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Chapter 14 ~ The Ball
The servants were still scurrying busily around the first two floors of the Darcy townhouse, attempting to see to every last-minute detail before the guests began to arrive. The small group of musicians had arrived and were setting up their instruments at the head of the second floor drawing room, the long table in the dining room on the first floor was laid for a supper later in the evening, and cut flowers from a local hothouse were arranged in all of the vases and were placed in every available nook. Their scent was nearly overpowering by the time that Mary descended the stairs to take up her position in the hall with Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam.
Fitzwilliam appeared to see her first and he smiled in approval as he tapped Elizabeth on the arm in order to direct her attention to Mary.
"Mary!" Elizabeth exclaimed, equally pleased as she caught sight of her younger sister. "You're a vision."
Mary smiled her thanks and hoped that -- for once -- Elizabeth's remark had a degree of truth to it. She certainly had taken greater time with her preparations for this ball than she had ever had done before. Mary -- along with Elizabeth's very capable maid, and Marianna -- had spent nearly an hour in dressing and arranging her hair for the evening. Little Marianna had been most forward about her opinions on her aunt's appearance and 'Auntie Mary' was not allowed to go downstairs until Marianna had decided that she looked like a 'princess'.
Mary wasn't sure if she wanted to look like a princess, but was glad that her little niece approved of the gown that had been made for her to wear. It was the most elegant thing that she had ever owned, white silk with short, capped sleeves and a neckline that was far lower than any dress she had ever worn before. It was quite simple in design, with a skirt that flowed quietly around her as she walked. She had held it up as she descended the staircase, enjoying the feel of the soft material as it ran through her fingers.
Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam continued to smile their encouragement as she joined them in the hall, and Mary wondered if her appearance would garner the same response from Hugh later on in the evening. Mary admitted to herself that she hoped that it would. She did want to please him.
Mary thought back to the moment when he had kissed her in that hack chaise and felt herself grow warm. The memory of that kiss was never far from her thoughts. It was the first one that she had ever been given and it made a lasting impression. In fact, Mary found herself thinking about it even when her mind should have been occupied by other things. She daydreamed about it when she should have been listening to Elizabeth go over the menu and the list of wines to be brought up from the cellar. She considered it when she should have been attending to the conversation at the dinner table. She even imagined other kisses with Hugh when she should have been listening to Marianna read to her last night.
Mary would have never thought that one little kiss could render a person so completely insensible, but obviously it could. She had to wonder if she were still capable of rational thought, especially when all she wanted to think about as she waited in the hall with Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth was just how long it would be until Dr. McConnaugh walked in that door.
But she also knew that she had a duty to perform for John Barrow that night and wouldn't shirk from that responsibility, especially since she had learned nothing yet of a substantive nature about either Lord Rodale or Richard Percy. Both gentlemen had been able to guard their secrets very well thus far, but they just might be forced to reveal themselves when they were made to meet that night for the second time. Several days ago when she had agreed to dance with both men she hadn't realized just how opportune their order would be. The man who must have helped Captain Linson to threaten Lord Rodale two days ago was her dance partner for the second dance and Lord Rodale was her partner for the third. She couldn't have orchestrated a more potentially telling encounter between the two men, who she assumed had only met once. She was planning on closely watching the reactions of both gentlemen, especially when Mr. Percy would have to hand her over to Lord Rodale at the end of the two seconds.
And the opening dances? She was really looking forward to those. Thankfully, Hugh had the foresight to ask her to dance first.
And Hugh's proposal? Mary still hadn't fully resolved upon accepting him. Every time she felt herself to be on the verge of agreeing to it, she felt herself hesitate, trying to recall all that she knew about him. She knew that he was very intelligent, was strikingly handsome, and wonderfully amiable. He was cheerful, spoke well, and always had something interesting to relate. He was better traveled than herself of course, but that was something that she thought of in a positive light. He had spoken of the places that he would like to show her once they were married and had even talked about venturing back to the arctic together. He was sure that she would appreciate its majestic beauty just as much as he had.
And there was always the fact that he knew about her past. She would not need to keep that secret from him as she might any other man. He might even allow her to assist him in his work. Mary wanted to find a way to continue to practice medicine and marrying Hugh seemed to afford the most rational opportunity for her to do so.
And -- regardless of his other charms -- Hugh would always treat her better than any other man would, save for her brothers-in-law and Seth Shackleford.
And what about Seth Shackleford?
Was there anything left to say about him? A part of her still loved him, but she knew that it was a futile, useless feeling. The love that she had harbored for her friend would never be requited. He had made that abundantly clear on more than one occasion. Regardless of his appreciation for her, regardless of the fact that he had forgiven her for playing a part for six years, he could not learn to return her affection. Mary expected herself to be pragmatic enough to see that and to put a stop to such ridiculous, foolish hopes. It would be best for all if she worked towards establishing a relationship that had a chance of deepening, instead of wishing for something that could never be.
Mary believed that her chances for happiness were quite good with Dr. McConnaugh and she could not think of any reason to hesitate further. She would accept him that evening.
The line of carriages dropping off passengers stretched to the end of the Darcy's block and was threatening to back itself around the corner when Seth arrived at the party on foot. He stared at the spectacle in open-mouthed surprise. All this traffic couldn't be for the intimate dinner party to which he had been invited, could it? Could it be that there was a ball being held at the neighboring townhouse? Seth walked on slowly, suspicions rising in his mind. Hadn't Mr. Darcy called it a 'dance' during their last conversation together? And Mr. Darcy should know, shouldn't he? Steps slowing, Seth considered what he should do next. If he turned around and went back home, he risked disappointing Mary, perhaps going so far as to do permanent damage to their tentatively repaired friendship.
Then again, if he were to go in...
"Mr. Shackleford!" a voice called from a carriage window as it passed by. Seth turned towards it and saw a carriage with what he now knew as the Darcy crest roll to a stop in front of him, one glass window let down and Mrs. Barrow peering out from it. Seth smiled weakly and went over to open the door for her.
Mrs. Barrow smiled widely at Seth. "Would you mind escorting me in to the ball, sir?" She asked as he handed her out of the carriage.
"I'd be happy to, madam" he acquiesced readily. "Although it wasn't aware until just now that it was a ball to which I had been invited."
Mrs. Barrow nodded her head and took his arm. "I believe that it did start out as a small dinner party," she agreed, "But then, with Mary's improving health, Elizabeth thought that she could chance having dancing. As soon as you begin to invite additional people to make up sets, you invariably wind up inviting others just in order to keep from snubbing anyone."
"Which is a perfectly acceptable reason," Seth agreed, "But had I known that it was to be a dance..." he drifted off.
"You might have worn your dancing shoes?" Mrs. Barrow finished almost teasingly.
"Unfortunately, I have no dancing shoes," Seth replied, trying to keep his tone light. He shouldn't tell Mrs. Barrow that he might have rethought his decision to attend, should he? It seemed like very bad form. "I wonder if they'll deny me admittance without a pair?"
"Probably not," Mrs. Barrow returned, with the same light-hearted sentiment as he. "Especially since you've managed to dress appropriately in every other way. In fact," she stopped and took a closer look at him. "I should say that you look very dashing tonight, Mr. Shackleford. You clean up rather well."
"Thank you," he accepted even though he wasn't quite sure if it were deserved. He had purchased a new shirt and cravat for the occasion, something that had become quite necessary since the collars of all of his shirts were fraying and his very best neckcloth had been stained beyond redemption by the Harris twins and their ink spilling art project. He had visited the barber earlier in the day and had even accepted Daniel's offer to act as his valet, brushing his coat for him and helping him to arrange his tie. Seth had rewarded Daniel for his kindness by allowing him to have the rest of the night off. That evening, Seth had left the house believing himself to look more sartorially appropriate than he ever had before, and it was all done so that he wouldn't embarrass Mary in front of her family. That was the last thing that he wanted to do. "And may I say that you are looking particularly lovely as well, Mrs. Barrow?" he returned the compliment. "But where is your husband tonight?"
Mrs. Barrow smiled sadly, "I'm afraid that he is still hard at work on a case in Yorkshire, Mr. Shackleford. But the Darcys insisted that I come without him tonight and even sent their carriage for me to use."
