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There would not be many more afternoons like this, bright, mild and with traces of sunlight behind drifting puffy clouds. Soon the air would nip and the flowers’ vibrancy fade. How long the summer had been; how strange its progress. Had it really only been the start of this season when hope was so intoxicating? All the world had been painted with late primrose yellow, honeysuckle pink and a hundred different shades of green. A sun-kissed lake had shimmered around a young couple who sat in a boat and gazed at one another.
Part of her wished she had accompanied Mary. They had watched Mary will herself towards contentment and knew she believed herself happy. But still Madeline worried. After the third letter was returned, Mary did not write again; nor did she mention his name. But when Marianne had plaintively grumbled two days earlier, saying only what they all felt – why hasn’t he come home? – Madeline had seen the sharp pinch of pain on Mary’s face as she cuddled Rebecca a little closer and hid herself from scrutiny.
But there were accounts to be checked and bills to be paid and correspondence to be completed. Sat at her desk, she set to work with mechanical efficiency. A faint knock at the front door, however, was not unwelcome.
Alfred entered, coolly impassive. ‘Mr Hayward, Madam.’
We have wished for this so desperately. Why does it feel so daunting? Madeline paused before responding, ‘Please show him into the sitting room.’
As Alfred slid from view, she carefully dusted the wet ink on the accounts book with sand, rested her pen on the inkstand and rose, smoothing down her dress. Banal, everyday actions, grasps at normality. Then, with a tight exhale, she made her way to the sitting room.
‘Tom.’
‘Mrs Gardiner.’
He stood awkwardly in the centre of the room, a place he had revelled countless times, but now seemed out of place and uncomfortable. His face was flushed, the freckles prominent, but far from healthy. Shadows lingered around his eyes, their expression almost fevered. The elegant blue coat hung slightly loosely. The evening when she last saw it he had devoted himself to Mary so tenderly, almost reverent when he wrapped the shawl around her.
He has lost weight, she thought, he is not well. With that realisation, something in her shifted.
With three quick paces, she strode to him and took his hands. ‘Tom, I am so glad to see you. We have been so worried about you!’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Gardiner. I – I did not mean to – ’
‘To leave like that, just a letter which hardly said a thing?’
‘I – ’
‘And not even to leave a forwarding address? For over two months, Tom?’ Before he had been looking her in the eye, albeit uncertainly, but at that, he looked down at the carpet. His thumb agitated over his fingers incessantly. ‘Where did you go?’
Falteringly, he looked up, his eyes febrile. ‘Yorkshire.’
‘Yorkshire? I wrote to your mother. I thought she would reply.’
‘You wrote to my mother? How did you – ’ he began, puzzled. Then his face cleared as he murmured, ‘Of course, you had the address from when you sent your condolences for my father. Your letter was incredibly kind.’ Madeline said nothing, while his rambling petered away. ‘My mother is in Whitby with my oldest sister. Her husband’s ship is on active service at the moment, so Mother went to help with the boys. Maybe her post has not been forwarded. She would have replied.’
Perhaps. Unless she had no answers to provide. ‘So where were you and what were you doing?’
‘At Mother’s at first, for a week? Ten days? Before she went to Whitby. Then I went to Leeds.’ The youngest sister, the childhood playmate. ‘I worked on the northern circuit there for a month or so. I wasn’t – ’ What he had been about to say dissolved into nothing, before he restarted. ‘Then I went walking in the moors for two weeks.’ An explanation for the freckles, but he still looks unwell. ‘After that, I was in Leeds very briefly and then back to London.’
Madeline frowned. From place to place to place to place was as unlike Tom Hayward as she could imagine. There were gaps in this account and things which made no sense. The fingers were still engaged in their agitated thrum. Instinct told her that forcing the matter was of little use. ‘Well,’ she stated briskly, ringing the bell on the table and finding a piece of paper, ‘you are here now.’
‘Mrs Gardiner,’ he blurted out. ‘May I please speak to Miss Bennet?’
You cannot ask that, not like that. Vanish for two months without a word, leaving her with heartache and bewildered, then reappear just as unexpectedly? She loved Tom Hayward like the family member she had hoped he would become, but a fierce and fiery protectiveness arose in her. Let him explain himself fully first or let Mary face him here where she can be comforted. I will not risk him rushing to the gardens and destroying the tranquillity she has earned.
‘She’s not here now.’
Was it possible both to flinch and freeze? His eyes were suddenly bright. His mouth twisted horribly. When he finally spoke it was strange and tight, as though through a mouthful of broken glass. ‘I – I see. I’m sorry to have imposed. I’ll – ’
‘Tom, you are not imposing.’
‘I don’t wish to – ’
‘Tom, sit down.’
With the entrance of the sphinx-like servant, she turned and scribbled a short note to Miss Flynn: Please keep the children in the school room until further notification. My apologies. I will explain in due course. Many thanks. M. Gardiner.
‘Alfred, could you deliver this to Miss Flynn? Then please ask Mr Gardiner to join us, and bring tea and biscuits. We are not to be disturbed under any circumstances. Thank you.’
On returning to Tom, she found he had not sat. He was stood by a window, staring blindly at the street and completely immobile.
