forgive me,” Henry said when he noticed our unease. “I should not have spoken.”
“Please, say no more. We understand.” I turned to Elizabeth. “If you wouldn’t mind telling me, Lizzy, I should like to know what was said between you and Lydia.”
“Oh, Mary, are you sure? She made some quite unjust accusations against you.”
“I expect I heard some of them already, when we met them in the park, so it should not be too shocking.”
“Mary has a right to know,” Mr. Darcy said, a gentle prompt to his wife.
“The chief of it was that you had tried to make yourself into Felicity’s mother, pushing Lydia aside whenever you could, never allowing her to perform any care of the baby except feedings.”
She paused, no doubt considering if I could bear hearing the rest.
“Go on.”
“When I reminded her of her seeming indifference to the child, she agreed it was true at first, but said that long after she had gotten over it, you continued in the same manner.”
“That is nearly word for word what she said to me in the park,” I said, looking toward Henry, who nodded his agreement. I supposed I needed not own to the truth. I could let them believe I was the injured party, completely innocent of the charges laid against me by Lydia. Instead, I shocked them all by saying, “There are some parts of her account with which I cannot take exception.”
Elizabeth furrowed her brows. “But Mary—”
I held up a staying hand. “Hear me out. I must make a clean breast of it.” Now they were all silent attention, three sets of eyes fixed on me. “As you know, Lydia did not take easily to motherhood.” I laughed a little at the memory. “When I look back, I wonder how we survived those first few months, with Lydia so completely withdrawn and myself so ignorant. If Jane had not been there for the first weeks, I don’t know how we would have managed.
“For the longest time, I did everything in my power to force Lydia to be a mother to Fee, but nothing worked. In the end, it was simpler to do everything myself. After a time, I began to believe I was her rightful mother. When at last Lydia started to show an interest in Felicity, I was immediately resentful and jealous. I wasn’t proud of those feelings but couldn’t seem to overcome them.”
“That was only natural—” my sister broke in.
“Let me finish, Lizzy.” Thank God nobody knew I’d put the baby to my breast. That was surely not natural, and I’d never tell another living soul. I hesitated about saying what I had to say next with Henry present, but there was really no point in hiding anything else from him. “At the time, I was desperate for love, and Felicity loved me! We loved each other.” I glanced up, catching Lizzy’s eyes. They shone with tears.
“I harbored dreams of raising her myself. I’m afraid I did not encourage Lydia’s efforts, so she reverted back to her coldness toward Felicity. I blame myself for that.”
“Given the situation, I believe you take too much blame upon yourself, Mary,” Elizabeth said.
“Perhaps. In all fairness, however, I was at least partly to blame for Lydia’s poor mothering and her disinterest in Felicity. The fact that she has grown to love her daughter, and taken full responsibility for her care, proves my point. She may have done so sooner if not for me.”
An awkward silence prevailed. I risked a quick glance at Henry. He was looking back at me with eyes full of sadness and something more. Pity, I thought. That was probably the only emotion he felt toward me now, or was ever likely to in the future.
“I know what I did was wrong, and I apologize to all of you for allowing you to think the fault was Lydia’s alone. At the time I deceived myself into believing I was the better person to be a mother to Felicity.” I dipped my head, unable to look at any of them directly. It was not an easy thing to admit one’s failings to others, especially those so well loved. Looking up, I said, “It is only since this latest crisis that I’ve had time to reflect upon my actions, and I now see I was wrong. Lydia seems to love Fee, and that is a great comfort to me.”
“I think we all believed her sincere in that regard,” Mr. Darcy said.
“Will you be all right, Mary?” Elizabeth asked.
“She will in time,” Henry Walsh said, quite unexpectedly, with the same blend of sorrow and pity in his gaze, evoking in me the feeling that he understood better than anyone else what I was suffering. He’d had to endure long separations from Amelia, after all. He was the only one present who knew what that was like.
