A Match for Mary Bennet (21 page)

“Of course.” But he shook his head sadly. “I hate to count on it, because there are no sureties in life, but Watts reasons that Fitzwilliam may have found his brother in a condition that required care and so would not leave him. We must believe that and renew the search vigorously because even the Colonel's additional supplies cannot last much longer.” Darcy reached for Elizabeth's hand, whether to strengthen her or to glean strength from her Mary could not guess. “Fitzwilliam's greatcoat is still in the loft where he left it, and that may help the dog lead us to him.” He looked at Mary then and smiled. “If that does not suffice, I am bringing my hunting boots to wade every stream I find. I believe you may be right about their need for water.” He looked tenderly on his wife, a kind of pleading in his eyes. “I hate to leave you such a task, as it will be a delicate one. Try to find Bingley alone; he is the right one to tell his sister the unsettling news. Perhaps Mary will agree to accompany you to Otherfield?”

Mary most readily agreed. She wished to be with Elizabeth and to give any service that she could.

The next morning, Mary came early to Pemberley, but Darcy had already left. She hurried through breakfast because Elizabeth had ordered the carriage that would take them to Nottingham, and she knew Mr. Shepard would be prompt. During the ride, Mary was vaguely aware of the route now growing familiar to her, but she worried about Elizabeth, whose silence possibly meant that she feared delivering her message. Toward the end, Mary noted not a single landmark, overcome as she was with apprehension for Lizzy and with concern as to how Bingley and his sister would take this startling news. The journey was slow, and yet Mary found herself surprised when they slowed to enter Otherfield's avenue. She whispered to Elizabeth, “Do you wish me to come with you when you see Bingley or should I visit Jane and Beth then?”

“You are kind, Mary. I shall try to see Mr. Bingley alone, but perhaps you can tell Jane if Caroline is not by. But if she is with Caroline, you must keep it from her. Oh, Mary, Darcy is so worried that the Colonel overspent himself and is in dire need somewhere. We must keep praying that at least
he
may be found.” Elizabeth stepped out of the carriage after Mary, and Mary nodded her agreement.

Jane and Bingley, clad for the brisk weather, came around the house as for a morning walk, surprising Mary and Elizabeth at the avenue. Mary suspected that the Bingleys were surprised also, but a warm welcome showed them pleased. Mary took Jane's hand and asked her to walk out to the familiar bower with her, while Elizabeth asked Bingley to take her inside. When Mary relayed to Jane the dreadful news which Darcy had sent to Bingley, Jane nodded, concern in her face. “I knew by her look that Elizabeth feared something, but this is disaster indeed. Caroline has been remarkably strong until now, considering that she keeps to mourning dress, but I know not how this will affect her. We must go in. Bingley is not one to keep it from her long, and she may need me when she hears this. I have some tincture of gillyflower and mint I must prepare, should she faint. At times I believe her nerves are very like Mama's.”

Inside they learned that Caroline had just returned Beth to the nursery, and Bingley emerged from the parlour, his face white. He turned to Elizabeth, just behind him. “Darcy is right; I had best tell her and soon, but I fear her reaction.” Seeing Jane, he searched her face for the intelligence he soon knew was hers, and asked her to be close by.

Jane settled Mary and Elizabeth in the morning room, saying she would have some refreshments prepared for them, and excused herself to go for the restorative. Mary found Elizabeth relieved of one burden but still apprehensive.

“My heart goes out to Caroline, Mary. I do not know if I could handle such news of Darcy.” Elizabeth took Mary's hand and held it tightly. No sooner had she done this than a shriek from upstairs and a thud as of someone falling brought the sound of Sarah's hastened footsteps. Mary and Elizabeth followed up to the east room, where Jane rushed in just ahead of them. Bingley knelt over his sister on the floor while Sarah grabbed the fire screen and fanned her.

“Her pulse is thready, Jane. What shall we do?” Bingley asked, looking up at her helplessly. Jane applied the smelling salts and gave Bingley a cloth dipped in hartshorn, which he put to the prostrate woman's forehead.

Slowly Mrs. Fitzwilliam sat up, shaking off the salts Jane held beneath her nose. Caroline moaned brokenheartedly, “This cannot be. How could he have gone back alone? What can have happened to him?” Her eyes lit on Elizabeth, and she grew furious. “I blame Mr. Darcy for this! He knew the route; he should have stayed close by my honourable husband.” Elizabeth tried to assure her that everything was done that could be and that Mrs. Fitzwilliam must hope for the best and be brave. But then Caroline lashed out anew. “This was your doing! You kept your husband home with you when he should have gone with the Colonel!” Her piercing scream sent Mary back a few steps. She wished to be elsewhere even as she pitied poor Caroline, who must indeed be beside herself to call her husband the Colonel.