She had seen many expressions on his face over the years. Creased with laughter, intent with curiosity, transported by books or celebrating successes. He was gleeful when carrying George on his shoulders and indulgent when beset by the girls. Several times when he lodged with them she had called him for breakfast and found him asleep at his desk, awash with exhaustion; while once, a dreadful evening two years ago, he had arrived unexpectedly, raw with grief, before heading north to bury his father. And there were the new expressions from the last few months: compassion for Mary’s unease; jubilation at her triumphs; tetchy irritability at William Ryder; and yearning confusion at the ball when he stood by Miss Baxter, but his lambent eyes constantly followed Mary, his face rippled with guilt.
This expression was unknown. Stunned and desperately sad. The only movement was the slow ooze of a tear. The eyes were blank, the fevered look gone. Moving closer, she saw a faint smear of blood just below his jaw, hinting that he had nicked himself while shaving.
Madeline spoke gently. ‘Tom?’ She tried again. Only on the third time did he seem to hear her. ‘Tom? Please join me.’ She gestured to the sofa and sat down.
Obediently, he sat, putting on his spectacles as he settled. Do you need them now or are they a mask?
‘It is very good to see you. We have missed you tremendously.’
‘It is kind of you to say so.’
‘It is the truth.’ He smiled faintly, almost with resignation. ‘You are extremely dear to us all, Tom.’
‘I – ’ Another short, painful silence. ‘Thank you.’
‘Why did you leave the Lakes the way you did? I know the last three days were dreadful, but before that you seemed so well. Mr Gardiner and I did not think we had ever seen you as cheerful or carefree.’
‘I think it was the happiest I have ever been in my life,’ he replied dully. ‘I – Please do not ask me, Mrs Gardiner. I was trying to act for the best.’
‘There are three individuals who will require a better explanation than that,’ she observed crisply. ‘Even sugarplums may not be enough to buy them off.’
Relieved, she heard a short exhalation, the shadow of his laugh. You are still in there then, somewhere. ‘What has brought you back to us? Is it just work?’
He seemed to debate what to say, then resolved on the truth. ‘No, I received a letter.’
‘From whom?’
‘It does not matter. I thought it was a kindness, but they were either mistaken or it was a trick or I am simply too late.’ If the blankness had been wretched before, the wistful smile was worse.
‘My dear,’ said Edward Gardiner urgently, as he opened the door, ‘what is the matter?’ Then he stopped. ‘Tom,’ he said almost inaudibly, then paced over and threw his arms around him. ‘Tom! It is so good to see you. When did you get back? Why did you not write and let us know that you were coming?’
‘This morning. I am sorry that I did not write.’
While they sat down, Madeline exchanged glances with her husband, silently sharing all that they saw and knew. I have asked, but he will not say. He is acting so strangely. He does not look well. He asked for her, but only once.
With the arrival of the tea, she found her station filling cups and plates, listening as her husband asked similar questions and received the same vague responses. But then, he tried a different tack: how is your mother? Your brother and sisters? Your nieces and nephews? Affection made him more expansive. The teacup and the biscuits steadied him.
Eventually, he started to respond in kind. ‘Are the children well? Did they master whist in the end?’
Edward laughed. ‘Master would be generous. Wait long enough and you will be dragged into being the fourth player. Wait even longer and you will be treated to some spectacular sulking!’
For the first time, something near normality crossed Tom’s face. ‘They are well and happy, though?’
‘Yes, very well and very happy, although they have missed you dreadfully.’
‘And Miss Ben – ’ he cut himself off, ‘your niece, is she happy and well?’
Another exchange of glances. Now we speak of her. How oddly he expressed himself. Edward busied himself with his teacup, the unmistakable signal that this response was hers.
Cautiously, Madeline tried to be both honest and kind. ‘Happier than she was. She was very unhappy for a time. She has a new position though and that gives her a role in the world. It is giving her great purpose and pleasure too.’
She did not miss the returning wistfulness, nor the fingers twitching on his knee. ‘I – am glad. And have –,’ his jaw trembled minutely, but he mastered it, swallowed and continued, ‘have you heard from them since they departed?’
‘Since who departed?’
‘Miss Bennet and – I mean Mr and Mrs Ryder. Did they go to Italy in the end?’
Madeline stared, at Tom, then her husband. ‘What on earth are you talking about, Tom? There is no Mrs Ryder.’
The teaspoon clattered in the saucer and spilled onto the table as he jerkily laid down his cup. ‘Then she – is not – married?’
‘No! Why would you think she was?’
The guttural noise which erupted from him was somewhere between a gasp and a cry of pain. ‘You said that she wasn’t here now. That she had a new position in the world. And Ryder was going to propose to her.’
‘Oh Tom!’ Was it cruel to laugh? It could not be helped. ‘I am so sorry. I had no thought that you would interpret my words that way. The new position is a governess’s position.’
‘He assured me he intended to ask when we were in the Lakes. He swore that he would!’
‘He did, Tom.’ Edward’s voice, quiet and steady.
Tom’s face was a kaleidoscope of confusion, outrage and tiny buds of hope. ‘What?’
