Chapter Text
Mary finished spinning the globe, having finally found America at last, and turned back to the children. Two bored faces stared back at her. Well, that wasn’t right.
“Where has Rebecca gone?” Mary asked. Marianne and George looked at each other and shrugged innocently.
“There were very clearly three of you in this room when I began looking at the globe, and now there are two of you,” Mary said. She was suddenly reminded of the jokes that Lydia and Kitty used to play on her when she was a child, always the target of the fun, and not a confidante in it. It was a silly thing to think of, as the governess, she was supposed to be the authority figure, not the butt of the joke.
“She vanished,” George said. “She’s a magician.”
“Oh, magic is nothing but illusion and trickery,” Mary corrected.
“Oh,” said George.
“Now, where could she be?” Mary asked, looking about the room for the little girl who was hidden away.
Suddenly, a tall man with a riot of curly brown hair strode into the schoolroom, a ready smile on his lips. The children perked up, clearly familiar with the new inhabitant of the room.
“Tom, you’re here!” George exclaimed.
“Can we finish lessons now?” Marianne asked. They rushed to his side, abandoning their desks. Mary turned away to set the globe down properly; clearly, the children were more excited about this stranger than learning more about the America’s. It didn’t matter anyway, what with Rebecca having disappeared.
“Forgive the intrusion, I… uh, came to tell you that dinner is served.” The man said with a smile, glancing down at the children. “You must be Miss Bennet.”
“Well, I… I must be.” Mary said. His curious expression made her realize how poorly that sounded. Of course she was Miss Bennet. “Uh, yes. I… I am.”
“Uh, Tom… Hayward.” Mr. Hayward said, giving a gentle bow. “Friend of the family.”
Mary gave a quick curtsy in reply. Despite the chiming of the clock, there was a lengthy silence as the two adults glanced about, looking for more words, as well as the missing Gardiner child.
“Aren’t there normally three of you?” Mr. Hayward asked, looking down at Marianne.
“There were three, certainly, but I was looking at… America, and when I looked back it was—.”
A loud squeal erupted from a chest, interrupting Mary. The children giggled as they all glanced at the furniture that seemed to house more than toys. Mr. Hayward, who just slipped on a pair of glasses quite like Mary’s own, glanced at her with a poorly hidden smile.
“Do you have mice, Miss Bennet?” He asked, donning a mock serious expression. “For if you do, might I suggest you do not keep them in the toy trunk.” At his playful suggestion, Mary’s lips couldn’t help but turn up in reply.
“Well, I… I wasn’t sure. I thought, perhaps, mice like toy trunks.” Mary said.
“No, you see, in there, they cannot get to their cheese.” Mr. Hayward said as they walked over to the toy trunk.
“Actually, uh… it’s a fallacy that mice like cheese,” Mary said, unable to stop herself from pointing out the falsehood.
“Of course, they’re much more partial to root vegetables and grains.” Mr. Hayward continued, not at all perturbed at her correcting him.
“Yes, indeed,” Mary said, surprised. Mr. Hayward was so matter-of-fact about confirming what she said, as though it wasn’t out of place in the conversation.
“I’m a rabbit,” said Rebecca, her indignant voice muffled in the trunk.
Mary’s smile grew as she heard Rebecca's correction, as well as the other children’s laughs. Mr. Hayward’s presence and remarks made it no longer feel like the children were playing and hiding at her expense, but as though she were in on the game. Mary decided to do what she had always struggled with as a child. She played along.
“Mr... Hayward?” Mary said. Mr. Hayward, looking at her intently, raised his eyebrows in confirmation of his name. “Mr. Hayward, I am keeping a rabbit in the toy trunk because… I, er…” Apparently, even as a grown woman, she still struggled with playing along.
“Because rabbits are not at all social creatures.” Mr. Hayward said.
“Exactly!” Mary said, delighted that he was continuing the joke.
“Yes, they are!” said the muffled voice of Rebecca from the toy trunk. Mr. Hayward and Mary laughed in unison as Mr. Hayward knelt down to open the trunk and reveal Rebecca, the rabbit.
“Now, why exactly do you have a new governess?” Mr. Hayward asked. “Is it that you keep eating them?”
Mr. Hayward’s eyes glistened with mirth as he looked at Mary from beside the toy trunk. A small, warm feeling erupted in Mary’s chest as he directed his smile up at her. She couldn’t hold his eye contact and glanced over at the children to see them smiling as well. It was rather nice, Mary thought, to be part of the joke.
