Chapter Text
It turned out that despite Ryder’s apparent fondness for him, this particular dinner gathering remained firmly out of bounds for Edward, much to his displeasure.
He didn’t like the idea of leaving his mother entirely unattended in Ryder’s company, particularly whilst his father still remained attached to Miss Baxter. He was slightly more at ease knowing the Gardiner’s would be with her.
At breakfast the morning after the ball, Mrs Gardiner had been rather inspiring-
“We do not cower to the Caroline Bingley’s of the world.”
Mary had been rather subdued since her run in with Miss Bingley, clearly affected by vitriol. Hearing the words from her Aunt made her relax reasonably, though she still fidgeted with the skin around her thumb. He hated to see her so down, especially when she had seemed so much happier in the prior days since her wobble in the gardens. It was almost like they had gone back a step.
It wasn’t long before Edward found himself attending a game of fencing alongside Tom, Mr Gardiner observing nearby. The experience proved unexpectedly fascinating.
Some of the manoeuvres his father habitually used in Edward’s own time had clearly not yet been learned. The advantage this provided was almost unfair, and he would feel ashamed if it wasn’t the first time he’d ever managed to win against his father.
Edward struck him several times in succession.
“You are remarkably good, Ned, I shall admit,” Tom laughed, removing his fencing mask with flushed amusement. “I believe I shall need to remember some of those moves for the future.”
Edward bit back a laugh at the irony.
“I cannot take credit. My father taught me all he knew.” Edward ran a hand through his hair, holding his mask and stick in one hand. “He only learned in his twenties, probably not much older than you are now.”
A smile spread across Tom's face. “Well, it seems we must have a great deal in common.”
If he allowed himself, if only briefly, to disconnect from the utter absurdity of his circumstances, Edward almost felt reminiscent of earlier years, before he had begun worrying so constantly about disappointing his father.
Before his father had become so burdened by work. When he had spent more time with his family than in his chambers. When he would return home and chase the children around the house as they laughed, instead of offering them a brief smile before retreating to his office for most of the evening, only joining them again, weary-eyed, at dinner.
No, the Tom here was just... Tom. The Tom who would one day become his papa.
Edward found himself able to appreciate the man behind the title of father with far greater clarity.
“Yes, you are... you are very much like him, Mr Hayward.”
“Well, if you are a product of his childrearing, I must say I would be quite pleased by the comparison.” Tom finished with a bashful smile before taking a sip of water.
“You wish to become a father one day, sir?” Edward asked, the words escaping before he had time to think.
Tom paused, caught off guard by the question, though not offended. “I would like to hope so. My father was a good role model for me, God rest his soul, and I should like to be the same for my own children one day.”
“I just-” He stopped mid-sentence, his mouth struggling to form the words before his lips pressed into a thin line.
“Sir?” Edward prompted.
“Apologies. I was only going to say... I just hope I can provide for them. I-well...” Tom ran a hand through his curls. “I have worked for much of what I have. I only hope I shall be able to provide for my family and protect them. That must sound rather silly, I suppose.”
Edward was stunned by the confession. He had always known his father had built his career from the ground up, the younger son with nothing guaranteed to him,. Edward had only ever known the successful man he eventually became. He had never truly considered how uncertain he must once have felt.
Perhaps they were far more alike than he had ever realised.
“Anyway... that is, of course, why I work so hard. For Miss Be-” Tom stopped himself, flushing. “Miss Baxter.” He took another swig of water before setting his fencing stick and mask aside. “Apologies, Ned. I have spoken far too much. Forgive me for rambling about such personal matters.”
“No, no, not at all sir. It is refreshing, to hear you speak so candidly. As you say, I do so often myself.” Edward rested a hand on his father’s shoulder, the pair sharing a look. “I feel the same myself, I mean, I hope to make my family proud, my father in particular. To look after them, if the time was ever to come.”
Tom held his gaze, speaking with earnest. “Ned, I have known you for a short time, but if I was your father I would be extremely proud of you."
There was a silence, as heavy as the knot that had tightened in Edward’s throat. He swallowed thickly and blinked the prickling sensation in his eyes, letting his hand drop from the elder’s shoulder.
Thankfully, Mr Gardiner walked over, clasping the hands together.
“We should be leaving, Mr Mercer. Mrs G will be expecting us, and will surely have luncheon waiting for us.”
He turned to Tom, who had regained some composure from their conversation. “We shall see you Thursday evening, Tom."
The pair shook hands firmly before Tom turned to Edward.
"Ned. I shall miss your company at the dinner party, but I am sure I shall see you soon enough."
Edward nodded in return. "Yes, of course. Please make sure ma-um, Miss Bennet is okay, won't you?"
The man took a breath before nodding through a tight smile. "Yes, of course."
