B00BKPAH8O EBOK (3 page)

“So I believe I
have said on more than one occasion, my dear. Now, if you will make your
good-byes, we can be on our way.”

A lingering
look passed between the two, and Elizabeth reached out to briefly rest a hand
against the side of her husband’s face. Then, seeming to remember herself, she
withdrew it again, embraced her sister, and said farewell.

Mary watched
them go from the porch, conscious for the first time of a twinge of envy
surfacing from somewhere deep within her soul. Never had she craved great
wealth and its comfortable trappings; these things did not tempt her to covet
her sister’s situation. No, it was that stolen glimpse of tenderness she had
seen upon Mr. Darcy’s face when his usual mask of reserve dropped for a moment
as he regarded his wife. What must it be like to be looked at in such a way by
such a man? Mary could not help but wonder. She could only suppose that it was
a thing very much to be prized.

A chill wind
penetrated her shawl, reminding Mary where she was. She quickly discarded her
musings as profitless, and returned to the house with her jaw firmly set.
Tomorrow, at first light, she decided, she would take up her duties at
Netherfield again. What must be done might as well be done at once.

4

Netherfield

“Oh, Miss
Bennet!” Mrs. Brand, the housekeeper, burst forth in her high-pitched, thready
voice upon seeing the governess entering the house. “What a relief that you are
come back to us at last, and I do not care who hears me say it. We’ve not
managed the children even tolerably well in your absence. Bless me, how
troublesome they are sometimes! The girls are not too bad, but young Michael is
always up to some pretty piece of mischief. I confess that I have very little
notion what to do with him, and I daresay Miss Lavinia has even less. Well,
never mind all that. How are things at Longbourn, my dear? How does your poor
mother do?”

Although
somewhat overpowered by this welcoming onslaught, Mary was nonetheless pleased
to see Mrs. Brand, who was the closest thing to a friend she had at
Netherfield. “I am sorry to report that Mama has not taken the change in her
circumstances very well,” she answered. “I thank you, though, for asking after
her. Now, Mrs. Brand, I will go up to my bedchamber, if I may, before reporting
to the schoolroom.”

“Of course, of
course,” said the housekeeper. “You must be tired after your ordeal. Clinton will take your cases up. Clinton!” she called out.

“No, really,
Mrs. Brand,” Mary protested, “I am not the least bit tired, and I am quite
capable of managing by myself.”

“Nonsense,
Miss. You are a gentleman’s daughter, and you shall receive your due in this
house as long as I have anything to say about it. Poor Mrs. Farnsworth, God
rest her soul, always made sure of that, and I carry on in her stead. Besides,
moving cases is a footman’s job. What else has he got to do, I should like to
know? Oh, there you are, Clinton. Do take Miss Bennet’s things up for her.”

The footman
nodded his acknowledgement, and then allowed his hooded eyes to travel once
over the governess as he turned to collect her luggage.

Mary followed
several steps behind as he surmounted the wide, curving staircase and started
down the dim corridor that accessed the family apartments. Her room was at the
far end, adjacent to and adjoining those of the Farnsworth children, the two
girls on one side and the young master on the other.

Clinton opened the door and stepped back, giving Mary just enough leeway to pass by him and
into her bedchamber. With his gloved hand, he motioned for her to do so.

Mary stopped
where she stood and regarded the footman critically. He was a well looking man
of somewhere above thirty years of age, no doubt chosen for his position
because of his superior height. Yet the elegant livery he wore could not
disguise his humble origins or unrefined manners. “You may leave my things and
go,” she said. “I will not detain you from your other duties any longer.”

“’Tain’t no
trouble, Miss,” he said with a grin. “I’d be more’n happy to stay and help you
unpack your dainties.”

“Mind your
place, man, and do as I say!”

“O’right, I’m
goin’. Meant no offense, only that you can count on ol’ Clinton if you needs
anythin’ else toted, or shifted, and such like.”

Mary watched
him go, then shut herself inside her room and looked about. It was just as she
had left it – a very pleasant apartment, perhaps not as finely furnished as
those belonging to the family, yet large and handsomely appointed nevertheless.
The closets were adequate, the bed itself more than comfortable, and the view
overlooked a green meadow where daffodils bloomed each spring. To either side
of the window, her own collection of books, which she had brought with her from
Longbourn, lined a low bank of shelves. Should these fail to satisfy her
appetite during her few free hours, she could hope to be granted special
permission to pick from the hundreds of volumes in the library downstairs, or
to play the fine piano-forte that resided in the music room next door to it.