So this is what has kept him away? Let us give him the truth we can. ‘Mr Ryder called shortly after we returned to London. He offered for Mary, very prettily and charmingly I believe, and he left disappointed.’ Looking rather like a forlorn puppy that had been left out in the rain.
Tom abruptly stood, the frail reserve entirely shattered. ‘Where is she? Please Mrs Gardiner, Mr Gardiner, please tell me where she is,’ he begged, passionately. ‘I have been ridiculous and cowardly and heaven knows I have hurt her. I know it. But I must see her, please. Is she in Hertfordshire? Is she – oh dear God, please say she isn’t in Derbyshire and I rode straight past her not two days ago!
‘Tom, Tom,’ she interrupted calmly, standing and laying a hand on his forearm. ‘She is in the Hanover Street Gardens. It is a pleasant afternoon and she went for a walk.’
‘She has been here all the time? Good God, I have made such a terrible mess of everything!’ His face was agonised and he raked his hand through his hair. ‘Excuse me, Mrs Gardiner, I think I - I must take my leave, I must speak to her. I have to try to put things right if I can. Hanover Street, you said?’
The pressure she placed on his arm was mild, but its force stalled him. ‘Tom, stop. You wish to speak to her and it is right that you should. But I cannot think that doing so like this is wise. Neither Mr Gardiner nor I would ever wish to cause you pain, especially when you seem in such distress, but we cannot let you go haring off like this. Let me be frank: the last time you made a rash, emotional decision, it caused much unhappiness. I do not think you want that to occur again.’
‘No,’ he said, mutely.
'Please sit with us,’ said Edward, his eyes creased with sympathy until Tom took his seat again. ‘We both wish that you would tell us what made you act as you did and why you have returned so suddenly. It is unlike you and you seem very unhappy. I know that we are not your family and that you have many people who care about you, but we would always wish to counsel or console you when you are troubled.’
‘I know that, Mr Gardiner. Your friendship means more to me than I can say.’
‘Can you not trust us then? In the past two months, we have both often wondered what we did not see which led you to leave.’
Refilling his teacup, Madeline spoke gently. This will turn the screw horribly, but perhaps only this will persuade him. ‘If you will not tell us for your sake, Tom, will you not tell us for hers? Mary has been very strong, but these last two months have been extremely hard for her.’
‘She is the bravest and best person I know.’
‘I know you care deeply for her.’ The dark eyes flashed at her. ‘Tell us for her sake then and let us advise you on how best to proceed.’
There was silence. A carriage rattled down Gracechurch Street. The tick of the grandfather clock marked its steady heartbeat. Above them, a peal of laughter echoed from the school room.
And then a sigh of resolution. ‘Very well.’
‘Thank you, Tom.’
‘It will be a relief finally to speak.’
‘Did you not confide in your family?’
He shook his head. ‘Not all of it. Some parts, but…. No. I – .’ He gave a fleeting, humourless laugh. ‘There is so much I want to say and I do not know how to begin.’
‘Start with the Lakes,’ suggested Madeline, ‘before the climb. You seemed so happy and then, suddenly, you were not.
The young man took a long, steadying breath and began.
‘As I said before, Mrs Gardiner, the start of our time in the Lakes was the happiest I have ever been. It was partly the break from working and finally seeing that landscape. Your companionship too – your friendship means so much to me. But the main reason was Miss Bennet. I had a very strong liking for her.’
A liking? Oh Tom, is that what it is called these days? Madeline’s lips twitched and she exchanged a look with her husband.
Tom blushed at their amusement, yet his voice was unwavering when he continued. ‘More than a liking. I love her. I have loved her for a long time, long before I should have done. I did not realise what was happening at first and tried to convince myself it was affection for a friend who became more dear to me each time we met. But it was not. And I was not free and it was impossible and so bound up with shame.
‘Then Miss Baxter released me from our arrangement. Even if I had not understood what I felt for Miss Bennet before, I knew it then, as I was and am genuinely delighted that Miss Baxter has found happiness with Mr Powell – we will always be friends I hope – while watching Ryder dancing or flirting with Mary was like being knifed.’
It was the first time she had ever heard him say her name.
‘When we came to the Lakes, at last I was free. I knew with complete certainty I would rather spend the rest of my days by her side than anywhere else in the world. Nothing could be sweeter. Nothing. I wanted to speak, but I had been embroiled with her friend and knew I might seem an inconstant fool, while she seemed determined that she had no interest in marriage. I knew that she had some regard for me and sometimes felt sure she was fond of me, but she said matches only led to disappointment.’
Did you truly not see? Could you really not tell? You poor, blind boy. Anyone with eyes could see it. The very rocks in the earth knew it. How could you possibly not have known?
‘After a week, I had built up my courage and decided to speak. But then Ryder arrived. I was actually starting to tell her of my feelings when he turned up and plunged into the water like a demented idiot. And, well, you know what happened next.’ They acknowledged that they did. ‘Then there was the ascent of Scafell.’
Tom paused. ‘May I ask what Miss Bennet has told you about that day?’
Edward spoke first. ‘Not a great deal. That there was a disagreement at the summit.’ He looked over to his wife; the decision about how much to disclose was hers.