-
The conversation with his father ran through his head on repeat. He wished he could speak to him in his own time, to ask him openly, man to man, how he felt. Maybe he could find some comfort in that, maybe his insecurities could be aided by just being honest.
Edward spent much of the next two days thinking about his future. He had spent the last few weeks focusing on his parents to avoid considering the reality of his own situation.
It had been a welcome distraction, even if he knew he should not truly involve himself. What else was he meant to do?
The governess had returned and he could see Mary feeling nervous at her lack of place, he was starting to feel the same.
Eventually, he would have to move on. His welcome would become overstayed and he had no excuse as to why he was not travelling, or visiting family. He had already made several excuses about why no correspondence had arrived from his mother, or why none of his belongings had been forwarded on.
He needed a plan.
The one constant he had to ground himself was his art. He spent hours sketching, pencil on parchment. He had started drawing the Gardiner children, beginning with Marianne and working down to Rebecca. It was the first time he had allowed anyone to properly look at his work.
"They're so good, Ned!" George had stared in awe at the drawing of himself. "You got my hair just right!"
Marianne was particularly proud too, asking if he could draw a horse, or a rabbit. Edward had obliged, and soon he had several requests, parchment filling up as he drew whatever the children requested.
On the day of the dinner party, Miss Bennet entered the schoolroom to find the four of them sat in a circle.
"You need to add her spectacles!" Rebecca commented, leaning in closer.
"What are you doing?" Miss Bennet asked curiously, adjusting her glasses.
Edward looked up immediately, embarrassed, instinctively shielding the sketch from view.
"He's drawing you, Mary! He's really good," George said proudly, slipping the parchment from beneath Edward's arm and presenting it to her before he could stop him.
The woman took it into her hands, studying it quietly. Edward swallowed hard, staring down at his pencil.
"It is not that good, Miss Bennet. I have been drawing the entire family," he explained.
"This is amazing, Ned."
Her voice was full of genuine awe, a small smile appearing on her face. "I have no artistic ability myself, but you have such a gift for capturing a likeness. This is rather incredible."
Edward glanced up.
Mary was still staring at the drawing, her expression thoughtful.
He felt his eyes sting unexpectedly. There was something strangely overwhelming about hearing his mother speak of his work with such kindness.
"Let me see the others," she said, setting the sketch down.
Edward hesitated before reaching for the remaining sheets, allowing her to leaf through them.
She paused occasionally, smiling at Marianne's portrait or laughing softly at George's exaggerated expression in another. Then her hand stopped entirely.
Edward knew which drawing she had reached before he even looked.
It was of her and Tom, seated together at the dinner table.
Her eyes moved slowly over every detail.
He had drawn them laughing. The image had remained fixed in his mind ever since the evening he had sketched it. Tom had been visiting for dinner and he and Mary had fallen into one of their usual debates. Edward couldn’t even remember the particulars. Only that his father had laughed, a proper laugh, head tilted back slightly, eyes bright with amusement.
And his mother had looked at him as though he were the most fascinating person in the room.
Edward had noticed it immediately, the admiration in her eyes, the affection she seemed entirely unaware she was displaying.
He had found himself abandoning the sketch he had been working on and starting a fresh page entirely.
Even now, looking at the drawing, he thought he had captured it rather well.
Mary was quiet for a moment longer than was necessary, then she smiled, only small and soft. The sort of smile Edward had become increasingly familiar with whenever his father was mentioned.
"That is a very good likeness of him," she said quietly.
Edward bit back a smile of his own.
Mary looked up at him, almost shyly. "Do you mind if I keep this, I would like to show him it at some point."
He said nothing, only nodding his agreement. Mary's smile widened at once as she carefully set the drawing aside from the others.
Soon after, Mary retired to prepare for the evening.
By the time the Gardiners and Mary departed, Edward found himself rather envious that he could not accompany them. Instead, he resolved to take an early night and rise before dawn. He still intended to return to the park where he had first awoken, clinging stubbornly to the hope that he might find some clue as to how he had arrived here, and perhaps how he might leave.
It was not until nearly nine o'clock that he heard the front door open.
Edward frowned, they were much earlier than he had anticipated.
Pulling a wrapper around himself, he stepped from his chamber and made his way towards the stairs. Voices drifted up from below, but not the cheerful sounds of guests returning from a successful evening.
He descended the staircase quickly. Mr and Mrs Gardiner stood in the hallway, but Mary was nowhere to be seen.
Both looked utterly distraught. A knot formed instantly in Edward's stomach.
"Is everything alright?" he asked as he approached.
The pair turned towards him. "Mary has had to return to Pemberley," Mrs Gardiner confessed quietly. "Her mother is ill. We have sent her in our carriage."
"By herself?" Edward asked at once.
The image of his mother, upset and frightened, travelling alone through the night made his stomach twist.