She could not
have wished for anything more perfect than to be allowed to cloister herself in
the welcoming seclusion of those two hallowed rooms, whiling away the hours unhurried
and unmolested by the demands of others. Living as she did, surrounded by these
intellectual delights, such imaginings did occasionally tempt her. It was pure
fancy, however, for only a daughter of the house could ever expect such
privileges.

Mary had not
been given more than ten minutes to reacquaint herself with her surroundings
when she was reminded of her true situation. The door from the young master’s
room swung wide into hers, and a stout boy of eight appeared.

“So you are
come back,” he stated flatly.

“Yes, Michael,
as you see. But please recall that you are always to knock before entering a
lady’s room, even mine. Now, unless there is some dire emergency…”

Before she
could finish, another door – the one directly opposite the first – opened as
well, and two slight figures in yellow sprigged muslin issued through it. The
taller one, a pretty dark-eyed girl of thirteen, announced from the doorway,
“We heard a noise and came to discover what it was. Now I see it is only
you
,
Miss Bennet. You stayed away so long that I thought perhaps you would never
return.”

“Of course I
have returned, Gwendolyn,” Mary answered evenly. “I always keep my obligations,
as any lady should.”

The other girl
– her sister’s inferior in beauty and by two years in age – pushed past and
came to Mary’s side. “Well, I for one am very glad of it, Miss! May we have a
music lesson today?”

“By all means,
Grace. I hope you have not neglected your practicing whilst I was away.
Monsieur Hubert will not be pleased if you have.”

“Oh, no, Miss!
I practiced every day!”

“Good girl,”
said Mary, patting her shoulder. “Now then, we shall resume our regular studies
directly, but you must allow me time to get my bearings first. So, return to
what you were doing, all of you, and I will summon you shortly.” With that,
Mary began shooing the three children back whence they had come, closing the
doors behind them.

There were no
locks, of course, and hence no real privacy. In five minutes, her solitude
might be interrupted once again, although she told herself this was no very
great difference from her prior existence at Longbourn, where at any moment her
mother or one of her sisters might break in upon her without so much as one
word of apology. There, however, her modest bedchamber had belonged more
exclusively to her than did this grander one, which was only designated for her
temporary use.

Her services
would not be wanted at Netherfield forever. Michael was to go away to Eton in the fall, and the girls were nearly grown. Employment of six or seven years more
would be the utmost she could reasonably hope for. After that, she would be in
search of a new situation. She could not expect to find anything half so
convenient again – with a family of quality and in the very neighborhood of her
home. Yet she was not at all afraid of being long unemployed. She knew there
were places in town, offices where inquiry would soon produce something.

That was a long
way off, however, and Mary resolved to think of it no more, quoting a memorized
scripture to herself. “
Take therefore no thought for the morrow; for the
morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is
the evil thereof.
”

~~ * ~~

Life at
Netherfield settled once more into its customary pattern. Other than an hour or
two in the evening, when they were usually suffered to enjoy their father’s
company, the three children were left chiefly to Miss Bennet’s supervision.
From Monday through Saturday, she not only oversaw their education, she took
every meal and excursion with them as well. The mornings were reserved for
academics – mathematics, geography, literature, a little Latin, and the modern
languages – and the afternoons for outdoor exercise and the arts. Masters were
engaged to periodically come to them from town, but it was the governess’s
office to provide rudimentary training in dance, drawing, and all forms of
music.

Mr. Harrison
Farnsworth’s affairs kept him a good deal in London, so Mary saw little of him
those first weeks back. This suited her well enough, as she could then attend
to her duties without fear of falling under his critical eye. He unsettled her,
as he seemed to do the rest of Netherfield’s inmates to one degree or another.

By contrast,
Mrs. Farnsworth had been a lenient, even indolent, mistress. Mary, upon first
coming to the house, now nearly four years past, had mistaken the pale creature
for at least five-and-thirty, though, as she later learnt, the lady fell far
shy of that mark. No doubt the strain of having such a domineering husband –
and also of having been brought five times to childbed with only three living
offspring to show for her trouble – had taken its toll upon her constitution
and nerves.