There was much that Mary had confided, although Madeline was certain more had been withheld. They are not my secrets to tell, she thought, I will not betray her trust. But Tom had bared himself, exposing his vulnerability with each unpeeled layer of reserve. Giving him a little surely would not hurt.
‘She said that the two of you were talking at the summit and she was extremely happy, but that you were interrupted by Mr Ryder. Afterwards you appeared shaken and would not answer her questions. Then when the matter of whether to leave before the storm arose, there was a squabble and she knew she had disappointed you.’
Tom winced. ‘No. I disappointed myself,’ he muttered.
‘She also mentioned how much care you took of her on the descent, trying to find the best routes and assisting her and Miss Bingley.’
‘The care I took of her!’ He said bitterly. ‘The care that saw her burning with fever and unconscious. I promised you I would keep her safe and I did anything but.’
‘The storm was not your fault, Tom, and you brought her back to us as well as anybody could have done.’ Madeline persisted, ‘What happened at the summit?’
Tom chewed at his lip, then started. ‘At the summit we began the conversation I had been longing for. I fumbled it, but I was about to ask her to marry me. Then Will Ryder interrupted – the legal matter he’d mentioned, suddenly terribly important. I asked him, I implored him to let us finish our conversation first. Miss Bennet did too. But he was insistent.
‘What he told me was that his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, had made him her heir and he wanted me to check the arrangements and so forth, as it is an enormous fortune where he and his wife should he marry will want for nothing. And he told me he intended to make an offer of marriage to Miss Bennet that afternoon and asked for my good wishes.
‘I had not expected it. I knew, obviously, that he liked Miss Bennet; one could hardly miss it, he was so transparent and infuriating. I have seen him flitting between things over the years though. Law. Poetry. Man about town. Now I’m going to move to Italy. I did not think he was of a mind to marry, not yet. But Miss Bennet will change a man. I know that.
‘I can hardly remember what I said, to him or to her. She came to speak to me the minute he left. I know I was abrupt and nonsensical. It was as though – I – I am not sure – perhaps it was just that I felt I’d been so close. I have – no recollection at all of how I rejoined the others. I remember shredding some plant in my hands.
‘Then the guide told us about the storm. Ryder and I would probably always have disagreed on how to proceed, but I was upset about all that had transpired and was just belligerent. Miss Bingley naturally sided with Mr Ryder, but I thought, arrogantly, Miss Bennet would agree with me. When she did not, I snapped at her. The squabble was my fault. I had already confused her and now I was unkind. The descent was terrible. She tried to apologise, which I did not deserve, and I brushed her off saying I wanted to fulfil my promise to you, Mrs Gardiner. Further down, I thought I had lost her – I’d gone ahead to find the best route and when I returned, I couldn’t find her at first - and I was half out of my wits. I spoke foolishly then too.
‘You were there when she collapsed. I remember your faces when I carried her to her room, how terrible it was. Holding Mary in my arms, looking down at her, she was so fragile and – ’
Suddenly, Tom took off his spectacles and wiped his hand furiously across his eyes. ‘Forgive me.’ More quietly, he repeated in an altered tone. ‘Forgive me, please.’
There had been times in the past two months when Tom’s inexplicable disappearance had disappointed her. But her heart ached for him now, for all he had said and what he had not, the suffering which was so palpable and the diffidence which had been so grotesquely exploited.
About Mr Ryder she thought very different things.
Had it been Mary, she would have wrapped her arms around her and kissed her. This was impossible with the struggling young man, with his glassy eyes and the blood-smeared nick on his jaw. Instead, she took his hand and gently squeezed it.
‘You take too much upon yourself, Tom. I am certain you both said things you did not mean and I cannot believe you were cruel. That is not who you are.’ He opened his mouth to protest, but a sharp look silenced him. ‘You are not. And even if you were abrupt, you could not have been more devoted to Mary while she was ill. You never did go and rest, did you?’
He shook his head.
Edward smiled sadly. ‘Why did you depart the way you did, Tom, just leaving a letter for us to find at breakfast?’
‘I’m sorry. It was cowardly,’ he said simply. ‘When I knew Miss Bennet would recover, I told myself it would be better if I just left and wasn’t a complication getting in the way of her best interests. I did not know if Mr Ryder would return or when you would go back to London. In reality, I think I could not bear to be there when everything had turned to dust. My mind was in turmoil.’
‘That does not surprise me,’ observed Madeline with asperity. ‘After your vigil outside Mary’s room, you cannot possibly have been capable of making a rational decision. I am relieved you didn’t fall from your horse with fatigue and break your neck.’
‘My mother said the same thing,’ he admitted ruefully.
‘What does she know of all this?’
'Very little. That there was a young woman I cared for, but circumstances made it impossible and I had come home to lick my wounds and feel sorry for myself like a child.’
Madeline glanced up at Edward. He made the next pass.
‘Is that why you stayed away so long?’
