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Mary looked at herself in the mirror as she took her spectacles off. It was still odd, looking at the huge bed in the reflection and remembering she would be sleeping right next to her husband every day for the rest of her life. That was a life the Mary from some months before wouldn’t even believe she would end up having, let alone the one from years before.
Mary Bennet had of course thought about marrying for love, having children and forming a family while pursuing her own path in life, but society’s treatment of her as well as her awful mother led her to believe that scenario was nothing more than mere fantasy. A thought Mary believed to be realistic, giving she had little to no encouragement to hope.
Hope for something better, for someone to appreciate her for who she was and didn’t either pity her or look down on her. Mary still found hard to believe that she had found that someone in Tom Hayward. A man who cherished her, cared for her, saw her value from the first day he met her. The man Mary was finally able to call her husband after wishing it for so long.
The first few days of their marriage, Mary thought she was dreaming when she woke up in his arms every morning. She feared opening her eyes at any minute and discovering everything had been in her mind, and giggling like a child when realizing it wasn’t the case. Tom’s arms remained around her every night; she never let her go, not even subconsciously.
It was her husband’s voice the one who took her out of her thoughts. “Mary?”
“Apologies, I did not hear you,” still sitting in front of her dresser, Mary smiled when she saw him in the mirror’s reflection, one of his hands against the doorframe. “What did you say?”
“I asked you to remind me the time of your sister’s visit so I can tell the servants when they should start cooking and getting everything ready,” Tom then walked towards his wife, placing his hand on her shoulders and softly massaging them. “You feel tense, I can tell.”
“Perhaps a little,” Mary admitted.
“I thought you quite liked your sister Elizabeth,” Tom blinked, remembering Mary’s own words. “She is the one who wrote to the Gardiners to come and take you out of Pemberly, is she not?”
“You remember correctly,” her lips curved into a small smile. “Lizzy is probably the sister who tried to understand me the most, me being tense has nothing to do with her.”
“What is it then?” He inquired. “Are you feeling ill or indisposed in any way?”
“No, no,” Mary shook her head. “Calm down, Tom,” she turned around and looked up, facing her husband. “I have been asking myself the same thing all day, and I think I finally reached a conclusion.”
“I’m listening,” Tom’s gentle hands then moved to his wife’s neck, his thumb gently massaging the spot between her neck and collarbone.
“I’m assuming bad experiences with my family made me unconsciously wary of them, even if they did not have” she explained. “My sisters have become kinder with time, especially Lizzy and Jane, surprisingly Kitty as well. Lydia has not, but I can live with her petty comments,” she let out a sigh. “My mother, however–”
“There is no need to speak of your mother if bringing up the topic will result in hurting you,” his tone quickly became concerned. “She cannot make you return to her side anymore.”
“I know,” Mary had never felt more relieved about something in her life. “I suppose she does love me, in her own crooked way.”
“No one who loves you should make you feel like a disappointment,” Tom’s brows furrowed, the mere thought of Mary’s mother treating his wife that meanly angering him a bit.
“I do agree,” Mary then closed her eyes, revelling in the sensation of her husband’s hands on her skin. “That is why I have decided to not write to her anymore or tell her to visit us.”
“I think of that the better choice,” Tom’s face visibly relaxed. “You already sent her a letter to tell her of our marriage and she still has not responded or appeared in our home, which is something we should not be concerned about.”
“Since she has the habit to go wherever she wants announced, I still dread she might appear with Lizzy and her husband,” Mary admitted. “I want to think Lizzy would not allow it.”
“Giving how much you say Elizabeth appreciates you, I’m inclined to think your sister would try to stop your mother or at least write to tell you what to expect,” he leant down to place a kiss on Mary’s cheek. “I heard from Caroline Bingley shortly after your sister married Mr. Darcy that the man in question is not particularly fond of his mother-in-law.”
“You should have seen him when we were all at Pemberley,” Mary couldn’t help but chuckle, opening her eyes again and meeting her husband’s kind gaze in the mirror. “Every time Mr. Darcy found more than one of us in one room, he immediately turned around to never be seen again for hours.”
“That is probably the most understandable reaction to encountering your mother,” Tom’s laugh joined hers. “Think of it this way: if your sister mentions her husband is coming, it is unlikely that your mother is with them.”
“That is quite true,” she breathed out, a bit more relieved by Tom’s words. “He does seem like a good man, despite not giving us many chances to talk to him. His eyes shine when he looks at my sister and she’s quite happy, that is what matters the most.”
“I look forward to meeting both of the two just by how marvellously you speak of them,” Tom sad as one of his hands moved to Mary’s hair, his fingers toying with a string. “I understand why you would be nervous giving how things with your family have been, but things have changed now,” his voice was soft and carried reassurance. “Everything will be fine.”
Mary took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. Tom was right, she had changed a lot since she left Longbourn and separated from her family for longer than she expected. It was not only London that had changed her, but it had also been the people as well. Tom, Ann, the Gardiners, William, everyone she had met there contributed at least one bit.
And Mary was happy with how she had changed. She couldn’t gain confidence overnight, but her journey towards standing up for herself and allowing herself to hope, to love and be loved, all of it had been part of her growth as a person.
