Persuading Miss Mary, page 15
“Yes.”
Wes sank backward. “How so?”
She watched herself twist her fingers in her lap instead of looking at him. “I was never supposed to fall in love with someone like you.”
“But you have fallen in love with me?” That bit sounded hopeful.
She peeked up at him and smiled. “Against my better judgment, I have fallen completely and utterly in love with you and that scares me.”
“Let me see if I have this correct. You are terrified both by me and by loving me?” He covered her hands so that her fingers would stop nervously twisting.
“Yes.” She sighed. “This is not easily admitted.”
“I will not tease you.”
“I know you will not, but it is still not easy.”
He lifted her fingers to her lips. “Tell me, why does loving me scare you?” It would likely be easier to hear her say something about that than about his person, so it seemed the best place to start.
“Do you think your mother would believe me if I said I told you but did not?”
Wes chuckled. “No. I have tried something similar. She is unnaturally good at deciphering when someone is telling her the truth or not. Tell me.”
Mary straightened her shoulders. “Then, it is best to just come to the point, I suppose, and be done with it.”
That did sound a good deal like something Mary would do.
“I do not want to be hurt. If you should tire of me, I would die – not physically, but my heart would.”
“Tire of you? Why should I ever tire of you?”
Mary shrugged. “I am not…”
“You are not like any other woman that I have ever met,” he supplied. “But that is not a bad thing. That is a very, very good thing.”
“It is?”
He nodded.
“I can be so critical.”
“And I can be challenging.”
“That is true.”
He chuckled. “We will argue.”
“I imagine we will since we do now.” She sighed. “It is more than just our tendency to knock heads.” Pink stained her cheeks. “You may discover that I am not as… interesting as your wife as someone else might be.” She leaned toward him and lowered her voice when he did not respond. “In my wifely duties.”
“I do not care if you never throw a dinner party or host a soiree, and I would rather that you refrain from being too creative with the household accounts or servants under your purview.”
She gave an exasperated huff. “That is not what I meant.”
“The marriage bed is not a duty,” he whispered. “No matter what you might have been told in an effort to make marital relations sound unpleasant, they are not. They are to be enjoyed by both the husband and the wife.”
“Your mother said something similar, but I have never done… that, and you have. What if I am not as pleasing as Clarice? She is very pretty. What if I cannot do what she did how she did it?”
He wanted to reassure her immediately, but she did not look as if she was finished speaking. Therefore, he placed his tongue between his teeth and waited.
“Look at me. I am nothing special. I am not lively like Lydia or Elizabeth. I am not naturally sweet like Jane or Kitty, and, compared to my sisters or Clarice, I am plain. I have plain features, plain eyes, and plain hair. My accomplishments are tolerable, but not exemplary. The only thing at which I excel is scolding and lecturing. I have no connections of any value and no fortune.” She looked at the hand he held. “And I have not treated you as I should have.”
His tongue would be contained no longer. “You placed a picture of what I should be in front of me. I do not see how that is not treating me with the greatest respect one could give.”
“I should have been willing to forgive you for how you treated my sisters long before I did.”
“But do you not see that it was your willingness to lay my sin before me that has made me love you more?”
She shook her head.
He caught her face in his hands and kissed her gently, the sweetness of being allowed such a precious privilege as to kiss her welling up and threatening to overwhelm him, before resting his forehead on hers. “I love you. I desire only you.” He took her hands and sat back again. “I want you to tell me when I am being a fool. Do you realize how very few dare to disagree with a viscount? Most will do whatever they need to do to keep a connection to me and my father, but the people who truly care for me – my mother, my father, Darcy, Richard, Langley — they all call me out when I have gone astray. I matter more to them than my title does.” He lifted her fingers to his lips. How fortunate he was to have found a woman like her, a lady who saw him.
“I cannot undo the past. I have experienced things which you have not, and I know you do not approve of such behaviour.” He placed a finger on her lips to keep her from speaking. “I am learning that what is permissible is not always wise and that a fleeting moment of pleasure can have far-reaching consequences outside of myself.” He had seen those consequences in her eyes last night when she saw him at Sally’s and again just now. “I promise you, Mary, that a kiss has never been so stirring as the one you allowed me last night or as sweet as the one you gave me just now. I have given my body to another before you, but I have never given my heart. That is only and always yours if you will have it and me.” He slipped off the settee to kneel before her. “I know you only gave me permission to call on you, and I know I should likely be patient. However, I cannot be, and considering the topics we have canvassed, I dare to hope that I have a chance of being accepted.”
She was smiling at him. This was good.
“Say you will marry me. Please. There is nothing I desire more in this world than to have you by my side, scolding me, for the rest of my life. I can ride to Longbourn tomorrow to speak to your father if you will but say yes.”
“He will be excessively shocked that I would accept you and might not believe you.”
“That is a possibility.” A very great one.
She tipped her head and placed her hand on his cheek. “You could write to him and I could add my assurances.”
“Does that mean you are agreeing to marry me?”