Seth was very sorry to hear that John would not be with them that evening and said so as they mounted the stairs that led to the door. Mrs. Barrow thanked him quickly for his considerate words, but could say no more as they were busily engaged in being met at the door by the servants who took her cloak and his greatcoat and disappeared with them. It only remained for them to join the line of people waiting their turn to be welcomed by the Darcys.
And Mary. Seth saw that there was another individual receiving guests next to Mrs. Darcy, but it took him a moment to realize that it was she. He stopped and stared in amazement. She looked positively radiant dressed all in white with a brilliant scarf twined around her head, not necessarily governing the rich, brown curls that framed her face. The locks of her hair were allowed to fall where they pleased, regardless of the white scarf. The image before him was a far cry from the person who had reluctantly submitted to living as a lady once again and had angrily torn a red ribbon out of her frizzled hair a few weeks ago. This new individual seemed completely at ease in her shimmering gown and shining cap of curls, which now had more in common with the silk of her dress than with the wool of the jackets that she had once worn as a man. Not that Seth had enough experience with softer fabrics to make a good comparison, but he could tell that her transformation back into a woman was complete and that she seemed happy in it.
A hand on his arm brought him back out of his own musings -- Arabella Barrow's gentle reminder that they should walk forward and be met by the family. She smiled at him encouragingly, an expression that had an additional measure of mirth in it, as if she had found how he had gaped at his old friend somewhat amusing. "She looks lovely, doesn't she?" Mrs. Barrow whispered as they made their way to the trio.
"Yes," Seth whispered back, staring again. "She certainly does."
Seth wasn't quite sure of what was said to him by the Darcys or how he had responded. His eyes were still fixed on Mary, especially after she recognized him and gave him her own small smile of welcome. He made quick work of shaking Mr. Darcy's hand and came to a stop in front of her.
"I'm glad that you came," Mary said, smile growing even wider. "I was afraid that you would turn right around once you saw that our dinner party has turned into a ball."
Seth felt himself redden in embarrassment. He almost had, hadn't he? "You look beautiful," he stuttered somewhat in a bad attempt to change the topic of conversation. "I hardly recognized you."
"Again?" Mary lifted an eyebrow skeptically, causing Seth to blush even further.
"Yes, again," he admitted honestly. "It seems that you grow more --" he searched for a word, "womanly -- every time that I see you."
It looked as if Mary didn't know how to take that comment and was momentarily put off by it. "Is that a compliment or a criticism, Seth?" she asked.
"A compliment!" Seth protested quickly.
"Well, then, I'll accept it as such," she thanked him with a smile so sweet that it made him grow even bolder.
"And," he began, "since I now understand this to be a ball...might I be favored with a dance? I'm not very light on my feet or schooled in all the new steps, but I should like to have the opportunity of standing up with you." Seth knew that this wasn't exactly true. His old aunt had forced him to learn all the appropriate dances as a part of what she considered to be a necessary component to his social education. He hadn't excelled at the figures, but thought that he could remember them.
Seth watched as his suggestion made the expression on her face darken somewhat. She stopped smiling and it was difficult to read her emotion in her face. Was it disappointment? Frustration? Shock at his impertinence?
"Perhaps you've already been asked?" Seth floundered.
Mary nodded, "Dr. McConnaugh has already asked me for the first two."
Seth didn't recognize that name and wondered who it was that had the privilege of leading Mary out onto the floor. He nodded numbly in acceptance. "The two second?" he suggested.
"Mr. Percy," Mary grimaced. Seth was surprised. He didn't know that name either.
"The thirds?" he followed up.
"Lord Rodale," she looked down sheepishly.
"Fourth?"
"Fitzwilliam."
"Fifth?" Seth asked, incredulous.
"Charles," she admitted slowly.
Seth stared at Mary, aghast. "Dare I even hope that there will be a sixth dance this evening?" he asked.
Mary opened her mouth as if to respond, but her attention was called away by another man calling from behind him. "Mary!" the man exclaimed. "At last I've arrived."
In another instant, the man had sidled up to her and took her hand in his own. "Judging from the clog of carriages in the street, I would say that half of London has turned out for your party!" And then, this unknown man brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it while Seth looked on in stunned silence. "You look absolutely divine, my dear." Said he, gazing at Mary with a look that was far too knowing for Seth's tastes. He almost gasped audibly at the man's behavior. How dare he assume such a great acquaintance with Miss Bennet! Seth felt affronted for her.
But then he saw that Mary didn't seem to be bothered by his behavior at all. In fact, she seemed to be welcoming it! And -- other than a rather becoming blush that had overset her cheeks -- didn't seem at all disturbed by it. She continued to smile up at the gentleman that had just arrived, seeming to appreciate his openly-handsome countenance, his well-groomed sandy blond hair, and attractively regular features. Seth felt a dull ache begin to settle in his throat. Just who was this Greek Adonis still holding onto Mary's hand? Seth cleared his throat in an attempt to remind her of his own presence.
That recalled the pair quickly enough. "Oh!" Mary realized that introductions should be made. "Hugh," she addressed the godlike visage, "this is my good friend Seth Shackleford. Seth, this is Dr. Hugh McConnaugh -- a colleague from the Royal College of Physicians."
"So this is the beleaguered reverend that I've heard so much about!" Dr. McConnaugh offered his hand, which Seth reluctantly took. Exactly what had Mary told Dr. McConnaugh about him? He looked over at Mary as if to ask the question.
"Dr. McConnaugh was instrumental in finding Mr. Hart to take my place, Seth," Mary explained.
"I see," Seth replied, not quite sure if he really did understand. It was quite obvious that Mary was on more intimate terms with the man than he had supposed, perhaps more than could be explained by the term 'colleague'.
"I hope that Mr. Hart is working out for you," Dr. McConnaugh commented smilingly.
Seth would have nodded his agreement to that but just at that moment Mrs. Darcy politely interrupted their conversation in order to tell Mary that it was time for her to lead the couples onto the dance floor. Dr. McConnaugh, with a readiness that bordered on the irritating, placed Mary's hand on his elbow and began to escort her up the stairs. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy ventured upstairs as well and Seth could do nothing but follow behind, Mrs. Barrow falling into step beside him, but remaining quiet. He was grateful for her sympathetic silence. His mind was too confused to make polite conversation as they climbed to the second floor drawing rooms, but when he tried to identify the reason for his discomposed thoughts, he couldn't understand why. Shouldn't he be rejoicing in his friend's good health and apparent cheerfulness? And shouldn't he be pleased that she was forming new attachments? Why should he begrudge her any happiness?
He shouldn't. Rationally, he knew that it wasn't fair, but that dull ache in his throat deepened as she watched another man walk her out into the middle of the floor and to the top of the room. And that ache grew into a solid lump as he saw Mary return that man's pleased expression. She liked him very much, didn't she? That thought only made the lump in his throat harden into a sharply pointed object.
"How attractive Mary looks tonight," he heard Mrs. Barrow whisper and Seth turned around to see her speaking with both Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley. "And so happy," she added.
"I've never seen her look happier," Mrs. Bingley returned. "Perhaps that it what has enhanced her beauty tonight."
Mrs. Darcy appeared to agree. "Perhaps we should all remember the usefulness of a smile in magnifying one's beauty," she commented laughingly to Mrs. Barrow, "That little trick always seemed to work for Jane."
Jane giggled back, "Now Elizabeth, I seem to remember a time when a certain gentleman thought that I smiled too much," she said, looking over at her sister's husband significantly.
Seth watched as Mr. Darcy rolled his eyes good-naturedly, "I believe that I've already paid for the impertinence of that comment, Jane," he returned, "You shall never again hear me suggest that a lady smiles too much."
The group broke into laughter at Mr. Darcy's retort, with Mr. Bingley mentioning that he was pleased to see that his friend had finally learned to laugh at himself -- six years and three children later. Mrs. Barrow had to call their attention back to the couples dancing on the floor and to Mary in particular. She and Dr. McConnaugh, as the lead couple, were preparing to go down the set. "I can't quite understand why your sister considers herself plain. For my part, I can detect nothing in Mary's appearance that would lead me to use that word to describe her nor can I believe that she had been awkward and unattractive as a young girl." Arabella Barrow turned to petition the sisters. "What was it about her that created such a impression?"
