Chapter Text
After the men had made their dinner arrangements, Madeleine was made aware by her husband of what had almost transpired that morning - how Edward had nobly fended off disaster - and their party’s somewhat unorthodox plan for the evening. She herself, after keeping vigil so long in Mary’s sickroom, had wept in relief at the doctor’s good news and then been half-carried to bed by her husband and slept solidly for several hours. She even allowed herself to contemplate the possibility of dining in her nightgown to keep Mary company.
Remembering that Mr Hayward had not yet formally joined the family, she decided against it.
Madeleine dressed simply and made her way back to Mary’s room which was warmly lit with candles and pleasantly heated against the gloomy evening by a fire roaring in the grate.
“I am ever so relieved to see you looking so well!” Mrs Gardiner declared, on returning to her niece’s bedside. “How are you feeling, Mary?”
“Much improved,” Mary replied, smiling as she accepted the fresh glass of water her aunt poured her. “And I am so very happy to learn that only the four of us remain.”
“As am I,” agreed Madeleine with a rush of feeling. “What a relief not to have to bat away the slings and arrows of Miss Bingley!”
“I was so thankful to you, Aunt,” said Mary. “The morning of our ill-fated walk, defending Mr Hayward against her as you did. And for all of your many efforts to bolster my spirits whenever you saw her come near me.”
Mrs Gardiner went to brush off her thanks but Mary took her hand.
“Your confidence in me and your kindness and your inclination to assist me in trusting in myself has been so very potent these last several months,” said Mary earnestly, tears forming in her eyes. “Together, you and my uncle have provided the steadiest and most generous support I have ever known.”
Madeleine daintily dabbed away her own tears with the pads of her fingers. “It has been our sincere pleasure, Mary,” she replied. “Watching you blossom into the self-assured woman before me has been one of the great joys of my life.”
A knock sounded at the door and both women laughed wetly as the inn staff entered and began bustling about arranging their evening meal at a table beside Mary’s bed.
Shortly Mr Gardiner and Mr Hayward hovered in the doorway and Mrs Gardiner beckoned them in to take their places. She arranged Tom into the seat beside the patient, where he was most willing to go, herself opposite, and her husband to Mary’s left.
Madeleine caught her husband’s eye and they shared a smile, seeing Tom immediately angling his body entirely toward Mary, making sure he passed her every dish on the table, filled her glass, and attended to her every need.
–
Mary allowed herself to sit back and be looked after, enjoying the return of the man who had smiled at her with the assured tenderness and joy of a lover as he’d asked permission to adjust her shawl on the eve of their fateful climb.
When her aunt suggested that she and Tom move closer to the fire, she acquiesced quite cheerfully, allowing him to carry chairs across the room while Madeleine helped her to stand and wrapped her cosily in her wrapper. Tom returned to her side and carefully took her arm which Mary also allowed, despite not feeling at all unsteady on her feet.
After attentively seating her in the chair closest to the fire, he took up a volume from the floor beside the chair he had designated as his own.
Mary put out a hand to still him.
At the light pressure of her hand on his, Tom raised his eyes to her, his lips slightly parted.
“Might we talk a little instead of reading, Mr Hayward?” she asked quietly. “You still have not answered my questions.”
Tom looked back down at where her hand still rested on his own. “It is just that– when we finally have this conversation, I have hopes for it to end in a certain way.” His eyes darted to where Mary’s aunt and uncle sat laughing together at the table. “I would prefer for us to have at least a modicum of privacy.”
Mary smiled at him indulgently, withdrawing her hand. “Will we have to climb another mountain, Mr Hayward?”
He shuddered.
“You aren’t afraid that further delay will allow for further obstacles?” she asked coyly.
Tom raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting another suitor lurks in the shadows, Miss Bennet? I would hardly be surprised.”
Mary levelled him with a steady gaze. “There is no one else, Mr Hayward.”
Tom swallowed.
–
Mr Gardiner saw everyone off to bed, confident that good progress had been made but aware that he and Madeleine would have to manage their proximity closely the following morning, moving away from, rather than toward their young friends.
On descending to breakfast he was pleased to find his niece sipping tea at the table, a healthy colour fully returned to her cheeks. She was gazing out the window into the garden beyond looking quietly pleased with the sunshine and blue skies.
“This is a wonderful sight, Mary,” he said warmly, taking a seat beside her. “You look fully restored to health.”
“I feel strong,” she said simply. “And ready to make the most of the few days that remain.”
“By the most, I hope you mean taking in views through windows like this and perhaps sitting in picturesque gardens, dear Mary. I’m not sure my nerves will stand too much more in the way of adventure.”
