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Relief flooded Darcy's senses as his London townhouse came into view. He had ridden as hard as he could without over-tiring his horse ever since leaving Pemberley that morning, and now both he and the horse were running a trifle haggard. Halfway in between Pemberley and London, it had started to rain. Rather than stopping off at an Inn and waiting for the rain to abate, the determined Darcy had pushed his horse on. It had been foolish perhaps, and it had certainly slowed his trip to have to travel encumbered by the weather, but Darcy was finally back in London, far away from Pemberley and all its inhabitants, and by tomorrow afternoon, he would be even farther away, on his way to France. To be as far away from Pemberley as he possibly could - that was all Darcy wanted at the moment.
Darcy dug his heels into his horse's side, spurning them both forward, and sprinted the last few paces to his doorstop. Pulling his horse to a skidding halt, Darcy leapt down from his horse's back and threw its reins along with a few shillings to a young urchin who had come up from behind.
Mounting the stairs to let himself in, Darcy was not the least surprised to find that no one was at the door waiting for him or any other visitor for that matter. He wondered what their reactions would be once they saw him.
"Mr. Darcy!" At the sound of an intrusion, the surprised butler had come flying to the front hallway from some deep recess of the house. "We were not expecting you, sir!"
"Do not worry yourself, Burke. I sent no word ahead of me. My return to London was the result of an unexpected turn of events."
"I trust you found everything well at Pemberley, sir."
"Perfectly well. I thank you, Burke."
"I'll have Mrs. Box..."
"No need, Burke," Darcy cut him off. "I shall be leaving first thing in the morning for France. This was merely a stopover trip. You need not open up the house on my account. All I require is a warm fire in my study and bedchambers and some light fare this evening; I have been traveling all day."
"Of course, sir." If Darcy's butler was at all surprised by his master's startling news, he was trained well enough to not show it.
"I shall head on up now, Burke. Set a bath out for me if you will and have Mrs. Box set up a tray in my study. I shall take my dinner there this evening."
"Very good, sir. Will there be anything else, sir?"
"Oh, yes," Darcy snapped his fingers with remembrance. "Do not forget to send someone to take care of my horse."
"As you wish, sir." With a bow, the butler quickly went about his business, seeing to his master's wishes.
Heaving a tired sigh, Darcy climbed the stairs to the second floor shedding his wet gray coat along the way. Once he was safely ensconced in his bedchamber, Darcy peeled the rest of his damp and muddy clothes from his body. Darcy was thankful for the industriousness of his servants. By the time he was ready, his bath was already waiting. Darcy could not help but notice the weariness in his aching bones as he lowered himself into his steaming bath.
"Ahhh..." he sighed. The water felt good as it sloshed lazily around his tender limbs, warming his rain-chilled body. After a few minutes, his body began to finally relax and he allowed it to mold itself against the curves of the bathtub.
Half an hour later, when the water grew colder and Darcy's body involuntarily shook from the sudden chill, he awoke with a start. Sheepishly, Darcy realized that he had fallen asleep in his bath. Climbing out of the tub, he hurried to towel himself dry in front of the crackling fire and pull on some clothes. He was just buttoning the last of his buttons and tucking in his shirt when his stomach grumbled. Grinning at what was waiting expectantly for him in the study, Darcy could not wait to feast on his dinner.
Dinner, however, was not meant to be.
When Darcy came down the stairs fifteen minutes later, he was surprised to hear a commotion at the front door. Burke was obviously in a tiff with someone, insisting to be announced. Darcy wondered who in the world would be calling at this hour. Retrospectively, he also wondered who could possibly know that he was back in London. As his foot hit the boot step, Darcy heard the distinctively high-pitched female voice and groaned. I might have known.
"Burke. You may let Miss Bingley in." In any event, she is not going to leave until she gets what she wants.
"But, sir..." his faithful butler protested.
Miss Bingley cast a triumphant smile at the butler as she was ushered through the doorway. She knew everything would be all right once Darcy was apprised of her presence.
"It's all right, Burke." Darcy waved his guest into the sitting room and once he was sure she was out of earshot, he turned around to add, "I know you tried."
Caroline Bingley automatically took control of the situation once she was in Darcy's sitting room. She heard the click of the door behind her and grinned at her success. Turning around, she plastered on her largest smile and laughed coquettishly. "Really, Mr. Darcy," she drawled. "Is it so necessary that your staff be so protective of you? They should know better than to trifle with friends such as myself."
"Sometimes, Miss Bingley. Sometimes." Darcy's lips twitched involuntarily.
"You know, Mr. Darcy," she walked over to him and tapped his chest lightly with the tip of her fan, "It really was naughty of you to leave London without telling me." For added affect, she even pouted.
"Indeed? I had no idea I was duty bound to tell you of my every plan."
"Why of course!" the silly woman tittered. "I should have insisted that you take me along to Pemberley with you, had I known. I'm sure dear Georgiana was there and you know how I do so love the company of your sister."
"Indeed I do," Darcy turned around to hide his smile. His sister, indeed. More like she would have leapt at the opportunity to play mistress of his house. Well, if he had anything to say about the matter, that would never happen.
"A glass of sherry, Miss Bingley?" Darcy walked over to the sidebar and poured himself a glass of brandy - a very large glass of brandy.
"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. Don't mind if I do."
"Of course." Handing her the said glass of sherry, Darcy settled into the chair opposite Miss Bingley and raised his glass to his lips. Taking a sip first, he then considered his guest and asked, "Might one ask how it is you knew I was home this evening, Miss Bingley? I only just arrived an hour ago. Were you camping out on the corner of my street?"