My lower lip trembled. I glanced at him before I answered. “Yes, in time I will be all right. And it is one thing I have a great deal of.” I rose. “If you will excuse me, I must retire before I collapse.” I managed a smile, to let them know I was joking.
Elizabeth jumped up. “I’ll help you prepare for bed.”
“Thank you, but no. I’m quite all right on my own.”
I made my way out of the now-suffocating parlor and began climbing the steps to my chamber. I could hear the others speaking in low voices. At least they weren’t talking about me. Mr. Darcy said, “We must get word to Bingley.”
“Jane too,” Lizzy said. “And Papa.”
After that, they were out of earshot. When I finally crawled into bed, one thought, one horrifying truth, filled my mind.
I would never see Felicity again.
On the way home, Elizabeth and I rode in the chaise, while the men, who had traveled to Bristol on horseback, rode alongside. After an hour or so of desultory conversation, Lizzy nodded off. In her condition, she was probably exhausted. She and Mr. Darcy had been so kind during this ordeal. How could I ever repay them?
I thought of a line from Macbeth, “Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care,” and acknowledged the truth of it. I didn’t feel as sad as I had expected. I had slept well and deeply. Although I knew the pain of losing Felicity would always be with me, I was not torn asunder by it. With time, as Henry had pointed out, I would be all right.
And what was I to do with my time? That was a conundrum. Even worse than losing Fee was the prospect of returning to Longbourn and living out my life with my parents, with periodic visits to my married sisters to help at births, nurse the sick, and stay with the children while their parents journeyed to interesting places. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my sisters and their husbands and children. It was simply that I wanted more from my life. If I was not to be married and have a family of my own, what else could I do? I felt very keenly the desire to earn some money of my own, to not be dependent on my father for the remainder of his life, and my sisters after he was gone.
Opportunities of employment for genteel women were extremely limited. Companion to elderly widows, or to young girls who, for a variety of reasons, needed a chaperone. Teacher at a private girls’ school, or governess in someone’s home. Granted, there were some women in trade—dressmakers, milliners, shopkeepers—but I had no skills for anything in that realm, never mind the disgrace my family would feel.
In a school, I could get by with teaching only the subjects in which I was well versed, such as literature and music. None of us had ever learned to draw, nor did I know French or Latin. This would be a drawback for a governess position, although in well-heeled families, masters often provided tutoring to supplement what the governess taught.
How did one go about finding such a position? The only way open to me was to approach my aunt Gardiner. She and my uncle had young children, and no doubt counted other families with children of a similar age among their friends. I was sure my aunt would be sympathetic to my plight and willing to advise me. Her own children had a governess, but I recollected her speaking of sending her eldest daughter to a school one day.
My family would be the biggest obstacle, possibly insurmountable. If my mother and father raised strong objections, my aunt might feel it would be ill advised to help me. And I wasn’t sure what Jane, Elizabeth, and Kitty would think. Would it be embarrassing for them to have a sister employed as a governess? I sighed. In all likelihood, it would. Jane and Lizzy would probably wish me to come and live with one of them and tutor their children. Considering the generosity of Charles and Mr. Darcy, they would most likely insist on paying me, but I could never accept their money.
Elizabeth finally stirred, and after a minute or so came fully awake. “Oh, my shoulders and neck!” she moaned. “They are so stiff.”
I knelt on the seat beside her and gently worked my hands into the flesh of the affected areas. “That feels wonderful, Mary! How long was I asleep?”
“A few hours, no more,” I said, giving her a final pat.
“I expect we will try to make it to Gloucester tonight.”
“Yes,” I said. “But we’re slowing now. It seems too soon for a change of horses, though. I hope nothing is wrong.”