Mr. Hayward helped Rebecca climb out of the toy chest and helped Mary corral the children as they meandered to the dining room. The smell of food wafted from the kitchen, making everyone’s mouth water and stomach growl. Upon seeing their parents already at the table, the children raced to their regular seats. As Mary settled into her own seat. Mr. Hayward pulled out the chair next to hers. Despite the ample space between them at the table, Mary’s left side felt slightly warm at the proximity to him. As everyone began serving themselves, Mary glanced over at Mr. Hayward. As he again caught her eye and smiled gently at her, she found her curiosity about the man piqued.
“Mr. Hayward, how did you make the acquaintance of the Gardiners?” She asked. It was Aunt Gardiner who spoke up.
“Tom helped Edward with a legal matter some years ago, and we’ve been friends ever since.” Aunt Gardiner looked at Tom with motherly affection as she recounted the experience.
“He’s another of our former lodgers,” Mr. Gardiner added.
“Oh!” Said Mary, looking over at Mr. Hayward. It suddenly dawned on her that if Mr. Hayward was a former lodger of her aunt and uncle, then that meant he had lived in the same room she currently occupied. Rebecca chose that moment to continue their lessons, apparently.
“What is a ‘revolutionary republican’?” She asked. The clinking of the cutlery fell silent as they waited for an answer.
“Well… as discussed during the lesson, they’re often associated with Jacobinism,” Mary explained. Aunt Gardiner looked over, a little surprised by the lesson topic. “But my point really was...”
“It sounds like you’ve had a very interesting first day, Miss Bennet.” Uncle Gardiner remarked, ignoring the looks the children exchanged.
“Well, uh…” Mary hesitated, not quite wanting to discuss rabbits in toy trunks. Mr. Hayward spoke up before she could continue, looking interested as he leaned closer to her.
“Have you read Catharine Macauley, Miss Bennet?” Mr. Hayward asked.
“Yes, I have! Yes.” Mary said, happy to find someone who was also a fan of her work. Mr. Hayward smiled in response; Mary couldn’t help noting the way the skin around his eyes crinkled as he did so.
“Mary told us about smallpox, and I shall never sleep again,” George said seriously.
“Well… you asked me to be truthful,” Mary grumbled, feeling the need to defend her choice in subject matter.
“What’s a ‘deadly rash’?” Rebecca asked.
“She said it can leave one blind or dead!” George said. Once again, Aunt Gardiner looked over to Mary as though to confirm what her children were being taught.
“That is not quite how I put it,” Mary said.
“Blind or dead, she said,” Marianne confirmed, evidently excited to add to the rundown of Mary’s lesson.
“Well, that is true,” Mr. Hayward said. “There’s a mortality rate of about—"
“—thirty percent.” Mary and Mr. Hayward said, looking at each other in amusement at the mirrored response.
“Exactly.” Mr. Hayward said breathlessly. Mary tried looking back at the children as Rebecca continued the conversation, but she kept glancing back at Mr. Hayward, appreciating the shared knowledge.
“George cried three times,” Rebecca said.
“There was something in my eye!” George argued. Rebecca looked unconvinced.
“We held hands until Mary had finished talking,” Marianne said. Mr. Hayward choked on his wine, and Mary desperately wanted to sink into her chair and never come up again.
“Well, you’re never too young to learn about life,” Mr. Hayward defended.
“I think a game is in order, don’t you?” Mr. Gardiner said, clearly anxious to end the subject.
“I think that’s a very good idea!” Aunt Gardiner said with a smile. The children’s exclamations of ‘yes’ echoed in the room.
“But what should we play?” Aunt Gardiner asked despite seeming to know what the children would suggest.
“Graces!” The children yelled in unison. Mary had never heard of the game. The idea of games already sounded dreadful, let alone one she had never played before.
“Let’s show Mary how to play Graces!” Aunt Gardiner said. Mary’s stomach twisted, and she squeezed her hands together tightly, trying to stop herself from picking at them, as the Gardiner children grew excited once more at the idea of playing a game. Mary hated games; she always performed poorly, as Lydia was always quick to point out. She simply wasn’t coordinated enough, and a game called Graces would surely require grace to play.
“I think I will sit this one out,” Mary said with a murmur. Aunt Gardiner looked at her with concern.
