The reason for her distress, however, was that all parts of the plant are slightly poisonous to humans. Simply touching them can result in a painful rash that can last for days.
“You have saved me from a very uncomfortable situation, Miss Bennet,” he said. “I am entirely grateful.”
“You are most welcome,” she said.
There was an awkward pause as they each seemed to study the other’s face. Eventually, he nodded toward the sketchbook she was carrying and said, “I take it you are a studier of nature?”
“I suppose one could phrase it that way,” said Mary. “For myself, I prefer to think of it as learning more about the inhabitants of this wood.”
“Ah, then you are a studier of this area and not so much all of nature,” he replied.
Mary wanted to agree, since that was almost exactly what she had said, however it wasn’t entirely true. She smiled a tinylittle rueful smile. “I suppose you have caught me in a falsehood, sir. In my efforts to learn more of the plants that surround me, I have in fact taken an interest in plants from other places. I still would not call myself a studier of nature. Rather, I just like learning about plants.”
“Then you are a botanist,” he said.
“I do not know whether to agree or disagree. Agreeing feels like self-aggrandizement for the title sounds far too grand for me. Disagreeing, however, feels somehow false. A botanist is one who learns about plants, and that is indeed one of my hobbies.”
“And what are your other hobbies, Miss Bennet?” asked Mr. Porter.
Mary hesitated. Not many knew of her real hobbies. Since this man seemed quite capable of keeping quiet when it was necessary, and since he would be leaving the neighborhood soon, she decided to be honest.
“I love gardening, and I enjoy strolling through these woods,” she said. “I do play piano, though never in public. I suppose I draw a little, though that was a skill I learned simply so I could sketch the plants I see. My favorite hobby, however, is archery.”
As she listed off her hobbies, his eyebrows rose steadily. When she was finished, he said, “There is much to be curious about in that list,” he said. “I suppose the most obvious question is why do you not play in public. I am certain I would have enjoyed listening to you.”
“I am afraid my playing is not as accurate as I would like, and the effort involved in making it so is beyond me. So, I do not play for others, only for myself,” she replied. Though the statement was true, she deliberately obfuscated the situation to make it appear that she was simply not skilled enough.
He looked at her with an odd expression on his face. “I care nothing for accuracy, only honesty,” he said. “As long as the person playing or singing expresses true emotion rather than emotionless technicality, I am satisfied.”
Without knowing it, Mr. Porter had pierced right to the heart of the matter. He could not have known that it was her honesty which she could not display, could never display. Yet it was her honesty she could not hide, either. So, she did not play in public.
“You have extraordinarily high standards, sir,” she said.
“Do you think so?” he asked. “I thought I was being lenient.”
Mary shook her head. “Honesty in public is vastly more difficult, not to mention infinitely more risky, than mere technical perfection.”
Again, he seemed to study her face. Mary could not imagine what he was looking for, but the feeling that she was his primary focus caused her awareness of the world around them to shrink and fade away.
“I think I understand what you mean, Miss Bennet,” he said. “I suppose none of us are entirely honest in public.”
There was meaning behind those words that was more than Mary could follow. She supposed it likely had something to do with his own past, which he had kept very much to himself.
After a moment, Mr. Porter said, “Would you care to join me as I continue to explore these woods today? I would very much enjoy your insight into all I can see. Besides, I might need you to save me from some other unknown danger as I wander about.”
His eyes twinkled with humor as his face remained serious. Mary found the sight intoxicating, quite as much as drinking too much wine. “I would be happy to be of assistance,” she said.
She knew her reply came out coldly, but she could not have agreed more congenially without betraying how very happy she was to receive such an invitation.
He turned and held his arm out to her for her to take. Honestly, she felt it was pointless. She would have to drop it the first time they found an interesting plant. Even so, with her heart pounding in her chest from nervous anticipation, she hesitantly reached out and took his forearm in her hand.
The sensation, the experience, from such a mundane interaction was like nothing she had ever imagined. Warmth spread from her hand throughout her entire body. It shocked her, and for a moment, she could not move.
“Miss Bennet, are you well?” asked Mr. Porter.
She looked up into his face. His eyes were full of concern at her sudden stillness. She took a deep breath and said, “I am well. Shall we proceed?”
Though the concern in his eyes faded, it did not disappear completely. After a moment’s hesitation, he turned, and they began walking.