The Bingleys and the Darcys fell silent as they attempted to recall how Mary had been in earlier days. "Well," Mrs. Bingley attempted an explanation first. "As has already been mentioned -- she didn't smile very often when we all were girls."
"And wore her glasses, even when she didn't need to." Mrs. Darcy chimed in hesitantly. "She does have very pretty eyes, but hardly anyone could see them behind the glass."
"Or behind the page," Jane bit her lip as if trying to reconstruct a memory. "She didn't often emerge from her books long enough for the attractiveness of her face to be contemplated."
It was an argument lacking in substance and weight, and Seth could see that the four family members realized it. The sisters grew silent once again, seeming to be quietly atoning for the time when they had ignored their younger sibling and hadn't appreciated her. Eventually, Bingley shook his head. "Elizabeth and Jane, to their credit, are forgetting the real reason why their sister was considered plain by her family and friends."
"And what is that, Charles?" Mrs. Barrow inquired.
"She happened to have been born into a family where there were already two lovely sisters," he took hold of his wife's arm as she began to shake her head and blush at his compliment. "Unfortunately, the poor girl paled in comparison."
Seth, again, felt affronted for Mary. "Well, she isn't paling in comparison to them now." He whispered in a voice so soft that the other four didn't hear him. But Mrs. Barrow had. She looked over at him and shook her head in sympathy, and he had to wonder if his discomfort was really that apparent. But -- instead of pointing it out -- she deflected any attention that might have been sent his way. "Perhaps its the fact that Mary has lived in the world quite a bit and has experienced more than she had while living in Hertfordshire?"
"Experience as an enhancer of beauty, Arabella?" Elizabeth echoed thoughtfully.
"Perhaps we all find her more intriguing because she's able to converse about so many different things?" Mrs. Barrow continued her theory. "And there's no doubt in my mind that certain gentlemen are finding her quite fascinating."
They all looked back over at the dance floor, where the two firsts were just being completed. Seth watched as Mary bowed to Dr. McConnaugh before giving him her hand and allowing him to lead her off the floor, towards their group. But, before they could reach them, another gentleman came up and appeared to claim Mary's hand for the two next. Seth stared as Mary reluctantly allowed Dr. McConnaugh to relinquish her hand and give it over to this new gentleman. "That's Mr. Percy," Mrs. Barrow whispered in explanation to Seth. "He's a clergyman like yourself."
"I should hope not," Seth responded without thought. He didn't like the looks of Mr. Percy at all, and it wasn't just because of the cheek marred by a rather obvious birthmark. The man had a rather dull, insipid air about him. He couldn't imagine that man inspiring a congregation to do anything!
"Mr. Darcy was considering him for a living in Derbyshire, and Mrs. Darcy thought him a possible suitor for her sister, but I think that they've both given up on him by now." Mrs. Barrow said. "I can't imagine why they continue to allow him to visit."
"I can't imagine why Mary agreed to dance with him," Seth countered, feeling his face begin to glower in anger. Why was Mary being forced to accept the attentions of a man that she obviously didn't like?
But she hadn't needed to be forced into accepting the attentions of Dr. McConnaugh, had she? Now without Mary, that man continued to make his way over to their group. Seth felt his hackles rise as he watched the man walk self-assuredly across the room to petition his hostess for a dance. Mrs. Darcy quickly agreed and moved off with him. Mr. and Mrs. Bingley decided to join the set as well, and Mr. Darcy offered his arm to Arabella Barrow.
The six set off to join the dance, leaving Seth alone with a dreary choice before him. In an attempt to look less conspicuous, he could either pace the perimeter of the room or hide away in some dark corner. He certainly couldn't ask anyone else to dance, could he? The only ladies that he happened to know at the party were now out dancing, nor did he have any other acquaintances in the room with which to converse.
Seth chose the former and commenced stalking the room, hoping that his antisocial disposition wasn't too apparent on his face. Far too often, he found himself looking at Mary, watching her progression down the set with her ill-favored partner. As he watched her, Seth could tell that she was not enjoying herself at all. He regarded her further and realized that she appeared to be looking around the room for someone else as well. Could she be searching for him? He stopped and gazed right at her, as if willing her to look his way.
But she didn't. Instead, her eyes seemed to focus on a tall, dark haired gentleman also stalking the perimeter of the room. She gave the man a small smile, but Seth could see that there was a degree of wariness to it, as if she weren't sure what was going to happen next. Seth glanced over at the gentleman and saw that he had returned her greeting, but then stopped smiling just as soon as he saw her partner. Seth watched as that man's face turned grim and angry. Seth turned back towards Mary and Mr. Percy and saw that Mr. Percy appeared to have recognized the dark haired gentleman as well. It completely discomposed the man. He attempted to execute a turn, but did it badly, going in the wrong direction and bumping into the lady next to him in the set. Seth would have found Mr. Percy's antics comical had he not been Mary's partner at the time and capable of embarrassing her.
And -- in another moment -- Mr. Percy did. That man ran off the dance floor, leaving Mary alone in the middle of the room. Completely shocked, Seth watched as he disappeared into the hall. Seth then turned back to Mary and would have walked onto the dance floor as if to rescue her, but it appeared that the dark haired gentleman had thought of that first. He was already next to her, escorting her off of the dance floor, talking to her as if he too were an intimate acquaintance.
Seth was too surprised to move. It appeared as if Mary had made a good many new friends since she they had parted company.
"Can you believe that?" Seth heard a young lady comment to another in the alcove behind him. "That man just left Miss Bennet on the dance floor!"
"It doesn't look as if she has any cause to repine, though," the other girl replied. "I'd rather to be left on the dance floor on any day if it meant that Lord Rodale would come to my rescue." The young girl's inflection of that man's name left no doubt in Seth's mind about her appreciation for him.
"Is that Lord Rodale?" the other girl nearly squealed in some strange display of youthful rapture. "They say that he's amassed quite a fortune in Barbados, not to mention his estate in Yorkshire."
"And he's not married!" the other hissed back.
"But he may not be on the market much longer," the second one returned whiningly. "It seems as if he's quite taken by Miss Bennet."
Seth looked to the other side of the room and saw that Mary and Lord Rodale were discussing something very intently. Lord Rodale's tall frame was bent down towards her and Mary's head was tilted up towards his.
The girls behind him giggled together as the small orchestra came to the coda and the dancers bowed to one another. "But I'd better get back to my father," said the second voice. Seth turned and looked at the ladies out of the corner of his eye. They were both reasonably pretty and were dressed in what he took to be the height of fashion. "He says that he's spied the son of an old friend and wants me to dance the next with the man."
The first girl expressed her indignation. "How dreadful."
"It won't be as bad as all that," the second young lady consoled herself. "They say that he inherited a fortune and doesn't quite know how to spend it!" She laughed at her own joke and -- with that, the two friends parted and they walked off in opposite directions.
Unconsciously, Seth began to walk towards Lord Rodale and Mary down at the other end of the room, not that he knew what he was going to do once he got there. Was he actually going to interrupt their tête-à-tête? If it were left to Seth's varying emotions, he supposed that he might do just that. He was quickly finding himself falling into a dark and impatient humor. He wanted to spend time with his friend and the best way to do that was to at least get near her. But his progress down the hall was impeded by another gentleman who stood in his path and appeared to claim and acquaintance with him. "Well, if it isn't Seth Shackleford! Well met! You're the spitting image of your father, you know."
That gentleman's salutation brought him up short. "I should hope not," Seth replied icily, thinking of his father's reputation and his desire not to imitate it.
But the man just laughed Seth's retort off. "That's right, no self-respecting son will admit to being like his father," he chuckled, clapping Seth soundly on the back. "But you are, you know. You look just like him -- all except for that red hair, which I assume you got from your mother!" Then, the man turned conspiratorial. "I knew your father really well, you know. We had some wild times together." He reminisced to himself, "Some wild times they were."
Seth had no doubt about that, but he didn't really want to hear about it now or ever, if he had the option. "Will you pardon me, sir?" He began to excuse himself as the music for the third set was heard.
