Chapter 29 The Fight
The Fight
How quickly things change, Harry.
Monday was one of the best days of my life. Pike was under control. Georgiana and I had succeeded. Our partnership had exceeded every expectation. There seemed no limit to what we might accomplish together.
Now, Harry, it is Wednesday, and everything is dust.
But I shall not let it stop me. You are still my friend at least, Harry, and you cannot betray me as Miss Darcy has.
Anyhow, she is gone, and I daresay we will never speak again. I shall have to think carefully about how to avoid future invitations to Pemberley. I do not think it will be too hard. Nobody wants me there.
Dash it all, why couldn’t she understand?
It comes of being rich, I suppose. And beautiful, and personable. Miss Darcy has never had to regard herself with the harsh glare of honesty and admit that nearly every part of what she saw needed alteration to make it tolerable.
She has never had to worry about her future. About her family’s future.
It all came to a head yesterday. I was walking in the garden, enjoying the sunshine, when Miss Darcy came pelting up to me at a pace that Quindley would certainly not approve in a lady.
“Trouble,” she panted.
My heart plummeted. “Oh no. What is it?”
“He’s here.”
“Who?”
“Pike. He says he wishes to see you. It must not have worked after all.”
Oh, no.
I raced inside. I could hear his voice from the parlor. If he was alone with my mother—I rounded the corner and there he was.
Not the monster I had expected to see. No black veins or black eyes.
Instead, here was Pike the young gentleman. As I entered, he laughed softly at something my mother said. She looked utterly gratified at his attention.
When he saw me, he rose to his feet. “Miss Bennet. Would you do me the honor of a walk up to the hill?” His eyes flicked over my shoulder. “And your companion, of course.”
At that I became aware of Georgiana standing at my shoulder. A glance back showed her staring unsmiling at Pike.
I curtsied. After a moment, Georgiana did the same. “As for a walk,” she said, “I am sorry, but we—”
I trod on her foot. “We would be delighted.”
I ignored her wide, staring eyes all through our walk to the hill and back.
His smile was as sweet as ever the blue serum could make it.
Really, she was being intolerable. She was barely civil, hardly deigning to converse with Pike.
Luckily, he had enough manners for both of them.
He managed to converse quite comfortably with us both, while still distinguishing me with special attentions.
I reveled in it. This new man, this well-bred, soft-spoken, kind Pike—we had done it! We had made him! Why did Georgiana not share in my triumph?
She also ignored several broad hints on my part to fall back a ways and let me and Pike walk alone together. What is the matter with the girl , I thought in irritation. Was she jealous? She could have a hundred Pikes with the snap of her fingers.
After my mother went to bed, I slipped up to the laboratory. I was not surprised to find Georgiana already there, pacing like a caged tiger.
“What on earth are you about?” she demanded before I could speak.
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think?” She wrinkled her nose. “You and Pike .”
I felt a prickle of sweat breaking out across my nose. It was hard to meet her scornful gaze. “He—We were successful. The ribs worked. He is better now.”
“Better!” She gave a hysterical laugh. “Successful! That is not what I mean, and you know it.”
“I do not know what you—”
“You’re letting him court you!”
My mind whirled with confusion. Why did she look so surprised? What did she think all this was for?
You never told her the whole story , my conscience whispered.
“I cannot imagine what has come over you, Miss Bennet,” she hissed. “A week ago you were elbow-deep in his entrails! Three days ago we were holding our breath to see if he’d hurt anyone else!”
“Yes, but he hasn’t,” I pointed out. “We fixed him. He has goodness inside of him now. Literally.”
Georgiana made as though to tear her hair out. “He’s dead!”
“No, he isn’t. He died because of me, and now he lives because of me. And we’ve made a splendid fellow of him. Who better for me to marry?”
She laughed, a harsh sound in a minor key. “I suppose you are right. He is handsome and rich, and half the girls in town are setting their caps for him. You will have pin money to rival your sisters’, and the finest gowns and carriages.”
“You sound jealous,” I said. I did not like the jeering tone in my voice, but I could not seem to help it. I felt as little control as the night I was struck by lightning. “Have you lost your heart to him?”
“Ha! Have you ?”
“Perhaps I have.”
“Oh, stuff.” Her face was very white. It had a stricken expression I had never seen before. “I am not jealous,” she said. “Not of—I am just worried about you. You cannot mean to marry a dead man.”
