Chapter Twenty-four
Mary walked slowly, some distance behind her sisters, watching over them. She had fallen behind so she did not have to listen to their complaints and insults. Lydia and Kitty had ruined her visit with Georgiana, who would be returning to London in only a week. She wanted to box their ears.
Taking a deep breath, she concentrated on the beauty of the autumn day. A peacock butterfly flew across her path, and she paused to admire its red glory. When it disappeared into the hedgerow, Mary continued on, skirting the sweet chestnuts littering the ground as best she could.
I am so looking forward to spending tomorrow evening and night at Netherfield with my new friend. I pray she has recovered from the upset caused by being forced into Mr. Wickham’s company. I am so proud of the way she faced down her tormenter.
“Mary?” a man called from behind her.
Oscar. My own sweet man—if only that sentiment could be true.
She stopped walking and turned around, her heart beating at an astonishing rate. “Hello, Oscar. How is your patient?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “The typhus symptoms are running their course. May I join you? I will keep myself an arm’s length to your side.”
Smiling, Mary gestured to her left. “Please do.”
After moving a little into the lane, he chuckled. “I should have brought a rake to clear away the chestnuts from our path.” He walked at ease, his hands in the pockets of his loose-fitting, black, unfashionable jacket.
“That would have looked odd.” Her remark caused him to grin at her. She frowned back. “You look tired. Have you not been sleeping?”
“Well enough. Your concern is touching, Mary. Thank you. Oh, and thank you for the book. I cannot wait to meet and talk the ideas over with you.”
“You are most welcome.” Mary caught her breath and gathered her courage.
Surely, I can be as fearless as Georgiana?
Particularly with a man I have known most of my life?
I cannot go on as we are. I must know if he cares for me beyond friendship.
She tightened her stomach muscles, put earnestness into her voice, and said, “I care about you, Oscar. I…I always have.”
He stopped walking, so Mary did as well. He turned to look closely at her. She dauntlessly met his scrutiny.
“I always have,” she repeated softly.
Oscar made a move as though wishing to close the distance between them, but then he stopped himself. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse with emotion. “Mary…oh, Mary, I feel the same.”
Mary’s insides melted with relief. She pressed one hand to her cheek. “Goodness. I hoped you would say that.”
His beautiful azure-blue eyes gleamed. Her beloved took off his bicorn hat—his preferred hat choice since it could be flattened and put under his arm when he needed it out of the way but did not wish to put it down somewhere—and ran the fingers of one hand through his golden-brown hair.
“I wish I could embrace you,” he confessed, smiling in a lopsided way. “But the typhus and the…” He waved at their environs.
Mary swallowed and felt a blush heat her cheeks. “Do you know…I wish you could embrace me as well.”
He blinked at her. “By Jupiter.”
A farmer and his rumbling cart approached, forcing them to shift off the lane.
Mary went a little ahead, looking forward to see what had become of her sisters.
She spied them disappearing through the Longbourn gates.
Mary did not want them interfering in this special moment.
Their mocking and finger-pointing would ruin her memory of this treasured time.
Mary returned her gaze to Oscar, and saw that he had stepped a little behind her, keeping his distance. Once the farmer passed, Oscar returned to the lane, and they began strolling slowly along.
“I do not have much money, Mary,” Oscar admitted in a cautious voice.
Mary sighed. “I wish I could say I would significantly add to your coffers, but I cannot.”
“Mother said we should not need very much money,” he confessed. Hastily, Oscar added, “I hope you do not mind that I spoke of my hopes to Mother?”
“I am not offended,” Mary promised. She brushed a stray lock of hair away from her cheek. “I like your mother and father exceedingly.”
“Do you think…do you think Mr. Bennet will give his consent for me to address you?” Without waiting for her to respond, he placed the flat of his hand over his chest. “My heart is racing.”
“As is mine,” she whispered, smiling shyly across at him.
“I have dreamed of this moment ever since I returned from school.” Oscar let out a ragged breath. “You were finally grown, and I could think of nothing except you—unless I was with a patient, of course.”
“Of course,” Mary said.
He stopped walking and stared into her eyes. “I love you, Mary. I will confess, now, that I have loved you since my boyhood. There was always something about you that appealed to me—my favorite of all the Bennet sisters.”
“Oh, Oscar,” Mary whispered. “Your words overwhelm me. I love you with all of my heart.”
Oscar blinked and sighed. “If not for the typhus, I would embrace you right in the lane where anyone might see us.”