"Now, now, just a minute," the old friend of his father's stalled, "I'd like for you to meet my daughter."
Over the shoulder of the insistent man, Seth watched as Mary took Lord Rodale's arm and allowed him to escort her onto the dance floor. Seth sighed loudly in frustration. He was too late again. Resigned, he turned his attention back towards the gentleman standing in front of him. "Yes, sir?" he responded tiredly.
The man chuckled again, "There's a good fellow," he patted Seth on the back. "Allow me to present my daughter, Miss Drusilla Tottenham," and with that he pulled a young lady towards Seth and he instantly recognized her as the second giggling admirer of Lord Rodale. Seth had to stop himself from shaking his head in disgust at her earlier behavior.
"Miss Tottenham," he managed to say politely, bowing slightly at the lady.
"Mr. Shackleford," she returned his gesture with a perfectly appropriate curtsy and a demure little smile. Her calm little expression was as far from the impression he had just received of her personality as could be. Seth recognized that Miss Tottenham must not have realized just how much of her conversation he had overheard. No young lady would be able to be so composed if she thought that a gentleman had heard all that she and her friend had said about their appreciation of Lord Rodale. There also was that remark about some hapless man with whom she was slated to dance, the one who supposedly needed assistance in spending his fortune. Seth looked around, wondering just where the unlucky man happened to be. He was somewhat mystified. There didn't appear to be any gentleman near Miss Tottenham at all. The only individuals standing near were her father and himself.
Unless, he could be the gentleman in question? Seth nearly gasped in shock. Dear Lord, they must have been speaking of him! He looked back over at Mr. Tottenham, who returned his look with an encouraging smile. "There's a good lad," he clapped Seth on the back again. "And do you see that the set is just beginning," he gestured to the dance floor. "You have time to join their ranks." He glanced over at his daughter significantly.
So, he was to be the dance partner who was wealthy enough but appeared to have some difficulty in spending his fortune! Seth grimaced outwardly at the difficult situation in which he found himself. He certainly did not want to dance with Miss Tottenham and he was sure that she would not wish to dance with him once she had been made aware of his reasons behind not choosing to enjoy the inheritance that his father had left him. From all that he had already learned of Miss Tottenham, she appeared to be quite shallow and decidedly opportunistic.
If he refused to dance with her, however, was he forfeiting his chance to dance later with Mary? Seth knew the rules that governed dances such as these as well as the next person and knew how it would appear to everyone at the ball if he slighted Miss Tottenham at this moment and then went on to petition Miss Bennet later on. Seth made his decision. "Miss Tottenham," he said, with as much resolution as he could summon, "I'd be honored."
"Thank you, Mr. Shackleford," she returned, holding out her hand for him to take, the hint of a shy smile playing across her down turned face. It was all an act, of course. Seth just barely kept himself from sighing loudly as he recognized elaborateness of her innocent facade and walked with her towards the dance floor, unconsciously attempting to place himself as near to Mary and Lord Rodale as possible.
He wondered which dance this was to be and if he would remember the steps from the dance lessons that the aunt had insisted upon. He glanced at the other couples as they anticipated the music. Surprisingly, the gentlemen appeared to be placing one arm around the backs of their partners! Then he watched on as the ladies returned the gesture by placing a hand upon the gentleman's shoulder. He looked over at Mary and saw she had already placed her own hand upon Lord Rodale's shoulder and that he was slipping his arm around her waist and clasping her free hand with his own. His eyes widened involuntarily.
"Mr. Shackleford?" his own partner attempted to gather his attention. Seth turned her way. She smiled and held out her hand. "It's a waltz, sir."
"A waltz," he echoed, heart sinking. He had heard about this new, Continental form of dance but had never actually seen it done. He hadn't been sure what to make of the accounts that he had been given of it. He had heard that it was rather unseemly and amoral, and allowed a lady and gentleman to come into too close of contact. Recalling that, he turned to look again at Mary. Lord Rodale had pulled her very close to him. Seth felt pulse begin to quicken.
"Mr. Shackleford?" Miss Tottenham attempted once again. "The music is starting."
And so it had. After the introduction, the couples began moving around the floor, turning and pivoting as a single unit. Completely surprised, his eyes followed Mary. She seemed to know the steps and looked utterly comfortable in Lord Rodale's close embrace. Seth's heart continued to race.
"I believe that we shall have to take to the steps or cause an accident standing here in the middle of the floor," Miss Tottenham hissed into his ear, taking hold of one of his hands and placing her other on his shoulder. "I can teach you the steps, it's really quite simple..."
Seth felt himself stiffen. Learning how to waltz was the very last thing in the world he wished to do! But he looked over and saw how relaxed Mary and Lord Rodale appeared to be. Seth glanced away -- focusing back on Miss Tottenham.
She saw that she had reclaimed his attention and smiled accordingly. "Now, if you'll just place your arm around my waist," she directed, helping to move his hand into the appropriate position as she did so.
Seth gulped, looked back over at Mary, and resolved learn the ridiculous step. He wasn't about to be shown up by Lord Rodale!
Miss Tottenham seemed to sense this and delivered the next instructions, counting the beats for him as they began to move hesitantly in a circle. "Very good," she commented after a bit. "Now, I wonder if you can begin to move us in a wider arc?"
Seth, attention wandering back towards Mary who was now with Lord Rodale in a distant part of the room, thought that he could begin to manage that and immediately set off to move in that direction, circuitously moving nearer to Mary and her partner.
"You've picked up on this quite well," Miss Tottenham recalled his attention again. "I'm surprised that you've never given yourself the opportunity to learn it before this. The waltz has become quite accepted in London society."
"I don't often partake in London society, Miss Tottenham," Seth returned.
"But you do make your home in the city?" she pressed.
"Yes," Seth admitted, "Near Cheapside."
"Cheapside?" Miss Tottenham exclaimed. "Why would you wish to live in Cheapside?"
"It's where my church happens to be," Seth gave her the simplest explanation and continued to focus half of his attention on her and the other half upon Mary.
"Oh, your church," Miss Tottenham echoed dully. "You see to the duties yourself, sir?"
"I can't afford to ask anyone to do them for me," Seth reasoned.
"I can't see why you couldn't," Miss Tottenham shrugged her shoulders. "My father knew your father quite well. From what he has told me, you should be very able to hire a curate to see to the church."
Seth regarded his partner again. He might as well make her aware of his decision regarding his inheritance. In fact, he was somewhat curious to see what her response would be. "I have chosen not to rely upon my father's fortune," he told his partner, watching her face for her reaction. He wouldn't have been surprised if she pulled away from him instantly and chose to return to her friends now watching her from the corner of the room. There could be no other reason why she had consented to dance with him.
But it appeared that Miss Tottenham was not to be put off that easily. "Why is that?" she asked, voice sounding intrigued.
"Has your father not made you aware of the fact that his good friend -- my father -- made his fortune through the trading in human souls?" Seth asked, hearing his voice tighten in disgust. He hated to admit that fact to anyone.
Miss Tottenham didn't appear shocked at all by his revelation. "Oh, it doesn't signify what a man makes his fortune in, does it?" She shrugged.
"Just as long as he has enough to..." Seth tried to modulate his voice as he quizzed Miss Tottenham further. He had known that she was mercenary, but not to what extent.
"Yes, of course," Miss Tottenham agreed, "Enough funds to take care of a family in an appropriate and suitable manner."
"Which, I assume, would mean a house in London, one in the country, two carriages..." Seth began to list.
"And enough servants to run both establishments." She nodded assent. "What else do you need?"
"How about the knowledge that you have not contributed to the misery of others simply so that you and your family can live in the appropriate style?" Seth heard his voice roughen with disgust.
Miss Tottenham actually laughed at that. "Really, Mr. Shackleford," she said, "I think that you take the world too seriously. Everyone has their place in society!"
"And so you would relegate some to the depths of Hell and despair just so you can live..." he began.