We pulled into the yard of a coaching inn, and when I peeked out the window, I saw the men dismounting. Mr. Darcy came over and lowered the steps for us. “I thought you might need to stop, my dear,” he said to Lizzy, who laughed. She took his arm and they disappeared inside. When Henry offered me his arm, I slid my hand into the crook of his elbow. Once inside, we asked for the private parlor and made our way to the table, situated before a welcoming fire. The innkeeper’s wife brought wine, cheese, and rolls. Until that moment, I hadn’t felt hungry, but the sight of the food whetted my appetite. I reached for a roll and bit into it hungrily.
“How do you feel today?” Henry asked me.
I dropped the roll like a hot coal. He thought I should feel worse, perhaps. Not like eating. But in truth, I’d eaten nothing for dinner last night, and very little for breakfast. I was ravenous. “I feel better than I expected to,” I admitted. “There’s an empty place here,” I said, pressing my hand against my chest, “but that may be from hunger. I’ve hardly eaten the past few days.”
“You’re looking far better today. Last night you looked terribly wan and disheartened, and there was nothing to be done for it.”
I was suddenly struck by his kindness in helping us find Lydia and Felicity. Although I doubted he would deny Charles any good turn, this went beyond the scope of the usual favors one asked of a friend. In some small measure, I suspected he had done it for me as well.
“Please allow me to tell you now how much I appreciate all you’ve done, Mr. Walsh. Journeying so far for what must have seemed like a useless endeavor. It’s the nicest gesture anybody has ever made on my behalf.”
He watched me intently. “I know too well what it means to be separated from a child one loves so dearly.”
I struggled to gain control of my emotions, and he paused a moment as if sensing what a fragile state I was in. When he did speak, he said something entirely unexpected.
“Could you not bring yourself to call me Henry? We have been friends many months now.”
I laughed a little, nodding my assent. “Henry. You were aware of how things stood when you were at Longbourn.”
“I couldn’t help observing Lydia’s disinterest in her child. It was you who cared for Felicity with all the love and tenderness one would expect from her mother.”
I choked up, and my voice sounded shaky. “Thank you. You understand better than anybody, because of Amelia.” And with that thought, my composure crumbled. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I lowered my face into my free hand. Henry was beside me in an instant, placing an arm about my shoulder. I laid my head against him and allowed myself to weep without restraint.
I was dimly aware of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy entering the room and quickly withdrawing. I raised my head, and Henry offered me his handkerchief. After blotting my face I said, “I have lately wept more than ever before in my life. Please forgive me—”
“Nonsense! Don’t dare apologize to me. Indeed, you have every reason to cry. You lost a beloved child! I perfectly understand.”
I gave him a quavering smile. “Thank you.” I held out the handkerchief, but he pushed my hand away.
“Keep it. You may have need of it still.”
We did not stay at Gloucester that night. Mr. Darcy wanted to travel as far as possible, so we would need to spend only one night on the road. Elizabeth vowed she felt quite well, so we traveled late into the evening. Although my sister watched me closely, her gaze a silent plea to enlighten her, I was silent. Emotionally, I felt too brittle. After dinner, Henry said he would be departing quite early in the morning and would take his leave of us tonight.
I offered him my hand, and his voice seemed thick with emotion when he spoke. “You have behaved throughout this ordeal with remarkable fortitude, Mary. I admire your courage.”
Stunned, I could only stammer out a thank-you. That he would think so well of me, the woman who had refused his offer of marriage, was too generous of him.
“We will have the pleasure of seeing you at the nuptials, will we not?” Elizabeth asked.
“Of course. I look forward to being in your company again soon.”
A quick bow, and he was off. I would not see him again until the occasion of Kitty’s wedding.
We had only been en route a short time the next morning when Lizzy demanded to know what had transpired between Henry and me the previous day.
“He most kindly lent me his shoulder to cry upon, as well as his handkerchief when I fell to pieces in the parlor. I tried to apologize, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”
“And last night?”
“He—he said he admired my courage.”
My sister’s eyes glowed. “Oh, Mary. You would be a fool to believe his feelings for you stop at admiration!”
