Chapter 32 I Am Engaged #2
Courage, Mary. You have arranged everything. Your husband-to-be is impeccably gentlemanlike. Do not upset the life of a girl well outside your sphere merely for the sake of your own boredom. Attempt that new loop stitch that Mamma showed you and let the girl be.
Oh, Harry. I used to find it so restorative to write to you. Now it feels like a pale imitation of what—who—I really want.
What would Georgiana say, if I were writing all this to her?
No. She abandoned me. Her opinion is quite irrelevant. If I ever see her again—and I hope I shall not—I shall merely bow coldly and turn away.
(Later)
I am back. Pike’s man came to the door, laden with gifts for us all. An amber cross for my mother—she is in paroxysms of joy over it. For my father, a new gun, with which he gruffly allows himself to be pleased. For me…
A telescope. My very own. Far finer than the one that Father rarely lets me touch.
I am so close. So close to the life I am meant to have.
I must not let my courage fail now. Quindley, what say you?
Here we are: “It is quite right for a young lady to be fond of her home, of her mother and father, but it is her duty to overcome these maidenly scruples once she marries, to set aside her homesickness and devote herself to her new lord and master. He cannot guide and protect her if she does not joyfully give herself to him.”
Maidenly scruples. That is all it is.
(Later)
Pike dined with us tonight. I blush to reread what I wrote before. Everything is as it should be.
Pike is the mildest, kindest, most considerate gentleman I have ever known.
He even listens with infinite patience to Mamma.
If I can ever grow to love any man—and why should I not?
—it can only be Septimus Pike. Occasionally, when Mamma is being extraordinarily tiresome, or Papa is teasing her to distraction, I see Pike lightly touch his right rib—and then he takes a deep breath, lets it out, and finds my eyes with a sweet smile just for me.
We walked in the garden a little before we ate.
We talked of what our lives will be. He is to let Netherfield when Bingley’s lease is up, and he hopes to buy it in time.
I shall be the mistress of the grandest house in the neighborhood.
I shall have the finest library, and the largest gardens, and the only ballroom that can really compare to the greatest ones in London.
I shall have, too, my own laboratory, for Pike, with no prompting from me at all, is already planning to set aside an attic room for me.
It is large and airy, he says, and I need not hide anymore, for I shall be his wife, and no one may tell me nay.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “Even owning Netherfield will not save us from gossip. Will it not hurt you to hear whispers of Mr. Pike’s eccentric wife?”
He turned to me and took both my hands. “Mary, your eccentricity, as you called it, saved my life,” he said.
“I have not forgotten that, I promise. Nothing anyone could say could stop me from holding you in the very highest esteem.” He pressed one of my hands to his heart—no, not his heart, his left lower rib.
“You have waded through darkness and horror and blood,” he said, “and that is why I stand before you. You have made me a good man. I shall spend all my days repaying you for it.” A teasing glint.
“Although I confess I also propose this space for your laboratory in part because it is so well-ventilated. Some of those chemicals you use are quite pungent.”
I laughed and threaded my arm back through his. He really will make an excellent husband. I must learn not to be so ungrateful.
I will burn that hair ribbon Georgiana left here.
I will at least stop sleeping with it under my pillow.
I write this down only to exorcise the fixation from my brain so I can sleep. Mamma and I are to go to Netherfield tomorrow afternoon to meet the housekeeper.
(Next day)
Oh, Harry. What am I to do?
Met Mairead again this morning. I intended this time to bid her farewell. I believe our linguistic studies have proceeded as far as they may. In any case, I must prepare for my wedding.
I tried, when we met, to convey this to the girl. “Slan,” I said.
She frowned. “Good-bye?”
“Yes. Goodbye. I am to be married.” Her frown deepened. I pointed to my ring finger, still bare as yet. “Married,” I said.
She smiled and spoke. I could not understand her, but from the look on her face, she understood. I suppose no matter your station or tongue, a wedding is a joyous occasion.
“Yes,” I said. “Thank you. I am to marry your master. Mr. Pike.” I pointed down the lane from which she had come.
An extraordinary change came over her. Her black eyes went wide, her face went white. “Miss Bennet—married Mr. Pike!”
“Well, not yet.” I held up two fingers. “Two days.”
She placed her hands over her mouth. She backed away, starting back down the lane, then turned back. She seized my hands—a far greater liberty than we had yet taken with each other—and began to speak in her own tongue so fast that I could not catch a word. I squeezed her hands.
“What is it? I cannot understand you.”
She only spoke faster and higher, her voice rising with panic. It struck me how hard and bony her hands were. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”
The bell rang.
I expected her to drop my hands and turn to go, as usual. This time, though, she sank to her knees. She gripped my skirt in clear supplication and spoke one of the few phrases that I did know. “Le do thoil. Le do thoil. Le do thoil!”
Please, please, please!
I cannot ignore it any longer. Something is wrong.
30 November, 18--
Dear Georgiana Miss Darcy,
I know you are not planning to attend my wedding. Indeed, I have not encouraged anyone to come in from out of town. I prefer to get it over with celebrate my nuptials quietly, with none of the fanfare that Mamma insisted upon for Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley.