"Oh, Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley threw her head back and laughed. "You are such a tease. As if I would ever do such a thing."
Darcy shuddered to hear Miss Bingley's laugh. It was one of those artificial sorts of laughs that were supposed to make a man feel as though he had just said an amazing thing that would forever change the world. The effect, however, was completely wasted on Darcy.
"As it happens, I was invited to your neighbor's house for dinner this evening. Was that not lucky for me? I was terribly disappointed when I did not see you there, though. It has been weeks since you have dared show your face at a social event and I have been absolutely desolate without your company. I was so looking forward to another one of our lovely tête-à-têtes."
Lovely tête-à-têtes?
"But then Lady Caswell told me that you had left London yesterday and returned to Pemberley with your cousin. I am not afraid to admit that her news greatly dampened my spirits and pleading headache, I left early. So, you may imagine my delighted surprise when I saw you return just as I was leaving Lady Caswell's house. And after all that I had suffered in one short evening, I could not resist on rewarding myself by calling on my dear friend."
Darcy hid a snort. As if Caroline Bingley did not know he had left for Pemberley yesterday until tonight. If Darcy had made a wager, he would have predicted that Caroline Bingley knew of his departure first thing after she woke up yesterday morning. For some mysterious and rather unsettling reason, the insufferable woman always seemed to know his precise whereabouts. Darcy had no idea how she managed it for his servants were certainly trustworthy, but he was still hoping to one day find her source and put an end to it. Thankfully for Miss Bingley, putting an end to her silly little antics did not rank that high on Darcy's list of priorities.
"You do not find it odd and somewhat peculiar looking then that you, a single woman, are sitting here in my home, a single man's home mind you, without a chaperone, and me, casually dressed as I am?" Darcy waved his hand up and down in front of his person to illustrate his point.
"Oh, of course not!" Miss Bingley opened up her fan and proceeded to fan herself prettily. "Surely you and I are not such strangers that we need to stand upon ceremony with one another. Indeed, I have always considered you to be a dear friend of mine." That said, she leaned over to gently touch his knee.
Darcy stood up abruptly and moved away to the window, settling into a protective stance. "You do not care about propriety then?"
"I should always expect you to do the gentlemanly thing, Mr. Darcy."
Darcy looked away from the window and narrowed his eyes on his guest, sitting primly on the edge of her seat, wearing the most garish-looking orange silk dress. She might look every inch of the innocent and coy, but Darcy knew better. He knew that underneath her thin façade was an unabashed, scheming woman. Was this another one of her foolish attempts to trap him into marriage? Darcy decided to put her off once and for all, before she got any more silly little notions into her head.
"Indeed, you know I am an honorable man. But let us be frank, Miss Bingley."
"Oh, Mr. Darcy. Must we always be so tedious with formality? We have known each other for so many years now. Can you not find it within your gentlemanly means to shed the strictures which Society places upon us and call me Caroline?"
"Let us be frank, Miss Bingley," Darcy insisted in a hardened voice. "You and I both know that you have entertained a hope, which I have never deigned to encourage, that you will one day be my wife." She had the decency to blush full red to even the tips of her ears, mercifully hidden by the fringe of her headpiece. "But let me speak plainly now, so that will both be clear on the matter once and for all. I have already been married once before and I shall honor my wife's memory."
"You mean never to marry then, Mr. Darcy?" Defeat tinged Miss Bingley's voice.
Darcy turned away and twisted his pinky ring. There was still that faint wisp of hope that persisted in lingering about even though Darcy knew it was a lost cause. In a noncommittal answer, he said instead, "I think it unlikely. For if I should ever marry again, I would do so only for the deepest kind of love; Anne would expect no less of me."
"But?"
"There are no buts, Miss Bingley." With his eyes carefully trained on Miss Bingley, he made himself understood. "I have not been fortunate to find anyone I would care to marry out of love."
"I see," was Miss Bingley's choked response. "I see."
Attempting to alleviate the tension that had settled about the room, Darcy changed the topic. "Are you not curious as to why I visited Pemberley, Miss Bingley? Surely your brother must have written to you and told you that your niece has come to England. As scatterbrained as your brother might be at times, I know he is not that absentminded."
In her rattled state of mind, Miss Bingley wracked her brain to think of what Darcy could be talking about. Oh yes, of course. Charles had written her a while back to let her know that his daughter, Mary, had come to live at Pemberley. Confound her; she wished she had remembered that tidbit of information earlier. Perhaps she could have used the niece as her ticket to Pemberley. She supposed it was too late now.
"Yes, I believe he did. How remiss of me. How is the girl?"
"The girl," Darcy mimicked, "was in fine spirits when I met her. A delightful creature. Have you never met her before, Miss Bingley?"
"Once, when I visited India." Miss Bingley shuddered at the memory. "I do hope the girl has learned to be more civilized since then. I did not see much of her during my visit. She was always out and about, scampering about with the local children."
"Yes, I do believe you will find that Mary, as she is more commonly known, is quite a civilized child. I do not know, however, that moving to England has curbed any sort of interest she might have in the outdoors. Though she does not scamper about, as you call it, with the local children of Lambton, she and my nephew have taken command of my gardens." Darcy still smiled with affection at the way Mary had stood in the middle of his study and in a peculiar mixture of diffidence and confidence asked for a garden.
Miss Bingley sniffed prudishly. "That was certainly not a trait she inherited from the Bingley's. She must have gotten it from her mother's side."
