Chapter Text
You are working too hard, Mr Hayward, Mrs Gardiner had said. You must take some time to enjoy yourself, Mr Hayward, Mrs Gardiner had said.
Tom swiped angrily at the tears that would not stop falling as he threw the last of his belongings into his luggage. Tears of anger and bitter disappointment, he reasoned with himself, were a damn sight better than the tears of desolation and terror he had wept in the corridor watching over Mary’s inert form.
Until this morning, he had feared he was about to lose her a second time over. Now, though it improved little with regard to his material circumstances, he had lost her only the once.
Once was proving to be more than enough.
He took up his hat, jogged down the stairs and was about to call for his horse when he was intercepted by a firm hand on his shoulder.
He turned to find himself face to face with the man who had been father, brother, landlord, champion and friend to him.
“Tom,” said Mr Gardiner. “I’m afraid I’m going to get in your way.”
“Edward, I can’t be here–”
The older man shook his head. “Yes, you can. Or at least you’re going to listen to me over some ale and then we’ll see.”
It was less an invitation than an order.
“Not in the taproom,” Tom pleaded. “If you must delay me, can I at least prevail upon you to walk with me instead?”
“It’s raining out there,” Mr Gardiner grumbled.
“Look at the state of me, Ed,” said Tom, rubbing his hands over his tear-stained face, his voice rough. “I’m not fit to be seen.”
Mr Gardiner surveyed the sorry state of his young friend, face pale, eyes red, cheeks wet. “Oh, Tom,” he said, shaking his head. “What are you about with this scheme to up and leave us?”
Tom gestured helplessly outside and pushed the door open, striding out into the garden without looking to see if he was being followed.
Mr Gardiner had to quicken his pace to catch up with him.
“Mary is going to be well, Tom,” he said warmly as he drew level. “She’ll make a full recovery. I know you heard that.”
Tom couldn’t speak, but he nodded, thankful for the rain drops on his face mingling with his tears.
Edward found himself deeply moved by Tom’s suffering. In a manner entirely consistent with the affectionate nature for which he was widely admired, he threw an arm around his young friend’s shoulder and walked beside him toward the lake.
“As you may have gleaned from my niece, I have not been entirely fortunate in the provision of siblings,” he said as they walked. “When Jane first married, I had high hopes for Mr Bennet but they were soon dashed. Their daughters have brought Madeleine and I far greater joy than their parents ever did. As you know, we count Mr and Mrs Bingley and Mr and Mrs Darcy as our particular friends.”
Tom took all this in in silence but he didn’t shrug himself out of Edward’s embrace.
“But my wife and I are of the same mind when it comes to our Mary,” Mr Gardiner said, his voice quieter. “She has proven a rare find and we could not be more thankful that she made her home with us.” He squeezed Tom’s shoulder. “I suspect you are inclined to agree with us on that point.”
Tom nodded, hot tears falling fresh amidst the chilly rain on his face.
“Then perhaps you will consider our perspective, Tom,” Mr Gardiner continued. “As much as we might like Ryder, we share our niece’s preference for you.”
“I thank you for that kindness,” Tom managed to reply. “You have never wavered in demonstrating my welcome in your home. But what makes you think Miss Bennet prefers me to Ryder?”
“Well, firstly we both have eyes,” Mr Gardiner said, chuckling briefly. He quickly saw Tom was not in the mood for jokes.
Edward tried a more sober approach. “The two of you have only had eyes for one another this last week. We’ve enjoyed watching you talking and laughing and sharing the kind of confidences that suggested growing regard and intimacy.” He smiled. “Madeleine has been delighted by it all. And I’ll admit that I have been too. Perhaps you have now allowed yourself to conclude that it all meant nothing but I feel very strongly that, before you take yourself off into the mist, you should ascertain Mary’s feelings on the matter.”
Tom shook off Edward’s arm as they came to the lakeshore and stood where they had all attempted to fish only a few days prior. Fog had settled across the water matching the melancholy of the mood. “What if there’s someone better for her?” he insisted. “Better than me?”
“Well, it’s your name she’s been murmuring in her sleep since the fever broke,” Edward retorted. “She might not agree that such a person exists.”
“My name?” Tom asked, almost choking with the grief of it. “She’s been asking for me?”
“I’m sure she will be as soon as she’s fully conscious. And,” he added firmly, “I dread to think how my niece will feel if she wakes to find you gone.”
“What use can I be to her as she recovers?” asked Tom helplessly.