Mary chuckled. “We must be sensible and set a good example. When may I tell my father to expect you?”
Her love frowned in thought. “If your father is willing to meet me in your gardens, I will come tonight.”
I can scarcely breathe. Dear Lord, help me remain calm when I wish to run through the fields like Lizzy does, laughing and shouting for joy.
“Very well, I will ask him and send you a note if there is a problem. Is eight-of-the-clock a good time for you?”
“It is,” he replied. “If I do not hear from you, I will meet him in the front garden at eight.” Grinning hopefully down at her, he asked, “May I tell my parents of our declaration?”
“You may,” Mary said on a sigh of happiness.
“They will be ecstatic.”
*
Aunty stroked her hand over Jeffry’s back, her gaze unfocussed as she stared across the distance. “Mary and the doctor…everythin’ is set. We don’t need t’worry about her no more.”
Jeffry tsked. “Before Lizzy and Darcy?”
“Aye, but not afore Jane and Bingley,” Aunty said, and she heard the satisfaction in her voice.
“What about Caroline and the colonel?” Jeffry asked.
“An understandin’ is growin’ between them,” Aunty said. “They regained their friendliness on the drive t’pick up Mrs. Inwood.”
“What will Basile do?”
Her voice dropped until it was low and menacing. “He will listen t’me.”
*
After his first quick perusal, Darcy reread the letter from Miss Elizabeth more carefully.
“Dear Mr. Darcy,
I am writing to tell you that your friend followed me into the milliner shop earlier.
I am sorry to confess that he made me anxious.
Perhaps I would not have been if I did not know his history.
That is difficult to know. However, I managed to evade him through the assistance of a friend and made it home safely.
I thought it would be best if you knew. He is audacity personified.
Kind regards,
L.
P.S. Jane told me her news, and I am thrilled for her and Mr. Bingley. Also, Mary is full of news, but her lips are sealed, even after she spent some time enclosed with Papa in his bookroom. I think she and the young doctor—an old friend—have declared themselves to each other. I pray I am right.”
The corners of Darcy’s lips lifted as he read the postscript. He folded the letter and placed it into his pocket, saying nothing to the others at the table. Darcy thought of the main body of the letter and wished dueling was still legal.
“When you are finished your tea, Georgiana,” Darcy said, returning to the table, “kindly show Mrs. Inwood to her bedchamber.”
“Yes, Fitz, I will,” his sister said, smiling sunnily.
“Please, excuse me,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder, “I need to see to my correspondence.”
In his bedchamber, Darcy sat at the small desk placed near to the window. He pulled forward a clean sheet of paper, dipped his pen in the inkwell, and began to write a return missive.
“Dear Miss Elizabeth,
Thank you for your note. I think you were wise to make your escape from this friend’s company. Please avoid him whenever possible. Keep Harry with you when you are out on your walks, for my sake. I could not bear it if you were distressed by unwanted company.
I am happy for Miss Mary, if you are right. She has been exceedingly kind to my sister and deserves every happiness.
Love,
D.”
Darcy looked at “love” and wondered if he should re-write the note and replace “love” with something more innocuous.
“No, dash it,” he said aloud. “It is time.” A knock sounded at his bedchamber door. “Come.”
Douglas opened the door and entered. “Are you finished your correspondence?”
“I am.” Darcy folded the note, sealed it with a wafer, addressed it and set it to one side. “Did you come to hear what happened this afternoon?”
Douglas pressed his lips together and nodded sharply. “Georgiana only thinks she is hiding her reaction. Those who know her will see something untoward has occurred.”
Darcy indicated the spare chair. “Something more must be done about Wickham.”
His cousin’s eyebrows shot up. “So that is the issue, is it?” He sat in the chair, crossed his legs, and scowled at Darcy. “Tell me.”
Darcy told him about finding Georgiana at Miss Elizabeth’s aunt’s house, facing down the blaggard, Wickham.
“He was there with two of his fellow officers. The youngest Bennet sisters had taken them to meet their aunt. However, she was not at home. The housekeeper attempted to chaperone them, but they are wild to a fault. Fortunately, Miss Mary Bennet took her sisters in hand and ousted the two younger officers. We arrived before she succeeded in forcing Wickham to depart.”
Douglas cursed, and then said, “I am surprised, and pleased, with how well Georgiana has responded to such an awkward moment.”
“Meeting Miss Mary has been of great benefit to my sister,” Darcy praised. He rose and went to the bell pull by the fireplace. He tugged on it.