“It will be,” Mary nodded mostly to herself. “Thank you, Tom. You almost always know what to say,” she said as she stood up, turning around to face her husband.
“I would be offended about the almost, but you spoke the truth,” he let out a small laugh. “I may be a man of poetry, but words still often fail me in front of my beautiful wife.”
Mary couldn’t help but giggle. “I do admit I get fonder of poetry with each day,” she admitted.
“You will be even fonder when I write more poems about you,” he spoke lost in the moment that he realized what he had just confessed out loud.
“More?” Mary’s eyes went wide open. “Thomas Hayward, have you been writing poems thinking about me all this time?” She felt shy all of a sudden, but not a shameful way like she used to before, she felt flattered by him.
“Perhaps I have,” he raised his hands as if he had been defeated. “Is that a crime?”
“What should be a crime is having been keeping it a secret all this time,” she closed the distance between them with a smile on her face.
“I started writing an embarrassingly lone time ago and didn’t feel appropriate to show them to you when we were not courting or married,” he explained, awkward yet not embarrassed.
“We are married now,” Mary casually mentioned as that was something Tom didn’t know, not trying to force him to show her the poems but encouraging him to do so if he felt ready.
Whatever Tom was going to say was interrupted by the noise of a door opening downstairs. “I fear we will have to continue with this conversation later, it seems your sister and her husband have just arrived,” he offered his hand to her. “Shall we go downstairs, my love?”
The nickname never failed to make Mary feel inexplicably giddy. “We shall,” she took Tom’s hand with pride, walking downstairs side by side with him.
“Mary!” Elizabeth immediately ran to hug her sister. “I’m so happy to see you, I could not wait to finally visit your home and meet your husband.”
“She could hardly contain her excitement,” Mr. Darcy confirmed from behind his wife. “I have never seen her so happy after receiving a letter.”
“That is quite true, but who can blame me? My sister got married to a wonderful man, and for love!” Elizabeth admitted with a small laugh, her eyes switching to Tom. “You must be the husband Mary fondly speaks of in her letter.”
“Thomas Hayward,” he extended his hand to shake Elizabeth’s before offering the same hand to her husband. “Enchanted you meet both of you.”
“Fitzwilliam Darcy,” he introduced himself as he shook Tom’s hand. “Thank you for the invitation.”
“The pleasure’s all ours, right Mary?” Tom gave his wife a wide smile.
“Of course, it is the least I could do after the kindness you and my sister showed me back at Pemberley,” Mary gazed at her sister with warm eyes. “Me, my sisters and mother, of course.”
“Speaking of which,” Mr. Darcy suddenly tensed up. “Mrs. Bennet is not here, is she?”
Tom had to supress a laugh, remembering Mary’s words about Mr. Darcy running away from Mrs. Bennet even in the comfort of his own home. “You are the first ones in Mary’s family to visit us, do not worry. Mr. Darcy,” he switched his eyes to the man. “Would you accompany me to the drawing room, so both sisters have time to speak of their family matters?”
“Of course,” Mr. Darcy gave Elizabeth a tender glance before following Tom to the drawing room.
“Oh Mary, you must tell me everything about how your story with Mr. Hayward,” Elizabeth took one of her sister’s hands in hers. “Had your already set your eyes on him when Mr. Ryder was courting you back at Pemberley? Well, sort of courting you.”
“Mr. Ryder made up for that mistake later,” Mary explained. “And uhm, I start developing affection for Tom soon after I met him, but he had an understanding with someone else at the time.”
“Did he?” Elizabeth’s eyes went wide. “With whom?”
“My dear friend Ann Baxter, I spoke of her when I was at Pemberley,” Mary remembered she had to visit Ann soon as well, her friend had told her how happy she was for her and Tom in a letter. “They eventually broke that understanding and after some complications in the Lakes Districts, Tom proposed to me.”
“Complications?” Elizabeth, as curious as she had always been, wanted to know everything.
“Complications called William Ryder and Caroline Bingley,” Mary rolled her eyes at the mere memory of the uneventful day of the storm.
“I do not know how Caroline does it, but she is everywhere,” Elizabeth felt particularly bad for Jane, who had Caroline as her sister-in-law.
“She will not be bothering anyone else for the time being, Tom told me she went to Italy to pursue Mr. Ryder,” Mary felt more relieved each time she remembered that.
“You do not say,” Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile out of relief. “We should join our husbands; Fitzwilliam will be delighted to know he will not have to deal with his dear friend’s sister for a while if we choose to visit Jane and Mr. Bingley.”
“Your husband truly makes it clear when he does not enjoy someone’s presence,” Mary pointed out with a small laugh. “Thank you for coming, Lizzy. I expected you to be the first sister to visit and you did not disappoint.”
“I hope you never thought I would disappoint; I would be offended otherwise” Elizabeth moved her arm around one of Mary’s. “I’m so glad that you have found someone whom you love and who loves you the way you deserve, I wanted nothing else for you, Mary. Come on, Iet us enjoy the afternoon together with our husbands.”
Mary had never been happier to hear those words. “Gladly.”