Chapter 72
In the days that followed, Mary and Mr. Hayward walked with the Gardiners on the less demanding fells, strolling about the green shores of the lake and riding on the little local ponies, who carried them without complaint over the tough marshy grass of the valley paths.
The more they were together, the tighter the bond between them seemed to become, strengthened with every conversation, every shared smile, every small gesture.
Mary began to think Mr. Hayward must intend to declare himself—for what else could all his attention and fondness imply, if not a desire to be married?
It is very common for people who have just discovered themselves to be in love to imagine none but themselves can see their deepest feelings writ plain on their faces; and Mary was no exception to this rule.
She was confident her happiness was apparent to her alone; but it was hardly to be expected that her aunt would not notice.
Mrs. Gardiner had watched approvingly as her niece and Mr. Hayward grew ever closer.
She and her husband could imagine no better outcome than that Mary should be united to their friend; and their pleasure in the likely coming together of the two young people was unaffected and sincere.
Until now, Mrs. Gardiner had been extremely circumspect in expressing any opinion about Mary’s situation.
But now she began to feel matters were sufficiently advanced to allow some comment upon it.
She gently encouraged Mary to look favourably upon Mr. Hayward, reminding her of his good nature, so essential in a companion, his kindness, his lively intelligence, and his solid prospects in the law, which were so much enhanced by his recent success.
With a host of such delicate brushstrokes, Mrs. Gardiner contrived to paint a picture of Tom Hayward as the very model of a suitable husband for her niece.
Mary liked nothing better than to hear Mr. Hayward praised and was not afraid to let Mrs. Gardiner see the pleasure she took in hearing him admired.
She said little in reply; but secretly, she was delighted by Mrs. Gardiner’s words.
They suggested her aunt also thought it likely Mr. Hayward would propose to her; and that thrilled her with a pleasurable apprehension she had never felt before.
Mr. Hayward was in equally good spirits, pleased with every new hill and valley, talkative, amusing, always ready to please.
As a result, their little quartet soon took on an exceptionally cheerful character, tinged with the expectation that even greater happiness might be anticipated, if matters turned out in the way everyone seemed to hope that they would.
They were all in an excellent humour, disposed to try anything that might add to their pleasure; so that when, one night at dinner, Mr. Hayward mentioned that he had a new excursion to propose, he was heard with the keenest attention.
“I have been thinking about Miss Bennet’s desire to view the sea from the top of one of the great hills around us,” he began, “and the more I read, the more I am convinced she is right to want to attempt it. The prospects are said to be quite breathtaking, unlike anything else the Lakes afford.”
He brushed the crumbs on the tablecloth to one side with his napkin, produced his copy of the Guide to the Lakes, and laid it carefully before him.
“Mr. Wordsworth says there are only a few places which offer such a view, and it appears we are lucky enough to be near one. It seems to me this is too good an opportunity to be ignored—and that perhaps we might think of walking up it.”
He handed the Guide to the Gardiners, opened at the appropriate pages.
“As you can see, it involves a climb up one of the hills—its name is Scafell—and promises the most extraordinary sights from the top.”
“But, Tom,” cried Mrs. Gardiner, looking up with horror from the little book, “it says here Scafell is one of the highest peaks in England! Mr. Wordsworth calls it a mountain!”
“He does,” admitted Mr. Hayward. “But if you read a little further, you’ll see that it is not as demanding a walk as its height suggests.
The path ascends very gradually. And if the weather is kind, the view from the summit is the finest you can imagine—on a brilliant day, you can see all the way to Scotland! ”
“That must be magnificent,” declared Mary. “A true natural wonder.”
“And it would not be necessary to go all the way to the top to see it. Look, Mr. Wordsworth prints a letter here from a friend who has walked it, and says the views are just as spectacular from a much lower ridge. That I think we might reasonably try to reach.”
Mrs. Gardiner, still doubtful, handed the book to Mary, who fell upon it with all the enthusiasm her aunt lacked.
“Yes,” she said, “even from the lower height, it is possible to see the Solway Firth. And in the other direction, we could gaze upon ‘the mountains of Wastdale in tumult.’ We should be in the very midst of one of Mr. Wordsworth’s poems!”
She shut the book and turned to Mr. Hayward. “How could we go home without having seen such a sight?”
Mrs. Gardiner, however, was unmoved. “I suppose it may be done by gentlemen, but I cannot believe it is suitable for ladies.”
Mr. Hayward took up the Guide again.
“I have it on the best authority that, although he does not name her, the writer of the letter describing the climb was none other than Mr. Wordsworth’s sister.
She went up with a woman friend and their female servant and they made it to the very top, far further than we should go, without coming to any harm. ”
“But,” protested Mrs. Gardiner, “they may be experienced walkers, regular mountain goats.” She turned to her husband. “Do you think we should attempt it?”
“It is a tempting prospect. The chance to see something so remarkable is not to be easily given up.” He picked up the wine bottle and poured the remains of the claret into their glasses.
“But I appreciate your concerns. Before we decide anything, we shall take proper advice. In the morning, we will discuss it with the innkeeper and hear his opinion.”
Later, as Mary brushed out her hair by the light of a single candle, she felt nothing but pleasurable anticipation for what was to come.
She did not doubt Mr. Hayward would have his way, and they should soon find themselves on a majestic peak with a distant view of the sparkling sea.
She went to sleep quickly and although a few hours later, she was woken by the rumble of a coach as it pulled into the courtyard and the irritable complaints of the servants called out to attend it, the noise did not really disturb her.
She was soon asleep once more, quite indifferent to the bustle of the late arrivals and the fretful impatience with which they found their way to their beds.