“I really do not see what difference it makes. I have to marry someone, and at least his faults will be more easily managed than another man’s.”
“If he lets you.”
“He will. Harry will see to that.”
“This is absurd, Mary. You cannot expect to make up your husband’s character to your liking all your life. You are playing God, and it will end ill for you.”
“Why shouldn’t I manage his character, as you put it?
Is it not the kindest thing anyone could do?
Unlike the rest of us, he will never be tortured by faults that make him appear awkward, or lazy, or stupid before his fellows!
He will never be lonely, for I will craft him into a man everyone can like!
My God, I wish someone would do that for me! ”
She stepped toward me, one hand half raised as though to touch my cheek. “I thank God no one can,” she said in a shaking voice.
It was too much. Her big, tear-filled eyes, the soft brush of fingers on my cheek. Soft, soft, all of it soft, and my mind screamed against receiving it. Such tenderness was not for me. Pike, at least, understood that.
I pushed her hand away with more violence than I felt. “What would you have me do? Not marry?”
“Yes!” She grabbed my hand and held it between both of hers. The pleading look on her face made my eyes sting. “Come with me. Stay with me. We don’t need husbands, we can live out our days together, please, Mary, please.”
I tried to pull away, but my hand would not obey my commands. Her fingers were as cold as they’d been that rainy night on the hill. “Easy for you to say, you—you Darcy !”
“You could be my companion,” she persisted, clutching my hand to her. “You will want for nothing. Stay with me. Let us be together.”
“And when you marry?”
“I shan’t. Not ever. My illness.”
“Ah yes, your mysterious illness.” I choked back something that was almost a sob.
I wanted to stumble into her arms so badly—to say yes, to let her manage everything.
But a moment’s reflection made me see how it would be.
“So I will follow you about, and nurse you, and flatter you, and do your mending, and mind the house when you are ill—until you meet a young man who does not care about your illness, and then you will fall in love, and I will have given up my only chance at a home of my own for nothing .”
She shook her head. There were tears pouring down her cheeks. “How can you talk like that?”
“Because I know the world.” Again I heard myself give that jagged laugh, like a hole in the universe. “You know nothing of it, really. You have never been poor, or ignored, or pitied! You have never been frightened of being dependent all your life!”
She drew a deep breath. “Perhaps not. But I know what it is to be frightened.” Another deep, shaky sigh, like she could not get enough air. “I am frightened now.”
“Don’t be,” I said, as coldly and rudely as I could. “It is really no affair of yours.”
“You stupid girl!” She grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. “This will get you killed!”
“You insult my abilities.”
“No, I insult your intelligence if you go through with this!” Her eyes narrowed, peering into mine. “No, you are not stupid. There is something you are not telling me.”
“What? No.”
“Tell me.”
Should I? Should I tell her about that night before she came? Even now I could not. “You are mistaken.”
“I am not,” she said desperately. “Mary, it’s me. I have never had a friend I loved like you. You can tell me anything. You must .”
“Must I? And will you tell me your secrets, then?”
“What secrets?”
“Oh, how about the truth about that mysterious illness of yours?” She flinched, and I pressed the weak spot. “The one I have never witnessed? Or how about your theft of my phials of serum? Yes, I know about that. I can count, you know.”
Her eyes dropped from mine. “I-I didn’t—”
“You did .” I snarled a laugh. “You never trusted me. You stole from me. And you would have me throw over a good match and put myself in your hands.”
Her throat worked for a moment. Then, to my astonishment, she put both hands up to cup my cheeks. Around my nearly soundless gasp, she stroked my cheeks. My pulse thundered in my ears. If I just leaned forward a little—
No. I was going to marry Pike. I was going to live correctly. All the outrages I had committed against God’s creatures were only justified if I became the woman He wanted me to be.
“You are right,” she said softly. “I did steal from you. I was too ashamed—I am too ashamed. I was trying to cure myself. I could not explain.” She drew a deep breath.
“It is true. I do not deserve you. But Mary, neither does he. I fear for you if you put yourself in his power. Please, I’ll do anything. ”
One of my hands crept up to cover hers. “There is nothing you can do. Nor I, nor anyone. Pike is the only chance I will ever have. Look at me.”
“I am looking at you,” she said softly. And she leaned forward and kissed me. Oh, Lord. How am I to explain?