Mary’s Christmas Kittens #3
Mary nodded, too distracted by the warmth in his gaze to form words.
“We do and we will,” Aunt Gardiner supplied. “Mary is playing.”
“You play, Miss Bennet?” Mrs. Harris sounded pleased.
“I do, but only passing well.”
“Mary is being modest,” Aunt Gardiner disagreed.
Robert Harris caught Mary’s hand and bowed over it. “I look forward to your playing.”
“I did not think you cared for recitals, Robert.” Mrs. Harris’s eyes glinted with amusement.
Giving Mary’s fingers the lightest squeeze before releasing them, he said, “I find that, perhaps, I do.”
Mary fought down a blush as she watched the two leave, studiously ignoring her aunt’s speculative look.
***
Mary practiced diligently the rest of the afternoon and the following day, determined to play better than ever before, and she did. Playing for Robert, knowing he listened, somehow made her fingers lighter and more fleet than usual, even more so when she thought of the brief touch of his.
But when her turn at the pianoforte finished and she approached him, she took in tightness about his eyes and mouth and her joy dimmed. As Mrs. Harris and Aunt Gardiner spoke of modistes, Mary turned Robert away from them.
“You are unhappy,” she said softly. She knew it was silly, as she was not the heart of his world, but she could not help but fear he hadn’t enjoyed her playing.
He looked down for a moment, contemplating his slightly worn shoes. “My cousin has been all over town decrying me to anyone who might consider hiring me. They would not even reschedule the interview I missed.”
“I am so sorry. If only we’d arrived a moment later, you would have made your appointment.”
He shook his head. “But then Grandmother would not have Madame Duvéteuse back, and I would not have met you.” He smiled at her, most of the worry leaving his face.
“I did not tell my aunt,” Mary said, her voice very low. “But your cousin nearly rode me down in the park yesterday.”
Anger flashed in Robert’s eyes. “He is not pleased that grandmother is changing her will.”
“She is cutting him out?” Mary whispered. Franklin Harris deserved no less, but it was a small wonder he was livid.
Robert shrugged. “I do not know. She only said she is changing it.” An ironic twist to his mouth, he added, “I am not her solicitor, and I missed my interview with them, so I cannot say what she’s doing.”
Mary lightly touched his arm. “I am so sorry.”
He shrugged. “It will come out well in the end.”
“Robert,” Mrs. Harris said, catching his attention. “I know you are enjoying the recital, but I would like to return to check on Madame Duvéteuse and the kittens. I can send the carriage back for you.”
“No need, Grandmother,” he said, then turned back to Mary. “I have taken in the performance I most wished to see, and I have more letters to write.”
To Mary’s delight, he captured her hand and bowed over it, pressing a light kiss there.
Mary floated on a cloud of happiness even after they made their farewells. Robert Harris, she thought, liked her. Actually and truly. And she did not mind one bit.
Another round of music began and Mary went to collect punch for her and her aunt. Unfortunately, when she reached the table, Franklin Harris appeared.
“Miss Bennet,” he said stiffly.
“Mr. Harris. You aren’t as tall without your horse.”
He winced and Mary suppressed a smile. Maybe not as witty as Lizzy, but she’d definitely scored a hit.
“I behaved badly. I beg you to permit me to apologize.”
“Consider it done, sir,” she said and began to turn away.
“No, I-” He reached out and caught her arm.
Mary stared at his hand in shock.
He withdrew it but said, “I am sincere. Please, could we step into that embrasure for a moment? I wish to give a full and true apology.” With an ingratiating smile, he added, “I’m afraid I will torment you until you concede.”
“Oh, very well.” Mary moved to the half-concealed, slightly darkened area, though she made certain she could still glimpse her aunt from where she stood.
“If you would just…” he began, gesturing deeper into the curtained off space.
“No,” Mary said firmly. “Say what you will so we may never cross ways again.”
“Very well.” He grabbed her and kissed her.
A woman screamed, then shouted, “How dare you kiss my husband, you hussy.”
Franklin Harris pushed Mary away, his face smug.
She gaped at him, too shocked even to move. Everyone was staring at her.
***
Mary rode with her aunt and uncle in a state of abject misery.
They were traveling to Longbourn for the wedding, but had departed London sooner than they’d planned, due to Mary’s scandal.
It didn’t matter that her aunt and uncle believed her that she’d done nothing, she was still being bustled back to the country in shame, likely never to set foot in London again.
Though Aunt Gardiner sympathized, her greatest concern seemed to be containing the news until after Jane’s and Elizabeth’s joint weddings. Not because anyone thought Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy would be deterred, but simply not to overshadow the happy occasion.
But Mary’s greatest concern was Robert Harris.
She had not been given time to call on his grandmother, and she worried fretfully about how he would receive the news of his cousin kissing her.
Would Robert believe she’d encouraged Franklin?
Surely he was too intelligent for that, but he may not care who initiated the kiss.
Some men simply would not court a woman with a stain on her reputation.
Especially, perhaps, a man already struggling against his cousin’s defamation.
Robert did not need another black mark on his name.