"Yes," Darcy absently agreed. "I do believe several of Mrs. Bingley's sister's loved the outdoors, one in particular." Not surprisingly, a pair of fine eyes came to his attention.
Miss Bingley watched with shock as Mr. Darcy's face suddenly mellowed and settled into a dreamy position. It could not be! Knowing that all chances of her ever becoming the next Mrs. Darcy had come to an end this night, Miss Bingley did not hesitate to voice her suspicion.
"You are still in love with her!"
"Hm? I beg your pardon. What?" Nonplused, Mr. Darcy was brought back by Miss Bingley's heightened voice.
"Heavens!" Miss Bingley exploded, "After all these years, I thought you would have forgotten about her. But you have not, have you? You are still in love with Elizabeth Bennet!"
Darcy stood as straight as he could and answered her accusations with a dignified affirmative. He did not care if Caroline Bingley knew. After all, he was not ashamed of his emotions. He would never be ashamed of what he felt for Elizabeth Bennet.
"How can you, of all people, love someone of the Bennet's ilk, Mr. Darcy? You, a Darcy, are ten times worth her breeding. You deserve a woman of flawless lineage and a woman of considerable means." Someone like me.
"May I remind you, Miss Bingley, that your brother saw fit to take one of the Bennet's to be his bride."
"You know my opinion on that matter, Mr. Darcy."
"And might I also remind you of your own background? Miss Elizabeth Bennet might not come from a family of great wealth, but she at the very least is a gentleman's daughter."
Miss Bingley gasped. How dare he play that card. Her father's past was still a very sensitive point with her. "She is but a governess now, Mr. Darcy!" Miss Bingley reminded him.
"And what of it?" Darcy asked. "I would love her still and make her my wife if I could, even if she were but an opera dancer."
"The little minx certainly dug her claws deep into you, didn't she?" Miss Bingley asked nasally. "How did your little wife feel about your infatuation?"
"Not that it is of your concern, but my wife was an understanding woman," Mr. Darcy answered coldly. Unlike other women of my acquaintance, he was sorely tempted to add.
"Was she?" Miss Bingley sneered.
There was something about Elizabeth Bennet that even the mere mention of her name was enough to send Caroline Bingley into a fit of rage. Caution thrown out the window, Caroline Bingley had never learned to curb her temper and once set down a warpath, she always went too far.
"And how did your understanding wife abide lying beneath you as you cried out your lover's name?"
Darcy's head snapped to attention. Only the fact that Miss Bingley was a female prevented him from doing something as impetuous and outlawed as calling her out for her callous remarks. After tonight, Darcy would never be able to bring himself to think of her as a gentlewoman for she had sunk to a new, inexorable level in his esteem. Poor Charles, he thought. Once again, Darcy found himself asking, How can two siblings, born from the same father and mother, be so different?
Standing with his hands clasped behind his back and his legs separated in a firm stance, Darcy would brook no opposition. "I think, madam, that you have said quite enough for one evening. I will not have you desecrate the honor and memory of my dear, departed wife. Nor will I stand hear and listen to you malign the virtue of a woman who is not here to defend herself. You will excuse me if I do not see you to the door. I suddenly find that I do not care to be in your company more than I have to be. I think you can find your own way out the door."
Mustering what little dignity she had left about her, Miss Bingley gathered up her skirts and stalked out the door with her head held up high. Darcy wished very hard that she would trip on the length of her skirt or at the very least that her ridiculous turban of feathers and silk would tumble to the floor. While it was not to be, he at least had the pleasure of ridding her presence from his home for good.
Once Darcy had made sure that he heard the slamming of the front door behind Caroline Bingley, he dared to venture out into the hallway to eat his dinner in his study. But, once in his study, he found himself no longer hungry. All he could do was swallow the remainder of his brandy in large, successive gulps. Looking up at Anne's portrait, which still hung in the space allotted for the Mistress of Pemberley's portrait above the fireplace and opposite his own, Darcy feathered a weary hand through his mussed hair.
"Forgive me for not protecting your memory better, Anne." After a few more minutes of contemplative silence, he left his study to seek the warmer comforts of his bed, the unspoken words still hanging heavily over his head.
"Forgive me, Elizabeth... wherever you are."
Mary stared out the window of the rolling carriage that was bumbling along the dirt path to Lambton, and pretended to watch the countryside pass by.
"I will be back. And soon. 'Tis only for a few days, Mary," Dickon reached across the seats to close the distance and clasp his friend's fair hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "I promise."
Mary looked away from the window and brushed aside the loose curls that were forever falling over her forehead, now creased with tiny frowns.
"Aye, Miss Mary," Dickon's father added. "I promise not to keep your friend from you above two weeks. You have my word on it."
"And I would not let him, should he try and do so," Georgiana reassured.
Mary nodded her head though what she was nodding at, she scarcely knew. Blinking back the hot tears, she tried to make sense of all that had happened to her within the past week.
A week ago, Mary had been a happy girl. Finally coming into her own, she had finally found a place for herself at Pemberley and was beginning to revel in the company of her new friends. And then, in one day, it had all changed. Mr. Darcy had returned to Pemberley. At first Mary had been afraid of him, but then she had actually found him interesting and somewhat pleasing. She had a feeling that if she had had an opportunity to know him better, she would actually like him. There was an air of gruffness to him, but there had also been an underlying kindness and sincerity. Besides, Mr. Darcy had given her permission to grow a garden, and for that she would be eternally grateful. To Mary's dismay the morning after her introduction to her elusive guardian, she received her greatest surprise. Fitzwilliam Darcy had taken off again, to Paris this time. As usual, the only explanation given for his absence was "business."