“I believe he cares for me in the same way he always has. We are friends, and a friend is a good thing to have.”
“Oh, yes, do try to convince me you wish for nothing more than friendship from him! What if he loves you?”
I gave her a disparaging look. “He doesn’t love me. He admires my character and has compassion for me because of Fee.”
“Indulge me. For the sake of argument, if he said he loved you and he offered for you again, would you accept him?”
“Oh, Lizzy, you have asked me this before. I wish you would not harass me so.”
She cocked her head at me. “Do you think he came all the way to Bristol because of his friendship with Charles?”
“I do,” I said stubbornly. The temperature in the chaise seemed unbearably hot. I dug in my reticule for a fan, then remembered I never bothered with one. “Even if he did so for my sake, can you honestly think, after learning the worst about Lydia, that he would wish to be connected to the Bennet family?”
“And yet Charles, his closest friend, wed one of us disreputable Bennets,” she said, laughing.
“May I remind you, that was before we knew about Lydia and Wickham’s latest peccadilloes?” I smiled, though, because I truly believed Charles would have married Jane no matter what scandals had befallen our family, and the same held true for Mr. Darcy.
“You are purposely avoiding the question I asked, so I shall repeat it. If Henry said he loved you, and offered for you, would you marry him?”
I dodged it again. Leaning forward, I said, “Lizzy. Does it seem strange to say I feel at peace with all that has happened?”
She seemed taken aback. “With Mr. Walsh? Or Felicity?”
“Both, I think. I’ll always feel a yearning for Fee. I have a hollow space inside, where loving her filled me up. I imagine it will diminish with time. But when I view the matter objectively, without considering my own feelings, I know being raised by her parents is best for Fee.”
“And Henry Walsh?”
“Friendship doesn’t equate with love. Not romantic love, anyway. I can accept that.”
Elizabeth sighed, a look of frustration shadowing her face. “What exactly did Kitty say to you that caused you to doubt both your own and Henry’s feelings? You made a vague reference to it when we talked the night of the ball, and Jane and I wondered what you were speaking of.”
I shrugged. The pain of it had abated, and I didn’t wish to recall Kitty’s words. But my sister was staring at me, her eyes insistent, demanding an answer.
“She said I had no looks or fashion. That I was too serious, and men didn’t want to marry girls like me.”
“But that’s ridiculous!”
“I insisted Henry wasn’t that sort of man. Unfortunately, at the ball, it seemed he was indeed that sort of man. I realized there was some truth to what she’d said, and it stung.”
“And that was when your anger got the better of you?”
I nodded. “I’m sorry about acting like such a simpleton. I shudder to think how I must have appeared.”
Elizabeth raised a hand to stop me. “It was short-lived. I doubt anybody gave it a thought by the next morning. You do know, Mary, our love and esteem for you have been growing. I speak for Jane and Charles, and Fitzwilliam and myself. If only we had shown you how much we valued you—”
“You are not to blame, Lizzy. I was a foolish girl for many years. It’s no surprise my family had difficulty seeing me in any other way. I’m happy to have your respect and affection, but I doubt if it would have changed anything with Henry.”
She smiled. “You cannot deny that he recognized your best qualities. He liked you for your quick mind, your candor, your sweetness.”
“Oh, you cannot apply the word ‘sweet’ to me, Elizabeth. You know I am far from it. And I would remind you that because he admires my character does not mean he loves me. His primary emotion regarding me at present is pity.”
She groaned and eyed me irritably. “You realize you’re being irrational?”
“Perhaps. Isn’t that a characteristic of love?”
Elizabeth tilted her head and studied me. “So you admit to loving him?”
“I have never denied it. Now, may we please talk of something else?”
And even though we did, I could not get the memory of Henry’s face when he’d expressed his admiration for me out of my mind. Nor the sweetly tender sound of his voice. I wished I did not have to wait an entire month before I would see him again, although a reunion was likely only to bring me pain.