Chapter Text
Unlike the journey to the gathering, this ride felt far too short. Tom could scarcely believe how much he adored the woman before him, only truly realising, as they approached his home, that she loved him in return.
Such joy was quickly set aside as Lucy, tears streaming down her face, caught hold of him and pulled him towards the barn.
Buttercup lay on her side, clearly in distress.
“She’s been like this for near two hour,” the farmhand said, wringing his hands. “It ain't right.”
Shrugging off his waistcoat and rolling up his sleeves, Tom dropped to his knees, his expression sharpening as he assessed the mare. “Easy, girl… easy.”
Lucy hovered close, pale and silent. Tom reached carefully, checking the position, his brow furrowing almost immediately.
“Something’s wrong,” he muttered. “I don't think it's coming as it should.”
Miss Bennet stepped closer, her voice hesitant but steady. “Should the forelegs not present first?”
Tom glanced at her, surprised.
"I thought you didn't know about horses?"
She fidgeted with her spectacles, a touch embarrassed. "I read a book, after my conversation with Mr Hurst..."
He couldn't help but smile. “They should,” he replied, turning back. “But one is set back, and the head…”
Buttercup cried out again, her body tensing.
“Then it must be brought forward,” Miss Bennet said, more firmly now. “Otherwise she cannot deliver.”
Tom hesitated only a moment before nodding. “You’re right.”
Working carefully, he adjusted his grip, murmuring softly to calm the mare as he tried to guide the leg into place. It was slow, difficult work, each movement met with resistance.
“Steady… steady…”
Another contraction came, stronger this time, and Tom seized the moment.
“Now, Miss Bennet, keep her calm.”
With a final effort, the position shifted.
“That’s it, good girl…”
The next push brought progress, the small hooves finally appearing as they should.
“We have it,” Tom breathed, relief breaking through his voice. “It’s coming.”
Within moments, the foal slipped free, fragile and trembling against the straw.
For a second, no one spoke.
Then Buttercup gave a low, exhausted sound, reaching for her new born, licking it clean.
Tom sat back, breathless, a laugh escaping him despite himself.
“Well done,” he said softly, though whether to the mare, or to Miss Bennet, he could not quite tell.
“Oh, thank you Tom! Lucy exclaimed, recovering from the ordeal. “After all that reading I was still useless. I'm so glad you were here."
She pressed herself into her brother before turning to Miss Bennet, who stood slightly apart now. “And you too, Miss Bennet, thank you."
In much the same manner, she embraced the young woman, who started in surprise before slowly returning the hug.
“Y-you are quite welcome. Though I cannot claim to have done very much.”
“You kept me calm, Miss Bennet.” Tom stated, smiling at her fondly. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“It is true, he was far too squeamish for such things growing up.” Lucy laughed, shrugging.
“Squeamish?” Miss Bennet repeated, amused, glancing to Tom.
“He wrote a poem after the first time he helped Papa,” Lucy continued helpfully. “Georgina showed it to me, something like Scarlet red—my trembling dread-“
“And that is quite enough of that,” Tom cut in quickly, already turning away. “I am going to wash up.”
Miss Bennet’s laughter trailed after him as he left his sister to embarrass him further, hearing her recite something else he had written. He couldn't be mad, not if it elicited that response from the young woman.
Tom felt his blood still racing, partly from helping Buttercup, but more so from the knowledge that Miss Bennet stood within his childhood home, laughing with his younger sister.
And the best part-
She loved him.
He quickly washed his arms, listening to Miss Bennet as she spoke with George and Lucy. She was listing off various facts about horses and mares, pleasantly surprised when Lucy offered a few of her own.
He paused by the door, watching as the moonlight fell across her, catching softly upon her spectacles. The feeling of seeing her again, after a month apart, was akin to that of a man stranded in the desert receiving his first sip of water. He drank in the sight of her, almost greedily.
The sound of another carriage approached, pausing briefly before moving on again. Moments later, Georgina arrived, Amelia fast asleep in her arms, with Eliza, Phillip, and Margaret in tow.
“Is she all right?” Eliza asked at once, rushing to her sister. “Someone said they saw you ride off, and that Buttercup was not well, but she is well, is she not?”
She hovered on the brink of tears, her lip trembling. Lucy stepped aside, allowing her a clear view of Buttercup and her new foal. All three children excitedly crowded around the new born.
“Well done, Tom. If only they permitted men in the birthing room, you might have been of use to me.” His sister jested, still cradling her babe.
“I believe I am quite sufficiently traumatised, without entertaining that notion, Georgie.”
The adults gathered nearby as the youngest three argued over which name was best.
Lucy hovered somewhere between the two groups.
“I think it should be Mrs Princess!” Margaret announced proudly.