Now, a week later, Colonel Fitzwilliam was about to make his own departure, returning to his own home to attend to his business affairs there. Georgiana was understandably to remain at Pemberley to oversee matters and continue to provide Mary with a companion, but Dickon was to accompany his father for the entirety of the two-week trip. His grandfather, the Earl of Matlock, had expressed a desire to see his grandson and no one had thought it wise to object. Mary's lips trembled at the thought of being without her dearest friend for two weeks.
As depressed and upset as she was, Mary was not insensible to the sacrifice Georgiana was making. She knew that it must be hard to have to see her husband and son leave her side, especially when there was so much affection between the family, and she also knew that it was because of her that they were to be apart. Slipping her small hand into Georgiana's dainty ones, Mary looked up and gave her Aunt Georgiana a pert little smile. Georgiana looked down, happy to see a smile finally gracing that face and covered Mary's hand with her other one.
"I do not think it fair, Mama, that Uncle Fitzwilliam and Papa should always be leaving unexpectedly, without notice," Dickon screwed his mouth in an odd little twist as he squirmed about in his seat to look at his mother.
"It is not a matter of fairness, Dickon, as well you know. Your father cannot be away from home for great lengths of time. You know that. He has stayed with us for as long as he has been able to before he having to return home. But never you fear, in two weeks your father will be returning to Pemberley and when he does, he will bring you with him when he comes again."
Dickon scratched his head in thought. "But what of Uncle Fitzwilliam, then? How is it that he can so frequently be away from Pemberley and for such long periods of time? Why did he have to go to France?"
Goodness, Georgiana thought. Does my son not miss a thing? "Your Uncle's business affairs are slightly different than Papa's. Your Uncle's business affairs often take him away from home, which is why he went to France this time of year. He was wanted there, you see."
Georgiana shifted uncomfortably in her seat and made a concerted effort to look around the carriage, avoiding eye contact with her son. She was not accustomed to telling so many falsehoods, even if they were white lies. A tug at her side brought her attentions back to Mary.
"Mr. Darcy was not displeased with me, was he?"
Mary's hazel eyes were filled with such shocking solemnity that Georgiana immediately sought to set her fears aside. "Displeased with you? Why no, my dear child. Of course not. Why would you think such a thing?"
Georgiana brushed away the imaginary tears forming in the corner of Mary's eyes with her white, lace handkerchief, and outlined Mary's face with the palm of her hand.
"Mr. Darcy did not stay very long after he met me and he did not say more than two words to me after our meeting. I wondered if Mr. Darcy found me to his disliking after he met me. I did so want for Papa's friend to approve of me, but Mr. Darcy seemed to be almost shocked by my behavior."
If you only knew what it was about you that my brother found shocking, Georgiana thought grimly.
Mary looked down, hiding her now brimming tears. "I know I misbehave at times. Mama is forever reminding me that I must temper my spirits and act the part of a young lady. I did try so hard that morning. I truly did. But it must not have worked for Mr. Darcy did not stay but a day before he left again."
Oh, hang Fitzwilliam! Georgiana felt as though she could throttle her brother for making the little girl feel as she did. If only he could face his demons head on instead of running away all the time!
"Oh no, Mary! You must not think that." Georgiana placed a sympathetic arm around Mary's shoulders. "My brother's departure had nothing to do with you." Georgiana gave a slight cough and looked heavenward, saying a little prayer and begged the Lord for his forgiveness. How she hated having to lie! She plowed on, "My brother was not at all displeased by your behavior. Quite the contrary, he actually found you delightful and enchanting."
"Truly?" Mary looked up, her rapture showing in the heightened brightness of her eyes.
"Truly," Georgiana whispered conspiratorially, giving Mary's shoulders a reassuring hug.
Not to be outdone, the Colonel added his own words of comfort. "My brother-in-law wished very much he could stay and get to know you better, Miss Mary. He was so disappointed to find that he had to leave for France just as he was making your acquaintance. But he did promise to return as soon as he could and he hoped you would be friends then."
"Oh, I'm sure I would like that!"
"Mr. Darcy will be very pleased to hear that." Georgiana sighed.
"Will you write to him and tell him, then?"
"I shall write my brother as soon as I have paper and a pen at my disposal again," the Colonel promised.
"And I shall write him too," Georgiana added.
At about this time, Dickon, who had been looking out the window during the entirety of his parent's and Mary's conversation flew up from his side and began flapping his arm up and down. "Look! Look!" he cried, calling the women's and his father's attentions to outside of the window. "We have finally arrived!"
Mary also sat up and claimed a spot at the window. Leaning their heads together, the two children looked delightfully out the window, finding great interest in the hustle and bustle of the small village. Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam indulged them in their whims and allowed them to point and exclaim to their heart's content until they finally arrived at their destination.
Suddenly, standing in front of the heaving and clanging engine of the tall, black train, all of Mary's old anxieties began to reappear. As Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana were attending to the matters of their tickets and handling of their baggage, Dickon and Mary stood off to one side, talking furiously in soft voices.
"Dickon," Mary pleaded. "I do wish you did not have to go. Could you not stay? Must you go?"
"Cheer up, Mary. I shan't be gone for very long. You will be all right at Pemberley all by yourself. I dare say you will enjoy the break from my tiresome company," Dickon teased, trying to set Mary's fears at ease.
