Chapter 3
“Where have you been, Mary-Hannah!” Mrs. Bennet screeched as she spotted Mary seated behind the tea tray, pouring out for any who wished to quench their thirsts with something other than the fine wines which Darcy had provided.
“You have no concern for my nerves! I have been searching everywhere to send you for the tea tray, but you were nowhere to be found! It is obvious that you are jealous of my beautiful Jane, as you will never marry with your dark, inferior looks and lacking conversation!”
“I was retrieving the tea tray, as you see, Mama,” Mary whispered, her splotchy blush doing no favors for her sallow complexion.
“I will take no sass from you, Mary-Hannah!” her mother bellowed and began flitting her handkerchief about and completely ignoring the truth of her statement. “Hill! Hill! Bring my salts! Oh, you have given me such flutterings!”
The poor, beleaguered housekeeper bustled to her mistress’s side, holding out her salts and a bottle of cordial. “Mrs. Bennet, why do we not go to the sitting room and rest for a time. You have done too much, ma’am, and need to breathe and calm yourself.”
“Yes, yes, you are absolutely correct. No one knows what I suffer. I do so much, and no one knows or acknowledges my exertions. Selfish, unfeeling girl! And to think that I shall be left with Mary-Hannah to comfort me in my declining years. I shall likely die and she will not even notice!” Mrs. Bennet wailed loudly, enjoying the attention of all her neighbors, sure that they felt just as they ought for her tender nerves as she flounced away to be soothed by Mrs. Hill and her friends.
No one comforted Mary as she sat quietly to the side of the room.
They whispered and giggled at Mrs. Bennet’s ridiculousness, but not one even met her eye or acknowledged the insults she had received.
Jane often told her that they ignored it all out of kindness to her, but she did not quite believe her.
They were obviously embarrassed by the contretemps, and, she assumed, cared little for her feelings on the matter and more for their own comfort.
Even her sisters did not care, and her father did little but laugh at them all.
“Are you well, Miss Mary?” a pleasantly gruff voice asked, shaking her out of her own head.
She frowned up at Sir William Lucas, who rarely spoke with her. “Yes, why?”
“You did not respond to my greeting,” he chuckled with his usual joie de vie. “This gentleman wished to be made known to you. Miss Mary Bennet, Lord Jonathan Lingley, Viscount Lingley. Your lordship, Miss Mary Bennet.”
“Thank you, Sir William,” Lingley smiled and attempted to look at her face, but she kept her chin tucked and eyes on the floor. “It is very nice to meet you, Miss Mary, though I suppose you are correctly Miss Bennet now.”
She did not reply but held out a cup of tea, which he took.
He took a sip, wondering what she might have offered to him without asking after his preferences.
It was a pleasant mix, with a variety of dried fruit and florals.
It was a perfectly balanced tea, and he hummed in pleasure.
Many ladies claimed to mix their own teas, but rarely were they pleasant.
They often liked to add expensive additives just for the prestige, which rarely tasted good.
“This is wonderful, Miss Bennet. Is it made here at Longbourne, or do you purchase it?” he asked, attempting to draw her out.
She shot him a look, as if assessing his sincerity before replying. “It is made here in the still room,” she whispered, flushing hotly.
“It is very well done. Is it your work?” He pressed, wondering what she might reveal.
“Does it matter who did it?” she asked, turning away to give another cup to one of her neighbors.
“Well, if it was Mrs. Darcy or Mrs. Bingley, then I should like to acknowledge their skill,” he grinned wryly, returning his empty cup.
“It is one of mine,” she admitted shyly.
“Your sisters said that you were very accomplished. I can see and taste that they are correct.” He gave her a wink.
“You are poking fun at me!” she declared, jumping to her feet. “You are no better than a bully! Leave me be, coachon grice!”
He was immediately gripped by a spark of attraction as she faced him fully for the first time, eyes flashing with fire and chin set in a cute little stubborn jut.
She was so darling that he did not even register her garbled French as he fought the urge to kiss her pouting lips.
As he admired her, he had not realized that his silence had grown long.
She snorted in frustration and called her sister Catherine to come to take her place before slipping away once more.
Her turning away finally broke him free from her spell, and he swore under his breath as she disappeared from view.
