Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Waking with a smile, Mary snuggled into the silk sheets of her bed at Rosings. She then remembered the reason for her elevated mood. She'd see Redmond again tonight. How on earth could she hide her excitement from Lady Catherine so as not to arouse any suspicion all day?

There'd be more fittings today, a task which required nothing more from her than to stand still and turn when ordered to do so. They would also test her ability to serve a proper tea. Just because they'd had no tutor or governess, didn't mean the Bennet sisters were lacking in common courtesy. If nothing else, Mother taught her how to entertain as if they were of a higher station.

" Oh ," she gasped aloud realizing her mother would know about the wedding by now. A part of her would be giddy from the thought of adding the son of a baron to the family. Yet another part of her would go pouty over being left out of the planning and preparations. Lady Catherine must have sent messages to Jane and Lizzy already. Soon everyone would know. Would they be happy or regard the news as proof of Mary's folly?

An otherwise savory breakfast was ruined by a lesson in proper forms of address. Honestly, it was as if they thought she was raised in a hollow log by woodland creatures. Mrs. Jenkinson made an effort to list all the responsibilities she'd have as the lady of the house. Her lecture didn't compare to the thought of Redmond's kiss and Mary's mind wandered.

Mary lifted her hand to her cheek and tried to hide her smile. It wasn't her first kiss. That honor belonged to Uncle Edward's clerk. It wasn't even a proper kiss on her lips. Still, it felt worthy of remembrance.

Yesterday's kiss was a promise between friends. They were friends, weren't they? Redmond was kind-hearted, unpretentious, and handsome. At least, he was to her. Tallish with dark hair and blue eyes, he proved easy enough to gaze upon. He'd never once trained those blue eyes on her with disdain or intolerance. Stunning to realize how quickly she liked him-- a near stranger.

"What on earth is so amusing about coddled eggs this morning?" Anne De Bourgh asked. She rarely spoke and even then, it was naught but a high-pitched whisper.

Caught daydreaming, Mary quickly shoved a forkful of egg into her mouth to dissuade conversation. She'd decided by the end of yesterday that Lady Catherine's daughter was no friend. Her insults were even more pointed than those of her mother. Was it possible Anne was… jealous? To Mary's recollection, no one had ever envied her before, and she wasn't sure she knew what it felt like.

Redmond Naismith must have been deemed too damaged for Lady Catherine to offer up her offspring for matrimony. Privately, Mary thought him too full of life and high-spirited for Anne. Anne was pale as a ghost, sickly, and her presence inconsequential. They'd never suit.

More fittings left Mary wandering the house in her chemise and a knitted shawl, waiting for someone to bark out her name for yet another measurement or dress audition. They were, perhaps, attempting to shame and belittle her by making her walk about in a state of undress as if she were nothing more than a dressmaker's dummy. It should not have been as exhausting as it was.

Her only reprieve of the day was being allowed to dress before being ordered to play the pianoforte while Lady Catherine and Anne played chess. Her playing was deemed only adequate, but it didn't matter. Rosing's pianoforte was a superior instrument and she enjoyed having a go at it. She could smile all she wanted while playing, and no one would know Redmond Naismith was the reason.

Later, Lady Catherine took over lessons for running a household and strutted about the house pointing to things she considered important. Anne followed along, occasionally reminding her mother both candles and dinner service needed to be routinely counted. Mary would bet coin, if she had any, that other than hiring competent staff, neither woman had ever lifted a finger to keep Rosings running smoothly.

"The weather has been quite fair, has it not? I do hope it lasts through Sunday," Mary said. Surprised and a little disappointed to find Anne as her only companion for afternoon tea, Mary struggled to find pleasant conversation.

"What matters the weather? Tis more to a successful wedding than a blue sky. I'd be more concerned with my comportment than the weather if I were you. You're still pewter, pretending to be silver. It may be beyond even my mother's ability to transform you."

"As the original bride was naught but paste, I should think a good serviceable pewter would be welcome. When married I'll shine in my own way."

"When? Don't you mean if? My mother hasn't finished evaluating your acceptability. She will not offer up goods not deemed acceptable."

"My bargain is with your mother, and I will marry Redmond Naismith this Sunday." As soon as the words left her mouth, Mary realized her error. She wasn't supposed to know his name. Her heart sank as she watched Anne's face register a flicker of shock, followed by an expression that could only be regarded as red-hot hatred.

Tea and cakes were consumed in uncomfortable silence as they glared at each other from across the table. She'd lost her temper with Anne, and Mary knew there'd be consequences. Lady Catherine wouldn't go so far as to cancel the wedding, would she? Redmond still needed a bride. Who else would they find to marry him in so little time?