"I will probably have to have tea with Colin every day now that you will be gone," Mary sighed petulantly.
"Aye, and a good thing it will be if you did, Mary." Leaning forward, Dickon whispered, "Colin will no doubt be in a foul temper this week. His father came home and did not see him at all, you know. Colin does not like to admit it, but it hurts him. He will be lashing out at all the servants and anyone who dares to visit him all week long, I am sure. He does this every time Uncle Fitzwilliam comes home and does not see him. I have overheard some of the servants talking about it before," Dickon explained.
Mary gasped with shock. How could any parent not see their son? Mary did not think she would ever be able to understand her mysterious guardian.
"Oh, Uncle Fitzwilliam loves his son. There's no fear of that," he reassured, noticing Mary's surprised reaction. "But Colin desperately wants his father to be proud of him, you see. Colin thinks his old man does not go to see him because he cannot bear the sight of him lying abed, sick."
"Do you think that is true?"
Dickon shrugged. "Who's to say? My uncle is a good man, but he is a queer one too. Do not tell Mama I said that, she would have my hide if she knew. No one knows Uncle better than Mama, but even she admits that she cannot explain his every action. Anyways, I tell you all of this just so that you will be on the lookout. Colin is my cousin. I know you find him cantankerous. But I do wish you would still try to like him. Try to be his friend. Now is a good as any other time, especially when I will not be around. You might have to make another friend, Mary Bingley." Grinning, he doffed his cap at her before hurrying away as his father called him over from afar.
Still stunned by Dickon's entreaties, Mary walked slowly over to stand by Georgiana's side and wave good-bye. By the time the train pulled away, Mary had recovered enough to realize the significance of her standing in the middle of the train station platform. The last time she had stood in that very place had been the night she had come to stay at Pemberley. With everything that had happened since her arrival in England, it seemed incredible to Mary that it really was not so long ago.
With a sigh, she turned away from her thoughts and hurried to catch up with Georgiana whose skirts were already swooshing around the corner of the train station and returning to the carriage.
Georgiana stopped short in the doorway and smiled at the sight in front of her. It had been three days since her husband and son had left for their small estate adjoining Matlock Manor. In those three days, Mary had taken her friend's advice to heart, and willingly submitted herself to the tortuous task of sharing her afternoon tea with Colin Darcy. Only, what she once dreaded had actually turned out to be not such bad a thing after all.
On their first day together, the two children had eyed each other warily, each unwilling to be the first to begin. In the end, Colin's recent need for companionship rendered him less haughty and he had condescended to instigate a conversation, asking small questions that Mary would at first answer tersely. Mary, for her part, had sat staring at her teacup, wondering why she had come at all. She remembered what an insufferable bore she thought Colin was and how she still bristled at the comment he had made about her on that first night. It irked her that he still had not apologized for it, though she knew that he knew she had overheard his unkind remarks. Yet, when Colin offered the olive branch and began to ask her questions about her home and family in India, Dickon's words came back to her and she resigned herself to answering Colin's questions as graciously as she possibly could.
Three days later, it seemed as though the children had come to some sort of a truce. Georgiana was more than pleased. In her not so humble opinion, it was about time the children had come to their senses.
"And what do you two do so secretly over there?"
Mary and Colin both looked up guiltily from where they were huddled over together looking at a book, Mary sitting on the edge of Colin's bed.
"Mary has brought a book about India and she is showing me the pictures and telling me stories about her life there."
"I found the book in the library one morning," she explained shyly.
Georgiana only smiled. Drawing up another chair and pouring herself a cup of tea, she said, "How delightful! I should like to hear your stories as well. If you do not mind, that is."
Mary's face turned the prettiest shade of pink, and for the briefest of seconds, Colin dropped his masterful façade to look at her with wide-eyed admiration.
"Of course I don't mind," Mary answered, pleased to be able to entertain her aunt as well as her cousin.
"Wonderful!"
For the next half hour, Mary entertained them with little epistles of her life in India.
"Once, when the Rajah of Punjab came to call on my father, he brought along his elephant. It was the most majestic thing I have ever seen. Large and gray, so big, and yet docile as well, its caretakers allowed me to help feed it. I even got to shake its trunk. When the Rajah finished his business, he and Papa came out to the yard. The Rajah saw me standing with his elephant and he immediately asked me if I would like to ride the elephant. Papa looked horrified, but I wanted to ride the elephant so much that Papa eventually gave his permission. The Rajah climbed on top of the elephant and then his caretaker handed me up. Together, we walked the elephant around the yard. I laughed and laughed. It was so much fun. The other children of the English families came out and saw me. They wanted a turn, riding the elephant, but the Rajah ran out of time, he had to go. So, in the end, I was the only one that got to ride the elephant!"
Colin was fascinated by Mary's story. "How famous! Why, that sounds like so much fun."
"It was," Mary agreed.
Then, Colin wanted her to explain every detail of her experience; nothing was to be left out. He wanted to know what a Rajah was, how the skin of an elephant felt underneath one's hands, what it was like being so high off the ground, was it hard keeping astride an elephant without a saddle, and how did one ride an elephant anyways? Mary was happy to supply him with all the answers her new friend required.
When Colin started to show signs of slowing down and yawning, Georgiana decided that her nephew had more than enough excitement for one afternoon. "I think it is time for you to take a nap, Colin."
"Please, Aunt Georgiana, can Mary not stay a little longer and tell me more stories?"
"No," Georgiana answered firmly. "You need your rest and I dare say Mary has done her fair share of entertaining you this afternoon. You must allow her some rest as well."