"How is this so? Surely it cannot be so serious."
The words left him before he could stop them. Of course, he knew it could not be. His grandmother would live for another seven years.
He remembered her frequent illnesses throughout his childhood. Every few months there seemed to be some complaint or another, and on occasion his mother would travel to attend her. More often than not, it proved to be nothing worse than a summer fever or an inconvenient cold.
Until one day, it was not.
Edward swallowed hard. No. It could not be that day.
Mr Gardiner looked perplexed. "I cannot say," he admitted. "The letter was urgent enough to make me believe it may indeed be serious. We shall know more in time. I will write and enquire after her condition in the morning.”
He sighed heavily.
"I am only sorry we could not accompany her ourselves. With our commitments here, and the children, it simply was not possible."
Mrs Gardiner looked equally troubled. "She insisted she would be quite alright," she said quietly. "But I confess I do not like the thought of her making such a journey alone when she is already so distressed."
"I shall write to her too," Edward vowed. "She has been very kind to me, and I can travel to her myself if she requires support."
"That is very sweet of you, Ned." Mrs Gardiner gave him a curious look. "Though I am not certain Miss Bennet would wish to impose upon you in such a way."
"No, perhaps not." Edward lowered his gaze briefly. "But I have come to think of her as a sister these past few weeks. I should hate not to offer my assistance."
Mrs Gardiner's expression softened immediately.
"I am sure she would be touched to hear it."
-
The next morning, Mr Gardiner and Edward both wrote to Mary. Two days later they received a response, written as neatly as ever from Miss Bennet.
Mr Gardiner received word that his sister was well and expected to make a full recovery, which eased Edward's fears considerably. The older man was slightly frustrated after hearing that actually, the woman was quite well and it seemed to be perhaps a false alarm.
“My sister can be utterly insufferable sometimes. Poor Mary, travelling all that way for a Summer cold.”
To Edward’s letter, Mary had assured him she was quite alright, though she remained at Pemberley to attend her mother during her recovery. She had also insisted he need not travel to her, reminding him that her sisters were already there. Though, if he was to be in the area in the future he was more than welcome to visit.
The letter brought him little comfort- Edward had never felt more out of place.
With his mother so far away, he had nothing to distract himself. The house felt strangely empty without Mary, and Tom had temporarily ceased his visits, insisting his work kept him too occupied.
Two days after Mary’s letter, determined to revisit his plan of returning to the park, Edward set out for a walk. The idea had been pushed aside by recent events, but now there was little else to occupy his thoughts.
On his way, he happened upon Miss Baxter, her lady's maid not far behind.
"Miss Baxter, how do you do?" He bowed politely.
"Mr Mercer, what a pleasant surprise. It has been much too long."
Ann curtsied, though she appeared rather distracted herself. They walked side by side for a short while in companionable silence.
"Have you heard from Miss Bennet?" Ann eventually asked, adjusting her grip upon her parasol.
Edward sighed. "Very little. She remains at Pemberley, though her mother is thankfully improving. Have you written to her recently?"
Miss Baxter nodded. "Yes. Shortly after she left, I wished to reassure her that everything here was quite alright."
She paused.
"Poor thing. When the news arrived regarding her mother, she knocked over one of Mr Ryder's bell jars. It had belonged to his late father."
Edward glanced towards her.
"Was it broken?"
"Yes." Ann nodded her head. "She looked absolutely distraught. I did not wish for her to spend her time at Pemberley worrying over it."
"That does sound unfortunate. I admit she likely would have worried." Edward rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I miss her dreadfully. She has become very dear to me these past weeks."
Ann smiled softly.
"I can see that. It is a pity you met so late."
Edward laughed quietly. "Indeed."
He hesitated for a moment. "Pray tell, Miss Baxter, how have you been? And how is Mr Hayward? Forgive the impertinence. I have seen very little of him of late."
The question seemed to silence her. Ann's gaze dropped to the path beneath their feet before she glanced over her shoulder. Her lady's maid followed a discreet distance behind, thankfully too far away to overhear.
"Mr Mercer," she said after a moment, "I am going to ask something of you, and I hope it does not violate the rules of propriety."
Edward remained silent, waiting.
"You see, Mary informed me that you are rather wise, and an excellent listener. And I have a difficulty upon my mind." She tightened her grip on her parasol. "One I fear to discuss with my mama, for I know her opinion would become my own before I had properly formed one for myself."
She glanced up at him. "I find I should like the perspective of someone entirely unconnected to the matter."
Edward nodded at once. "Of course, Miss Baxter. You need not worry. My lips are sealed. I shall not utter a word to anyone."
Miss Baxter studied him for a moment, as though assessing the truth of the promise. Whatever she found seemed to satisfy her.
"At Mr Ryder's dinner party, I met a gentleman. Mr Powell."