“You can sit by her bed, read to her, talk to her,” said Edward. “Be the friend she needs until she’s well enough to travel. And then sit beside her in the carriage as we take her back to London.”
“You and Mrs Gardiner would allow me such a privilege?” Tom asked.
“We won’t be in any position to refuse you!” Edward cried. “Like you, Madeleine sat awake all that time by Mary’s side. She’s only just agreed to take herself to bed at last and will likely sleep like the dead.”
Tom’s eyes widened, understanding at last that he might be needed.
“Besides, I’ve been trying to tell you, my dear chap,” replied Edward. “Where my own sister and brother in law have proved a sore disappointment, you are like the younger brother I have always wished to have. You’re patently in love with my niece and so I see quite a straight forward path to formally including you in the family.”
After a short pause, Tom grasped his older friend into a somewhat aggressive embrace and clung on.
“So you’ll stay?” Edward said hopefully, embracing him warmly in return.
Tom pulled back, without releasing his friend’s shoulders. “First you must listen to my predicament, Ed. Then, given that your preferences align with my own, you can tell me what to do and I’ll obey.”
–
Mary’s first thought on waking was to raise her head and check to see if her vision of Tom lingering pensively in the corridor outside her chamber had been real or merely a dream. She so desperately wanted it to have been real.
Propping herself up on her elbows, she craned her neck to look.
No one.
“Mary?” said a deep voice with a familiar accent, the tone cautiously hopeful.
She turned her head every so slowly from the left to the right.
Tom Hayward had not been lingering in the corridor outside her room because Tom Hayward was here, sitting in the chair right beside her bed.
Her eyes widened. “Tom,” she tried to say, but her voice felt too raw.
“Shall I fetch Mrs Gardiner?” he said tentatively, moving to push himself out of the chair. “I could wake her–”
“Stay,” she rasped.
He nodded, reaching for the water glass on her bedside table. “Here, you must drink something.”
Mary pushed herself up against the headboard so that she sat upright. She contemplated how she felt and concluded that she was weak but otherwise well.
Tom repositioned himself on the edge of his chair and gently held the cup to her lips, helping her to drink.
The water was cool and refreshing, easing her parched throat. This time as she went to speak, she found it much more straightforward.
Mary assessed the manner in which the young man by her bedside gazed at her and detected a satisfactory level of suggestability. She straightened her shoulders and prepared to take full advantage.
“Tom, I am very ill so you shall have to answer all my questions,” said Mary firmly.
She noticed him looking a little panicked around the eyes.
“Perhaps that can wait until your strength returns?” he asked, half-standing again to rearrange some pillows at her back and conveniently avoiding her gaze.
Mary shook her head. “I feel quite strong enough for an interrogation,” she retorted. “And, medicinally speaking, I believe my full recovery may be dependent on your truthful answers.”
The corner of Tom’s mouth rose ever so slightly as he fussed with her pillows but Mary saw it.
“I see you are deploying some very skilful emotional warfare, Miss Bennet,” he said, resuming his seat and holding up his palms in amused surrender. “I am in no position to maintain whatever flimsy defenses I might have remaining in place.”
“That is excellent news,” said Mary, reaching for the glass on her bedside.
Tom picked it up and passed it to her, carefully ensuring with the warmth and steadiness of his own that her hand was strong enough to hold it before he let go.
She drank deeply, her eyes not leaving his face, then imperiously handed the empty glass back to him. “You can start by telling me what on earth transpired on the top of the mountain,” she demanded.
Tom stuck a finger beneath his neck cloth and tugged it away from his throat. “That is not entirely my story to tell,” he began cautiously.
“Evasion shall not do, Mr Hayward,” said Mary sternly.
There was a knock at the door and Mr Gardiner peered in. “I am delighted to see you sitting up, Mary!” he cried. Then he glanced at his young friend. “Though Tom looks fairly wretched. Have you been giving him a hard time already?”
“It is nothing less than I deserve,” muttered Tom, and Mary nodded in agreement.
“Perhaps now is a good opportunity to inform you, Mary, that it was Tom here who so gallantly took you into his arms and carried you up to this chamber after your dramatic descent from Scafell,” said Mr Gardiner.
Mary turned an assessing gaze on Tom. “Was it, Mr Hayward?” she asked. “Well then, I thank you for your kindness.”
The expression on his face was the one she had seen through the driving rain as the pair of them had attempted to assist Miss Bingley and the one she had caught fleeting glimpses of through her delirium in the corridor. The expression that plainly said do you know how I would feel if anything were to happen to you?