Her cousin gave her an odd look. “That might be a rather strange choice, Margaret, do you not see that it has a-”
“Whoa, that is quite enough, Eliza,” Tom cut in quickly. “Unless you wish to explain how your young niece came by such knowledge.”
Unfazed, Eliza merely shrugged. “Well, she has seen Phillip being changed before, she must surely know the difference.”
Changing the subject, Lucy turned to Miss Bennet, a shy smile upon her face. “I think you should name him, Miss Bennet.”
Quite taken aback by the suggestion, the young governess shook her hands lightly. “Oh-no, no. I was of very little help; I merely recalled something I had read.”
Tom smiled at her. “You are too modest. I quite agree- the honour should be yours.”
She hesitated, uncertain. “It is a family affair, though.”
“I know,” Tom said simply.
That sent his sisters’ eyes wide, grins spreading behind Miss Bennet, who looked at him, stunned, but pleased. A flush rose to her cheeks, and she could scarcely contain the smile forming at her lips.
“I—I… well. Very well, then. I shall endeavour to choose a good one.” She turned to his sisters, as though making a solemn vow.
She paused, clearly trying to come up with a name before blurting out "Gerald."
Tom let out a sharp laugh, grin breaking his face. "Do you know any other names than Gerald?"
The young woman looked flushed, returning the teasing smile though. "It's a good name- a strong name!"
Tom's sisters shared a look, watching the couple dance around flirtation. If their brother was aware of the teasing he would endure later, he showed no interest.
“I still think Mrs Princess is a good name…” Margaret insisted.
Miss Bennet nodded firmly. "You are right Martha, it is a good name. I daresay I should have chosen it myself, had he been a girl.”."
That pleased Margaret who beamed at the group.
“Let us have some toasted cheese!” Eliza declared suddenly. “And we must play graces, please, oh please, Thomas. We did not have the chance at the hall.”
They were quickly ushered inside, into the parlour. Miss Bennet took in the room with quiet interest. It was not so grand as some homes she had known, yet far from modest, it spoke instead of warmth, of comfort, and of a family bound closely together.
Tom saw to the tea and cheese, whilst Georgina settled Amelia in her crib. Lucy took it upon herself to begin the game, coaxing a somewhat reluctant, though willing, Miss Bennet to join them.
Georgina returned just as Tom paused at the doorway, having just given George a drink, leaving him to monitor Buttercup and Gerald. He lingered just out of sight as he watched Mary attempt to catch the hoop upon her sticks, laughing softly with the younger children.
“I cannot believe how smitten you are,” Georgina teased.
He glanced at his sister, dragging his gaze away from the young woman. “I know. I am.” He could not deny it.
“You've spoken, then? And resolved this sorry mess you have been hiding?”
Tom hesitated. “In part. I told her my feelings, though not in so many words, and she told me she loved me… I simply did not have the opportunity to return the sentiment before we arrived.”
“Oh, I think you made your intentions quite clear outside... I cannot wait to have another sister!” Georgina laughed, though there was genuine warmth beneath her teasing.
They entered the parlour, tea and toasted cheese in hand, the game pausing for a brief respite.
“The party is still ongoing, I suppose?” Tom asked, taking a bite of his snack.
Georgina nodded. “I told Henry I would bring the children back. I was quite tired in any case, and he was already several drinks in, he deserves to relax. He works so very hard.”
“Besides,” she added, rolling her eyes, “Martha had just challenged him to a contest of wit. I only hope there is no money involved this time.”
That earned a shy smile from Miss Bennet, who was seated beside Tom upon the settee, with Margaret wedged firmly between them.
Lucy glanced up from the floor where she sat. “You have sisters, do you not, Miss Bennet? I believe Tom once wrote that you had four, like him?”
Once again caught off guard by the notion that Tom had written of her to his family, she gave a small nod. “Oh, yes, we are alike in that respect. Though I do not possess a twin myself.”
A faint, wry smile touched her lips. “And they are not nearly so agreeable as your family.”
Lucy frowned. “Well, I suppose you always have your mama!”
The young woman started, something unreadable passing across her face, before she seemed to check herself and nodded to the girl. “Yes, you are quite right, Lucy.”
“Besides, when you marry Uncle Tom, you shall have new sisters, and nieces and nephews!” Margaret added happily, playing with her food.
Tom promptly choked on a crumb, coughing profusely as Georgina struggled to hide her laughter.
“Right, I think that is quite enough for one evening. It is late, and well past your bedtimes!” Georgina declared, rescuing the pair, who had both flushed deeply at Margaret’s remark.
She turned to Miss Bennet. “It is far too late for you to be travelling back. My sisters can share, and we shall make up a bed for you.”
Miss Bennet began to protest. “No, it is quite all right, my aunt and uncle will be concerned if I do not return.”