"... in the manner to which I have been accustomed." She filled in, looking at him levelly. Seth caught the expression in her eyes. There was no shame to be found in them. Miss Tottenham owned up to her opinions completely and did not find them wanting. He nearly shuddered in revulsion. Had all young ladies in London society been bred to be so wanting in feeling for their fellow man? He had to turn away from Miss Tottenham before she could read the disgust in his face. His eyes quickly alighted upon Mary, her cheerful face still turned happily towards Lord Rodale as he led her around the room. Mary -- her own opinions were just about as far from Drusilla Tottenham's own as they could be. He found himself looking at Mary with a longing that he had never quite experienced before. It was like looking at a ray of sunlight streaming through a window and wanting to walk nearer and be warmed by it. Mary understood him, all of him, and had liked him for who he was.
Seth's continued look towards Mary seemed unsettle Drusilla Tottenham out of her complacency. She looked in the direction of his stare and recognized its object. She laughed again, but it was without mirth. "Miss Bennet?" She turned back towards Seth. "Now, really Mr. Shackleford, don't tell me that you'd prefer to be dancing with Miss Bennet!"
Seth jerked his head back towards Miss Tottenham, recognizing the change that her eyes had undergone. They had hardened and turned metallic. Her attentions towards him had proved to be futile. She was pulling back in order to cut her losses, but would probably wish to drop a few barbs along the way. "What if I would prefer to be dancing with Miss Bennet?" he asked, dropping a step and making a muddle of the pattern that they had been executing. He gave up and stopped dancing, pulling Miss Tottenham off the dance floor quickly.
Miss Tottenham dropped his hands as he deposited her back on the side of the room. "She's hardly a beauty," she shot out.
"What does that matter?" Seth returned, staring down at Miss Tottenham angrily, while thinking that it wasn't quite a fair estimation of Mary. Why was it that no one saw any beauty in Mary? Or had his own eyes become so biased over years of looking at the face of his friend that he could only appreciate the warmth of compassion and gentle humor that he saw in her features?
He would never be able to understand why everyone called her plain.
"Well, there's no accounting for taste," she looked at Seth icily. "Really, Mr. Shackleford -- your love for Miss Bennet is quite astounding. In fact, it's almost as astounding as Lord Rodale's appreciation for the woman."
"I'm not in love with Miss Bennet!" Seth protested quickly, "She's a friend!"
But Miss Tottenham had held up her hand and refused to hear further. "I can assure you that your feelings for her are all for naught, sir," she continued, meaning to hurt. "It appears that Lord Rodale has already found a place in her heart and -- considering that he is willing to use his fortune in an appropriate fashion -- Miss Bennet will certainly choose him!"
"She's not making a choice here," Seth began again.
"She isn't?" Miss Tottenham asked sarcastically. "Perhaps you haven't been watching as closely as I thought you were!"
Seth looked away and felt caught. Had he really been watching Mary that closely?
But Miss Tottenham had once more charge to lay before she took her leave. "Obviously you weren't looking that closely," she stated, her voice sounding reasonable. "For, if you had, you would have seen that your friend Miss Bennet does not share your opinions about fortunes gained through the use of slaves."
"What?" Seth had no idea of what she was speaking.
"Did you not know that Lord Rodale's Barbados plantation uses slaves?" Miss Tottenham asked innocently. "How in the world do you think that he managed to amass such a fortune?"
Seth's eyes widened and he looked back at the genteel figure of Lord Rodale, happily dancing with his own friend Mary. Did Mary not know this about Lord Rodale? Or had her opinions changed so drastically in the last few weeks that she no longer cared about such things?
"I see that you didn't know," she smiled cruelly as she took her leave of him. "Have a good evening, Mr. Shackleford," she said as she walked away.
Seth did not watch her go. His eyes continued to focus on Mary and her new friend as they danced gracefully around the room. The lump in his throat returned and he knew that he had to speak with her. And as soon as possible!
Chapter 14 B
The waltz ended, and Mary felt her partner reluctantly disengage himself from her. It wouldn't be proper for a lady and a gentleman to hold one another so closely after the music had ended, would it? Mary looked around and saw that all the other couples on the floor had done the same. She smiled sadly, sorry to see such a welcome diversion come to an end, and turned towards her partner -- Edward Linson, whom everyone in London called Lord Rodale.
"Miss Bennet," Edward said, bowing slightly and raising her hand to his lips, "Thank you."
She blushed hotly as the expression of his eyes added an additional measure to that simply worded sentiment and she knew that he was not just thanking her for the dance. He was also expressing his gratitude for her perception and willingness to listen to his troubled story. And for believing him after he had finished telling it. He had decided to make Mary his confidante as soon as the shock of seeing Mr. Percy had worn off and she believed that he had held nothing back as he revealed his difficult story to her, most of which she already knew from John Barrow -- although she did not say as much. It was true that his cousin, James Linson, and Richard Percy had approached Edward at the National Academy. There, they had attempted to put additional pressure on him to forfeit his plantation in Barbados by giving him a piece of proof that his mother was not the former Lady Rodale, but Mary Sutherland. This token was a book of verse, inscribed to a lady named Mary. "For giving life to my son Edward," was the bare sentiment that had been penned, and the giver had signed it as "Rodale." There was no doubt in Edward's mind that the script matched his father's own handwriting and even less doubt about how such an inscription was to be interpreted. The book of verse was with its damning inscription was an irrefutable sign. His mother was not Lady Rodale, which meant that he could not rightly assume the title Lord Rodale. Mary could tell that Edward's mind was quite disordered as he thought of this. In fact, he said had almost resolved upon not attending her party because he was sure that he would be in a bad humor and would not make a good guest.
Mary had been very kind as she assured him that she appreciated his company and friendship regardless of his current situation and would always welcome him -- even if he had to either give up his title or relinquish the greater part of his wealth. She could tell that such words were somewhat heartening to hear and Mary continued to press him not to lose hope. She wondered if there couldn't be another interpretation of the inscription, as clear as it might seem and was curious to know how Richard Percy had represented himself to Lord Rodale when they had met in the gallery. And just how had Mr. Percy come to be the possessor of the book of verse?
Edward explained that Mr. Percy had been the dying Mary Sutherland's pastor and had been with her as she lay on her death bed. She had given him the book of verse when she made a final confession of sorts. In that confession, she had revealed to Mr. Percy that she had once carried a child and that she felt that this child ought to know the truth of his parentage. She had charged him with carrying out that duty after she was dead and Mr. Percy -- after burying Mary Sutherland -- had attempted to locate Edward Linson. In that attempt, he had first come upon James Linson.
It was a highly creditable story, especially when one considered the book of verse as proof of the connection, but there was one large flaw in it that Edward Linson could not know. Richard Percy had not been the clergyman who was with Mary Sutherland when she died. Seth Shackleford had been the man who kept vigil by that woman's death bed on that evening. Mary remembered this incident quite clearly, even though Seth had received countess nighttime calls during their time together and would probably accept many more in the future. Mary shook her head at the memory. Seth never refused any call, regardless of when it came.
But she couldn't tell Edward that, could she? To do so would be to reveal her own secret and -- while she was gratified that he had chosen to confide in her -- she didn't feel as if it were wise to do the same. Instead, she just told him that she was quite sure that Mr. Percy couldn't have been the clergyman in question, because he had just returned from India and had not yet been given a living.
That was enough of an explanation for Edward. While it was still troubling that Percy had the book of verse in his possession -- Mary couldn't imagine how the man had come to have it -- Edward was ready to grasp onto any hole in the man's story. He went on to explain that he had hired 'Mr. Blevins', a private agent, and knew that he was on the case in Yorkshire. Mary suggested that Edward put his trust in that man and not give up hope until he had returned to London to make a full report. While she didn't say it out loud, she knew that John Barrow as Mr. Blevins could be trusted to unearth the truth.
Mary then suggested that they send a footman to find Mr. Percy so that they could quiz him together about this falsehood, but Edward was sure that he would not have remained in the house after such a hasty departure from the dance floor. The music for the third dance had started by that time and Edward had remembered that she had already accepted him for this dance. He was not about to lose his opportunity of dancing with her. Both he and Mary had joined the ranks of couples dancing -- with spirits much lighter than they had been at the beginning of their conversation. There, Mary discovered that Edward was quite good at waltzing and was entirely capable of leading her through the steps. Mary herself had only learned the dance yesterday, after Elizabeth had mentioned the fact that waltzing had become so commonplace in London that all the respectable society hostesses were now programming them into their evenings.
