Not an Heiress, page 2
“It is good to see you, Alexander,” Mary replied. “Is your mama in the house?”
Alexander twisted to look back at the house. He pointed and babbled about mama and biscuits.
“Ah, yes, Uncle Richard did promise you a biscuit, did he not?” said Richard. “Shall we invite Aunt Mary to join us and share our biscuits?”
Alexander’s brows furrowed.
“She will not eat many,” Richard assured him. “Shall we ask her?”
A smile crept across the young boy’s face, and he nodded his agreement.
“Very well. Miss Mary, will you join us for biscuits?”
“And tea?” Mary asked Alexander.
“Tea.” His head bobbed up and down.
Richard, extending an arm to Mary, steeled himself for the pleasant jolt he always felt when she accepted his assistance. He had not prepared in vain, for as she lay her hand on his arm, there it was again. If only he could find a woman of the ton with a substantial dowry who could cause the same reaction in him. He had searched diligently for three months now, attending soiree after soiree and dancing with every quiet, soulful-eyed debutante he could find. When none had been able to attract him as Mary did, he had cast the net so far as to dance with the more exuberant and popular young ladies. Still, with not success.
“How long are you visiting your cousin?” He hoped it would not be long. For if it was, he would have to go back to London and its balls and parties before he could be reminded too fully of all that Mary was. A fresh memory of her would do nothing to assist him in his attempt not to compare every young lady to her.
“I am not visiting my cousin,” she said.
“You are not?”
“No, Lady Catherine has asked me to come stay with her. She misses Anne.”
Oh, this was not good. Not good at all. He would have to create an escape plan. Perhaps a supposed letter from a friend could call him away. “Are you staying long?”
“Indefinitely,” Mary replied. “Or until I find a husband. Your aunt is insistent that she can see me well-matched before the end of next season.” Unfortunately, it would not be to the man she desired, but one did not always get what one wished.
Richard had known she would eventually marry. She must. It was not as if she had the independent means to live on her own, and he supposed she did not wish to spend her whole life without a husband and family. When Alexander was just an infant, Mary had visited Pemberley and had been so naturally good at calming the child and tending to his needs. She was born to be a mother. It really was too bad she was not an heiress, for he would very much like for her to be the mother of his children.
“Next season? So a year or nearly so?”
Mary shrugged. “Unless a worthy candidate stumbles into Kent and presents himself before then. I will be given some time to visit my family, but the majority of my life shall be here — under Lady Catherine’s tutelage.”
“I am surprised Darcy has not mentioned this.” It was unlike his cousin to keep information from him.
“I only arrived three weeks ago. Lady Catherine thought it unnecessary to inform him since he would be arriving for his annual visit in such a short time.”
Alexander began to squirm as they got closer to the house and demanded that he be allowed to walk.
“Will you hold my hand?” Mary asked him.
He agreed with alacrity, and Richard was forced to relinquish both his possession of the child and Mary’s hand. It was just as well, he supposed, as he walked beside them. It was not as if he had a hope of ever truly claiming her hand, so he had best get used to seeing it claimed by another.
This thought did nothing to ease his displeasure, nor did the knowledge that the gentleman stealing her hand away from him was only two years old and her nephew. He shook himself. A letter. He must write a letter to himself and then ride out and have it posted, for an escape was definitely necessary.
Chapter 2
Tea was tolerably good. Not that the leaves were less than excellent, nor were they improperly steeped. The tea tray held a variety of delicacies all prepared to perfection. It was not even so much the company that tainted the tea.
Mary enjoyed seeing her sister and Darcy, and Alexander was ready to entertain with his pacing back and forth between the adults, looking very much like a little gentleman with his hands clasped behind his back. He would come to a stop before one of them and would then tip his head and wait patiently for the person in front of whom he stood to notice him before he would ask for a cake or biscuit, always adding a “peez” to the end of the request. His little brows would furrow, and his lips would purse in displeasure if he was denied, but instead of protesting, he would simply find another person to petition. Eventually, his mother decided it was time for him to go to the nursery. With a great sigh and a bowed head, he took her hand and followed, but not without first being given a final biscuit by Lady Catherine.
The conversation amongst the adults was not dull. It was as would be expected from family members reuniting after a time apart.
What cast a shadow on Mary’s enjoyment was Richard. Not that he had done or said anything wrong. He had not. He had just been — she sighed to herself — perfect. He had entered into each conversation with vigor. He had teased his aunt on several occasions, and he had always given Alexander his full attention and spoken to him not as if he was a child of two but a young man capable of making wise choices.
The afternoon and evening had been as pleasant as they possibly could be when one was spending time with the desire of her heart, knowing full well that he would never be hers. There were moments when she forgot, of course, but then the remembering would happen and steal her pleasure.
“Are you well?” Elizabeth asked as Mary stood at the bottom of the stairs. “You were very quiet at dinner.”
“I am well. Just tired.” It was not a lie. She did feel a minuscule amount of fatigue.