Jane gently moved to Mary and Elizabeth and whispered, “Please go to the breakfast room. I asked the cook to put out fruit and biscuits. We will care for Caroline.” Caroline was screaming something about Darcy's gross negligence as Jane spoke. “Then do not stand on ceremony, but you had best leave soon. Thank you for coming. I know it was not easy since you knew not what to expect. Caroline is really not herself, though she has been remarkably strong until now. Perhaps she has been holding in her fears too tightly.” Jane embraced her sisters quickly and returned to Caroline, weeping bitterly in her brother's arms as if all hope were lost.

Elizabeth led Mary to what seemed a second breakfast—one just as fast as the first—and then they summoned the carriage. The ride home, only a bit more companionable than the ride there, showed Elizabeth worried about the Bingleys. “I am thankful that she has the news, but, oh Mary, just think how Jane's life with Bingley will change if Caroline loses her husband so soon. It might be far better if she had never married, because before it she had learned to be content. She might now spend her days ruing what she has lost.”

Mary would not give in to such gloomy thoughts. “We must not think it, Lizzy. Darcy will find them both. He must.” She surprised herself by showing more faith in Mr. Darcy than even Elizabeth herself could admit to.

Two anxious days elapsed, during which Mary and Elizabeth engaged in desultory conversations over their meals, always coming back to their fading hopes for the Fitzwilliam brothers. The first day, over their needlework, Elizabeth had asked, “Should we not have heard something by now?”

Mary had calmed her by saying, “Duxford is far, is it not? And they must search in all directions from there. I do not think they could return so quickly. Please, Lizzy, let us keep our prayers hopeful.”

On the second day, at what felt like their aimless work, Elizabeth sighed. “What can be keeping Mr. Darcy? All the night I dreamt there was a dreadful beast in the woods, devouring the men one by one. The idea of those fens and marshes haunts me. This wait is unbearable!”

Mary caught her dread but cautioned, “Lizzy, this is not Italy. The terrors of Mrs. Radcliffe's books do not happen in present day England. And does not Mr. Watts's brother know the safe paths? You must keep up your spirits.” But truly, Mary grew dejected herself. If Caroline's fate should become Lizzy's as well, Mary realized that, all her life, she too would mourn the brother whose strength and kindness she had come to depend on. At dinner Mary forced herself to say to her quiet sister, “Please keep hoping, Lizzy. Mr. Darcy is so great a man. He will find a way.”

“Oh Mary, let us pray so. Darcy is much more than a great man. He is a
good
man. He must come back to me. I cannot now learn to live without him.” She had to leave the table then, and Mary too felt like crying. Instead, she made her way to the quiet oratory and poured out her pleading heart all night instead of returning to her cottage.

On the next day, as they doggedly pursued their work in Elizabeth's sitting room, they heard Darcy's voice below. Elizabeth raced to the stairway, while Mary stood in the hall, the linen still in her hand, and rejoiced that he had returned. She prayed that his news of the others would be as good. Darcy reached Elizabeth quickly, and they mounted the last few steps still joined in their embrace. Mary noted that his hunting boots were a bit soil smudged and watermarked. She returned to the sitting room, picked up Elizabeth's embroidery from the floor where she had dropped it, and placed it carefully on the small table near Lizzy's chair. As the two entered the room, Elizabeth's lively face raised Mary's hopes.

Darcy sank to a chair and unfolded his tidings of cautious optimism. “Colonel Fitzwilliam had indeed found Lord Henry. They are now headed to Norfolk on the waggon. Sir Henry had met with some kind of accident and fallen from his horse. Apparently the frightened horse stepped on his ankle, and the Viscount had sustained a head injury as well. Fitzwilliam said when he returned to the site of the accident, the horse became skittish and impossible to ride. He pulled his supplies from the horse, losing the reins, and the horse ran off a second time. They expect to find him again back at the stable. But at that point, the Colonel heard lapping water from beyond the marsh and carefully made his way over spongy ground to a drainage ditch because he was thirsty.” Darcy looked at Mary and smiled tiredly. “And in doing so, he found his brother, who had made his way down the steep bank for the same necessity.”

Lizzy glanced at Mary. “It was as you said: water must be found.” Mary, recalling the experience that had occasioned her observation, looked down, her face warm, and Elizabeth quickly asked Darcy, “How did you find them?”

“Fitz led us right to the place of the accident and led us over safe ground to the ditch. We walked along the water until we found them. The problem was getting the two of them out of there. Of course the Colonel, having rested a bit, could have climbed it, but he would not move from his brother.”

“Was Sir Henry so weak,” Mary asked, “or was his ankle broken?”

