Mary considered his words. It was true, though she hadn’t considered it before. She called him, “my Lord,” because she was reminding herself of who he was and just how far he was out of her reach. It was essential that she remember this, or she was certain to find herself falling into her old patterns of casual and honest conversation with him.
“Then, what would you have me call you?” she asked. “While we are distantly related through my sister’s marriage to your cousin, we are certainly not close enough for me to call you by your first name. Any other form of address would simply be wrong.”
“I do wish you would call me John, Mary,” he said. Hearing her own name on Lord Matlock’s lips was quite a shock to Mary, but the warmth and longing in his expression was an even greater shock. She had only seen such an expression directed at her once before, and that too had been from this man.
She did not know what to do. She still had not forgiven him for withholding the information that he was married. Additionally, he was clearly still in mourning for his late wife. Calling him by his Christian name would only force her to think of him more familiarly while she should be maintaining her distance.
On the other hand, she simply couldn’t deny him. Not only was his expression deeply compelling, but he also far outranked her. She could hardly contradict someone like that.
“If you insist, then I suppose I must,” she said. As the words exited her mouth, she realized they sounded almost surly. “I mean that it would be an honor. One that I do not deserve.”
Lord Matlock opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, they were interrupted by another guest coming to greet them both.
Though Mary played at the same table as he did for the rest of the night, there was no further opportunity for a tete a tete between them.
Chapter 17
Two months passed in pleasant busyness. Mary saw Lord Matlock a handful of times, and each time they met, she attempted to address him more formally, at least at first. Then he, with a twinkle of humor in his eyes, would insist she call him John. She never did, but his insistence forced her to stop calling him, “my Lord.”
During this time, Mary’s feelings settled. She learned to accept that she would always find Lord Matlock attractive. She would always love him, whether it was reasonable to do so or not, whether she was angry with him or not.
She did not expect much from him. His warm glances, the glint of humor in his eyes that only she saw, his occasional company, and a bit of attention. This was all she expected from him, and even that, she knew, was temporary.
In her more honest moments, she admitted to herself that it wasn’t all she wanted from him, but when such thoughts intruded, she gently reminded herself that people do not always get what they wish for.
One morning, in late March, as Mary and Georgiana were sitting in the parlor sewing and chatting, Elizabeth came in and sat down with a deep sigh.
Mary had grown quite concerned for her sister over the last week or so. Elizabeth didn’t seem to be eating much, and shewas always rather tired. Elizabeth had said nothing about it, however, and Mary did not wish to pry, so she had not asked. She did take comfort in the fact that Mr. Darcy, who absolutely doted on Elizabeth, did not seem worried.
After a few moments of silence, Elizabeth said, “Well, my sisters, I am afraid I will have to cut our time here short. I must return to Pemberley.”
“Is it because you are pregnant again?” asked Georgiana. Mary looked at her with surprise. She had been thinking the same thing, but she would never have dreamed of saying it before Elizabeth brought up the subject.
Elizabeth smiled wryly. “Nothing is certain yet, but it is very likely. I find that I simply don’t have the energy to cope with London any more right now, and I long for the fresh air and uplifting nature of the country.”
Mary’s heart sank. She had very much enjoyed being away from Longbourn and Meryton. Here, she could be who she wished she always had been without the weight of past experiences and her neighbors’ expectations holding her back. But if Elizabeth was going to Pemberley, Mary would certainly be sent home.
“Mary, if you can get Papa’s permission, I would appreciate it if you would come with us. Just to be clear, though, I fully admit that this is a selfish request. If you come, I will be asking for your help with my various duties, many of which I may struggle with for the next month or so. What do you say?”
“It would be my pleasure, Elizabeth,” said Mary. The idea of simply being useful, something she was never allowed to do at home, sounded like a delightful challenge. “I shall write to Papa immediately.”
“Before you do, please be aware that though I only expect to be ill for another month or so, the invitation is for the rest of the summer, or however long Papa will allow me to keep you.” Elizabeth smiled. “Though I have not spent as much time with you as Georgiana has, I can freely admit that we have both appreciated your calm presence. Honestly, there are times lately when you remind me of Jane.”
Secretly, Mary thought this was a bit of a stretch. Though she was calm in company, on the inside her roiling emotions often felt more like Lydia. Perhaps everyone was a balance between the two, however. Ultimately, it was up to each person to choose how to balance between placidity and chaos.
“I have enjoyed your company as well,” said Mary. “I will write to both Papa and Mama in hopes that Mama will remind our father to read his mail, so we are not waiting a fortnight for a response.”
~~~~~
A week later, Mary and the Darcys left London, bound for Pemberley. The journey was slower than anyone expected, because Elizabeth, who had never been carriage sick, was quite ill for most of the journey. They had to stop multiple times for her to empty the contents of her stomach by the side of the road.
Despite her discomfort, perhaps even because of it, Elizabeth insisted that they continue onward rather than returning to London. In the end all of them were pleased and relieved to finally reach their destination at the end of their third day of travel.
Elizabeth immediately retired to her bed, asking for weak tea and toast to be sent up to her. Georgiana worked with thehousekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, to ensure dinner would be on the table soon.
Mary wondered what help she could be under such circumstances, but she could think of nothing useful that was not already being done. When dinner was over, she thought she might check on how Elizabeth was doing, but Mr. Darcy did so before she could.
In the end, she spent the evening just as she and Georgiana had in London. They simply took turns entertaining each other with music, including playing several piano harp duets that they had worked on for the last few weeks.