“Nonsense,” Georgie cut in at once, with all the ease of one accustomed to being obeyed. “I spoke to Mr and Mrs Gardiner before I left and informed them such a thing might occur. They were perfectly content with the arrangement.”
“You would do well to listen to her,” Tom whispered, with mock gravity. “I have learnt it is best not to challenge my sister.”
The bespectacled woman let out a small, amused huff, attempting to curb her smile. “Well, yes, thank you… if you are quite certain it is no imposition.”
Margaret, Phillip, and Eliza begrudgingly rose from their seats, the youngest boy being dragged by his sister upstairs, leaving Lucy and the couple alone in the parlour.
Lucy, entirely unaware of her position as the third party, continued chewing her cheese in contented silence, until Georgina reappeared at the door, fixing her with a pointed look.
“Lucy, I shall need your help, ah… seeing the children settled.”
Lucy frowned, not quite understanding. “What do you mean? It's not my bedtime.”
Georgina’s eyes widened, darting between her sister and the couple, who were both making a valiant effort to ignore the exchange. “Eliza has requested that you… brush her hair. The way she likes it.”
Realisation struck at last, and Lucy sprang to her feet. “Oh, yes.” She turned to Miss Bennet, rather unconvincingly. “I am the only one who can brush her hair… well.”
She trailed off, before hastily leaving the room.
Their voices could be heard in low argument upon the stairs, though there was no true malice in it.
They sat in silence for a moment, each quietly sipping their tea.
“Your sisters are quite-”
“I apologise our conversation was-”
They both stopped, their words tangling together.
A small, awkward laugh escaped them.
Miss Bennet gestured lightly towards him. “I beg your pardon, please, you first.”
Tom smiled shyly, before looking up with a touch more confidence. “I was only apologising that our earlier conversation was cut short. Though I did mean what I said, your help was invaluable in that situation. It has been some years since I last assisted at a birth.”
“That is quite alright, it was not your fault. You did a valiant effort though. I was rather impressed at your ability to… uh, dig in. I have only imagined you behind a desk, than in a labouring job.”
He raised his eyebrows, a cheeky smile adorning his face. “Oh, is that right Miss Bennet, I must give off the stature of a gangly, wimpy man, than a farmer?”
“Well, not anymore. You have quite evidently grown rather strong, I mean to say- your arms are,”
She faltered, colour rising rapidly to her cheeks.
“Not that your arms have not always been,”
She stopped again, entirely undone. “You are… looking well.”
The young lawyer could not help but look entirely pleased with himself to have elicited such a reaction. “You are a treasure, Miss Bennet.”
His smile, though bright and giddy turned serious and earnest.
“I must admit, having you here feels quite surreal. I have had to pinch myself more than once to believe it true.”
He lowered his gaze, his hands clasping together.
“I realise now how foolish I have been, and how unfair to you. I presumed to know what was best for you, after spending so much of our time together opposing the very same behaviour in your mother.”
He drew a quiet breath. “For that, I am truly sorry.”
Mary hummed in agreement, her anger now much softened. “Yes, well, your sister did warn me you were a fool,” she teased lightly.
He nodded, almost solemnly, rising to stand before her. “For once, she is entirely correct. I have spent this past month thinking on our last meeting, on what I ought to have said differently. If you do not object, I should very much like the chance to try again.”
The young woman placed her plate on the settee and rose to meet him. “You may.”
“Miss Bennet, Mary." Tom began. "I meant what I said upon Scafell. There is no one I long to speak with as I do you. No one understands me as you do, not even my own twin. Our time apart was… difficult beyond measure.”
He drew a breath, his voice still unsteady.
“I found reminders of you everywhere, in the smallest things. The way the birds called, the flowers that bloomed, the rain that fell from the sky. And yet, none of it was enough.”
Taking her hands, he held her gaze. “I have spent much of my life feeling as though I stood apart from it all, looking in. But with you… I am right in the middle of it.”
“I cannot offer great wealth, nor Italy, but I know now that it is not my place to decide what you ought to want.”
His grip softened slightly, though he did not let go.
“What I can offer is this; my love, my constant devotion, and the hope of building a family together, one day.”
Mary let out a soft, broken sound, her eyes filling much like Tom’s.
“Mary Bennet… will you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?”
She could only nod at first, unable to form the words. Then, with a small, breathless sob. “Yes.”
He did not wait. Drawing her close, he met her lips with his.
They smiled through the kiss, tears mingling between them.
“That was a yes, Mr Hayward,” Mary murmured, a soft laugh escaping her. “In case you missed it.”
Giddy with delight, Tom drew back slightly, his eyes still fixed on hers. “Mary… I believe, now that we have kissed, you may call me Tom.”