“Are you sure, Mary? I promise, it is not a difficult game to play.” Aunt Gardiner said. Mr. Hayward looked at Mary curiously, which solidified her decision. Mary had no desire to embarrass herself further in front of the man.
Everyone gathered in a circle with Mary sitting on a chair outside the play area, wooden sticks in everyone’s hands, and a wooden hoop with ribbons tied to it. Mary observed her cousins' attempts to throw and watched the hoop be tossed around with the sticks. Their squeals of delight only reinforced her resolve. They were having fun, and her active inclusion would have surely ruined it for everyone.
The circle was tossed to Mr. Hayward, who reached quickly to his left as a great ripping sound came from his coat. Groans erupted from the family as they saw the large tear in Mr. Hayward’s coat.
“Oh, Tom! You’ll need to get someone to look at that.” Aunt Gardiner said. Mr. Hayward blushed scarlet as he reached back to feel where the tear was. He wore a chagrined smile as the children giggled.
“Send it to Bly, she’ll fix it for you,” Aunt Gardiner promised.
Mary felt bad for Mr. Hayward at the accident, knowing how embarrassed he must feel, even with the easygoing Gardiners. Mary thought he was doing rather well until he reached just a little too far. The Gardiners continued the game while Mr. Hayward removed his jacket.
Mary scrunched her nose slightly as he folded the jacket lightly; she found she couldn’t look away. Despite his loose white shirt, the vest he wore showcased his well-cut figure and broad back as he laid his jacket on his chair. As he turned back to the circle, Mr. Hayward began folding up his sleeves.
“Are you sure you won’t join in, Mary?” Mr. Gardiner asked. Mary quickly looked up to him, doing everything she could to ignore Mr. Hayward.
“Oh, no, I’m not… I’m not good at games.” Mary said. She didn’t want to risk ruining the fun that everyone was having.
“Oh, well, that doesn’t matter at all,” Aunt Gardiner said with a smile and a shake of her head.
“Well, you couldn’t possibly be as ungainly as I am.” Mr. Hayward said. The word ‘ungainly’ reminded Mary of how her mother always described her. Ungainly, ungraceful, plain. Mary would like to avoid those descriptions while she is here.
“Really, I’d only spoil it,” Mary said. Despite her aunt and uncles’ shared concerned glances, the children were eager to keep playing, and George quickly tossed the Grace's hoop to Tom. He vastly undershot and nearly hit Mary, the hoop clanking down beside her.
Mary bent to pick up the hoop and give it to Mr. Hayward so they could continue the game. Their index fingers grazed each other as Mary handed it over. Her finger extended on reflex, like it didn’t want the connection to end. Mr. Hayward looked at her, and his face broke into an even wider smile until he glanced down at himself, his cheeks once again growing red.
“…Thank you.” He said quietly.
“Yes, Tom.” Mr. Gardiner said, indicating he was ready.
“Mr. Gardiner,” Tom said as he reared back to begin his turn, his movements were far smoother now that he was freed from his jacket. Mary continued to observe with a smile, and suddenly wondered if maybe she could play Graces.
They played for another ten minutes or so before Aunt Gardiner announced that it was time to get the children washed up for bedtime. As she began ushering the children out, Mr. Hayward turned to Mary.
“It was lovely to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet,” Tom said. “I look forward to our next encounter. I… I’m sure I will see you often here at the house.” Mary liked the idea of seeing him again. He seemed an intelligent sort and at least didn’t seem put out by her conversational quirks.
“Me too, Mr. Hayward,” Mary said. She couldn’t pull her eyes from his back as he walked towards the door. She only glanced away when Mr. Hayward himself briefly looked back at her before leaving.
***
Later that night, Mary worked on her next lesson plan. She supposed she could adapt her agenda to be more enjoyable for the children; she wasn’t particularly interested in being the cause of George's snoring. She wondered if she could incorporate games into her lessons; the children were certainly excited to play Graces. As she thought about Graces, she thought back to Mr. Hayward’s presence. She couldn’t seem to get his smile out of her mind, nor the brief touch of his hand.
Mary looked up with a sigh, staring out her window. The view was so different compared to Longbourn. She thought she would miss the quiet of her small home, but London offered its own peace. The buildings and rooftops shone under the silver moonlight, showing the city in a new way that Mary hadn’t appreciated before. Mary’s heart seemed to lighten as she continued to observe.
A knock drew Mary away from her musing.