Colin pouted. "Tis not fair."
Georgiana kissed her nephew's forehead as she tucked his covers around him. "Nothing is ever fair in life, Colin. I do believe Mrs. Reynolds and I try explaining that to you every day."
Colin groaned.
"Come now, nephew, surely life is not so bad. Why, I believe that if you are a very good sort of boy, and ask nicely, Mary might be willing to come back tomorrow and share more stories with you."
Turning his head towards Mary who was standing in the doorway, he called out, "You will come tomorrow with your book and tell me more stories?"
"I shall try."
Pleased with her answer, Colin settled down into his sheets and closed his eyes to take his daily nap.
The sun was shining gloriously the next morning and Mary could not resist the allure of the golden outdoors. Ever since Dickon had left Pemberley, she had not felt compelled to go to the Secret Garden. Somehow, it had not seemed right, going there without him. Today however, she could no longer fight the temptation of the fine weather calling out to her. She had been cooped up within the confines of the house for far too long.
Slipping out of the house unnoticed Mary spent the rest of her morning cleaning up the garden. Already, she and Dickon had done a fair job of clearing away the dead leaves, weeds, and broken branches. When Dickon left, they had been working on the flowerbeds. Soon, spring would be coming and they wanted the dormant flowers lying beneath to have room to breathe and grow. There was no time to dawdle. Today, Mary spent her time cleaning out the stone flowerpots and water fountains. The garden was littered with them and Mary meant to see that when spring came, they were filled with something more than dirt and grime. Pausing in her actions, she closed her eyes and squeezed out reality.
Imagining the garden, Mary breathed in heavily. She was sure that it would be something akin to Eden once she was through with it. The garden floor would be covered in carpets of emerald green grass. Not a blade of grass would dare to grow in between the cracks of the stone paths. The flowerbeds would be filled to the brim with fine mulch and peppered with all kinds of flowers; Mary would be sure to make sure that there was a flower for every color of the rainbow. Earthen flowerpots overflowing with more flowers would line the stone paths. Water fountains would trickle alive with cool, clear water, and singing robins would bathe themselves in it.
The garden came alive in Mary's eyes and she set herself about to task, ensuring that one day they would be more than visions. With every ounce of determination supporting her, Mary meant to see that each and every one of them came true.
Mary was so enthralled in her work that it was late when she finally returned to the house. The moment she stepped foot into the house, found it all in uproar. Martha came careening down the stairs at that moment, and was immediately relieved to see her.
"Oh, Miss Mary! There you are. We have been looking for you everywhere!"
"What is this all about? Martha, what is going on?"
"You were not in your room, or the library, or the conservatory. You were not in the music room, you were not in the Great Hall, and you were not in the stillroom. We sent the footman to look for you outside but no one could find you there either. I was at my wit's end, Miss Mary! I thought we had lost you too!"
"Is someone lost?" Mary asked in alarm.
"No!"
"Well, what then?" Mary cried out in exasperation. "I am afraid I have not the pleasure of understanding you, Martha. You must speak plainly if I am to understand you all. What is going on?" she asked again.
"It's the young master, miss. He woke up in the foulest of foul tempers today and he's naught improved one whit all morning long. He has been throwing everything within his reach. Poor Susan almost got her head knocked off when he threw his bowl of porridge at her when she took him his breakfast."
"I cannot say I blame him," Mary answered cheekily. "If I were forced to eat porridge day after day, I would do the same thing. Thank goodness Mrs. Reynolds lets me eat something other than porridge for breakfast now."
"Miss Mary!" Martha cried out in horror, wondering at the miss's lack of sympathy, "Susan has been crying in the scullery ever since then and refuses to come out, says she'll quit, she will."
"What has Colin's bad mood and temper tantrums have to do with me?" Mary asked in all innocence. "Seems to me to be a hopeless business."
"He asked to see you, said you had promised to come see him today, and when we could not find you, he flew off the handle, he did," Martha explained.
"I do not have to see him if I do not want to," Mary said vehemently. There was no way she, Mary Elizabeth Bingley, was ever going to bow to the whims of anybody - especially not when that somebody was a sniveling, spoiled brat of a boy.
"Please, Miss Mary. Please, you must come with me," Martha pleaded, practically on her knees begging. "You are the only one who will be able to calm him down. Mrs. Fitzwilliam and Mrs. Reynolds were with him earlier, but they could not do anything. Nothing will sooth the young master's nerves. They are wondering if they should not call for the doctor."
"Oh heavens," Mary rolled her eyes and began the climb to Colin's rooms, taking each step of the staircase two at a time. "Fine, let us see what the little bugger is all about today."
Hands on her hips, Mary marched down the hallways, unafraid of what all the other servants seemed to fear. As she approached Colin's wing of the grandiose house, she could hear his shrill voice echoing down the hallways and beyond. For all his weakness and illness, there was certainly nothing wrong with his ability to shout. And if he had enough energy and strength to keep up this commotion, Mary doubted very much that he needed a doctor.
"Where is she? Where is she?" Colin demanded. "I want to see her. Mary! Mary! Where are you? Mary! Mary!!!"
At that moment, Mary stepped calmly into the room. The glare of her eyes was ready to slice through a dragon. "You wanted to see me?"
"You said you would come," Colin accused. "I waited and waited all day long. Where were you all day?"
"I said I might come and might only means maybe," Mary answered hotly.
"I asked for you to come!"