And Mary had to admit that she understood why the dance had caught on so quickly. Waltzing was unlike any dance that she had ever done before. Whirling around the room held firmly at the waist by a gentleman was an almost magically-heady experience. Mary nearly became dizzy with excitement during it. That dance certainly required a longer amount of time with which to recover. She looked around at the other couples that had now left the floor and were beginning to converse near the sides of the room. An even greater number of people had ventured into the next room where Elizabeth had her servants set up refreshments -- port for the gentlemen and lighter fare for the ladies.
"Shall we go find something to drink?" Edward suggested to Mary.
Mary was on the verge of agreeing to that plan when she saw Seth Shackleford walking towards them with an expression on his fact that was difficult to read. He appeared unsettled and almost angry, but about what she could not tell. She couldn't imagine that the fact that she hadn't saved any dances for him could effect such a change in his demeanor. He had never liked dancing and she had every reason to believe he continued to hold that opinion, even though she had seen him lead Drusilla Tottenham through the waltz. He hadn't appeared to like it much -- although his scowling expression could have had more to do with the lady than with the dance. Mary hadn't known Drusilla for very long, but it didn't take days to learn that young Miss Tottenham was one of those conniving, tenacious London belles who were out to find the wealthiest husband and marry him as quickly as possible. Someone must have failed to tell Miss Tottenham that -- while Mr. Shackleford certainly had enough money in the bank -- he was resolute in his decision not to touch it.
Miss Tottenham must have discovered this fact halfway through the dance and been sorely disappointed. In fact, she had been disappointed enough end her dance with the man rather prematurely, marching off the dance floor in a fit of pique.
Mary shook her head as she thought of the poor, deluded girl. Seth -- appropriately dressed and surprisingly well-groomed for the evening -- would have appeared to be any young girl's dream. To Drusilla, he must have simply seemed to be a rather tall and handsome gentleman with a large family inheritance and no wife or siblings with which to share it. Mary was quite sure that Drusilla had quickly concocted several plans for how to spend such a fortune for him -- only to learn that Seth had no intention of ever using it.
"Could we wait a moment, Edward?" Mary asked Lord Rodale, who was patiently waiting for her to take his arm so that he could escort her into the other room. "I see a friend coming this way."
"Of course," he agreed readily.
In another instant, Seth was standing before them. "Seth," Mary smiled kindly at him.
"Mary," Seth replied tersely, looking from her to Lord Rodale and back again. His suggestion was clear enough. He was wondering about her partner.
"Edward," Mary turned to her new friend, "this is Mr. Shackleford." Then, turning back to her old friend, "Seth, this is Lord Rodale."
"Sir," Seth replied, not bothering to conceal the strong measure of disdain in his voice. Seth's very pointed dislike of Lord Rodale confused Mary. She didn't know how to account for it.
"We were just on our way to find some refreshment, Seth," Mary went on, glancing over towards Lord Rodale to see what his reaction was to Seth's odd behavior. A puzzled expression played across his face as he looked from Seth to Mary and then back to Seth once again. His opinion was clear: just who was this rude man who was able to claim an acquaintance with Mary?
"I'd prefer the opportunity to speak with you, Mary," replied Seth, looking at her intently. "And in private."
"In private?" Mary was confused. "What could Seth have to say to her that could require privacy?" She glanced back over at Lord Rodale.
That man appeared to be as confused as herself and -- while he was too much of a gentleman to expect a further explanation from a perfect stranger -- he was also unwilling to leave Mary alone unless he was sure that was what she desired. "Is that what you'd prefer, Mary?" Edward asked, looking at her closely. His unspoken question was clear. Did Mary really wish to be left alone in the presence of this boorish gentleman? Or did she require saving?
Mary tried to smile at him reassuringly. "Yes, thank you," she said. "Why don't you go take some refreshment? I'll be with you in a moment."
Lord Rodale hid a grimace as he nodded quickly to Seth and turned towards the next room.
Mary turned back to Seth, feeling as if she wanted to reprimand him for his rude behavior towards Lord Rodale. "What is this about, Seth?" She asked instead.
"Perhaps I should ask you the same question!" Seth retorted. "Exactly what is going on between yourself and that gentleman, who -- I don't think that I have to remind you -- you hardly know!"
"What?" Mary was nearly speechless.
"I think that you know of what I am speaking," Seth replied. "Just what is the relationship between yourself and Lord Rodale?"
What did it matter to Seth who she befriended. "I feel only friendship for Edward!"
"And are you sure that this is all that he feels for you?" Seth asked.
"Of course!" Mary hissed indignantly, even as she wondered if that were true. She hadn't even considered the thought that Lord Rodale might be wishing for a deeper relationship. In fact, she hadn't really believed that anyone would wish for a greater attachment to herself until Hugh had made his proposal. It was almost beyond her comprehension that any man could fall in love with her -- let alone two! "I assure you that Lord Rodale only considers me to be a good friend," she went on, voice rising slightly. "He deserves to have the solace and comfort of my friendship, especially at a time like this!"
"Oh really?" Seth scoffed, taking Mary's arm and pulling her further away from the crowd that continued to mill around on the dance floor.
Unwillingly, Mary allowed herself to be led into a small alcove. "Yes really!" Mary responded. "Seth, what has gotten into you? This outburst is very unbecoming and completely out of character!"
"I beg your pardon," Seth shot back, "I believe that it is completely in keeping with my character, which is more than I can say for you! Since when do you allow a slave owner to claim an acquaintance with you?"
"A slave owner?" Mary spat back without thinking. "Now, really -- when did you decide to take up maligning innocent men?"
"He is not innocent of the charge," Seth replied levelly. "He was a landholder in Barbados, wasn't he? Isn't that where he made his fortune? You can be sure that he made his money on the backs of other people."
Mary opened her mouth as if to retort, but realized that she had none to make. She thought about Lord Rodale and realized that -- while she could not imagine the kind gentleman that she knew growing rich by forcing work out of others -- she couldn't conceive of how he was able to amass such a large fortune in any other way. This realization sickened her.
"I see that you agree," Seth remarked quietly.
Mary turned back to him and felt her eyes narrow. She regarded him carefully. Was he pleased to be able to relate such an insidious thing to her? She looked closely, but couldn't detect any symptoms of triumph in his countenance. If anything, he looked concerned and somewhat anxious.
But it was still maddening. "Are you quite through with all that you needed to reveal to me in private?" she asked, voice sounding strained. "Or perhaps you would like to critique the characters of the other friends that I have made?"
"No," Seth shook his head vigorously.
"You have nothing to say about Mr. Percy?" Mary baited.
Seth rolled his eyes. "You can't say anything good about him either, can you? Especially not after he left you on the dance floor. He hardly looks like a rational man! Whatever made Mr. Darcy consider him a suitable candidate for any living is beyond me! And I can't even begin to understand Mrs. Darcy's thought of him as a suitor for you!"
Mary had to agree with that, but she found that she was still angry. "And Dr. McConnaugh, sir?" Mary went further. "And just what would be your opinion of him?"
Seth's mouth seemed to tighten into a grimace and he fell silent.
"Surely there's something about that gentleman that you find displeasing?" Mary led further. "Don't stop with Mr. Percy and Lord Rodale! Feel free to find fault with all of my friends!" She threw up her hands with some disgust.
"Mary, I --" Seth began, putting his hand forward, a placating gesture.
But Mary was in no mood to be placated. "Yes, what is it?" she asked, pulling away from him.
He dropped his hand and looked as if he were trying to consider how to proceed. It was a familiar enough expression, she had seen it many times before. Especially when he would attempt to figure out the best way to explain something difficult to a reluctant parishioner. Mary waited, wondering what he would say next.
But -- before he was able to begin his thought -- Mary's attention was called away by Elizabeth. "There you are!" she said as she walked into the alcove. "John Barrow has just arrived," she explained. "I thought that you'd like to welcome him with me."
Mary nodded to her sister, "Of course," she replied quickly, "I believe that Mr. Shackleford and I had just finished our conversation." With that, she turned back to Seth. "Have we, Mr. Shackleford?" She asked.