“Your nerves, Uncle?” said Mary laughing. “The family resemblance I have never been able to trace between you and my mother is discernible at last!”
Edward lifted a pained hand to his chest. “Oh, Mary, you wound me!”
She patted his hand and then poured him tea by way of apology.
Soon Madeleine descended, equally thrilled to find Mary looking so well. “You and Mr Hayward seemed to have a lovely conversation by the fire last night,” she observed over toast and jam, a little smile on her face.
Mary’s returned colour heightened a little. “We did thank you, Aunt,” she agreed, busying herself with the jam.
As if summoned, outside the window Tom strode across the garden and entered the inn.
“Good morning, Mr Gardiner, Mrs Gardiner,” he said cheerily. His gaze and tone softened as he turned to Mary. “Good morning, Miss Bennet.”
“Join us, Tom,” said Mr Gardiner, gesturing to the empty chair.
“Actually, I’ve already eaten,” Mr Hayward replied. “And have been out in the stables visiting with Gerald.”
Mary almost choked on her tea. “Your horse’s name is Gerald?” she gasped through her laughter.
“It is,” replied Mr Hayward, somewhat defensively. “I was reading a good deal of Gerald of Wales at the time I acquired him.”
“Oh, yes,” said Mary warmly, regaining sober interest at once. “His Topographia Hiberniae is a wonderful work.” She waved her hand. “I only laughed because, if you recall that occasion at Mr Ryder’s supper when I was sat beside Mr Hurst–”
Her companions grimaced and nodded, the spectre of Caroline Bingley momentarily re-haunting their happy party.
“He made up a fictional horse for us to imagine we were entering into a race and I gave him the name Gerald!”
Even Mr Hayward was able to laugh at the coincidence.
“Well, I was wondering,” he said, taking the seat beside Mary and directing his remarks only to her. “I know you refuse to acknowledge any skill in physical pursuits, Miss Bennet, and you made some reference to a ride with Will that sounded perhaps disastrous, but my Gerald is a very well-tempered Cleveland Bay, who has only ever been as gentle as lamb when I’ve trotted my nieces and nephews about on him.”
Edward exchanged a fond glance with his wife. He noticed Mary also smiling indulgently at the image.
“Perhaps you might allow me to lead you down to the lake so that you can enjoy the view without overexerting yourself in your recovery,” Tom went on. “It is such a beautiful morning and, as we have learned, the weather can change quite quickly. Perhaps we should seize the moment.”
Mary nodded decisively. “I like that idea very much, Mr Hayward,” she said, glancing at her companions. “Provided my aunt and uncle agree.”
Mr Gardiner was disinclined to allow anything to stand in the way of these two finally getting to the point. He and Madeleine gave their hearty ascent and wished the pair well.
–
When Mr Hayward had mentioned seizing the moment, Mary couldn’t help hearing echoes of the stern lecture she had given him at the summit of Scafell as the storm clouds gathered.
Now she sat side-saddle on his bay gelding, all sixteen hands above the ground, but finding herself feeling unexpectedly safe with the attentive way that Tom guided the gentle animal, glancing up often to ensure she was comfortable.
They traversed the path they had trod back from the lake that day, Tom and Mr Ryder dripping beside her. Now as she approached that same familiar body of water, Scafell rising in the distance, the sight seemed to contain within it a lifetime of memories, playing out before her in an imagined tableaux.
She had been quite practiced at pleasing herself with her imagination in her childhood, dwelling on an idea or described scenery from a book rather than her unsatisfactory reality. Now she found herself drawing on that same habit to overlay memory upon memory over the landscape - sweet and frustrating, funny and sad - and see with her mind rather than her eyes.
Without thinking she began to recite the one of Wordsworth’s poems that had made immediate sense to her upon first reading it. The horse’s steady footfalls and the sway of his movement seemed to perfectly fit the meter of the verse and the words came to her without effortful recall.
Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes
To pace the ground, if path be there or none,
While a fair region round the traveller lies
Which he forbears again to look upon;
Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene,
The work of Fancy, or some happy tone
Of meditation, slipping in between
The beauty coming and the beauty gone.
If Thought and Love desert us, from that day
Let us break off all commerce with the Muse:
With Thought and Love companions of our way,
Whate'er the senses take or may refuse,
The Mind's internal heaven shall shed her dews
Of inspiration on the humblest lay.
She surveyed the lakeshore, the glistening water and the peaks beyond from her vantage point in the saddle, lost in her tumble of memories.
It took a moment for her to come back to herself and look down into the face of Mr Hayward, his chocolate brown eyes gazing up at her as if she were a vision. He reached up to grasp her waist and help her dismount, but instead of letting go when her feet touched the ground, he drew her near.