‘At first I meant only to stay briefly to pull myself together. But the thought of seeing them together, planning a wedding. It was too much. She deserves every good thing in life and I wanted her to be happy. I want her to be happy,’ he corrected himself. ‘But I could not bear to watch it. So I went to Leeds and took the dullest cases I could to try to distract myself and learn to forget. I thought once I knew they were married and departed for Italy, I could return.’
‘But it did not work?’
Tom gave a derisory snort. ‘Staying with my very happily married sister and brother-in-law and their children? Not in the slightest. It was a continual reminder of all I’d dreamt of. After some weeks, I tried walking in the moors instead. Nature has always been a solace before. But she was everywhere.’
Edward paused sympathetically. In the last second before he opened his mouth to speak, he glanced at Madeline and she knew what he was about to ask. Now we come to it.
‘One thing, Tom: this is not to pry, but you say that you were about to ask Mary to marry you. Why did you not? Why should Mr Ryder’s intentions change yours?’
‘How could they not change when the circumstances were entirely transformed?’
‘Were they?’
Tom’s voice grew brittle. ‘You know they were! If I had persisted, it would have been placing my own desires above her best interests and little better than attempting to trap her hours before everything she deserves was offered to her. How could I claim to love her if I was not prepared to do what was so clearly to Miss Bennet’s advantage? Mr Ryder would give her everything her heart could possibly desire.’
‘Tom!’
‘With him she would have a beautiful home and staggering wealth. Italy. Travel. A chance to see every historical site she’s ever imagined. Any book she wanted - she could spend her days reading and learning. A great position. A husband who makes her laugh and smile and whose society she very much enjoys as her constant companion. What could I ever offer in comparison?’ There is an awfulness in this, such loathing. ‘Even if my career advances beyond my wildest dreams, I will never be able to offer that. She would be reading of places not visiting them. Perhaps a square piano crammed in the corner of a small room, not the grand pianoforte Ryder would gift her. At best, it would be a modest home and small pleasures and a husband constantly at work. She deserves better, much better, than that. What consideration could possibly induce her to choose that? ‘
‘You,’ said Madeline.
Tom stared at her.
‘You ask what consideration would induce her to choose that life: it would be with you.’
‘How could that ever be enough?’
‘It depends on what her heart really does desire most. You did not allow her to choose.’
Have I gone too far? His face was stricken.
Edward cleared his throat. ‘Forgive me, Tom, but I think you have made a muddle of this all. From the look on your face, I think you know that.’
Tom nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘I don’t doubt that you want Mary to be happy and believed Mr Ryder’s offer was in her best interests. It was chivalrous in its own odd way. But it has caused so much pain. As Mrs Gardiner says, you did not allow her to decide. That surprises me, Tom, as you have always respected her opinions before.’ Tom was silent, but the colour rose. ‘Self-sacrifice is very admirable, but I think she would prefer the compliment of being treated as your equal and allowed to decide what she wishes for her life.
‘Secondly, do you genuinely believe that money is of such importance to Mary and that she is mercenary?’
‘No!’ He exclaimed, stung. ‘No, of course not. But…. I asked her once.’
‘What did you ask? When?’ asked Madeline.
‘The day we climbed Scafell.’ That day, that wretched day. ‘I asked her whether money mattered to her and she did not really answer, just told me a joke about something one of her sisters said. I could not tell quite what she meant and thought she was being kind and trying to save me from embarrassment.’
Edward looked pityingly at Tom. ‘Have you ever known Mary to be evasive like that?’
Tom paused, then sighed. ‘No.’
‘Well, then!’
‘Her sisters are married to rich men though, extremely rich men.’
‘Her older sisters, yes, but the younger ones are not. Kitty, the next in age to Mary, is married to a clergyman, a younger son making his own way in world like yourself, with less probably, as Mr Buncock is dependent on patronage and you are dependent only on your own intelligence and skill. The youngest is married to an utter scoundrel, who mounts up debts wherever he goes and is a stranger to both honesty and fidelity.’
‘I did not know that.’
‘What was the story she told?’ asked Madeline.
‘It was about Mrs Darcy, that she said it was when she saw Pemberley for the first time she realised she loved Mr Darcy.’
The Gardiners could hardly resist chuckling. ‘Oh Lizzy,’ commented Edward. ‘She would say that! Tom, our niece Elizabeth dearly loves to laugh and make sport against herself. Pemberley is a very grand place and Mr Darcy is a man of tremendous fortune, but she would happily live in a piggery as long as he were there.’
‘Truly?’
Madeline nodded. ‘We were there when she saw Pemberley for the first time. There is a grain of truth in the joke, but not in the way you think. It would take an entire novel to explain all that occurred between Elizabeth and Mr Darcy before they were united. There was so much foolishness and misunderstanding. The first time he asked her to marry him, she turned him down despite his fortune and power, because she did not like the man she thought he was. She thought him rude, haughty and malicious. But when we went to Pemberley she saw him as he is: reserved, yes, but responsible, charitable, an excellent master and devoted to his family. In one way, it was when she saw Pemberley that she realised this was a man worth loving. But it was not the grandeur of the house, just what it revealed about him.'
‘Tom,’ Edward began again, ‘when my sister dies, Mary and her sisters will each inherit £1000. Does that matter to you?’
