The Unexpected Miss Bennet (32 page)

THERE WAS MORE news, of course. At dinner Kitty had to hear the whole tale of Mary’s stay at Rosings, and she squealed with laughter.

‘I will tell Maria Lucas at once, for she will think it the funniest thing!

‘No, you will not,’ Mary said crossly. ‘Stop it, Kitty.’

Kitty made a face. ‘You are never any fun, Mary.’

Mary had quite enough. ‘At least,’ she said, ‘I didn’t get tipsy and almost eaten by tigers.’

As this was news to Mr and Mrs Bennet and had been told to Mary in confidence by Lizzy, there was a resounding gasp around the table. Mary put down her fork but couldn’t help a small, satisfied smile.

‘I’m sorry, wasn’t I supposed to say that?’

‘Mama!’ Kitty cried. ‘Mary!’ It was hard to tell what she meant – she was torn between expressing her anger at Mary and denying the charge. Mr Bennet threw down his napkin.

‘What else, Kitty? Do you have anything else to tell us? I know you have very little sense, but I expected more of Jane and Bingley. Well, not Jane perhaps. But Bingley.’

‘You always think I’m so bad!’ Kitty said, sobbing. ‘But Mary got turned out of Rosings! Why isn’t she bad?’

Her mother tried to contain her tears. ‘Now, Kitty, you are no worse than Mary, and indeed, we were very upset with her, but now she is soon to be married and so we must be happy for her.’

Kitty merely redoubled her tears. Mr Bennet looked as if he wished he were anywhere but at dinner with his loving family. Mary looked out the window and wondered whether she had made a mistake in asking for a long engagement.

HER MISGIVINGS DEEPENED when Mr Aikens was called away home. He came to visit before he left, sitting but tapping his booted foot incessantly while he talked to her. Mrs Bennet kept looking at it, then looking away, and her breathing was strained. Kitty looked sullenly upon this new future brother-in-law. Mr Aikens still tried to have a private conversation with Mary under the eyes of her chaperones.

‘It can’t be helped,’ he said. ‘My farm is my income, and so I must be careful to oversee my lands as best I can. I am in need of a good manager but have found no one who takes the care I require.’

‘I understand,’ Mary said, though her heart sank. He had the freedom to come and go as he pleased while she had to sit and be quiet. A thought struck her. ‘Perhaps Darcy could recommend someone.’

He brightened. ‘Capital idea! That is just the thing! We will do well together, you’ll see!’ He leaned forward and kissed her. Mary froze as still as a statue. Of a sudden he remembered who else was in the room with them and drew back. ‘Ah. I do beg your pardon. I forgot you were there, ma’am.’

Kitty looked as if she were going to burst with laughter or horror. Mrs Bennet was left speechless. Her wrinkled cheeks flamed red and she swallowed hard. But she could not look at Mr Aikens or her daughters.

Mary looked down at her interlaced fingers, and wished she could sink through the floor. Mr Aikens coughed uncomfortably, then rose to his feet with relief. He made a quick bow, said his goodbyes and left them in their uncomfortable tableau. As soon as he was gone, Kitty shrieked and threw herself down on the sofa, muffling her face in a cushion. Having recovered from her emotional outburst, Mrs Bennet looked at her daughter.

‘Mary,’ she said with all the calm she could muster. ‘You must marry Mr Aikens. You must marry him at once. I will brook no more delay.’

Mary set down her hated needlepoint and stood up. ‘As you wish, Mama.’

And then she too fled from the room.

A
LONG, QUIET engagement no longer being wished for by any of the parties, the news was announced to as great a fanfare as the middle daughter of a respected gentlemen in a small village could reasonably expect. That is to say, that hardly any persons outside the small acquaintance of Longbourn and Meryton could have been interested. Of those, a few can be of concern to us: the Lucases, the Collinses and Lady Catherine and her daughter. What Mr Collins thought was conveyed at great length in wordy letter to his cousin, Mr Bennet, who merely lifted his eyes to the ceiling and tucked the letter under some papers in his study. Lady Catherine was not silent upon the matter, but allowed her displeasure to be conveyed by Mr Collins. Whatever Anne had to say or think remained with Anne.