“Now I think I know what it might feel like to be under an enchantment,” he murmured. “In which you are my faerie queen and I your knight protector.”
Mary shook her head, smiling wryly. “No one in their right mind would think of me as a faerie queen, Mr Hayward.”
“Well, either I am mad, Miss Bennet, or you are mistaken,” he said, not relinquishing his hold of her. “And though I hate to correct you, in this instance, it is the latter.”
She stepped closer, gently pressing her hands to the lapels of his blue coat.
“Mary,” he breathed, his eyes fluttering closed as he allowed himself to enclose her fully in his embrace.
“Tom,” she replied, smiling up at him.
She watched as his throat bobbed and his eyes reopened slowly, almost as though he was bracing for his vision to be snatched away. When he saw that she remained, the affection that suffused his expression almost took her breath away.
“I am in love with you, Mary,” he said, smiling down at her. “Wholly and completely. Surely you know. And you must forgive me for my foolishness on Scafell because I almost allowed myself to give you up. I convinced myself that you might be persuaded to love another when you understood what he could offer you.”
“Never,” whispered Mary, her expression serious.
Heartened, Tom pulled her closer still. “I will give you all I can, Mary, everything within my means and all of myself in entirety. Will you have me as your husband?”
Mary pressed herself up on her tiptoes and kissed him in reply.
Then somewhat breathlessly she confirmed her reply with words. “There is nothing I want more than to be your wife.” She kissed him again and, smiling against his lips, whispered, “I love you, Tom Hayward. You and I are getting married.”
Tom nodded fervently. “We are, my Mary, as soon as we possibly can.”
–
Mr Gardiner was having a very good morning.
Seizing the opportunity provided by Tom and Mary’s walk to the lake, his wife had seductively traced her forefinger along the inside seam of his trousers under the breakfast table and suggested that they sequester themselves in their room for an hour or so.
Lord, how he loved her.
Once their marital activities had drawn to a highly satisfying conclusion for them both, it had occurred to them that they should perhaps be providing at least the appearance of supervision to their young unmarried friends.
Taking up the newspaper for him and some letters for her, they now exchanged contented little smiles over a pot of tea in the parlour and awaited their return.
–
Tom Hayward felt giddy. He sat astride his horse with his beloved, his intended, his bride-to-be (he was enjoying cataloguing all the possible terminology he would be able to employ in reference to Mary) nestled side-saddle in his arms.
She leaned her slight form against him, the lavender scent of her hair overwhelming his senses as he encircled her in his arms, loosely holding on to the reins.
He was certainly not hurrying his horse. If anything, Tom was trying to draw the heady experience out as long as he could. Though the scenery was lovely, the two of them took in only the detail of one another.
“Do you know what has transpired just now, Mary?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair.
“You asked me to marry you and I said yes,” she sighed, sounding happier than he had ever heard her.
“Well, yes,” he agreed fervently. “But before that.”
She shook her head, her hair brushing against his neck.
“Mary, you sat regally atop a horse on a lakeshore while I gazed up at you from the ground and listened as you flawlessly recited one of Mr Wordsworth’s poems. One I didn’t even know had moved you.”
She smiled. “Is that what secured the proposal at last?” she asked mischievously. “Is it Mr Wordsworth I have to thank for all this happiness threatening to burst out of me?”
Tom tightened his arms around her. “It was just– it was a moment I shall never forget as long as I live,” he said quietly. “And, though I have been a devotee of his for so long, I realise just now in this moment that it has always been in your presence, Mary, that Mr Wordsworth’s poems have meant the most to me, have come most alive.”
“That feels like a very great honour,” replied Mary solemnly.
Tom smiled. “The honour is all mine,” he replied warmly. “To not only have your presence and your love to help me unlock the deeper meaning I seek, but to have you for your sake alone. I am a man who has been blessed far beyond my wildest expectations.”
Mary huffed out a laugh. “My own wildest expectations extended to a hope that one day I might not be contemptible. Imagine my surprise to find myself attaining such heights of happiness.”
Tom cradled her against his chest. “I will treasure you, Mary. It is the very least that you deserve. And as long as I have my way, no one shall make you feel contemptible again.”
–
Mr Gardiner was startled from his newspaper and Mrs Gardiner from her letters when a beaming Tom dropped himself into an empty chair at their table.
“I come to ask your blessing!” he announced, grinning. “For I have asked my wonderful Mary to be my wife and she has accepted!”
The three of them were standing before Tom had even finished speaking but Edward was the first to embrace his young friend, heartily congratulating him and effusively bestowing his blessing.