"So you did," Mary answered wryly. "However, I was not aware of it. I have been outside all morning and was not available."
"I have been screaming for you!"
"So I noticed." Mary was quickly tiring of this line of discussion. She wondered where Colin was trying to go with it.
"I would have kept on screaming until you showed up!" Colin boldly asserted.
"And I would not have come any sooner!" Mary retorted.
Colin pressed his lips together in undisguised anger. "Impertinence! It shall not be borne! You will come when I ask you to, and if you do not, I shall scream and scream and scream until you do!"
A flash of fury struck Mary squarely in the face. "Of all the... oh, you insufferable, terrible, ghastly beast! Who do you think you are, the Rajah of Punjab? I do not care if you should scream until you are blue in the face! I am no servant and you are not my lord and master. I do not care if you are the son of Fitzwilliam Darcy. I have just as might right to be here as you do and I shall come and go when I please and only then!"
That said, Mary whirled around and with a flip of her hair, was ready to stomp back out of his room. However, Colin's next words stalled her.
"If you do not come to me when I ask you to, I will have you dragged here! You are mean and selfish!"
"Me? I am mean and selfish?" Mary asked incredulously, turning around slowly before she let her anger unfurl. "Why, you little wretch! You are the one who is mean and selfish. All you do is think about yourself and feel sorry for yourself. You terrorize anyone who comes near you when all they are trying to do is help you, care for you, and be your friend!"
"You would feel sorry for yourself too if you were going to die and all the people around you were only pretending to be your friend when you know that behind your back they are secretly laughing at you!"
"That is the most absurd thing I have heard in the longest time, Colin Darcy! You only say things like that because you
Angrily, Colin picked up a chenille pillow and hurled it at Mary's head. Catching it deftly, Mary trained her raging eyes on Colin. Even in his own outrage, he blanched at the dark and beady eyes now boring into his head.
"I was going to tell you something special today, but now I'm not. I am thoroughly disgusted by today's display. I thought we were becoming friends, but now I see I was too hasty in drawing that conclusion! Well, thank you for helping me open my eyes before it was too late. Next time I shall know better - I never make the same mistake twice!" Throwing her shoulders back in a haughty manner, Mary did manage to stalk out of Colin's room that time.
"I hate you!" Colin called after her.
"Good!" Mary yelled back. "Now I don't have any reason to come see you and I won't!"
In her blind fit of rage, Mary did not see where she was walking and walked straight into a person's stomach. "Oomph!"
She looked up into a kind face and saw that the woman was wearing a blue dress with a white apron and a white cap on her head.
Clasping her hands together in front of her body, the woman smiled and said. "I am Master Colin's nurse, Nurse Biggs. And you must be Miss Mary! It is nice to finally meet you. Ever since I returned from my vacation, all I hear about in the kitchen is Miss Mary this and Miss Mary that."
Mary took one look at her and said, "Yes, I am Miss Mary. And if you are Colin's nurse, I really do feel sorry for you! How ever do you manage such a beast?"
Chuckling, Nurse Biggs said, "If Master Colin had a vixen of a sister like you, he might actually get well."
"Well, I do not care one jot if he does or does not get well!" Leaving Nurse Biggs standing behind in her wake, Mary muttered just loudly enough for Nurse Biggs to hear and chuckle, "If I were in India, I would put a snake in that boy's bed."
Mary did not see Colin for the rest of the day, nor did she ever want to see him again. Today had been the absolute and final straw, which was a shame because Mary really had started to like the boy. But she did not need to pander to a spoiled, domineering person who thought he could have her at his beck and call. The mere thought of it sent shivers down her spine. Mary shuddered them away. She had far more pleasant things to think about.
After she left Colin's room, she went directly to the library where she began to pull all the books that had anything to do with flowers. She found one book that had the most beautiful watercolors. Mary spent the rest of her day poring over it, examining each flower and taking meticulous notes. She wanted to be able to put a name to all the flowers she had conjured up in her image. Once Dickon was back, they would see about getting some more seeds and planting them in the Secret Garden. Happy with that thought, the rest of the day passed uneventfully.
Try as she might though, Mary would not be able to escape the wrath of Colin. Later that night, when Mary had long been abed and sleeping, Nurse Biggs came to see her.
"Miss Mary, Miss Mary, wake-up!" Nurse Biggs gently shook the little girl awake. "Please. You must come quickly, Miss Mary. Come, I beg of you."
Yawning, Mary turned over in her sleep and rubbed her eyes. "Goodness! Nurse Biggs, what are you doing here?"
"It is Master Colin again."
"Oh, him is it?" Mary rolled back over utterly and completely disinterested.
Nurse Biggs tugged on Mary's arm. "Please, Miss Mary. Mrs. Reynolds begs that you will come and help us."
"Oh, fine! If Colin is going to be a troll about everything, tell him I will come see him in the morning. That should make him feel better and maybe he will go back to sleep. Now let me be." Finished, she burrowed her head into her pillows.
But, Nurse Biggs shook her free. "Please, Miss Mary. I know how you feel and strictly between you and me, though I love the dear boy in spite of his many faults, there is no one who wants to see him get his comeuppance more than me; believe me. But this is an emergency. Master Colin is thrashing wildly about in his bed and will not be held down. I fear that if he does not stop soon, he will somehow bring harm to himself. Only you have the power to make Master Colin stop. He listens to no one but you. Please, Miss Mary. I ask this as a favor. We would be forever indebted if you would just help us this once."