Was there a sweeter sound than her soft giggle?
“Yes, yes, I will marry you.”
There was a sweeter sound, and that was it.
As she leaned forward and kissed him, brilliant sunshine flooded his existence while thunder rumbled outside. He captured her face when she broke the kiss and drew her to him again. However, only kissing her was not enough. He longed to feel her in his embrace again, and so, he rose and pulled her from her seat and into his arms. He held her tightly, enjoying the softness of her form against him, delighting in how she willingly leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He ran his hand up her back to the nape of her neck. He pulled back slightly. “My body, like my heart, is yours, my beautiful love. Never will either ever belong to another.”
Tears sprang to her eyes, and her lower lip quivered as she whispered a thank you before he kissed her once again.
Chapter 21
Four weeks passed quite quickly.
There had been a journey to Longbourn to endure the raptures of Mrs. Bennet and receive permission to marry Mr. Bennet’s middle daughter along with a proper lecture about staying his course of fidelity. It had surprised Wes to some extent that the gentleman had taken him to task so severely, but Wes could not fault him for it. In fact, he had jotted down a few notes in his journal that night so he might remember how to properly scold a prospective suitor for any daughter he might have.
Then, there had been several soirees in town at which to make his betrothal known – nights at the theatre, dinner parties, musicales. How he had delighted in introducing Mary as his betrothed! And he had, to his great pleasure, been allowed more than one dance with her at all the balls which they had attended.
She had taken drives with him in the park. She had taken tea with him at her aunt’s house – with the children. She had sat with him to receive callers at Matlock House. She had worn pelisses and ball gowns and day dresses. She had even worn that pink dress she had worn to her first musicale just because he had asked her to do so. Strangely, he did not mind the cut of the neckline when he knew that she and the loveliness such a dress revealed were to be his.
She had shone at each and every event, but not as brightly as she did today, standing next to him, with her hand in his as he pledged his troth.
The rector turned from him to Mary and began his instruction to her regarding her vows.
“I, Mary Amelia Bennet,” she repeated, “take thee, Reginald Arthur Fitzwilliam to my wedded husband.” Mary glanced at the rector who prompted her with the next words. Her hand was trembling slightly in his. Wes squeezed her hand and was rewarded with a smile before she said the next words.
“To have and to hold, from this day forward.” She paused to take a breath. “For better or worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health.”
She once again paused to breath. She was nervous, but it was not because she was marrying him. Nor was it the size of the church and the crowd within it which had her trembling. She had confessed her trepidation over the service to him just yesterday, and he knew that she was not only repeating words and pledging herself to him, but she was also speaking to God.
The thought was enough to cause a small tremor to wobble his knees as well. Taking an oath before a parson or the woman one loved was a solemn thing and not to be taken lightly, but when he viewed it through Mary’s eyes and imagined, as she did, God himself shining down through the stained-glass windows of the building, the gravity of the occasion grew exponentially.
“To love, cherish, and to obey,” her eyebrow quirked slightly as she said the last word and Wes’s lips twitched. Theirs would not a marriage without some discussions about whether this or that should be done, and he would not want it any other way. He valued her opinion for he valued her.
“Till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.” She gave his hand a squeeze before releasing it.
Wes withdrew her ring from his pocket. It was no simple band of gold. It was a filigree emerald and diamond concoction with a large emerald in the middle surrounded by six diamonds – one at the top, one at the bottom, and two on each of the sides – with four smaller emeralds standing in pairs as sentries next to the double diamonds on both sides. Mary gasped softly when she saw it, for he had kept it a secret from her. He had only told her that it paled in value and beauty to her.
She looked up at him with misty eyes as he took her hand and repeated the words the rector spoke first.
“With this ring, I thee wed.” He paused and held her gaze as he spoke the next words slowly and deliberately. “With my body I thee worship.” She caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. “And with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen” He held the ring in place on her finger for a moment and mouthed an I love you before kneeling for prayer.
When the prayer, blessings, and singing were done, Wes tucked his wife’s hand into the crook of his elbow and led her out of the St. George’s.
“It is so beautiful,” Mary said as she held out her hand and admired her ring in the barouche which would take them to Matlock House for the wedding feast.
“Not as beautiful as the lady who wears it.” He leaned over and kissed her. “There is something engraved on the band.” He took her hand and slipped the ring from her finger to show her. “It says ‘I thee cherish. I thee worship.’ I left out the with my body portion as it was getting rather long and if you decide to pass this on to a son or grandson that part might not be as welcome by whomever they wish to marry.”
“Oh, Wes,” she said as he returned the ring to its rightful place.
He cupped her smiling face in his hands. “I will never break a promise to you.”
“I know.”
“Do you truly?”
She nodded. “You have proven yourself to be quite trustworthy, my lord.”
“And I intend to be always so where you are concerned, my lady. Now, I do not care if the top of the carriage is down, I fully intend to be utterly improper and kiss my bride several times on the way to our feast.” And he did with nary a scold from his wife.