In the general excitement the Lucases gave their hearty congratulations on hearing the news and relations between the two families lost their stiffness. Sir William responded with genuine pleasure, because weddings meant balls, and he loved to see young people dancing; Lady Lucas felt some envy. She still had daughters remaining, and while Charlotte had managed her own affairs admirably (although Lady Lucas remained a little uneasy about it), it was not clear that Maria would manage so capably. So many months ago, when Thomas Aikens had visited Lucas Lodge as a friend to her many sons, she had looked upon him as affording the likeliest opportunity for Maria, despite his very singular character. Lady Lucas had probably never heard the word
irony
in her life, but even she had to allow that there was something uncomfortably
à propos
in that a young single gentleman with connections to the Lucas family had become engaged to a Bennet.

Still, Lady Lucas managed to tell Mrs Bennet over tea that she was so glad she had been able to introduce Miss Mary and Mr Aikens. ‘For do you remember, Mrs Bennet? He visited us last year and Mary played the piano. I could see something when they spoke, I could see it. And don’t you know, I remember it so well, I must have marked something in my mind then.’

Mrs Bennet, feeling gracious, allowed Lady Lucas credit for introducing Mary and Mr Aikens. She even forgave the Lucases their not entirely unexpected surprise at Mary’s making any match at all, though she complained crossly to Mr Bennet later that it wasn’t as if Mary had a squint and a hare-lip.

‘She is a Bennet, after all, even if she is not as pretty as Jane.’

Lizzy and Jane sent their felicitations and vowed to help the young couple with their start in life. The letters between them lacked self-congratulation, because they both knew that when it came to matchmaking, there was very little art to it, and a great deal of luck. Kitty was only excited that here was another wedding at which she could be the object of some attention as the sister of the bride, and, despite her adventures in London, that was still all she cared for.

WITH THE WEDDING approaching, Mary and her mother and father took a journey to meet Mrs Aikens and to see her new home for the first time. Mr Aikens was so anxious to make sure that she would be pleased that he rode beside the carriage on Hyperion, telling her that she could make any changes she wished, any at all, and had he mentioned that the chimneys smoked and he put up with it, but he would ensure that this inconvenience would be remedied forthwith.

Once again Mary was struck by the ease with which she could become a dictator, since she was deferred to so often. She had to remember what had become of Lady Catherine, who, given so much deference on account of her breeding and her character, abused her power.

The house was at the end of a long lane, which was rutted and overgrown. But her father noted the good pastureage and the sturdy hedges, and he and Mr Aikens fell into a long conversation about husbandry of the rustic sort.

The carriage turned a corner and they could see the house. It was very different from the one at Longbourn. It was smaller and, as Mr Aikens said, was old and run down. But it was sound and comfortable, with a pleasing façade of warm stone. When they alighted from the carriage, several hounds came out to meet them, and Mr Aikens greeted every one, calling them by name. He pushed open the door and let them in.

This will be my house, Mary thought, looking around everywhere. It had an old-fashioned elegance, but she could see by the rugs and the furniture that it was meant for comfort. Yes, she thought. I can make this pleasant. The chimneys smoked, as promised, but they could be cleaned and patched. There were three pleasant open rooms downstairs and smaller, serviceable rooms upstairs, and a view of the farm that had a charming sort of wildness. There was one room to which Mary took an instant liking. The rug was faded and stuffing came out of the sofa, but she envisaged herself and Mr Aikens spending evenings in there together and she knew she could be happy.

Not happier than Jane, for good dear Jane was the sort of person who deserved to be happiest of all, but happier than Lizzy, for she had a grand house to live up to. Instead, Mary thought, I have a house that exactly suits me.

For once Mrs Bennet bustled around as happily as if
she
were getting married. She had a great many plans for restoring the house, and her ideas were economical and sound. She was in her element. Mr Aikens listened and agreed to many of her ideas, and so, to her astonishment, did Mary. Mrs Bennet had two grand sons-in-law, and one wicked one, but Mr Aikens gave her what she truly wanted; a chance to be in some measure a part of her daughter’s life.

Mr Aikens watched Mary hopefully from the doorway.

‘I do like it,’ Mary said. ‘I like it very much. It suits me as much as it suits you.’

He came over to her and took her by the shoulders. ‘Then why are you crying?’