She attempted to keep her expression neutral, though Edward noticed the subtle change in her features at the mention of his name.
"Mr Powell is an acquaintance of Mr Ryder's. I had not met him before. He is a very kind man and I greatly enjoyed speaking with him."
Edward nodded quietly, waiting for her to continue.
Ann stopped walking altogether and turned to face him properly.
"Ned," she began hesitantly. "Do you believe in true love?"
Edward blinked at the informal use of his name.
"In true love?" He considered it for a moment. "Yes. I believe it exists."
Ann nodded, though her hands remained tightly clasped together.
"My father used to tell me," Edward continued with a small smile, "that true love is one of the most powerful and enduring things a person can experience."
His smile softened. "He also said it is one of the most confusing."
Ann's gaze lifted to his. "How so?"
"Because most people do not realise it is love at first." Edward shrugged lightly. "They believe it is admiration, or friendship, or simple enjoyment of another's company. They find reasons for it."
He thought briefly of his parents. "Then one day they wake up and discover it has become something else entirely."
For a moment, Ann said nothing. Then she lowered her gaze.
"Yes," she admitted quietly. "That is what I feared."
Edward frowned.
"What is it that troubles you, Miss Baxter?" He hesitated. "Forgive me, but I confess I am surprised to hear you speak this way given your... understanding with Mr Hayward."
Ann looked utterly miserable. "That is precisely the problem, Mr Mercer." Her brows drew together and her lip wobbled slightly.
"I have had this understanding with Mr Hayward for nearly three years, and in all that time I have waited for affection to deepen into love. I believed it would, eventually. Yet it never has."
She sat down heavily upon a nearby bench, folding her hands tightly in her lap. "You must think me dreadful for admitting such a thing."
"I do not."
Ann smiled sadly.
"My understanding with Mr Hayward has always been logical. At first, yes, I believed myself to have feelings for him. He was a handsome young gentleman and I had only recently entered society. Everything felt exciting and new." She paused. "I admire him greatly. I respect him. He is kind, considerate, intelligent, and I am certain he would make an excellent husband."
Her voice softened. "But I do not love him. Not the way I ought."
The confession hung between them, the gentle chatter of people promenading nearby and the wind whistling through the trees filling the space.
Edward peered up to see her lady's maid, hands clasped in front of her staring off determinedly.
Moving a little closer to Miss Baxter on the bench, Edward remained hushed. "But you think you could feel that way for someone else?" he asked carefully.
Ann nodded immediately. "That is what frightens me." A small smile appeared despite herself. "It feels different with Mr Powell."
Edward listened.
"We have known one another for a week, and all of our meetings have been entirely proper and chaperoned," she added quickly, colour rising in her cheeks. "Yet every conversation feels effortless. I find myself wanting to tell him things. Wanting to hear his thoughts. Wanting to see him again."
She laughed softly at herself. "And the dreadful thing is that I recognised the difference immediately."
Edward's expression softened, because he knew exactly what she meant.
The way his mother looked at his father, the way his father looked at his mother. There had never been anything logical about it, it was pure feeling.
"If I have read Mr Powell's intentions correctly, I believe he may feel the same way. But I cannot see him anymore, not when I am intended to be engaged with Mr Hayward…”
Edward knew Mr and Mrs Powell in the future. They were happily married, with children who adored them. In many ways, the answer ought to have been simple.
Yet he could not ignore the small stab of guilt. For weeks he had regarded the woman beside him as nothing more than an obstacle. Someone who had to be removed if his parents were ever to find one another again.
Now, seeing the distress written plainly across her face at the prospect of ending her understanding with his father, he felt rather ashamed of himself.
"Miss Baxter," Edward said at last, "I think you must follow your heart."
Ann looked at him uncertainly.
"Mr Hayward will understand." A small smile tugged at Edward's mouth. "He is a man of poetry, after all."
To his relief, she laughed softly.
"And besides, you both deserve a marriage founded on genuine love, not one that will likely deteriorate into resentment," Edward assured her.
Something seemed to shift within Miss Baxter then, as though a weight she had been carrying for some time had finally lessened.
"You are right, Mr Mercer. And so was Miss Bennet. You are very wise for your age."
They stood once more, facing one another. Some of the tension left Ann's shoulders as she offered him a warm smile.
"I appreciate your time, Mr Mercer, and your words. You have helped me a great deal."
Miss Baxter curtsied before turning to leave and joining her maid, though after only a few steps she paused and looked back over her shoulder.
"Oh, I nearly forgot to mention."
Edward tilted his head, a questioning smile touching his lips.
"Did you hear that Mr Ryder is planning to visit Miss Bennet at Pemberley?" Ann laughed and shook her head.
Edward felt his stomach drop.
"He's doing what?"