Tom looked at him blankly. ‘What? No.’
‘Mary’s older sisters may choose to forego it in favour of their sisters. Like you say, they are married to wealthy men. That being the case, Mary would inherit just over £1650. Would it matter to you if it is more?’
‘No!’ said Tom, confusion replaced with offence. ‘Of course not. That would be despicable!’
Edward smiled. ‘Why?’
‘Because I love her! I do not care how much money she may or may not have!’
‘If money matters so little to you for that reason, is it not possible that it matters just as little to Mary for exactly the same reason? Have you considered that?’
‘I have,’ he admitted slowly. ‘I did think about that and about the presumptions I made, the entire journey from Yorkshire.’
‘What made you return? Did you say there was a letter?’ asked Madeline.
‘Yes. When I returned from the moors, there was a letter waiting, from Miss Bingley of all people.’
‘Miss Bingley?' they cried, their stupefied expressions mirroring one another.
‘Caroline Bingley?’ Madeline repeated suspiciously.
‘Yes. How she tracked me down I have no idea.’
‘What on earth did she say?’
‘Initially it was an expression of thanks – of sorts – for assisting her on Scafell. But she also mentioned that she had called on Miss Bennet and told me of their conversation.’
‘What did she say?’
‘That Miss Bennet said she had no interest in Mr Ryder beyond friendship and that he was leaving England. And – that Mary had said she cared for me. I wasn’t sure whether to believe it or not, but I realised what a fool I was being and knew I must find out one way or the other. I left for London that evening.’
The scheming minx. That is one way to dispose of your rival. But after all she has said and done, is it possible that she will be the person who brings Mary happiness?
‘When did she write to you?’
‘Two or three weeks ago? The letter arrived just after I left for the moors. I wanted to kick myself when I read it and realised it had been sat there and everything might have changed in the interim.'
Edward raised his eyebrows, amused. ‘One thing certainly changed. Miss Bingley is currently on a ship bound for Italy.’
Tom’s eyes widened. ‘No! She has gone after Will Ryder?’
Madeline laughed. ‘Yes. She must have written to you shortly before she left. It is not widely known. We only know because our niece Jane wrote to us. We have not told Mary.’
‘Oh,’ he said, his face stiffening. ‘I see.’
No, you do not see, you ridiculous man. Will you still jump to conclusions even after all that we have said?
‘We have not told Mary for fear that it would make her envy Miss Bingley for being able to pursue what she wanted. Miss Bingley at least knew where Mr Ryder had gone. Some people were left with not even a forwarding address!’ Seeing his mortification, Madeline continued, more kindly. ‘She wrote to you, you know.’
‘Miss Bennet wrote to me?’
‘Yes, against every rule of decorum and propriety. Three times. And they were all returned.’
She expected another painful blush or wince, but instead he grew still, his expression soft and blossoming with tenderness.
‘Tom,’ asked Edward after a moment. ‘Miss Bingley’s letter: you received it on – ’
‘Monday.’
‘Can I be entirely clear: you received this letter on Monday, left in the evening and you are here now? On Thursday?'
‘Yes. I arrived this morning, went to my lodgings to wash and change and then came here.’
‘You got here in….’ He grasped at the distance and time. ‘Over 200 miles? How?’
‘I rode the first part, then took mail coaches or stagecoaches depending on what was available.’
‘When did you last sleep?’
‘I slept during the journey. The mail coach is more comfortable than people suggest.’
‘When did you last sleep in a bed?’
He looked a little self-conscious. ‘A coaching inn in Grantham.’
‘Tom!’ exclaimed Madeline, exasperated. ‘Once this is over, for better or for worse, you must promise not to make any more impulsive journeys and impulsive decisions when you have not slept properly.’
He grinned, sheepish. ‘I promise.
‘Thank you,’ he added, ‘for letting me explain, despite everything, and not throwing me out of the house.’ Finally there was something calm and resolved in his manner.
‘We would never have done that,’ said Edward. ‘I wish you had spoken to us in the Lakes.’
‘I wanted to. But you are Miss Bennet’s family and I did not want to put you in an impossible position. Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but I think you are the closest she has ever had to parents, certainly parents as I experienced them.’
‘That is not unfair,’ Edward acknowledged. ‘But we care very much for you too.’
‘Had it been anyone other than Miss Bennet, I would have spoken to you. Especially you, Mr Gardiner, if that is not impolite to you, Mrs Gardiner.’
‘Not at all, Tom,’ said Madeline.
The ghost of loss flitted over Tom’s face. ‘I have never missed my father more,’ he said quietly.
Edward looked over to his wife, who gave an imperceptible nod. Once again, she squeezed Tom’s hand. ‘I think perhaps you should talk to Mr Gardiner now. Let me leave you for some minutes.’
Both men rose as she made her departure, but had settled back into their seats before she shut the door, letting her listen to the beginning of her husband’s counsel.
‘There are so many expectations around making an offer of marriage. It is all nonsense, Tom. The point isn’t the offer, but the life you hope to lead together. Marriage is a long, long game. That’s the challenge, but also the joy. When Mrs Gardiner and I became engaged, we had no prospect of all this. My business was starting to thrive – I was older than you are and had been working for longer – but it was some way from what it has become. We had a small house and – what was it you said? – small pleasures.