Seth sighed deeply and looked confused, but there was only acceptable reply to her question, so he made it. "I believe so, Miss Bennet," he said quietly. "You need to attend to your guest."
Mary nodded and walked away with Elizabeth, mind in complete turmoil.
Chapter 14 C
Mary and Elizabeth discovered that John Barrow had been ushered into the study and was deep in conversation with both Mr. Darcy and Lord Rodale. Mary knew at once that he must have discovered something vital in Yorkshire.
"What is it?" Mary petitioned him immediately, "What have you learned?"
John nodded his head, "Yes, Mary, you're correct. Willie and I did learn something with regards to Lord Rodale's difficulty as well as Mr. Darcy's."
"In other words -- Richard Percy," Mary surmised, looking at the three men and attempting to gather the information by studying the cast of their expressions. They were all uniformly grim.
"Yes it is," Barrow confirmed for her. "But we need to wait until Mr. Barton has found our Mr. Percy and has brought him here. The footman attending the door doesn't believe that he has yet left the party."
A knock at the door just at that moment proved that this surmise was correct. Elizabeth opened the door and allowed entrance to Mr. Percy, escorted by both Willie Barton and the footman. "He was cowering around the refreshments," Willie explained, pushing the man forward.
Mary could hardly believe it. Had the man actually stayed after leaving her on the dance floor? What in the world could he have been thinking? Was he that desperate to hold onto the tenuous relationship that he had with the Darcy family that he would actually risk embarrassment at the least and discovery at the worst by remaining at the party?
"Thank you," John nodded to the footman and Elizabeth, who made a quick exit. The door shut behind Mr. Percy, trapping him inside with the other five. He attempted to turn indignant. "What is the meaning of this?" He questioned defiantly.
"We should be asking that of you, Percy," John Barrow snapped back authoritatively, showing him at once who was to be allowed the opportunity to interrogate. Mr. Percy would not be afforded the privilege of asking questions. "Or, should I say Edgar Mayhew?"
The man who Mary knew as Richard Percy blanched and Willie sat him into a chair as his knees threatened to give way. It was obvious to all that he recognized the name as his own. John explained it to the other three. "Edgar Mayhew was the youngest son of the woman who acted as wet nurse to you," John looked over at Lord Rodale who appeared to be thinking deeply in an effort to place the name. "Unfortunately for him, he lost his mother and father and all of his older siblings to illness when we was but a boy."
Mary felt a small spring of sympathy well up for the unfortunate man, but it was quickly capped by her sense of protection towards Lord Rodale. Regardless of his sad past, he had attempted to hurt her friend Edward. But then she recalled what Seth had just revealed to her about Lord Rodale. Did a man who had built a fortune on the backs of others deserve her compassion?
She listened on, too confused to judge either individual. "Mayhew grew up as the ward of the church in a neighboring village," John went further, "Edgemoor to be exact. He lived at the Edgemoor parsonage with the rector and his family, and it is to be assumed that the man and woman were good to him, perhaps even treating him like a second son."
Mary looked back over at Edgar Mayhew and saw him nod his assent to that.
"They did have a son of their own," John revealed. "The real Richard Percy. That man died several years ago -- just before he was to enroll for his first term at Oxford."
Mary watched as Edgar Mayhew winced at hearing his own history related so clearly.
"I'm sure that you can imagine what followed," John went on. "There was a spot being held at Oxford for a Mr. Richard Percy. Mayhew -- wishing for any opportunity to better himself -- took his chance. He left Edgemoor and the brokenhearted Percys behind. They died soon after." John looked back over at Mayhew. "Did you know that Edgar?" He asked the man.
"No," came the soft response, "I didn't."
John didn't appear inclined to allow the man a chance to grieve. "Having lost one son to illness," he went on, "they had to face the disappearance of the foster son as well. It was too much for them to bear."
"I meant them no harm," he admitted sadly.
"No," John shook his head. "I'm sure that you didn't. But the fact remains that you did assume another person's identity in order to gain his rights and privileges."
Mary shuddered and closed her eyes as John said this. Had she not done the same, if not worse? Not only had she pretended to be someone she was not in order to claim her own share of opportunity, she had masqueraded as a man in order to do it. Surely her sin was just as despicable as his own.
John Barrow seemed to sense Mary's own self-castigation and decided to rescue her. "Perhaps, Mayhew, your first act is forgivable. But your decision to aid James Linson in the blackmail of Lord Rodale is not. That, sir, is a crime."
Mary looked back over at John and realized that there was still a great deal of the story that they had not heard.
"How --" Rodale began.
"A good question, sir," Barrow agreed. "If you'll recall, I did mention that Mr. Mayhew here was the son of the woman who nursed you as an infant?
Lord Rodale nodded, but continued to look puzzled.
"Thy father gave me mum a book o' verse," Mayhew interjected dully, lapsing back into his native Yorkshire accent now that the mask of his identity as Richard Percy had been stripped away. "No' tha' she could read it. Thy was a verra sickly baby when young. Thy woulda died hadna been for me mum."
"For the life of my son Edward..." Lord Rodale echoed, closing his eyes as he recalled the words that had been torturing him for a week.
"Aye," Mayhew agreed.
Willie stepped forward to fill in the rest. "Edgar Mayhew met Captain Linson on a ship, traveling from India to England. The close quarters gave Linson ample time to figure out why Richard Percy looked so familiar -- not that it took him very long at all. Mayhew's obvious birthmark continues to give him away."
"But what we don't know is how Linson managed to convince Mayhew to take part in his blackmail scheme," John finished, looking from Lord Rodale to Edgar Mayhew. "Would you care to enlighten us? It might go better for you if you did."
Mayhew sighed deeply and realized just how perilous his position had become. He was utterly defeated. What good would it do to withhold information now? "It was th' book," he began, "With thy father's writin' in't. James came upon it in me box."
"And the inscription suggested the plan, didn't it?" Barrow finished.
Mayhew nodded dumbly. "What if someone claimed to be his mother? That was the beginnin' o' it"
"From there, you just had to find a suitable Mary to match the inscription?" Barrow continued.
"Took em awhile to remember which at the house was named 'Mary'," Mayhew nodded. "Then, 'e recalled Mary Sutherland. Looked her up and discovered tha she had died."
"So she wouldn't be able to reveal the truth," John assumed.
"And it set up the correct story," Mary added, finally beginning to grasp it all fully. "You," she pointed to Mayhew, " -- with your useful book of verse, were able to play the part of the conscientious clergyman, attempting to fulfill an old governess' dying wish."
Mayhew nodded in mute agreement.
John looked surprised. Here was a bit of the story he hadn't yet heard!"
"That's right," Mary confirmed to John, almost pleased to be able to finally relate something substantive to the man. "Mr. Percy... I mean Mr. Mayhew... met with Lord Rodale and James Linson last week at the National Academy of Arts. He pretended to be the clergyman who had been with Mary Sutherland as she died, extracting a confession about bearing a child when she was younger. As proof of such a connection between the woman and Lord Rodale's father, he offered a book of verse with that very intimate inscription."
"For the life of my son?" John's eyebrows raised involuntarily.
"Exactly!" Mary nearly shouted, getting quite excited about their resolution. She knew that such a show of interest was inappropriate, however, and resolved to quiet her spirits. She turned back towards the man. "But why did you choose to go along with his plan?" She asked.
Mary saw that he wasn't able to return her gaze. "He threatened me," Mayhew admitted softly. "Said tha' he'd tell everyone the truth."
"And you couldn't go back to being Edgar Mayhew?" John questioned.
The man shook his head slowly. "Not now." He said, but amended it. "Not then."
"Then..." Edward, who had been silent throughout most of this explanation, exerted himself to ask a question. "I'm not Mary Sutherland's child?"
"No," Mayhew negatived and Mary watched as Edward breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't illegitimate. He was his father's rightful heir and no one else could claim his title.
Or his holdings in Barbados. Mary found that she still didn't wish to think about that, however.
"But why did you find it necessary to resurrect the body of Mary Sutherland and strip off her clothes?" John turned back to Mayhew, eyes betraying more than just simple curiosity. He was still quite incensed over the insidious defilement of that grave.