He watched fondly as Madeleine laughed with pleasure and embraced Tom also.
“When can we congratulate our niece?” she asked urgently.
Tom smiled softly and pointed toward the doorway where Mary hovered, tears of happiness shining on her face.
Mr Gardiner laughed aloud as she made her way toward them. “I suppose you witnessed all of that, Mary?” he asked, scooping her into an embrace.
She smiled sheepishly. “It was Tom’s idea. Neither of us wanted to miss your reaction but he still wanted to ask for your blessing.”
Madeleine gathered her into the warmest of embraces. “My Mary, I am so thrilled for you. You know that Tom practically lives at our house anyway, so this will be a truly wonderful development for the residents of Gracechurch Street.”
Tom looked sideways at Mary. “Can you not think of a reason why I have been such a constant presence of recent months, Mrs Gardiner?” he asked, his eyes not leaving his beloved’s. “But once I install my beautiful wife in a home of our own, perhaps I shall never be persuaded to leave it again.”
The sound of Mary’s laugh as she gazed doe-eyed at her brand new fiancé had her uncle and aunt regarding her curiously.
“Oh my,” said Madeleine in surprise. “I never thought I’d live to see the day when our solemn Mary Bennet would be heard giggling.”
Mary wound her arm affectionately through Tom’s and smiled at him as though he were Christmas. “I am unsurprised to find myself giggling. I feel lighter than air,” she sighed. “Like I might float entirely away if I don’t stay tethered to Tom.”
The usually sensible young man turned to mush at this. It was quite the display.
Mr Gardiner raised his eyebrows at his wife.
She smiled sweetly back at him. “It is a good thing we are quite prepared to chaperone, is it not, my love?”
Edward considered his actions the previous morning, preventing Tom from making his escape. That choice had led directly to this predicament. He watched as his solid dependable friend stood and melted like a candle.
He found he didn’t mind very much. In fact, he felt quite pleased with himself.
–
Dear Mr Ryder,
I have taken it upon myself to deliver some news that you might at first find quite difficult to hear.
Perhaps pour yourself a generous brandy and sit down before you read on.
My niece, Mary Bennet, of whom I understand you are very fond (and cannot blame you, Sir, she is quite remarkable), has accepted a proposal of marriage from your good friend and mine, Mr Tom Hayward.
Mr Hayward led me to understand that there would likely be some awkwardness between the two of you over what has occurred and so I offered to write to you on his behalf.
I took on this responsibility because I bear part of what you may perceive to be the fault. Our Hayward is, as you know, the most noble, selfless and magnanimous of creatures. I intercepted him attempting to flee from our inn in the Lakes District without so much as a goodbye as soon as he was assured Mary would make a full recovery. When questioned as to his behaviour, which I informed him would cause great distress to our niece in her weakened state, he cited your prospects and intentions as chief in his mind.
It struck me as odd that a man so patently in love with a woman as Tom with my niece would defer to the hopes of another. He provided no particular details but made it plain he felt you exceeded him with regard to material advantage. He imagined Mary would come to understand those advantages and choose you. There was talk of what he felt Mary deserved and how little he could hope to provide it.
I hope you will understand and forgive me, Mr Ryder, but I told him in no uncertain terms that he was being an ass and more or less forbade him from leaving us.
I don’t think I need to provide you with any further explanation. I imagine it will suffice to tell you our niece is so sickeningly in love with our friend, Hayward, that she is quite uncharacteristically giddy.
She is reciting poems to him at all hours, there have been love notes exchanged, she spouts a fact and the poor man practically faints at her feet. It is a pathetic display but, I will admit that I find it a touching one.
You may not be aware of this, Mr Ryder, but they are two people who have not always found that things fell into their laps. (I will leave you to determine whether I insinuate that you yourself have always found things to be so.) It is thrilling to now observe the ease and lightness with which they love one another.
I have long thought of Tom as a beloved younger brother and, as I have said very warmly to him, I keenly anticipate formally welcoming him into the family.
Had you come asking for my blessing, Mr Ryder, though I say this with no malice toward you whatsoever, I would have stood upon my privilege as Mary’s closest male relative, and interrogated Hayward regarding his reticence before I gave it. Essentially, Mr Ryder, there was no outcome where all this worked out in your favour and for this, I express my sincerest sympathy.
You have been bested in a tussle for a truly wonderful woman. Allow yourself some time to grieve her loss, Mr Ryder. There will, no doubt, be new joys for you on the horizon.
I understand that you are off to Italy and so I wish you buona fortuna.
I have the honour to remain, Sir, your most obedient and humble servant,
Edward Gardiner
Gracechurch Street