They laughed in delight, falling into one another as Mary pressed herself into his arms, fitting there as though she belonged. Tom let out a quiet sigh of relief, the weight he had carried these past weeks finally lifting.
Soft giggles sounded just beyond the door, his sisters, he was certain, unable to resist listening in.
He hadn't registered the sound of the carriage, and now, in the doorway, stood Martha and their mother, both watching with tearful smiles.
“There's my great romantic oaf of a brother,” Martha chided fondly, lingering at the threshold as though waiting to be invited in.
The newly engaged couple greeted them warmly, Mary swept at once into the embrace of her new mother and sisters-in-law. He knew, with quiet certainty, that any love she had been denied would be given in abundance here.
“Such wonderful news, your father would be so very proud.” Mrs Haywood managed at last, her voice thick with emotion as tears gathered in her eyes.
Tom could only nod, swallowing past the lump in his own throat.
“Welcome to the family” Martha slipped her arm through Mary’s. “You are going to make a wonderful Hayward.”
-
They remained in Yorkshire for a few days more to celebrate their engagement, before resolving to return to London. Mr and Mrs Gardiner were overjoyed by the news when they saw them at breakfast the following morning at the inn.
“At last! Tom, I was beginning to think I should have to give you a proper slap,” Mrs Gardiner declared, laughing.
“I did.”
“As did I.”
Martha and Mary spoke at once, before dissolving into laughter.
“I am not at all certain that the two of you becoming acquainted will do me any good,” Tom sighed, with mock melancholy.
Martha cast him a pointed look. “If it were not for me, brother, you would very likely still be moping.”
She turned to Mary, her eyes bright with mischief. “You should have heard him, Miss Bennet, ‘Oh, I loved her from the moment I saw her playing graces all by herself.’ It was a most pitiful sight. I could not help but take pity on his foolishness.”
His fiancée turned, a mixture of embarrassment and quiet contentment upon her face.
“So much for twin honour…” Tom muttered, the heat rising high upon his neck.
The doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of Miss Hellifield, who brightened immediately at the sight of Mr Hayward.
“Uh oh, here comes trouble,” Martha murmured beneath her teacup.
“Mr Hayward! I am so glad to see you, I had so little opportunity to speak with you after your early departure.”
She crossed the room at once, placing herself rather pointedly between Tom and Mary’s chair, effectively blocking her from view.
Tom pressed his lips together, unsure how to respond, his eyes flicking briefly towards Martha in silent appeal.
“I was hoping you might be available for a walk this evening, perhaps?”
Mary gave a soft cough, drawing Miss Hellifield’s attention. The young woman turned, casting her a distinctly displeased look.
“I am afraid that will not be possible, Miss Hellifield. I am to return to London-”
“With his future wife,” Martha interjected, leaning forward with unmistakable satisfaction.
The words struck at once. Miss Hellifield’s expression fell entirely. “Your- your future wife? I was not aware you were engaged. To whom?”
Tom had not expected Mary to be so bold, and his heart swelled as she lifted her hand slightly.
“That would be myself, Mary Bennet. We were introduced at the gathering.”
Miss Hellifield’s nose scrunched most unfavourably. “Ah, yes, the governess. I had not realised you two had an understanding. Well… I wish you both the best.”
She spoke curtly, before turning swiftly and making her exit.
Raised voices carried in from just beyond the door, unmistakably Mrs Hellifield demanding an explanation, and Annabel repeating, with mounting indignation, that he was engaged.
“Well, was that not interesting?” Martha remarked, a smirk playing at her lips. “Mama will be highly amused. Did you hear Mrs Hellifield telling her how dry the pies were at the party?”
Mrs Gardiner joined in. “One is likely to encounter such company wherever one goes.” She raised a brow towards Miss Bennet, who returned the look with an amused nod.
Mr and Mrs Gardiner excused themselves, wishing to take a short walk about the village, leaving the twins and Miss Bennet in peace.
“So, what are your plans, then?” Martha asked. “I should hope you will visit a little more often, when you are able.”
Mary nodded, speaking for the pair. “Oh, certainly. I have had such a lovely time here, and with you expecting, I imagine we shall wish to visit all the more.”
The inclusion of Tom in that we filled him with warmth. They were a unit now, plans made together. It took him a moment to fully register her words.
“Wait, you told Mary you were expecting? What of the twin honour you made me promise?” Tom demanded.
Martha shrugged, entirely unrepentant. “Well, she is to be your wife, Tom. Twin honour extends to your partners.”
“Are you telling me that everything I have ever confided in you, you have told Francis?”
Martha barked a laugh. “Oh yes, he was most amused when I told him about your incident at the Gardiners-”
“Martha!”
Mary watched the pair bicker, a smile tugging at her lips despite having only the vaguest notion of what they referred to.
But she supposed… she had all the time in the world to find out.