In those former
days especially, the atmosphere at Netherfield altered perceptibly with the
master’s presence. An air of apprehension crept over the place from top to
bottom, as if the house itself held its breath in anticipation of some unknown
outburst or accident. Thus, it required nothing more than Mr. Farnsworth’s
suddenly coming into a room to start his wife and servants fidgeting and his
children forgetting how to behave.

Mary had
observed the phenomenon from her earliest days on the premises, and she could
not help but feel fiercely sympathetic on Mrs. Farnsworth’s account.

 “So, this is
the new governess,” declared the lord and master at his first setting eyes on
Mary those years ago.

Mr. Farnsworth
was not an especially imposing man to look at, being only a little above the
average in height and build, yet his autocratic tone made even this simple
statement of fact sound like a challenge – daring her to deny the charge.

Rising to face
him, Mary had only nodded curtly in response.

“Yes, my dear,”
his wife, who looked more frayed about the edges than usual, hastened to say.
“This is Miss Bennet, Miss Mary Bennet from Longbourn. You will recall that I
told you about her. She is a most accomplished and genteel young woman, and I
am sure she will do very well by the children.”

“
I
will
be the judge of that, if you please, Madam.”

“Naturally,”
Mrs. Farnsworth murmured, dropping her eyes to her lap, where her hands were
tightly clasped.

A maid, who had
come in with the tea tray, cringed as she set it down with more clatter than
she intended.

“Must you make
such an infernal racket?” Mr. Farnsworth barked, darting an eye in the
direction of the offender.

“Sorry, sir,”
said the maid as she shrank from the room.

“The rest of
you, out as well,” he said, pointing to the door. “Mrs. Farnsworth, kindly take
your children and go. I wish to speak to Miss Bennet.”

Mr. Farnsworth
had once been a captain in the Navy, so his military bearing did not surprise
Mary. Whilst the others scrambled to obey, she studied her new employer, taking
his features apart one by one – the bristling dark hair, the deliberately
narrowed cobalt eyes, the hard set of his mouth, and the prematurely graying
beard. The beard, she told herself with devilish satisfaction, had probably
been grown by way of disguising what would ultimately prove to be a weak chin.
Yes that must be the case.

It was a trick
she sometimes used to steady herself when confronted with an ominous problem,
mentally dissecting it into a collection of smaller, more manageable bits. In
the brutish case before her, she perceived one part tyrant and one part
diffident boy, both covered over with a quantity of practiced intimidation. The
gentleman did not appear so alarming under this analysis. He was formidable,
not by true essence, she concluded. It was rather by considerable effort, as if
he could only bolster his own confidence by cowering others. Judging from the
prodigious scowl he wore, Mr. Farnsworth had next set himself the task of
cowering her.

“Well, Miss
Bennet,” he commenced, slowly striding across the room with hands clasped
behind his back and a cool, sideways gaze leveled at her. “Let us come to a
right understanding at once. My wife may have engaged your services, but you
shall stay or go according to
my
verdict. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly,
sir.”

“Good.” He
turned to retrace his steps. “I must say that I was none too pleased to hear of
her selection. Although I know no harm of you personally, there certainly has
been a good deal of talk about the Longbourn family in general throughout the
neighborhood – not all of it to your credit, I might add. I understand there
was some sort of scandal with one of your sisters several years back, and then
there is the matter of your mother’s low connections. What do you say to that?”

Being keenly
conscious that this one conversation would likely determine the tenor for all
their future dealings together, Mary had carefully weighed her answer. If she
were too outspoken, she would lose her position altogether. Yet if she allowed
herself to be subjugated, she would before long learn to loathe not only her
employer, but her occupation and her own want of fortitude as well. Presently
she straightened herself and replied.

“Sir, allow me
to say first that you are most assuredly within your rights to do what you can
to determine my fitness for tutoring your children. Your scruples do you
credit, I am sure. However, I fail to see where your present line of enquiry is
much relevant. All you need know on that head is that I have been brought up a
gentleman’s daughter. If you wish to interrogate me further concerning my own
character, education, and accomplishments, however, I will be more than happy
to supply you with the information you require. In truth, I would welcome the
opportunity to do so.”