"I didna do that!" Mayhew protested loudly.
"What about Linson?" Barrow prodded.
"He didna either!" Mayhew responded, eyes widening in disbelief. "Thee mun believe me!" he pleaded, eyes traveling from Barrow to Darcy to Mary, finally stopping at Rodale.
"You've given us little to base any trust upon," Darcy interjected, eyebrow raised skeptically.
John nodded in agreement, but then went further. "While you are correct in your estimation of the situation, Darcy," he spoke to his friend, "I'm afraid that an associate of mine did manage to uncover a letter that does lend some weight to his assertion. Based on that letter, I do believe that Linson and Mayhew had nothing to do with resurrection of Mary Sutherland's body."
Mayhew breathed out audibly, a clear sigh of relief.
"It is interesting to note," John went on, "That Linson believed that his cousin was behind the grave robbing." He turned and looked at Lord Rodale.
"Me?" Rodale gasped in complete shock.
John nodded again. "Apparently, he believed that you had discovered the whereabouts of Mary Sutherland's body and were determined to have it examined in order to prove that she had not borne a child. Such an assertion certainly would have ruined all of their plans."
"You can't think that I would consider such a thing!" Rodale returned, looking somewhat ill with revulsion. "They never even told me where she lived!"
"You can put your mind at ease as well," John replied to that. "I don't think that you were responsible for it either. Which leaves me with a great problem, of course."
"You still don't know who was responsible for the break-ins, do you?" Mary assumed softly.
"No," John looked back over at her. "I don't." He shook his head with some disgust. "Which is maddening, considering the fact that they managed to wound a very good friend of mine!"
Mary looked down, recalling that horrible night several weeks ago. So much of her life had changed since then and -- while at the time she thought that it was all for the worse -- she could now see some positive developments that had arisen from it. She had been reunited with her family and would have the opportunity to see her nieces and nephews grow. She might even have a family of her own someday.
It was true that she could no longer practice medicine in a traditional manner, but she might be allowed to practice some of her healing skills in the future -- especially if she married well. Finally, she had to admit that it was a relief to no longer be living a lie, to always have to be vigilant in guarding her privacy, constantly afraid of discovery. How much longer could her charade have lasted, anyway? Would she have died one day as an old man, never having had the chance to experience life to its fullest extent?
She thought of Hugh, his proposal, and that kiss. Could she really have denied herself the chance to have a loving relationship? Could she have missed out on having a relationship that was reciprocated and based on mutual trust?
As Mary looked back upon her life, she realized that she couldn't have done it.
She turned back to John and smiled. "Perhaps it was for the best," she whispered.
He returned her gesture with a wan smile of his own, one that didn't appear to be completely ready to agree with her suggestion.
"I'm better now," she assured him, "And all will be well."
John cocked his head to one side. "While I have to agree to that, Mary, I still find it quite frustrating to realize that I haven't found the culprit!"
Poor John, his professional sense of responsibility was quite high! "Perhaps it was just as you first thought," she suggested. "A pair of resurrectionists who bungled the job twice!"
John appeared to be highly critical of that explanation, but -- considering that he had no others to give -- was forced into taking it.
"Regardless, John," Darcy came forward and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "You've managed to complete my job for you quite satisfactorily -- as well as Lord Rodale's. Now all that's left is for someone to go get Linson with a constable and charge him. The law is not kind to blackmailers."
This appeared to rouse John into action. "Willie and I will take Mayhew to find Linson immediately," he agreed.
Edgar Mayhew cowered at the idea of seeing James Linson again -- and in such circumstances.
"Oh cheer up, man!" Barrow reprimanded. "Continue to tell the truth and we'll see if we can't influence the law to be kind to you!" He pulled Mayhew up by his elbow.
Willie stepped forward to assist him. "If you wouldn't mind, sir," he began to suggest. "I'd be more than happy to finish up this matter for you. That way you could stay with your wife."
John appeared somewhat taken aback by his assistant's suggestion.
"I'd be happy to lend Mr. Barton the use of my carriage in order to complete this business," Darcy added some force to Willie's proposition. "That is, if Arabella no longer has a use for it."
John appeared to crack under the weight of their confederacy. It wasn't in keeping with his sense of professionalism to allow his assistant to add the finish to a job -- but Willie had been proving himself to be quite capable lately.
And Mary could tell that John had regretted having to spend so much time away from Arabella.
"I think that I would like to go as well," Lord Rodale added after some thought. "He is -- after all -- my cousin. I should like to confront him with this."
That seemed to settle it for John. They certainly didn't all need to go arrest Captain Linson. "Thank you, Willie," John accepted, relinquishing control of the now subdued Edgar Mayhew.
Willie smiled widely in response and Mary almost had to laugh. The young man was very eager to be given more responsibility, wasn't he? With a very authoritative manner, he pushed Mayhew out the door.
Edward Linson walked over to Mary to make his farewell. Mary took his hand and attempted a cheerful expression. "I'm sorry that you have to leave us so soon, sir," she said. "But I am glad that you'll no longer be in torment over this."
"No more than I," he responded, pressing her hand into his own. "Thank you," he said again, eyes regarding her very earnestly. Mary wished that she could look away or summon back an increment of the light-heartedness that she had felt while waltzing with him on the dance floor -- but she found that Seth's intimation about his slave-owning past to be too great a block. "I wish you all the best, Edward," she finally managed to say in return.
Edward seemed to sense that something had again altered in Mary's attitude towards him, but was again unable to account for the reason why it had changed. She watched him bow his head respectfully to her as he released her hand and walked out of the door.
"Well," Darcy said to both Mary and John. "We should rejoin the party. Elizabeth will certainly have found Arabella by now and have informed her of your arrival."
John appeared quite ready to comply with such a suggestion, but Mary wished that they could delay. So much had happened in the last few hours! She wished that she could allow herself a few minutes of peace to set her spirits towards tranquillity.
But Elizabeth expected her to join in as the hostess, didn't she? She had to exert herself.
Mary nodded her head and allowed Fitzwilliam to open the door for her. She walked through and recognized that most of the party-goers were making their way down the stairs, past the study, and into the dining room for the supper. She realized then just how long they had been sequestered in the study.
Elizabeth and Arabella had stationed themselves across the passageway -- waiting in expectation for the study door to open and their husbands to re-emerge. "John!" Arabella exclaimed, smiling as she came over to greet her husband.
Mary looked over at the pair as they exchanged a greeting that she knew had to be restrained from what both would wish for at the conclusion of a lengthy absence. They both knew what would be regarded as proper while in such a public setting.
"Hello, Bella," was the only fond comment that John was able to make as he took his wife's hands and bent towards her to kiss her cheek.
Mary tried not to feel jealous as she watched the two of them, but it was difficult not to covet what the Barrows shared. Arabella appeared so easy and comfortable in John's presence. It was as if she were always sure of his affection and love. She worried about nothing. Mary wondered if she would ever share the same relationship with Hugh.
Mary looked around. Where was Hugh?
"Elizabeth?" Mary walked over to her sister. "Have you seen Dr. McConnaugh?"
Elizabeth appeared to think carefully while she looked over the guests as well. "No," she admitted. "I haven't seen him lately."
Mary was surprised at that. Surely he hadn't left, had he? He still hadn't received his answer from her. He wouldn't have ended the evening without petitioning her about it again. It was very puzzling.
"But," Elizabeth reclaimed Mary's attention, "Mr. Shackleford did take his leave."
"Seth?" Mary was surprised.
Elizabeth nodded and went on. "I think that he must have been feeling ill."
"Ill?" Mary echoed.
"He seemed quite low when he came to bid Arabella and myself goodnight."
Mary felt instantly contrite. Perhaps she shouldn't have spoken so bitterly to him. Perhaps he had only been trying to protect her. "Did he not enjoy himself?" she asked, question sounding nonsensical even as she posed it.
"No," Elizabeth negatived. "He said that he enjoyed himself very much. His spirits did nothing to confirm that, however. In fact, if I knew him better -- I might be able to say that he had been suffering under the weight of a great disappointment as he left."