‘The memories are very sweet. We learnt together. We grew together. Those moments of difficulty and challenge, they are part of the happiness now. And I would not have had it any other way.’
Nor I, my dear, dear husband, she thought, as she eased the door shut.
Making her way upstairs, Madeline contemplated her husband. He was not considered a gentleman when she first met that striving, energetic man of business; but no man could be more gentle nor more wise and generous. How had he emerged from his provincial childhood to thrive in the greatest city in the world? How had he been raised in a home producing sisters who were self-absorbed and little-minded, yet built so happy a family of his own?
She stopped by the school room. Rebecca was asking a question; the words were inaudible, but the cadence unmistakable. Marianne was laughing and George was groaning. She could imagine their faces, their uncomplicated happiness.
Passing the staircase to Mary’s room, she stopped. There had been many tête-à-têtes there since she had come to live with them. Initially, it had been painful navigating her wall of fear. Gestures of simple love – enquiring after her day, brushing her hair, dotting her with perfume – were met with unease. But gradually each brick of reserve had been dismantled. Even the poignant recent confidences had been a privilege. What happy indulgence might this evening’s conversation bring? Mary would be shocked when she saw him, angry too quite possibly. She had every right to be. But Madeline could not doubt the final outcome. What was it Lizzy had once said? ‘Jane only smiles – I laugh’? They would laugh this evening, she knew it.
Entering her bedroom, she thought once again of her husband. It too was a place of confidential tête-à-têtes, not just in times of success or moments of intimacy, passionate, tender, transcendent and fun as they were by turns. There had been periods of uncertainty and loss. But they had chosen each other, not once many years ago, but again and again and again. They had chosen each other every time they decided to accommodate and love and, where necessary, forgive one another. He had been the blessing of her life and she of his. If they could explain this to Tom and Mary, that would be the greatest gift they could give them: helping them understand that choosing to be married was a lifelong discussion, not a question asked once in a sunlit garden or thwarted on a windy mountain.
Then she thought of Mr Ryder. Her face darkened. Not for an instance had she regretted that Mary turned him down, but she had felt a pang of sympathy for him. He was charming and joyous and it pleased her that this eligible, handsome man appreciated her unconventional niece. But what he had done! Perhaps he had not meant to flaunt his wealth and privilege as though they entitled him to whatever woman he chose. Perhaps he was oblivious to how everything – his class, his position, his very accent – smacked of his power. It was possible, just, that he had been unaware of how he was twisting the sincerity of Tom Hayward’s love for Mary to his advantage. But she did not believe it. Previously, he had always been welcome in her home, but were he in England now, he would not be.
She went in search of three things. The clothes brush was quickly found on her husband’s dressing table. After consideration, she also took his comb: its more robust teeth were better suited for curls than her dainty one. Finally, she selected a linen handkerchief, moistening it and adding a slick of soap from the washstand. That done, she dawdled, folding some clothes left on a chair, plumping the pillows on Edward’s side of the bed and prinking in front of the mirror. Then, she collected the three objects, descended and slipped back into the sitting room, where Tom and Edward were still speaking.
‘ – if she can forgive you and if she still loves you.’
‘It will be far more than I deserve.’
‘There is no benefit in saying that. All you can do is explain honestly, apologise sincerely and place the decision in her hands, where it should always have been.’
‘I know. I am ready.’
Madeline tapped on the door. ‘May I enter?’
Both men jumped to their feet and smiled invitingly.
‘Are you about to take your leave, Tom?’ she asked.
‘I think so,’ he said calmly. ‘It is Miss Bennet I must speak to now.’
‘One last thing, Tom,’ said Edward. ‘You have talked about “deserving” a lot. You are a man who looks at cases and assesses evidence: may I offer you a case and ask you to judge what is deserved? A young woman attracts the interest of two young men. When a pivotal time occurs, one encourages her to do something foolhardy, the other advocates sense and consideration. When the young woman faces danger, one man goes ahead with no thought of anybody else, while the other attends to her and ensures everybody in the company is returned to safety. And when the lady is gravely ill, that second young man remains as close to her as he possibly can within the bounds of propriety, not sleeping and barely eating until she starts to recover. The first young man not only leaves while she is still unconscious, but leaves with another woman. Which one of them is more deserving?’
Not for the first time that afternoon, he blushed. This time it was not from guilt.
‘I also have one last thing,’ said Madeline. ‘That is your best coat, is it not?’
‘Yes, Mrs Gardiner.’
‘It should look a little more like it. Over here please!’ Looking slightly nervous, Tom made his way to her where she vigorously set to work with the clothes brush. Whether it was an affectionate, if practical, caress or an exasperated pummelling even she could not have said.
‘That is better,’ she said, observing him critically. Then she picked up the moistened handkerchief. ‘Now, turn your head. You cut yourself shaving today, didn’t you?’
‘I rushed it.’
‘Evidently. Hold still.’ She wiped away the smear of blood. ‘Now,’ she picked up the comb and held it towards him before gesturing at the side wall. Tom frowned. ‘This is a comb. There is a mirror. Sort your hair! It looks altogether too much like you have been tearing at it in despair.’