Counting the minutes and hours away, Mary managed to make it through another day of Lady Catherine's tutelage. There was something in the air at supper time that wasn't there yesterday or this morning. Anne had told her mother of their earlier conversation; it was the only explanation. If only she knew if Mrs. Jenkinson could be trusted, she'd ask. Or, maybe, she consoled herself, she was understandingly nervous as her wedding day grew closer and imagining strife where none existed.

Alone in the reading room at last, Mary struggled to light a candle. Her hands shook and the spill threatened to sputter out before the wick ignited. Her diligence was rewarded by a tiny tap at the window. A noise so small she almost dismissed it as a cricket or wayward mouse creeping along the windowsill.

Moving the candle to the side, Mary slowly unlatched the window and grimaced as the hinge protested with a squeak. Unsure if she was supposed to climb out or Redmond intended to climb in, she opened it as far as she could.

"Shh," Redmond brought his finger to his lips. "Far enough."

"Shall I come out to you?" Mary stepped up on the sill.

"Best not." He took her hand but urged her to stay inside. "We cannot be discovered."

"Something's going on," she admitted. "I don't know what it is. Have you heard anything?"

"Lady Catherine sent my mother an urgent message this afternoon. I don't know what it said, but my mother was unhappy with the news." Even in the dark, Redmond appeared concerned as he held her hand tightly.

"Will you fight for me?" She needed to know .

"I should speak to you first about my plan and then let you decide. I will only ever be a third son. My father and older brothers provide for me at their leisure. For me to take employment would shame the family. I'm a grown man accepting a home and an allowance just for being alive. I exist for no purpose. What could be more shameful?"

"Marry money and run your own estate at your leisure." Her heart turned to stone at the thought. She had no money. She would never have money. She was just as stuck as he was. What were they going to do about it?

"When my mother proposed this, I told her love didn't matter. I'm so tired of living this life. I plan to move to Lower Canada and start a lumber mill. I need to be self-sufficient. I'd like a good partner by my side who will stand with me through the rough years while I get the business up and running. My family may disown me for this. Will you come with me?"

"Yes," she answered quickly. "Love matters. It matters to me. I hope for love and dare to think I deserve it."

"I confessed love once and nearly ruined my life. I was wrong. Love is false. It doesn't exist. I was played for a fool. One day she recalled I wasn't the heir, threatened me, and then disappeared without a word."

"With her Frenchman?"

"What Frenchman?"

"I was told your initial bride ran off with a Frenchman. Lady Catherine admitted she bribed them to stay away until after Sunday."

"What business does Lady Catherine have in meddling with my life?"

"She says your mother asked her for the favor. She may have also threatened physical harm. To Zelda's face specifically."

"I never wish to hear that name again." Redmond shook his head and frowned. "My younger sisters think I'm a pervert. I've been denied entry to my childhood home. I've taken up bachelor quarters in a cottage not far from here. Now you see why I should leave the country altogether. Until I prove myself, they'll continue treating me like a naughty child and meddle where they're not needed."

"I'm so sorry." Reaching up, she cradled his cheek with her hand. "I'll fight for you. I hear Canada is lovely," she tried to tease.

"I knew you were the one when I saw you that first day. You didn't scream or cry or try to run away. You were fearless. I'll meet you here again tomorrow night. I'll get a note to Mrs. Jenkinson if I have any news. I believe she is a sympathetic party. Mrs. Jenkinson's sister is on loan from my parents' house as my maid at the cottage. They will remain loyal to each other, a fact in our favor. Be careful."

"Should I hear anything alarming would she get a note to you?"

"Hopefully. Be careful who you trust."

As the words of warning left his mouth, he moved closer and pressed his lips against her cheek. Shivers danced from her cheek down to her toes. Breathing deeply, she needed more. Caressing his face once again, she moved to align their mouths.

After half a second of hesitation, he understood her meaning and softly explored her lips with his. Tentatively parting her lips, she awaited his next move. Once again, he accepted her invitation.

For hours, or maybe only minutes, she learned to tease and enjoy his lips. With his arms holding her tightly through the open window she leaned into his chest breathing him in. She wanted the kiss to last forever. For the first time in her life, Mary understood what it felt like to be wanted.

The cool night air was no match for their ardor; when he finally pushed himself away, they were both damp with sweat and warm from wanting.

"Same time tomorrow night," he whispered against her lips.