__
Detecting that his young charges seemed to have tied themselves into a momentary knot, Mr Gardiner attempted to offer his services.
“Mary, you really do look so vastly improved,” he said warmly. “Colour in your cheeks, enough strength to sit up! Tom, why don’t you head downstairs and arrange for some dinner to be sent up to the room for the four of us. It will be lovely for our original party to dine together once more, even if you will be in your nightgown, Mary.”
Mary smiled at the idea. Of all his nieces he could trust that she would be least concerned about her appearance.
Tom looked equal parts relieved and reluctant to leave Mary’s side.
“Is this plan of Mr Gardiner’s really to your liking, Miss Bennet?” he asked solicitously. “We do not need to rush you into being sociable if you don’t yet feel up to it.”
Mary laughed. “I suppose it would be scandalous for me to require you all to attend dinner in your night things,” she said, and Mr Gardiner amused himself watching Tom’s face flush. “But I do feel quite ready for company.” She glanced at the man seated to her right, “Provided, of course, that it is just that of our original party.”
“The Hursts, Miss Bingley and Mr Ryder have left, Miss Bennet,” said Tom solemnly, as if breaking very difficult news. “Miss Bingley needed medical attention and preferred to be in the care of a London physician.”
Mr Gardiner watched carefully to observe Mary’s reaction.
A small smile broke out over her face and, seeing it, a mirror-image of it bloomed across Tom’s.
“Is it unkind of me to express some relief at their departure?” asked Mary mischievously. “None of us shall miss either of the ladies, and though I have developed quite a soft spot for Mr Hurst, I know you have often observed, Mr Hayward, that Mr Ryder is impulsive and ill thought-through,” she said. “After our recent adventure I find I cannot help but agree with your assessment.”
While the two young people talked, Mr Gardiner observed a new peace and happiness slowly suffusing Tom’s form and visage.
“I’ll admit, I am very surprised to hear that,” said Tom, the cheeriest Mr Gardiner had seen him since he and Madeleine had left him halfway up Scafell to accompany the Hursts back down. “I thought you quite enjoyed his company.”
“I do,” she agreed. “But perhaps only in small doses.” Her face clouded. “I wanted to apologise again to you, Mr Hayward,” she went on. “You were being wise and careful when you tried to persuade us to descend. I regret that I was so contrary. I felt– very confused.” She looked down at her hands. “You were correct to say, Mr Hayward, that I was acting in a manner quite unlike myself.”
“You are utterly forgiven, Miss Bennet,” he said warmly. “I only hope you can forgive me for causing you such confusion.”
He paused, his eyes darting to where Edward observed them from the doorway, then stood suddenly to his feet. “Well, I’d better make those arrangements for our dinner,” he announced, the usual cheeriness of his manner entirely restored to him. “Can you spare Mr Gardiner for a moment, Miss Bennet?”
“Of course,” she replied.
And Mr Gardiner found himself ushered efficiently out of the room and into the corridor.
“Well,” he said in hushed tones as he followed Tom down the stairs to the lower floor of the inn. “It does not seem that our Mary is likely to accept the marriage proposal of a man she just declared that she can only stand in small doses.”
When Tom reached the landing, he stopped suddenly and leaned all the way back, both hands finding the back of his neck, his expression one of beaming disbelief. “I know you have already commanded it, Ed, and I had already promised to obey, but I had imagined it would be much more frightening staying and trying to restore myself into Miss Bennet’s good graces.”
Mr Gardiner laughed. “She may yet prove unyielding on some points,” he reminded him. “She shall definitely require an explanation.”
Tom grinned. “I am delighted to find myself less concerned about explaining myself to Miss Bennet and more concerned about how to justify what I am soon to do to Ryder, to whom, if you recall me saying, I foolishly gave my blessing.”
Mr Gardiner waved a hand dismissively. “Pish posh,” he said. “We now know she’d never agree to marry him anyway. What difference does it make how he finds out?”
“Would you have felt quite so cavalier if it had been another man proposing to Madeleine ahead of you?” Tom asked.
Mr Gardiner laughed. “Tom, men like us need not concern ourselves with other fellows who may or may not have fancied our beloveds. You and I are the ones who get the girl!”
“That is all very well for you to say,” said Tom. “You with your established home and your three beautiful children and your doting wife. I have not quite attained all I hope for yet.”
“But you are on the precipice, my friend,” said Edward assuredly. “With Madeleine and I both cheering you on.”