Mr. Smith paused and gave him an inscrutable look. He said, “And you as well.” Then he left.
For quite some time after Mr. Smith’s departure, John sat in the same chair, contemplating his own ineptitude, his own absolute uselessness.
He had known all his adult life that he wasn’t any good at the things a man should be good at. Despite hours of practice and very much enjoying the hobby, he was absolutely terrible at shooting and hunting. He was equally bad at fishing, though he still enjoyed it almost as much as hunting. He wasn’t even particularly good at getting drunk and reveling the night away, though he had tried a few times. He had been told that he was a wet blanket multiple times and was even asked to leave the party once.
He wasn’t good at being responsible either. He was a terrible member of parliament, though perhaps not quite as bad as some. At least he showed up to the sessions. Obviously, he couldn’t manage either his property or his money. As far as he could tell, the only reason he hadn’t lost everything was because he didn’t have particularly extravagant taste, making his income far more than he could spend, especially now that Natalie was gone.
Surprisingly, the thought of Natalie brought tears to his eyes. He had not realized when she was alive how much she did for him. She kept his house going and his dinners planned. Now that she was gone, that responsibility fell to his housekeepersboth in London and here at Matlock, and neither of them were as good at it as Natalie had been.
She had also been incredibly good at covering up his flaws. She had convinced him multiple times to not interfere with his secretary or his steward. Her excellent manners covered for his gruff bluntness. She had shown him respect he did not deserve even in private. What she hadn’t given him, her love and her passion, were things he hadn’t deserved anyway, considering the lack of respect he had shown for her.
As he wallowed in self-pity, reminding himself repeatedly of all the ways he was flawed, he remembered that he had only minutes ago determined to convince Mary to marry him. Despair deeper than he had ever known swamped him. He realized he had nothing to offer her but wealth and status, and he was certain she cared nothing for either of those things.
What was he to do? Despite his cynicism around marrying for love, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Mary was the only woman for him. Of course, he had felt that way about Natalie before he proposed, but this was far deeper and longer lasting.
His attraction for Mary had already lasted through two years of separation. Additionally, he was certain his admiration was for Mary’s true character, not for the façade she showed the world, as it had been for Natalie.
He knew her so well, he could easily picture how they would spend their days and nights together. They would explore the grounds thoroughly, cataloguing every plant and animal they could find. Then, after the years it would take to complete that project, they would spend double or triple those years teaching their children the same thing.
In the evenings they would play cards, of course, but if they ever tired of sitting still, he would pull her into his arms as theydanced around the room, expressing through their movements everything they could not put into words.
There would be quieter, more solitary times, when she would be pursuing her own hobbies and he would fill his time as he saw fit. Images of her sitting quietly sewing or reading a book flitted through his mind. Perhaps she would play the piano occasionally.
John paused in his daydreaming as he realized that, while he had heard her speak of the piano, he had never heard her play. He wondered if her playing would in any way match the way she danced.
He sighed. He would likely never know. For his own sanity and to protect her from his own uselessness, he would have to avoid her from now on.
It was such a shift from the joy he had felt less than an hour previously when he contemplated proposing to her, but he knew he was worthless, that he could offer her nothing. Honestly, he couldn’t even understand why she had fallen in love with him two years ago. He wasn’t any better of a man back then. One might even say he was worse.
John looked around his study, pulling his mind out of its reverie and back to his present problems. With yet another sigh, he stood and began rummaging through his desk and his shelves. He found everything he could find that might be helpful in fixing his ledgers. Then he shoved it all in a small valise made for carrying such things.
If he couldn’t fix it himself, he would simply have to ask for help.
Chapter 19
After a month or so at Pemberley, Elizabeth gradually began to feel better, giving Mary more free time. While she hadn’t minded the work which had given purpose to her days, she was more than happy to have free time to explore Pemberley’s massive library.
Within the giant room, which was as large as the main dining room, were nearly a dozen bookshelves, all but one of which were nearly full. Early on in her stay at Pemberley, Mary had made a list of books she had seen which she wished to read, but it was far from complete, since she had only had short spurts of time to peruse the shelves.
Now, however, since she no longer was needed to help Elizabeth, she had a few extra hours each day in the afternoon while Georgiana practiced her piano. Additionally, as spring progressed, the longer days made it easier to continue her studies after dinner.
By mid-May, Mary had looked at every single shelf on every single bookcase, and she had made a list of over forty books which appealed to her for one reason or another. She estimated that if she wished to read them all before going back home to Longbourn, she would need to read a book every two days.
With her list in hand, Mary headed for the library in the early afternoon. Her intention was to select the first three books from her list and begin her new course of reading right away.As she entered the room, however, her steps paused when she saw that Mr. Darcy was already there, sitting in a chair by the window.
Mary highly respected Elizabeth’s husband. He was exceptionally responsible as well as kind and generous to all those under his care, which included Mary at the moment. However, his kindness was a distant sort of thing, not personal in the least. With his quiet, stern demeanor, Mary found she could never be entirely comfortable in company with him unless Elizabeth was there as well.
She hesitated, thinking that perhaps she would find something else to do and return to the library when she would not be disturbing his solitude.
She was just about to turn around when Mr. Darcy said, “There is no need for you to leave on my account. I have just received a note from my steward requesting my assistance on an urgent matter.” He stood as he spoke. “Enjoy the library to your heart’s content.” Then he left the room.
Mary felt relieved as he left, though such relief was accompanied by a surge of guilt. She should not be feeling relieved when the master of the house was obliged to leave his own library.
She did not think about it for too long, however. Her studies awaited. She picked out her next book and sat down at a table so she could take notes as she read.
Not five minutes later, she was pulled out of her studies by the one voice which could disturb her the most. “Darcy, you must help me!” cried Lord Matlock even before he had fully entered the room.
He stopped as soon as he saw Mary. The two of them simply stared at each other.