"Oh, all right." Throwing back the bedcovers, Mary jumped out of bed and went flailing down the hallways in her white, nightgown, with the ribbons of her nightcap flying about like the tail of a kite.
Once again, Colin could be heard throughout the entire wing of the house only this time his utterances were incomprehensible. They were an odd mixture of jumbled words, anguished screams, and tears. As Mary drew closer, she could also hear Colin throwing himself about; they were mixed with Mrs. Reynolds's low and soothing words as she tried to restrain him.
Determination set on her face, Mary was on fire as she came barreling through the doorway.
"STOP IT! STOP IT! JUST STOP IT!" Mary did not stop there. Next, she leapt onto his bed and standing over Colin, leaned near to his face until they were only inches apart. "It would be a good thing if everyone went away and left you here to scream yourself to death!" she yelled at him.
Her sudden outburst was met with dead silence. Nurse Biggs, who had followed her from behind, stopped abruptly in the doorway. Mrs. Reynolds looked up in shock from where she had been trying to steady the boy. And Colin merely stopped moving around and stared. Nobody had ever seen this side of Mary before. Mary, firm in her resolve, merely stared back.
"That's better," she said in a quieter and calmer voice. "Now," she began again, her voice edgy as she warned, "Do not even dare to try and scream again, for if you do, I promise you that I will scream too and I can scream longer and louder than you can. This is one contest you would definitely lose."
"I only screamed because I felt myself dying and nobody cared. You do not care, you do not even wish to see me," Colin cried petulantly.
Trying very hard to not roll her eyes in front of Colin, Mary threw up her hands and exclaimed, "For goodness sakes, Colin! You are not going to die! And if I did not care, why am I here in the middle of the night?"
"I don't know. Perhaps you wanted to come and gloat at my death."
"Hardly. Firstly, I am not so unfeeling as to do something so callous like laugh at a dying person. Secondly, and more importantly, YOU ARE NOT GOING TO DIE!"
"YES I AM! I have been up all night coughing and feeling feverish again. I cannot sleep. I am going to die."
"You are certain in this?" Mary asked skeptically. Colin nodded in the affirmative, not that she had expected him to do anything differently.
Mary looked down and peered into Colin's face. Probing into the very depths of his eyes, she saw the fear hidden all the way in the back. For the first time, Mary realized that Colin was not just some spoiled, paranoid child who thought he was about to die. It was worse than that, much worse. He was in earnest. Aware of and now sensitive to Colin's emotions and perceptions, Mary thought perhaps it was time for her to once and for all prove a point.
"Can I feel your forehead?"
Before nodding his consent, Colin turned to both his housekeeper and nurse, awaiting their answer. Mary followed suit.
Mrs. Reynolds threw up her hands in helplessness. She was for once in her life utterly and completely without an answer. Nurse Biggs, on the other hand, always rational and in complete control of the situation at hand, answered briskly, "I do not see why not."
Rolling up her sleeves, Mary touched the back of her hand to Colin's forehead. She felt nothing. And then told him so. "You are not feverish."
"Yes I am!"
"No you are not. You are no more feverish than I am." Pulling his hand, Mary held it up to her forehead and then placed his other hand on his own. "See? Your forehead is the same temperature as mine."
"What about my coughs?" Colin frowned. He knew he was sick. He knew he was dying. He had to be. So why then did he not have a fever like he thought he had?
"What about your coughs?" Mary shrugged. "I knew a boy in India who had coughs much worse than yours. He never died. In fact, he grew up and went to school and is still very much alive and healthy today. If you ever say that you will die on the account of your coughs again, I shall laugh in your face!"
"I am going to die," Colin insisted, although he did not seem so adamant about it as he had been before.
"Is he?" Mary looked up at the adults.
Nurse Biggs rocked back onto her heels. "Well, the specialist from London said that Master Colin would improve if he ate well and got out into the air."
Colin glared at her betrayal and then turned to Mrs. Reynolds, always his staunchest supporter. "You tell her."
Mrs. Reynolds looked suddenly tired. She gazed lovingly at her little charge, her eyes caressing his young and pale face. "You have always been frail and sickly ever since you were born, Master Colin. That is all I know. I have always hoped you would outgrow your ailments. I still hope for it."
Looking up at Nurse Biggs, she said, "I am worn out. Can you manage without me, now?"
"I want you to go." Colin piped up in command once again. "You too, Nurse Biggs. Only Mary can stay."
"That's up to Miss Mary to decide," Mrs. Reynolds reminded him.
Colin turned to Mary, who was still kneeling on his bed, "Will you, Mary? Please?"
"Well..." Mary's voice trailed off as she considered her next move. An internal combat ensued. Dickon's words flitted across her memory and Mary found herself caving again. She could be sympathetic and understanding after all, she supposed. And besides, he had asked nicely. "Since you said, please. All right. I'll stay. But if you scream again, I'll smother you with a pillow," she warned.
Nurse Biggs looked up, vastly pleased with the way things had turned out, and beamed knowingly. "And she would too."
The next morning, when Georgiana came to check up on nephew, she happened upon a most unexpected sight. Putting her hand to her mouth, she gasped with glee. Mary and Colin were curled up close against one another, both faces serene and smiling, and most definitely asleep. Georgiana drew the door shut and then left instructions with the staff for the young Master and Miss Mary to not be disturbed.
* Some of the exchanges in the dialogue from the Colin/Mary scenes were adaptations from Hallmark Hall of Fame's The Secret Garden (1992). (Yes, the movie version with Colin Firth playing Adult Colin! :-P )
© 2001 Copyright held by the author.