Chapter Text
Thomas Hayward was in a bit of a pickle. He knew that he only had himself to blame for said pickle, but this did not make it any less of a mess. The worst part is that he had dragged Miss Bennet into the pickle with him, without her even knowing.
It all began when Miss Bennet met Ryder for the first time. It was clear that his friend was intrigued by her candidness and straight forward way of speaking. Tom could not blame him for this as he himself was guilty of the very same thing. What he could blame him for though, not entirely rightly so but he would anyway, was what happened next. After Miss Bennet had departed, Ryder turned to him.
“She was a breath of fresh air, amongst women fixated on weddings she stands out.”
“She does, she is very special indeed.”
“Do you know if she has been spoken for? Or if she is available for a little tête-à-tête so I can get to know her some more?” Tom choked on his drink and spent a few minutes coughing and trying to process what Ryder had just said. A tête-à-tête? Did he not understand the implications of a private conversation between a young man and woman? This would not do at all. This is why he found himself uttering words that lacked more ground than could be found outside his own wishful thinking.
“She is spoken for. By me.”
“Oh, I apologise old chap, I did not know! I hope I have not caused any offence.”
“Do not fret Will, I am made of sturdier material than to take offence from such a question. She is the most interesting woman I have met after all.”
He did not lie as much as he bended the truth in his claim on Miss Bennet. She was the most interesting woman he had met, and he did claim her as his friend. The problem was that she was not his in any sense, nor did she deserve to be spoken for by a man who did not intend to marry her. This is what all good friends would do for their friend. He saw his friendship with her go arse over tits as he had blurted out his claim to stop Ryder from wooing her. He had to do some damage control so that she would not be too cross with him for such a lie.
“We have not told anyone just yet, it is still in its early days. I trust you can be discreet about the whole business?”
“Why yes of course, my lips are sealed!” He made a movement as if gluing his lips shut, giving Tom the impression that he did not take it too seriously. There was nothing more he could do though, and he had to trust that his friend would keep his mouth shut about it.
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He was a coward, a weak and a pitiful man. He did not tell Miss Bennet of his conversation with Ryder, out of fear that she would think badly of him. He was aware of the irony since keeping it from her only worsened his offence, but he could not bring it in him to bring it up.
He was sat in the study at the Gardiner’s residence, reading with Miss Bennet seated on the sofa across from him. The young Gardiner’s were playing between the two sofas, and he had a hard time concentrating on his book. Miss Bennet did not seem to have the same issue, completely enamoured by the book in her hand, mouthing any difficult or unknown words she came across. His heart squeezed with fondness as he looked at her. In the friendliest of ways, of course.
“Is there anything I can help you with Mr Hayward?” She asked without looking up from her book. Ah, not entirely enamoured after all.
“I wondered about this paragraph; I cannot seem to make its meaning clear.” He pointed at a random paragraph, not entirely listening to the meaning of her words but focused on the way she leaned forwards to read from his book and the sound of her voice.
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Not telling her should probably have made him a shame-filled man, but it did not. He was ashamed of his brazenness in claiming her in such a way without asking her, but he could not bring it in him to regret not telling her. She was too good to be a pawn in the game that was Ryder’s love life. He wanted more, better, for her. Whoever that might be.
It was a few weeks until the next incident, and he had grown convinced that he had gotten away with his lie. That is, until he put his foot, nay, his whole damned leg with boot, breeches and all, in his mouth at a dinner party one evening. He was seated across from Miss Bennet, with a few new faces surrounding them. She had quickly found common ground with the man beside her, discussing a specific author that he had never read himself. She shone so, and he was distracted by her leaving as she went to the powder room. He would blame this for his response as the young man asked about her status.
“She is spoken for, very firmly so.” This time he at least had enough state of mind to not claim that it was he who had spoken for her. The statement had its intended effect though as the man kept his kind and enthusiastic conversation with Miss Bennet as she returned, but without any flirtations. He was rather content with his new way of dealing with her suitors, scaring them off without having tell her of the intentions of the men and making her uncomfortable. A strange squeezing sensation encapsulated his heart as he thought of her being uncomfortable from a man’s behaviour. He was happy with how he protected his friend from such emotions.
That is, until the young man started to spread the word that Miss Bennet was engaged to be married, in the days that followed the dinner. She was not the most social nor observant person, but even she had to find out soon enough. He would need to confess that it was him who had started the rumour but needed to find an explanation that did not contain Well I get prickly at the thought of you with someone else, but I do not yet know why.