“Yes?” Mary asked. No one ever sought Mary out at night. Jane and Lizzie shared a room, as did Lydia and Kitty. There was never a need to speak to Mary at night about a subject that couldn’t wait until morning. Aunt Gardiner walked through the doorway.
“Mary?” She said. Mary quickly stood, unsure of what brought her aunt to her bedroom. Was she here to talk about the lesson that the children had complained about? Mary was already working on an improved plan. Was Aunt Gardiner about to send her back to her mother for being a poor governess already?
“Oh, do not look so grave, my dear, you are not in trouble!” Aunt Gardiner assured her. “With the weather getting warmer, we’re about to become more sociable.” She said this with a smile, as though the idea of being social was a positive thing.
“Oh… oh, please do not feel any obligation to involve me,” Mary said. She wanted to make sure her aunt knew that Mary understood her place. Mary would surely be unfit to join in on whatever revelry her aunt and uncle took part in. “I shall be quite content to stay upstairs with the children.”
“Mary! We want you to join us.” Aunt Gardiner said. The idea that Mary wouldn’t be included seemed ludicrous to her. Mary wasn’t sure how to respond; surely her aunt was just being kind and taking pity on her. Or maybe she didn’t understand why Mary would be an unwanted addition.
“But I do not sparkle at dinners,” Mary said. She would only drag the party down in whatever social engagement she attempted to join. She was not beautiful, witty, agreeable, or energetic the way her sisters were. Aunt Gardiner smiled and shook her head.
“In our house, no one is obliged to sparkle.” She promised. Mary wasn’t sure what to make of that; sparkling was always the expectation in the Bennet household, but she also didn’t want to be rude to her aunt’s offer.
“Then… of course,” Mary said.
“But we need to get you properly dressed.” Aunt Gardiner said.
“Oh…” Mary said, the idea of being ridiculed for her ruddy complexion and frizzy hair while in the modiste's sounded not at all appealing.
“I thought perhaps tomorrow, we could go to the haberdashers, and you could pick out some fabrics.”
“I do not really care for dresses,” Mary said, knowing that the little pin money she had wouldn’t cover what she would need for a dress, whether it looked good on her or not.
“Well, that’s a shame. But very well.” Aunt Gardiner said. She turned to leave but then stopped and looked back. “Perhaps think about it, Mary. There is a dress allowance as part of your governess's wages.”
Money set aside for her? For dresses made particularly for her? Mary hesitated. If she was going to attend an event, she might as well get something appropriate. It was only the polite thing to do, not to embarrass her aunt and uncle by looking unfashionable.
“I have thought about it. And I would very much like to accept your kind offer.” Mary said. Aunt Gardiner smiled brightly in response.
“That’s excellent news!” She said. “Well, goodnight, Mary. And thank you for today.”
For the second time that day, warmth bloomed in Mary’s chest. Not only was she expected at the social events her aunt and uncle would be attending, but she was also apparently wanted, at least by her aunt. And even more than that, she would have new dresses. While Mary had been well clothed back home, the majority of the money was always spent on new dresses and ribbons for her sisters. Why waste the funds on Mary when there was no color to be found that could possibly make her an equal to her sisters?
Mary sighed happily as she settled back into the chair at her desk. While she was sure that shopping tomorrow would be a painful experience once reality set in again, for the moment, she was content knowing she would at least not be compared to her sisters while doing so. Hill once referred to her as a daffodil, as opposed to a lily; maybe she could find something that could make even a daffodil look a little less plain.
***
As Tom sat in his living room chair that evening to read, he found he kept rubbing at a spot on his index finger. It tingled a little, not painful, but difficult to ignore, though he couldn’t imagine why it would feel that way. He hadn’t done much that day, only gone to work before having dinner with the Gardiners. The only new and noteworthy thing in his day was meeting Miss Mary Bennet. Tom couldn’t help but chuckle as he remembered her correcting him about mice and cheese, but then groaned when he remembered what a fool he had made of himself during the game after dinner. What a poor first impression, he thought to himself.
Tom mentally shook his head and closed the book, unable to concentrate on the words in front of him. Knowing that he needed to get up early anyway to get his jacket repaired before going in to work tomorrow, Tom prepared to go to sleep.
As he settled into his cool bed, Tom once again found himself rubbing a tingling spot on his finger. He tried not to think much about it, but as he drifted off to sleep, his dreams began to conjure a curious image of brilliant green eyes framed by round, silver spectacles.