Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile. It appeared that, despite her changed appearance, Mary was still Mary after all.
Chapter 3
Alan Goulding woke up slowly in his apartment in London. Even with his eyes closed, he could tell that the sun was high in the sky since the light was shining brightly through his window. He delayed opening his eyes as long as he could, because he knew that as soon as he did the light would cause pain to go shooting through his skull.
As he lay there, avoiding the inevitable, he took stock of the rest of himself. His mouth felt as though he had chewed and swallowed sandpaper, and there was some kind of bruise on his upper arm and another on his cheek. How did he get those?
Eventually, a very different kind of discomfort made itself known, and he realized that he couldn’t just lie there all day and hope his pain went away.
He literally rolled himself out of bed, just barely landing on his feet. With the clumsiness of a new foal, he managed to make his way to the chamber pot in the corner of the room. Fortunately, he had remembered to change into night clothes last night, because he wasn’t certain he could have managed the buttons on a pair of breeches.
Once he relieved himself, he made his way back to the bed and simply sat there.
It was like this every day…well most days…and it had been that way for at least a year. Every day, he would wake up feelingas though he had been in a racing accident. He would drink some water, eat a bit of toast if he could. Then, when he was feeling nearly human again, he would make his way to his club.
Once at his club, he would chat with his friends. Every day, he promised himself he wouldn’t drink anything but tea or coffee. Every day, he kept his promise until dinner. Then, he would have a single glass of wine simply to be polite.
After dinner is when it always went downhill. Chatting led to cards. Cards couldn’t be played without a little gin or port or whiskey. One glass led to another which led to losing which led to frustration which led to more drinking.
If he was lucky, he would realize when it was time to leave and make his way home. If he was unlucky, he would pass out at the tables and wake up in his own bed. The owner of his club was quite used to needing to send his patrons home unconscious, though he charged heavily for the service.
Alan thought back to his first days in London. He had met some jolly good friends in coffee houses and had been an invited guest at several different clubs, each of which hoped for his continued patronage.
He took six months to decide which club to join. He had wanted to make certain he was a member of a club that was both enjoyable and safe.
For the life of him, he couldn’t remember how he had ended up as a member of The Red Donkey. He went there with a friend one night, and the next day he woke up with a membership card in his pocket.
He should have known right then that it was not a good place for him to be, but at the time he had shrugged it off. Since he was already a member, he might as well make use of it.
Ever since then, he had drunk more and gambled more than he ever imagined he was capable of. He was certain he had wenched far more than he should have, but most of those encounters were hazy since he had never been drawn to typical ladies of the night unless he was very drunk, indeed.
No. When he was sober, he was drawn to a very different kind of woman.
Memories of a very young lady, just on the border between childhood and adulthood but with a very mature frame of mind, swam into his consciousness. What would Miss Mary Bennet think of him now?
The mere thought caused something fundamental to shift within him. Suddenly, he knew that today was the day things were truly going to change. It wouldn’t be full of empty and broken promises. This was the day he would go home.
Alan got up and splashed cold water on his face from the washing stand in the corner of the room. Then he drank as much water as he could hold. Finally, he called for his valet to come shave him.
Once his valet had shaved him and helped him into some clean clothes, Alan said, “Pack up all my belongings. We will be going home today.”
“Home?” asked the valet. “As in Haye Park?”
“Yes,” replied Alan. “Haye Park. Where I grew up and where my parents still live.”
Alan could tell that the valet wished to question him further as to why they were leaving London so suddenly, but his professional pride kept him silent.
“Don’t worry, old chap,” said Alan as he clapped the older man on the shoulder. “I am not in trouble. No debts I’m runningaway from and no jilted lovers. I just think it’s time to see my parents. Maybe my mother can talk some sense into me.”
The valet gave the smallest hint of a smile and said, “If she did, it would be the first time. As for packing, I can have everything ready to go in a couple of hours.”
“Wonderful,” said Alan. “I’m going to head out for a bit, but I will be back with a hired carriage in two or three hours.”
“As you wish, sir.”
~~~~~
With a sense of confidence Mary had never known, she entered the garden at Haye Park. At least half the guests were already there, chatting away as longstanding neighbors do when they get together.