He made to follow but was prevented by a hand on his arm, and the familiar prick of filed nails which somehow seemed to penetrate all of the layers which were supposed to offer some protection from such penetrations.
“Hello, Lord Lingley,” Caroline Bingley purred as she stepped entirely too close to his person, making him shiver in revulsion.
“I have been wanting to speak with you all day. It was so clever of you to lead me to a quiet corner of this hovel. It is obvious that you hoped for some private intercourse between us. Shall we sit here beside the window?”
“Miss Bingley.” He bowed his head in greeting, disguising the sneer of disgust he could not help. “Actually, I was searching for someone, if you will excuse me…”
She tightened her hold before he could escape her, widening her eyes and pouting her thin, pale lips. “I shall accompany you then! With both of us looking, surely we shall find them quickly and be able to enjoy our tête-à-tête.”
Lingley swallowed his bile and attempted to disengage her talons.
Her left eye twitched as he pulled his arm back, and they nearly came to a tussle as she refused to release him.
It was almost comical, if it had been anyone else, and finally, he had had enough of her pursuit and made a decided effort to depress her pretensions.
It was apparent that no one had ever done so if she thought that such tactics would bear fruit.
He stepped close and lowered his voice, “Miss Bingley, there is not a single topic you could raise, nor words you could offer that would make me wish to spend even a moment longer in your company. If you do not release me in the next three seconds, then shall throw you to the ground and denounce you as the disgusting limpet that you are.”
Miss Bingley nearly tripped over her feet as she scrambled to put space between them, stuttering shrilly, “I— I— I believe that my sister is calling for me, I shall leave you to your search.”
She dashed away with unseemly haste as he chuckled under his breath.
Caroline Bingley was such a handsome woman with such an unattractive personality, he thought.
Her desperation made her even worse than she had been six years ago when she had first come out and attempted to force her way into the upper echelons of society.
He had been introduced to Bingley by Darcy the year before then and both men had warned him to keep his distance from the termagant.
He had taken their warnings to heart. Luckily, she had placed her sights firmly on Darcy, and he had been safe from her clutches, until now at least. Curse Darcy for marrying and releasing the hound, baying for blood.
Hopefully, he had redirected her hunt permanently.
Mrs. Bennet began to screech once more as he went in search of his friends.
Apparently the harpy could not stand to have her favorite daughter leave her so soon, though the newlyweds had stayed at the wedding breakfast for several hours now.
Not one word of the Darcys’ departure was mentioned, and he shook his head in disbelief that any intelligent man, at least one that could hear, would willingly marry into such a family.
When he approached the bridegrooms at the front hall, Darcy looked like a man in line for the guillotine as he was forced to listen to his now mother-in-law’s howls.
The brides were working together in an attempt to calm her, but the attention seemed to only feed her asininity.
“You had escaped this fate, Darcy,” Lingley muttered. “And you chose to return?”
“Do not remind me!” he scoffed under his breath.
“I swore to respect her family. I do not know if I can do it. Can you imagine if my uncle, the Earl, was here to listen to this? Will I have to present her with pride in town? Perhaps my Aunt Catherine might sponsor her presentation to the Queen! Between the two of them, she could not help but be diverted.”
Lingley patted his back in commiseration.
“Surely Mrs. Darcy would not ask it of you? Your reputation would be in tatters. No one would believe that you chose to tie yourself to such lowborn, mercenary fortune hunters willingly. You would all be laughed out of London, and your children’s children would be unable to recover. ”
Darcy snorted out a laugh, as Lingley had meant for him to, and winced, nodding toward the retreating back of Mary, who had been lurking unseen nearby.
Lingley winced as well, but shrugged at his friend.
Nothing could be done about it now, except hoping that she would keep the conversation to herself.
Elizabeth and Jane appeared a moment later, flushed with embarrassment and frustration.
“Truly, Jane. You must leave or she will never settle. Seeing you is only making it worse. Darcy and I shall stay and ensure that she is well. You have already farewelled everyone, and the carriage is at the door. Make your escape, sister!”
“If you are sure,” Jane bit her lip in indecision.
“Yes,” Elizabeth assured her, pushing both of the Bingleys toward the door. “Enjoy your wedding trip, dearest, and we shall see you for Christmastide at Pemberley.”