Elizabeth wrapped an arm around Mary’s and looked up the stairs. “Shall we go up? Darcy and Richard must have their game of billiards before my husband retires, and Jane has already gone to bed.” They began climbing the grand staircase.
Bingley and Jane had arrived shortly after tea. Jane had been tired at that time. One of her daughters was teething and had spent a great deal of their journey in a state of unhappiness. Therefore, both the child’s parents were more fatigued than normal after a trip from town to Rosings and had retired early.
“I would like to pace the halls for a while if you are willing. I find a day in the carriage makes me restless.” Elizabeth had always prized her walks at Longbourn and had not given up the habit after she married and moved to Pemberley.
Mary was happy to oblige her, for Mary had found the habit just as soothing as her sister. She only wished she had not waited until that first trip to Derbyshire to discover the activity. It would have helped her tolerate her mother and sisters so much better if she had taken solitary walks in Hertfordshire. That was the reason Elizabeth had taken them, after all.
“Do you like living here?” Elizabeth asked.
“It is pleasant,” Mary replied. “Lady Catherine is not so difficult as I thought she might be. We get on quite well actually.”
“I am glad.” Elizabeth, after she had married Darcy, had come to understand Lady Catherine and her demanding ways. They were not meant to be imperious, though that is how they were often perceived. Her manners were just brusque and lacking in delicacy. Mary had never been given to great amounts of subtlety when provoked, so Elizabeth imagined there was a bit of a kindred spirit between the two. “I cannot believe Papa agreed to so long a stay.”
Mary shrugged. “He thinks it is the best way to find me a husband. He knows Mama will not be promoting me before Kitty or Lydia. Not that I am complaining. I would rather not have Mama putting me forward.”
Elizabeth laughed. “You have the right of it, in my opinion. Sometimes it is best to not be her favourite.”
Mary could not help but agree. To be pulled forward and thrust at a man while your accomplishments were listed was not something Mary wished to experience. They had reached one end of the corridor and began the trek to the other.
“You have not seen any gentlemen yet who catch your fancy, have you?” Elizabeth tried to keep her question light. She was curious to see if what Lady Catherine suspected was true.
“None that are within my sphere.”
“Mr. Darcy was not in my sphere,” reminded Elizabeth. “I would not discount a man simply for being of greater wealth than you.”
Mary sighed. “Some men of a greater station are not wealthy. Nor am I.”
Elizabeth’s brow rose. It appeared that Lady Catherine was indeed correct. Mary had fallen in love with Richard. “That does make things more difficult,” she admitted.
“Or impossible,” muttered Mary.
Elizabeth leaned closer to her sister. “After coming to love my husband as I do, I do not believe in the impossible when love will have its way.”
Mary’s heart simultaneously hurt and rejoiced. She was happy that Elizabeth had found such happiness.
“Tell me,” asked Elizabeth, “what has Lady Catherine had you doing to fill your time?”
“She has prescribed some reading, given me a sampler to stitch, commissioned a still life of roses, and taken me on calls nearly every day.”
“So, life is full?”
Mary nodded. She did not want for things to do. “I am also required to practice my singing and playing on Mrs. Jenkinson’s piano, which has been moved to my sitting room.” It still seemed strange to have a sitting room of one’s own. “I believe I will be fitted for clothes and a dancing instructor will be employed in June, if I have not found a husband by then.” Every plan that was told to Mary by Lady Catherine was ended with that statement — if you have not found a husband by then. It was as if Lady Catherine knew of some mysterious gentleman that was going to appear and fall at Mary’s feet.
“She is sparing no expense!” cried Elizabeth
“No, and I wish she would. I shall feel most wretched if I do not succeed in making a match.”
“She mentioned a Mr. Breckinridge at dinner. She says he is about to take orders and expected to secure a living somewhere around here.”
Mary sighed. “Yes, if I am not married by August, she expects to invite him to Rosings. As I understand it, he comes from a good family and is a third son. There is little chance he would ever inherit, but his family has connections and the living to which he is destined is not without merit. It is neither immense nor small but of a very respectable size.”
Elizabeth laughed. “She is very well informed about him.”
Mary lowered her voice. “She is very well informed on most newsworthy things and many that are not worthy of note as well. Has she told you about Mr. Emerson?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I have not heard about him.”
“He is an heir of a small estate in Surrey . He is not so handsome as some men, but he is pleasant and sensible and will be in want of a wife. The estate produces well, and as he is the sensible sort, there is little chance of a family going without. Mrs. Erickson, who lives just two miles past the church, is his aunt on his mother’s side. She swears I would make him an excellent wife. Although she also said she did not think he could find another as pretty who would accept him.”
“So he is a good deal less handsome than most men,” Elizabeth said with a chuckle.
“That would appear to be the case,” agreed Mary. “But, if I have not married by December, Lady Catherine will introduce me, for he is to visit his aunt at Christmas.”
“Are you certain you would not rather have Mama promoting you?” Elizabeth teased.
Mary shook her head. “Lady Catherine assures me that she will not force anyone on me of whom I do not approve. Mama would not be so considerate.”