‘Just do it, Tom,’ advised Edward. ‘Otherwise, you run the risk that Mrs G will do it for you.’
Eyes widening in alarm, Tom scampered to the mirror and attempted to tame the curls into a semblance of order, before straightening his cravat. ‘Does that look alright?’
‘Very smart, Tom,’ said Edward.
‘Yes, much improved. Now – get to your business! The Hanover Street Gardens. Try the Fountains Garden. She often goes there.’
‘Good luck! It is only what she thinks which matters.’
Tom breathed deeply and laid the comb down on the table. As he reached the doorway, he turned back, bashful and boyish. ‘Mrs Gardiner, Mr Gardiner, thank you.’
‘Tom! Go!’ she commanded.
So he did, quickly out of the front door, down the steps in one long-legged stride and then at some pace along Gracechurch Street, until he turned at the corner and could no longer be seen from the window.
‘He’s forgotten his hat,’ she said, lips quirking.
Edward shook his head as he collapsed back into a chair, held out his hand to her and interlaced their fingers. With her other hand, she stroked his hair, until he caught it, brought it to his lips and she settled onto his lap.
‘Madeline, was I ever such a romantic fool when I was a young man?’
‘Probably. It was so long ago I can hardly remember.’ At the sharp dig in her ribs, she laughed. ‘You are very wise now though, my love.’ She kissed him sweetly.
‘Why are our nieces destined for men who enjoy heroic self-flagellation?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Consider them. First, Darcy and the mad dash to London to save the reputation of the entire Bennet family, a mission which then cannot possibly be spoken of.’
‘Then Mr Bingley being talked out of happiness by his wicked sisters.’
‘Come, come, Mrs G! Perhaps we should look on Miss Bingley with a little more gratitude today.’
‘Perhaps a very little!’
‘And now Tom.’
‘Tom is the worst of the lot! “I love her so deeply that rather than actually speak to her or deploy the slightest bit of common sense, I will fall on my sword and make us both thoroughly miserable.” What kind of thinking was that?’
‘When you produced the clothes brush I did wonder whether you were going to be his valet or beat him around the head with it.’
Madeline snorted. ‘I considered it, believe me! Poor, dear, foolish boy. He needs cossetting but he also needs his ears boxed. I hope Mary does box his ears.’
‘Can she reach them?’ he observed drily.
‘I can provide her with a stool!’ They both laughed, snuggling closer as Madeline leant her chin on the top of Edward’s head.
‘Madeline?’
‘Yes?’
‘Tom has returned.’
‘Yes.’
‘And is on his way to the Hanover Street Gardens.’
‘At some pace.’
‘Perhaps he will arrive there in ten minutes?’
‘From his speed as he set off down Gracechurch Street, seven minutes surely.’
‘Give him three minutes to search the rose gardens for a certain determined young lady, another one to check the herbaceous border – ’
‘Possibly longer, Edward. Look what else he has left behind.’ The wire rimmed spectacles lay on the table next to the empty teacup.
‘Ah. Shall we say that in around fifteen minutes, he will be marching around the fountain, squinting into a blur, but scanning the scene more eagerly than a sailor in the crow’s nest of his brother-in-law’s ship.’
‘Probably shouting “Miss Bennet! Miss Bennet!’ like a madman .'
‘And then what happens next?’
They looked at each other, delight radiant on their faces, before she leant towards him and they kissed once more. Then, to his evident regret, she hopped off his lap to ring the bell.
‘Mr Buncock.’ Madeline said.
‘What about Mr Buncock?’
‘One of the men pursuing our nieces managed not to be a fool.’
‘I presume we are discounting Wickham altogether,’ said Edward waspishly, then snickered at the glower from his wife. ‘Very well. Congratulations to Buncock, the only one not to muddle the business. He might have done, of course, only we don’t know about it.’
‘True.’ Hearing the door open, Madeline turned to their long-suffering servant. ‘Alfred, could you please let Cook know that we should expect a guest for dinner tonight.’
‘Very good, Madam.’
‘And Alfred,’ added Edward, ‘if we have any champagne left in the house, could it be readied for this evening. If not, whatever wine is finest, please.’
‘Sir,’ he nodded as he withdrew.
For a moment Madeline started to shake her head in disbelief at their anticipation, then laughed and clasped her hands together. ‘Is this truly the same day it was an hour ago?’
‘I think so.’
‘It does not feel the same.’ In corners of the room she spotted mementoes of Tom and Mary’s wending road to one another. Wordsworth’s Guide to the Lakes on a table now considered Mary’s. A fragrant sprig of second bloom wisteria in a vase. The children’s hoop and sticks for Graces. ‘I suppose I should let Miss Flynn know that the children may be released.’
‘Shall we take ten minutes for ourselves first? Once they know what we think is afoot, there will be no peace for the next three months at least.’
‘Very well,’ she smiled as he joined her in the middle of the room. They wrapped their arms around one another, creating their own joyful tableau of affection, illuminated by a lazy gleam of late summer sunlight.