~*~*~
“A real lord is my son.” Mrs. Bennet released Mary from a hug and shook her head. “And to be married at St. George’s, by a common license, but still, it is an honour.” She shook her head once again. “I must say I did not expect it to be my most sardonic daughter who would claim such an honour.” She sighed. “You are so like your father.” Then, she kissed Mary on the cheek and moved on so that others could greet the happy couple and express their joy on their marriage.
“My mother seems almost completely pleased,” Mary muttered to Wes once all the guests had entered and they were free to roam.
“Yes, I fear I have disappointed her because I did not procure a special license.”
“You most certainly have,” Mary teased. “However, I do think having the wedding breakfast here with dancing and all will ease her disappointment.”
“Do you wish to go in?” He nodded to the ballroom where the musicians were tuning their instruments and their guests were milling about.
She shook her head. “Not just yet. We are not required until the third dance. Your mother thought we might like a little time before we are presented.”
“Then, where would you like to go?”
“The library?”
“That seems a very good place. It will be quiet and unoccupied unless Richard has already staked his claim.”
“Your mother plans to announce his and Lydia’s betrothal today.”
Wes nodded. “She asked me if I minded sharing my joyous day with him.”
“She asked me the same thing.” Mary rested her head against his arm. “I am happy for them. I would never wish to be the cause of limiting their joy or that of my mother or father. Such an announcement with so many present to witness it will set Mama up for years.”
Wes chuckled. “I can just hear her relating the tale now.”
“I am glad I will be in town and not at Longbourn to hear it. Mama can be rather boisterous, as you well know.”
“I do not mind her liveliness, though I will admit that even I find it overwhelming.” He nodded to Richard who was walking down the hall with Lydia, followed by Darcy and Elizabeth, as well as Jane and Bingley. “I say it is good to see you, Bingley! Are you returning to Netherfield directly, or are you in town for a while?”
“We are in town until Caroline’s wedding. Then, well, then, we have not decided what we are going to do. Darcy has invited us to join him at Pemberley, and we are almost entirely set on the idea. Are you going to Matlock?”
Wes nodded. “There is a cottage on the estate that I have asked to be made ready. Mother would have us under her roof, of course, but I should like to be my own man as much as I am allowed.”
“A wise thing, that,” Darcy agreed.
“Indeed,” Bingley muttered, causing Wes’s brows to rise.
“His mother-in-law might be too close for his comfort,” Richard inserted.
“Ah, right. We were just speaking about that.”
“Mrs. Bennet is a wonderful woman,” Darcy said.
“Of course, she is,” Bingley said. “I am not intimating that she is not. However, I should like to be a little further removed for Jane’s comfort presently.”
“Are you unwell?” Mary asked.
“Only at times,” Jane answered with a smile and rested her hand on her abdomen.
“Oh! How lovely!” Mary cried. “Does Aunt Gardiner know?”
Jane nodded. “We have already discussed how close in age our children will be.”
“You are going to have a baby?” Lydia asked in delight.
“I am,” Jane replied.
“And are you, Lizzy?”
“Lydia!” Mary scolded. “One does not ask such a thing in company.”
Lydia’s eyes grew wide. “I apologize. I forgot there were so many of us here.”
“I am not,” Elizabeth answered. “But I am not disappointed by that,” she assured Lydia when Lydia’s expression fell.
Lydia’s lips tipped upward, and she turned back to Jane. “Does Kitty know?”
“Not yet, nor does Mama.” She said the last part quite sternly. “This is Mary’s day and yours. There is plenty of time to share our news with Mama later.”
“I will not say a thing,” Lydia assured her.
To Wes, Mary did not look convinced that her youngest sister would not say something. They got on well enough, but the difference between the two sisters was great. Where Mary was serious and contemplative, Lydia was spontaneous and exuberant. However, such a personality seemed to mesh very well with his brothers, while Mary’s balanced his own perfectly. He lifted her hand to his lips.
“Have you seen Kitty?” Lydia asked. “I had hoped to show her my new slippers. They do not match this dress, but they are absolutely adorable and must not go unseen for too long.”
Wes chuckled. “We have not seen her.”
“Nor have we,” Bingley said.
“She was with Georgiana when last I saw her,” Elizabeth said.
Down the hall, a cacophony of piano notes rang out.
“Perhaps they went to the music room,” Richard suggested.
“It sounds as if that piece could use a great deal more practice,” Bingley jested as he and Jane followed Lydia.
“Kitty!” Lydia cried from the doorway to the music room. “What are you doing?”
Wes and Mary hurried down the hall.
“Langley, what is the meaning of this,” Darcy growled.
Good heavens! What had his friend done? Wes knew the answer as soon as he took in Miss Kitty’s appearance. Her hair was dishevelled, and her lips appeared to have been most thoroughly kissed. Thankfully, her gown appeared to be in order.
“Could we refrain from shouting,” Mary said, stepping into the room. “The incident is contained for now.”
