Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Pemberley, September

Maria watched the carriage disappear through the vast estate of Pemberley, until she could no longer distinguish it amongst the trees. Her throat was tight with unshed tears, clogged with a mixture of hope, happiness, loneliness, and self-pity. Maria's longest and closest friend, Catherine Bennet, now Catherine Pearce, was rolling away in that carriage with her new husband to embark on their honeymoon and later, their new life.

Maria released a breath she didn't know she had been holding, the air whooshing out on a heavy sigh.

"Miss Lucas, are you well?"

Her heart skipped a beat; she had not known that anyone else was still outside. But here was Colonel Fitzwilliam standing not far behind her.

"My apologies, I can see you are not well. How can I help?"

The tender concern in his expression was her undoing, and her jumble of feelings materialised as a quivering chin, vision swimming with hot stinging tears, and embarrassingly, a choked sob.

"Excuse me, Colonel Fitzwilliam." Anxious to hide her face, she raised a hand to cover her now dripping nose. She turned to go inside but he gently caught her by the wrist.

"Please Miss Lucas, allow me to assist you," he said, passing her his handkerchief. "Perhaps a stroll in the gardens before going inside? Permit me to lessen the burden of whatever is weighing so heavily on your heart."

Heavens above, Maria felt she could melt away to nothingness. Whatever is weighing on her heart? How could she refuse such a caring offer; and yet, how could she endure his sweet compassion?

They ambled around the house to the gardens in companionable silence, while Maria discreetly tried to mop her face with his handkerchief. What was she going to say, how could she explain without sounding like a self-absorbed child? As he always did, her beloved Colonel Fitzwilliam rescued her.

"I imagine, Miss Lucas, you have many thoughts at the sight of your good friend leaving this place." He hadn't framed it as a question, allowing Maria to simply nod in agreement.

"I also imagine that the two of you have made arrangements to faithfully correspond?" This time she managed a weak smile as well as nodding.

"But I know that letter writing is a poor substitute when you are used to such close companionship."

Maria felt composed enough to respond. "It will be very strange. I was not prepared for just how deeply and suddenly I would feel the loss." She sniffed. "And, I suppose, it is more than just this change that is weighing on my heart, as you so aptly put it. I am afraid that you caught me indulging in a bit of self-pity, Colonel."

She glanced up at him apologetically, but his eyes held only compassion and understanding, as if he truly wanted to know her mind. She decided to plunge ahead. Who else had offered to listen?

"I am feeling somewhat left behind. By my family, my friends. And by life, if I am honest. But then I remind myself that I have a life of ease and privilege compared to so many and then I feel ashamed for even having such thoughts." Maria waited for him to say something light-hearted or teasing like he usually did, but instead he nodded sympathetically.

"Hmm, yes. Your sister, Mrs Collins, is of course settled. And the former Miss Bennets, especially your dear friend Mrs Pearce. Your brothers?"

"They are all too young to marry, but very happy in their continued education or with their chosen vocations. What is my study, my vocation?" Maria finished passionately, then retreated. "Forgive me, Colonel."

"There is nothing to forgive! I began this subject and am happy to hear whatever you have to say."

Maria bit her lip nervously. "Well, my brothers all have interests, pursuits. Specialty areas of study and learning. I have not been afforded the same opportunity to discover any interests beyond what my mother thinks are proper for a young lady. Although Charlotte and I could not even study music because my mother was not musical and so she did not think it worthwhile to learn. I cannot contribute to any evening entertainment. How I long to be able to play like Georgiana or sing like Elizabeth. Or even to paint like Catherine."

"Is there anything that you enjoy doing, or learning?"

"Yes, I embroider. But that is nothing special, most young ladies are accomplished in some kind of needlework."

"But it is something you enjoy? What do you enjoy about it?"

Maria had never examined this and paused to think. "I like to research the history of needlepoint, and how various techniques and motifs have developed over time. I enjoy the study of nature, especially flowers, in order to more faithfully replicate them in my designs. Oh! Like this flower here, Clematis viticella . The flowers are so prolific on these vines, it is easy to miss their individual beauty. But each bloom is so intricate, with its star of purple petals and delicate white stamens—" Maria looked at him then and saw that he was staring at her with an expression she did not understand. She blushed and finished weakly, "You see, it's nothing really. Some flowers, some stitching?— "

"No, Miss Lucas, you misinterpret my silence. I am simply in awe. You have a true passion, and I'm certain, a true talent. I would feel privileged to see some of your work, if you would share it with me."

Maria's heart glowed with a joy that threatened to burst from her chest. How incredibly kind of him. "Thank you, Colonel."

"Could you—do you think you might call me Arthur? We have known each other long enough, I daresay. And may I call you Maria?"

She nodded. "Yes…Arthur." Maria blushed. It felt daring and slightly wicked, but also so very right to speak his given name. "I've always thought that name suited you. Like King Arthur." Oh, she fairly ached for him to be her knight.

"Thank you, Maria," he said so quietly it was nearly a whisper.

Colonel Fitzwilliam—Arthur—had most certainly distracted her from her initial melancholy but his caring and friendship overwhelmed her delicate heart. Surrounded by the fading summer roses, against the backdrop of a glorious sunset, it could have been a romantic scene from any number of novels. Maria couldn't think of an articulate way to extricate herself from the conversation, so she simply said again, "Thank you," and turned toward the house.

He called after her, "Darcy has extended an invitation to their Harvest Ball at the end of the month. I'm sure Elizabeth would be happy to host you as well. Would you consider also staying until then?"

"I couldn't possibly presume, but if an invitation is offered then, yes. I think that's just what I need."

"Good. I am glad to hear it." He was once again standing in front of her.

More to steady her senses than anything, and bring herself back down to earth, Maria said quietly, "It will be nice to have another familiar face here and be able to speak like this with a friend."

He cleared his throat and stammered, "Er, yes, a friend." He smiled. "And perhaps, your champion?"

A long moment passed between them, and Maria started to wonder if she might possibly mean more to him than she dared hope. What could that mean?

I cannot stay here another minute. This is agony!

Dipping into a small, obligatory curtsey, she mumbled, "Good evening, Colonel." Upon seeing the meaningful tilt of his head, she managed to whisper, "Arthur," before scurrying inside.

Only after returning to the safe haven of her room did Maria's breathing return to a normal rate and depth. She had never been more confused in her life. The anxiety she had felt in the presence of the late Lady Catherine de Bourgh was nothing compared to this!