“Indeed!” Elizabeth remembered well how her mother had tried to force her into accepting Mr. Collins’s proposal. Thankfully, her father had been more supportive of her wishes. “Does Lady Catherine have any other gentlemen on her list?”
“None of whom I have been told, but I have only been here three weeks. There is still time to add to the list.”
The sisters shared a laugh.
“Richard may be coming to stay with us for a time.” Elizabeth cut a surreptitious look at Mary. “He is selling his commission.”
Mary stopped walking. “He is?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I am uncertain of his plans in doing so, but I expect he will come for an extended stay with us until he has everything settled.”
“Does he not have a house in town?” Mary asked.
“He does, but the country is so much nicer in the summer.”
Mary had to agree. The air in the country was much fresher. “And he will not stay at Matlock?”
“He will likely divide his time between the two, and, if Lady Catherine has her way, he will be here for a time as well.” Elizabeth smiled. “As much as she scowls and growls at his antics, I believe he is her favourite.”
“She does speak of him often,” said Mary. Far too often for Mary’s sense of peace. She could not hear of him without her mind wandering down roads that led to marriage and children, and seeing as that was not something that would ever be, hearing of him was very disquieting. Richard staying here would not do, but then perhaps it would not be until after she was married. After she was married — she nearly chuckled at how Lady Catherine’s comment was slowly integrating itself into her own thinking.
“He is enjoyable company,” she admitted aloud. Too enjoyable, and therein lay the problem.
“I agree,” said Elizabeth. “Some lady will be lucky to catch him, although he has not yet met with success in finding what he is looking for this season.” The way Mary’s eyes closed at the thought and the brief, painful expression that crossed her face was confirmation enough for Elizabeth. Mary loved Richard, and no matter how much Darcy might protest Lady Catherine’s plan, she would not. She would speak to Lady Catherine tomorrow and offer whatever assistance she could to ensure her sister’s happiness.
~*~*~
Richard placed his cue on the table. Darcy had beaten him once, and Richard was not in the mood to be beaten a second time.
“You are not yourself this evening,” said Darcy, handing his cousin a drink before taking a seat in a large wingback chair. “Did the ride from town fatigue you or was it playing in the garden?”
Richard rolled his eyes. There were moments that his cousin was actually annoying and not in a follow-the-letter-of-the-law fashion but in a teasing way. This was one of those times.
“Neither,” he replied, taking the seat across from Darcy.
“Then what has you out of sorts?”
And now, apparently, his cousin was going to slip from annoying tease into the equally annoying concerned friend and likely attempt to play the part of wise counsellor. Richard sighed. He was definitely out of sorts if he was thinking of Darcy in such terms. “Life, money, women, politics.”
He shrugged as if it were not a matter of great importance that his life seemed to be held together loosely and would soon unravel into an unpleasant mess.
“Not the weather?”
Richard raised a brow at the return of annoying, teasing Darcy. “Not at the moment, but that might change.”
Darcy shook his head. Richard was rarely so disagreeable. Not that the man did not become blustery about things, but to be curt and fidgety was not Richard’s way. It meant, of course, that Richard was concealing something.
“Does all of this have to do with you selling your commission?” Darcy tipped his head and watched Richard’s eyes grow wide at the question. “Aunt Catherine mentioned it.”
“Indeed? I swear I have not said any more to her than to you on the matter.” He scowled. “My mother, on the other hand, may have said a thing or two, which she might have heard from my father.”
“Aunt Catherine is under the impression that it is a fait accompli.”
Richard’s head nodded slowly. “I believe it is. As you know, I have been considering it for some time, and with the war ended, now seems the best time.”
“The militia will still be needed. It is not as if there is little unrest.”
Richard again nodded his agreement. “There is plenty of unrest, but there is also an abundance of men who have served on the continent and who are now without a position. Many who are worse off than I.”
“And you wish to serve your country in a different way.” Darcy was not unaware of Richard’s desire to enter politics.
“I do, but I cannot. Not yet.”
“You need land.”
“Land and money. Obtaining a seat is not without costs.” Indeed, plenty of votes and, therefore, seats were purchased. It was not a thing of which he approved, but it was the way things were.
“With your father’s backing, I should think you will find a place in the House without too much trouble.”
Richard shrugged. “Perhaps, but I still need land.”
“So we are back to marrying an heiress.”
Richard drained the liquid from his tumbler. How he was beginning to hate that word and the fact that he was reliant on it. “Yes.”
“There is no other way to get land?”
“None that I know of.” Richard rose to refill his glass.
“Unless someone gives it to you.”
Richard turned toward Darcy and shook his head. “No. I do not care how many acres you own, I will not be accepting any of it.”
Darcy’s brows furrowed. “Is there anyone from whom you would accept such a gift?” Darcy knew that there was one person who seemed determined to help Richard in such a fashion, and he worried that it would be a struggle to get Richard to take the assistance. Not that Lady Catherine would settle for a negative reply.
Richard shrugged and shook his head. “No, I cannot think of anyone, save, perhaps my father. But he is not likely to divide up the estate, nor would I expect him to do so.”
