“I hope one of them falls in love with me,” said Lydia. “What a good joke it would be if I could marry before Jane did.”
Mary looked at her oldest sister whose placid expression had dimmed slightly at Lydia’s remark. At age twenty-two, Jane had been out for six years. Despite her clearly being the most beautiful, kindest young lady in the neighborhood, she had stillnot found someone who could love her enough to marry her without any significant dowry. The feeling of disappointment, of failure, must weigh heavily on her shoulders at times, especially with the amount of pressure Mama put upon all her daughters to marry well.
It didn’t make sense to Mary. When she had inherited all her husband’s wealth, the safety of their family was assured. She would never let any of her sisters or her mother go homeless or even be uncomfortable for as long as she lived. Even after her death, she would ensure they were provided for, since she had already made a will, leaving a significant fortune to each of them.
Since this was so, why was Mama still so obsessed with marrying her daughters off?
The new resident of Netherfield arrived on September 27, and he was almost immediately visited by all the principal gentlemen of the neighborhood to welcome him. Mary, not being one of those gentlemen, did not. She assumed she would simply have to wait until they were in company together. In the end, it mattered little to her other than that the subject provided much speculative conversation for herself and Elizabeth.
On the last day of the month, a visitor arrived at Braydon Hall. Shortly after the sound of the front bell, Mrs. Hampton showed the guest into Mary’s study, where she was working on her ledgers and writing a letter of business.
Surprised that Mrs. Hampton would show them here rather than have them wait in the parlor, she looked up just as her housekeeper said, “Mr. Worsley to see you on urgent business, Ma’am.”
Standing before her, just inside the door, was the man who had turned her life upside down, the man Mary hoped most earnestly to someday marry.
She stood, and said, “Mr. Worsley, it is both a pleasure and a surprise to see you.” Though she had intended to maintain decorum, she could feel a grin growing on her face, one so wide her cheeks already ached.
A matching smile grew on his lips. His dark, entrancing eyes sparkled with pleasure. “I promised I would see you again,” he said.
The two of them stared at each other for many long moments. Mary had no concept of how long it was, because time had no meaning. Eventually, it was Mr. Worsley who broke the silence. As he took a step towards her, he said, “I was hoping to take you for a drive, if you were willing. I brought my curricle with me.”
Before answering, Mary instinctively looked out the window to make certain it did not look like rain. When a short glance reminded her that it was a sunny day, she said, “That sounds delightful. If you will give me a few minutes to fetch my pelisse and bonnet, we can be on our way.”
A few minutes later, Mr. Worsley helped Mary into his curricle by the simple expedient of grasping her waist and lifting her into it. It was a heady feeling to be lifted by such strong, dependable hands, and the feeling of his hands on her waist burned delightfully.
As they set off, Mr. Worsley said, “You will have to direct me where to go. I am unfamiliar with the area, since I only arrived late last night.”
As Mary pointed him toward her favorite lane that wound among the various farm plots of her tenants, she said, “Youmust be the new tenant of the house in Meryton. The whole neighborhood has been speculating as to who you were.”
He laughed. “I suppose that is the nature of small towns like this where very few people come simply to visit.” After a brief silence, Mr. Worsley said, “May I call you Mary?”
Mary’s heart swooped with joy. “Yes, you may,” she answered.
He glanced at her, and their eyes met. There was such warmth and affection in his gaze that it caused Mary to catch her breath. He said, “I must admit, it is an unexpected pleasure to find you so happy. Not that you were unhappy before, but you tend to be rather serious. Today, I find you full of smiles. It makes for quiet a lovely sight.”
Breathing in courage, Mary said, “I am only smiling so brightly, because I am happy to see you. I have missed you a great deal.”
Mr. Worsley’s smile dimmed. “I am sorry I had to be away for so long,” he said.
“I think I know why you did,” replied Mary, “and even if my assumption is incorrect, it was likely for the best.”
He gave her a quizzical look. “It is rather surprising to hear you say that,” he said. “It makes me rather curious what you think my reason was.”
Mary felt a blush stain her cheeks. “It would be incredibly presumptuous of me to tell you.”
“Very well,” he replied. “Then I shall tell you my reasoning, and you can tell me if you were correct. How does that sound?”
Mary simply agreed, “Very well.”
“At the ball where we danced in March, I realized that I love you,” said Mr. Worsley. “The realization didn’t come as muchof a surprise. I have felt a growing affection for you since the earliest days of our acquaintance. What did come as a rather strong shock, however, was the realization of how strong my feelings were, how deep they ran, and how complex the emotion was.
“I also realized something else that night. I knew you were drawn to me, though I cannot say with certainty how strong your feelings were. What I did know, however, was that my attempts to draw you closer to me resulted in hurting you, likely due to your status of being in mourning. I knew if I stayed in your company that I would eventually push you away, hurting both of us a great deal in the process. The only solution was to leave your side and let you finish mourning Mr. Allen in peace.”
Throughout his explanation, Mr. Worsley had continued driving down the quiet, secluded lane they were on. At this point, however, he pulled the reins, stopping the horse. He then turned to Mary. “You should know that my feelings have not waned in the interim. I love you, Mary.”
Mary looked up into the handsome, striking face of the man she loved more than any other, the man who could both unsettle her and calm her, the man who cared so much for her happiness that he had left her alone for six months. “I love you, too, Mr. Worsley,” she said.
At her words, a light lit in his deep, brown eyes. She knew what such a light meant. It had been something she had seen many times in Mr. Allen’s eyes, but this time it was far more compelling than she had ever experienced, and she suspected there was a matching light in her own eyes. “Gregory,” he said. “My name is Gregory.”