"Tomorrow," she replied, already missing him as he walked away. "Don't give up on love, Redmond. We were meant to be."

A breakfast tray dropped off at her door was Mary's first clue that everything had fallen apart. She was no longer welcome to take breakfast with Lady Catherine and Anne.

She let the tears fall when they came, knowing they couldn't be stopped. While served a generous portion, the food turned to ash in her mouth. She'd lost her temper and ruined it all by saying his name. Except, she thought, managing a sip of cocoa, that shouldn't have been enough.

Lady Catherine's friend was desperate, and even Redmond knew his options were limited because of his predicament. There had to be more to the story, something she was not yet aware of.

As her tears dried and the pot of chocolate emptied, Mary turned to the clothes cupboard. The only thing she owned, the one gown that was truly hers, was the pale blue hand-me-down from Lizzy. With trembling hands, she took it down from the peg and began to dress.

No lady's maid was sent to help her with her hair so, she slipped into the dress and began tending to her new hairstyle as best she could. It would take all the courage she possessed to leave the small room and make her way downstairs.

Dressed in bonnet, gloves, and shawl, she was ready for any possibility. Not knowing what she might be walking into, she had a single plan; find Mrs. Jenkinson and get a message to Redmond. Her brain failed to concoct an alternate scenario.

"Do you think you're going somewhere?" Lady Catherine intercepted her at the bottom of the stairway. "To the morning room. Immediately."

"I appear to have fallen from your favor. I will not overstay my welcome." Plain speaking hadn't always served her well, but Mary could think of no other way to be but herself. Despite her burst of independence, she followed Lady Catherine to the morning room. Anne, smiling smugly, was already there.

"You've besmirched our bargain, Miss Bennet. I've been informed," Lady Catherine took her seat and glanced over at Anne. "You met with one of the gardeners in my library last night. Sneaking around under my roof. You've abused my hospitality. What shall I do?"

"I did not meet with your gardener in the library or anywhere else," Mary directed her response to Anne. "I agreed to a marriage, and I intend to follow through. I am a maiden still and will not tolerate innuendo that I am not." Someone must have seen her sneaking down to the reading room. What had Anne told her mother? Why was Redmond's name spared from her gossip?

"There will be a wedding. My friend entrusted this to me, and I will not disappoint her. I am truly vexed by this situation. When I said you were my best solution, I didn't say you were my only solution. There is someone who may be willing to step in even at this late date. I didn't realize her enthusiasm for the situation until quite recently."

"Where does that leave me?" Mary hid her hands in the folds of her dress and clenched them into fists to keep from screaming. "What would you have me do?"

"Nothing at the moment. You'll stay here until after the wedding. Whether you're the bride or simply a guest remains to be seen. We'll do nothing to call attention to any uncertainty. You'll do as I say, when I say, and nothing more or less. I'll tolerate no more suspicious activity. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly." Mary swallowed hard with a measure of relief that slowed her racing heart. "Will there be more lessons today?"

"I think not," Lady Catherine replied, once again looking over to her daughter Anne.

An awkward silence filled the room and roared in Mary's ears. She was already sunk; they just didn't want to tell her. She had to find Mrs. Jenkinson.

Sitting stock still and left wondering where to stare to keep from glaring at Anne, Mary jumped a little when Mrs. Jenkinson swept into the room.

"Tis a fine day and I've been told, Miss Bennet, you're excused from fittings and lessons." Mrs. Jenkinson addressed her with a furrowed brow, as if concerned about something. "I see you're dressed for walking. Practice your posture by taking a turn about the garden. Rosings Park has one of the finest formal gardens in the area. There's even a folly."

"What an excellent idea." Grateful for an excuse to leave and a chance to speak to Mrs. Jenkinson alone, Mary rose eagerly. "A walk in the gardens is just what I need."

Mrs. Jenkinson led her to the rear doors and pointed to the pathway to the formal garden. "Just there," she said. "Be certain to visit the folly. You won't regret it."

Afraid to speak her mind, lest she be heard by the other servants, Mary tried to herd Mrs. Jenkinson outside for a more private conversation, but the stubborn woman wouldn't budge. Giving up, Mary walked to the garden alone.

Why had Anne made up the story about the gardener and not mentioned Redmond to her mother? Who was this new bride-to-be? Where had she been hiding? So many questions, so few answers. What would her father think? What would her mother do?

Mary missed her family more than she wanted to admit. Lizzy would know what to do and Darcy would speak to Lady Catherine and make everything right again. Oh, God, she couldn't cry again. Her face was still puffy from the last time.