“He had probably been without food for some time, and when we reached him, he was feverish and his ankle much swollen. The Colonel had given Henry all the supplies he brought, so by then he also suffered some weakness. But we gave them what food we had while Watts and his brother went back for strong blankets and rope. We made a kind of sling for Sir Henry, and we managed to pull him up to where we could carry him over soft earth to the waggon waiting on solid ground.”

Elizabeth rang for some tea for Darcy, whose red-rimmed eyes and sprouting whiskers accented his weariness. “Was Sir Henry able to tell his story?”

“He must have told his brother, as Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed to know what to do for him. He had placed a poultice on Henry's wounded head. When we found them, Henry still had it wrapped around his head with the Colonel's scarf. He could sit up, and he declared he was much better, thanks to what Henry called his brother's ‘battlefield skills'; but I can't say we have the full story yet. We fed them, gave supplies, and they left immediately for Norwich Mills. Lady Helena has been long enough concerned and undoubtedly wishes to nurse him, even in her present condition.”

Mary did not like to ask about that, but Elizabeth, who seemed to know what Darcy meant, asked, “But her lying-in is not soon, is it?”

“I know not for sure, but I think a few months at least.”

Elizabeth's mood, considerably lighter now, shone in her eyes. “And what did the Colonel say when first he saw you?”

“‘I am hungry.' But his grin told all.”

“That is so like the Colonel! He has a truly buoyant spirit. Does Caroline know her good news?”

Darcy nodded. “She will soon know. I asked Watts to go directly to Nottingham. The Colonel will be gone for a few more days as the waggon trip will be slow. When Lady Helena takes over, Fitzwilliam will rush to reclaim his bride.”

“Thank God for that!” Elizabeth exclaimed, and Mary thought she spoke relief for Jane, but then Elizabeth added, “Caroline was beside herself with fear for the Colonel.”

Mary suddenly realized that she was still idly holding the curtain she had been working on when Darcy had arrived. Now as Darcy took his tea, she took up her needle. “It is fortunate that you had an extra horse, since Sir Henry's had abandoned the Colonel!” Then, as Darcy began pulling at the laces of his boot, Elizabeth stooped to help him, teasing that she would be his valet. Mary took her unfinished work and discreetly excused herself to the library.

Sometime after supper, Watts arrived with the happy report that the relief at Nottingham had been palpable, even celebratory. And the following Sunday, when the Darcys returned from the Lambton service, they relayed an invitation from the Bingleys for Sunday dinner at Otherfield. Fitzwilliam had arrived there, news of Sir Henry was hopeful, and they wished to celebrate with the Hursts and Darcys, and Mary also must attend.

Mary had some misgivings about facing Caroline after her outburst on their last meeting, but she need not have done so. A smiling Caroline sought her out, saying with a meaningful smile, “Miss Mary Bennet, you are wanted in the parlour.” Puzzled at this but obliging, Mary went to the parlour where she found herself facing Mr. Stilton, attired as for a dinner party. She had the instant foreboding that he too had been invited. Fortunately, such was not the case, but she once again had to listen to his awkward urgings. He bent one knee to the floor as he pleaded, “Miss Mary Bennet, please ease my mind and say you will marry me!” Mary remained standing at the parlour door, and she bade him rise at once.

“Mr. Stilton, I have no intention of marrying you. You must seek your fortune elsewhere.” Stilton stood and looked at her in surprise; he had never told Mary his parents' stipulations concerning his inheritance. She went on. “You must understand that my situation has been stabilized. I am a cottage dweller in no need of marriage. I am sorry for you, but I must beg you to importune me no further in this matter.” Then she turned and left the room.

Later at the dinner table, Mrs. Hurst asked about the angry young man she saw leaving at a reckless pace as she and her husband arrived. “Why, he fairly growled at me as I left our carriage.” Jane and Elizabeth exchanged knowing glance, while Mary, relieved that Stilton had been angry rather than sad, said nothing to enlighten her. She devoted her attention to her plate, taking her cue from Mr. Hurst, who refilled his plate as soon as it showed through. She could not keep up his pace, but her concentration matched his.

Caroline, who might have explained to her sister, did not, being busy at her assumed role of benevolent duchess. Throughout the dinner and afterward, she could not have been prouder if she herself had found her husband—and had done that most cleverly. She fairly crowed her graciousness to Mary and Elizabeth, while she thanked Mr. Darcy profusely as if he had done all just for her. At the dinner, Bingley requested all the details, for which Mary was grateful. Colonel Fitzwilliam, rested and in fine spirits, happily told them as much as he knew about the accident. “Henry must have reached the thickest woods after evening had fallen, and a low branch he did not see in time caught his head and bent him back. He grabbed for his blanket and supplies just as I had done, and the horse jerked his head, pulling the reins free. Then Henry fell, and the horse somehow kicked his ankle, making him unable to catch the horse again.”