When they arrived, Mrs. Bennet came out to the carriage and greeted her with, “Oh Mary, I know it was too much to hope for, but I prayed you’d return from London engaged, which I can see is not the case. Now I will have to find something to do with you.”
“Fanny, dear, she’s had a long day traveling,” Mrs. Gardiner cut in, casting Mary a sympathetic look before drawing Mrs. Bennet away.
“She looks it.” Mrs. Bennet’s voice traveled back to Mary. “I’ve never seen her look worse. Oh, how will I ever find a man who wants that for a wife? Although, Mr. Phillips said he might get in a new cler-”
“Tell me about the wedding preparations,” Mrs. Gardner cut in with forced cheer and drew Mrs. Bennet even farther away.
And with that, Mary fell back into her old life. The saddest part, aside from no hope of seeing Mrs. Harris, her furry brood, or Robert again, was that no one seemed to notice her pain. Even with so many of her sisters gone, no one noticed Mary.
***
Christmas day arrived with none of the usual cheer.
The house was empty with all the recent marriages and because the Gardiners were spending Christmas with Lizzy in her new home.
Mary couldn’t help but think they’d gone to Pemberley in part to avoid her and the disaster her life had become, and that suited her perfectly well.
Though she’d helped Kitty decorate, Mary felt no joy in the season.
When they returned home from church, before Mary could seek refuge in her room, her father said, “Mary. I would like to speak with you in my library.”
Suppressing a sigh, Mary looked longingly up the ribbon festooned staircase, then turned and plodded after her father.
Once in his office, he closed the door and indicated she should sit, then said, “Your Uncle Phillips is bringing his new clerk to Christmas dinner. Your mother wants you to impress him.”
Mary groaned. She didn’t want her uncle’s clerk to notice her. If she were to have the notice of a legal man, she wanted that of Robert.
“For once,” Mr. Bennet continued, “I agree with your mother.”
“But Papa…”
He held up a staying hand. “I have spoken with the young man, and Mrs. Bennet is correct. So go make yourself presentable. Ask Kitty to help.”
“Yes, Papa,” Mary muttered.
She did ask Kitty, and ended up looking rather well in one of Lizzy’s castoff blue gowns with her hair pinned up far more loosely than Mary usually wore it.
Kitty pronounced her lovely, and even Mrs. Bennet smiled, pleased, when Mary came down to await their guests in the pine bough and holly bedecked parlor.
She was seated by the window gazing idly out at lightly falling snow when the Phillips’ carriage arrived.
Mary’s aunt and uncle alighted, left the carriage door open, and started for the house, so Mary stood with the others and went to greet them, unable not to cast a sour glance up at the kissing bough in the parlor doorway as she passed.
She rushed up to her Aunt Phillips, in need of a Christmas hug, but her aunt turned to her and said, “Mary, be a dear and help your uncle’s new clerk. He has something to carry in.”
“Yes, Aunt,” Mary muttered, realizing her aunt was in on the scheme to see her make an impression on Uncle Phillips’ new clerk.
Forgoing her cloak, gloves and hat, Mary went out into the snow, trying to tamp down her tetchiness.
It was not the poor clerk’s fault she was being treated as a footman simply to force them to cross paths.
She nodded to the grooms who waited to take the carriage away and went to the conveyance’s open door. Since no one had troubled to introduce her, another oversight and aggravation, she called, “I’ve been sent out by Mrs. Phillips to help you carry…”
Mary broke off. Robert Harris sat in the carriage. In his lap he had a basket with two silver-colored kittens, each wearing a bow. “Robert,” she cried, then blushed for having said his name.
“Miss Bennet.” He smiled widely. “I have taken a position as a clerk with your uncle.”
“No one in London would hire you?”
“In fact, as my grandmother’s sole heir, I do not need to work.”
Though it pleased her to know that Franklin and Olivia Harris would be denied the wealth they so villainously attempted to take, Mary shook her head. “If you do not need to work, why clerk for my uncle?”
“To bring you these for Christmas, with Grandmother’s best wishes.” He held up the basket. “And to have the opportunity to properly court you.”
Mary laughed with joy, tears springing to her eyes. “I thought I would never see you again. I worried…” She trailed off. Why speak of Franklin’s terrible kiss on so wonderful a Christmas Day?
Robert set the basket on the seat aside and stepped free of the carriage. Reaching out, he offered his hands. “Then you are happy I am here?”
Mary placed hers within them, thrilled at the light squeeze he gave her fingers. “I am. This is the best gift ever.”
His warm eyes looking into hers, he asked, “Me, or the kittens?”
With another laugh, Mary could only answer, “Both.”
***
Mary sat at her desk, a blank sheet before her, to write to Aunt Gardiner.
Both kittens lay in her lap, one asleep.
Of the other, Mary could see only a little gray paw reaching up from the underside of the desk, tapping about, seeking something to pull back down to play with.
Those silver-toned paws had already snatched away one of the ribbons that had adorned them when Robert arrived, and torn the bottom of Mary’s first sheet of paper, and yet they were too adorable to curtail.
Mary dipped her pen into the ink.