However…
I am uneasy. I need your counsel. I need you . I feel as though I cannot even think without you here. Food has no taste. Sleep grants no relief. I cannot seem to properly want anything at all except y
Apologies. My pen ran away with me. Please just come.
Yours,
Mary.
[This letter was never sent.]
30 November, 18--
Pike has an answer for everything. An excellent quality in a husband for a lady who always has questions.
We went for a long walk today, and he patiently answered everything I asked, even questions that were not exactly ladylike. He was so unruffled that my fears were quite nearly allayed.
“You told me your reasons for hiring the Irish girls,” I said, “but why bring them all the way here?”
He looked surprised. “To be near you, of course. I could have much more easily established myself in the North, but after everything we have been through, I had no wish to take you far away from your people.”
“Oh.” I felt a twinge of shame at my inquisitiveness. But Mairead’s huge, dark eyes rose in my mind.
“And how goes the factory?”
“Oh, splendidly. We’re just beginning, of course, and I must keep things small so as not to upset life in Meryton too much.
Perhaps one day, when I am more established, a larger factory in the North may be in order.
Rest assured, though, I will not spend too much time away from here. Would you like to see it?”
“See what?”
“The factory, of course.”
I had been working up my nerve to make that very request. I had little expected him to agree, let alone suggest it himself. Pike laughed a bit at my surprise. “You look shocked.”
“Well… even Uncle Gardiner never let me see his factories. He says they are no place for a lady.”
“Hmm. Even Uncle Gardiner, who has led a far more blameless life than I.”
“I didn’t—”
“No, no, you are quite right.” He patted my hand again, then squeezed it closer to his side.
“To my knowledge, your uncle has never died even once, nor has his wife ever been forced to save him from descending into animal savagery. You have every reason to doubt me, Mary, and I shall do all I can to prove to you that I really am worthy of your trust now.”
“It’s just—well, you were—quite terrifying,” I said.
“I know. I’m sorry. My memory of those… episodes… is spotty, but I assure you I have not had the shadow of an attack since your little… intervention.” He rubbed his ribs absently.
“Mmm,” I said.
“You do believe me, do you not?”
“Yes.” It was true. I listen hard for rumors, and there has been no sign of the return of the man-beast. Chickens sleep quietly in their hutches; fires remain unlit. Ever since your gift of the rib, I have had no reason to believe that Pike is anything less than an ideal man.
“Perhaps,” he suggested, “your fears are not really fears, but an excuse.”
“An excuse?”
He smiled sadly. “Not to marry me.”
I looked down at my feet. Was he right? Now it was Georgiana’s face that rose before my mind’s eye, Georgiana’s scent of expensive soap and chalk that filled my senses. I swallowed, ashamed.
“Come,” he said. “Let us go there right now.”
I tried to stop. “Oh no, you needn’t—”
“Come.” He pulled me on, gently but inexorably. “No time like the present. I will answer every qualm of yours, dearest. I will remove every obstacle to your loving me.”
And he took me to his factory.
I believe I am the only member of Meryton society who has been inside since it began operation. Perhaps that ought to change. If, say, Papa and Sir William Lucas were to tour the facility, it might dispel comment.
Pike’s factory looks little different to how it did when it was a mill.
He has added a few windows and a coat of whitewash.
Outside, the wheel creaks around sedately, turning the shaft as it always has.
Inside, it is bright and clean, lined with looms and more complicated machinery that I could not name.
He introduced me to the women. They were as bright and clean as the factory. Some smiled and chatted with Pike; others merely bobbed a curtsy, too busy with their work to stop, even when Pike told them (he translated for me) that they might have a rest.
Mairead’s hands were busy at a loom when we found her. Her eyes grew wide when she saw me, but she bobbed a curtsy to Pike with the utmost respect and laughed at something he said. There was no sign of the terror I had fancied in her eyes.
He let me have a closer look at the wheel, which I admit I have been itching to do all my life.
It hangs out over the water in a small room attached to the main structure.
You can actually open a trapdoor and look at the water rushing beneath you!
He showed me how the wheel could be raised or lowered, the sluice gate opened or closed, and laughed fondly when I was as entranced as a child.
He pointed out the dormitory he had had installed in the old barn, including the addition of a wood stove for their comfort when the weather turned.
He showed me the copse of trees that he intended to cut down to construct a sort of small village green where the girls might spend their leisure hours, and the small kitchen where his staff prepared meals, provided free of charge to the workers.
All of it was so thoughtful, so kind, so far above what any other master would have thought necessary, that I felt quite ashamed of my qualms.
“Well, love?” he said when we left.
“It is wonderful,” I admitted.
He smiled. “It could all be much cheaper, but my cloth is good enough to fetch a high price, and I would rather my workers look up to me as a kindly father than fear me as a tyrant. That is better, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely. I do not believe one factory master in a thousand would agree with you, however.”
“Perhaps they will when they see what excellent work happy, healthy workers are capable of.”
“Let us hope so,” I said, “dearest.”
His glance down at me was so full of surprise and fondness that I could not help but smile back. Pike walked me home, then said he must return to work.
There you have it. Pike has answered every question. Shown every card. He has, as he said, removed every obstacle to my loving him.
And once I have slipped into his factory on my own tomorrow night and satisfied the last of my curiosity, I will do so.