“Nor shall I,” he said.
Mrs. Gardiner frowned. “Yes, yes, Evelyn has told me this much, though we are both still bewildered. But what of Marianne? And what of Eliza Williams?”
“He wishes to give me an explanation for this, and I will hear him in your presence,” Jane said.
“Very well,” Mrs. Gardiner replied.
“I can give you an account of my dealings with your cousin, but after this I hope you may be the one to explain to me about Miss Williams,” Mr. Willoughby said. Jane nodded, and he continued, running a hand through his hair with a look of torment. He glanced around, but thankfully the crowd had lost interest in them. Even so, he spoke softly, and Jane was grateful for his circumspection.
“I admired Marianne from the moment I met her; I have believed myself to be in love with her, and have since returning to London been heartily ashamed that I allowed myself the indulgence of believing a union between us might be possible.”
“Why should it not be?”
“Because Combe Magna is floundering,” he sighed.
“My first husband left John with the burden of decades of debts,” Mrs. Hatchard sighed. “The estate might make a decentenough income to pay these debts off in a few years, though my late husband’s sister believes John will accomplish this faster if he is able to make some improvements to the estate and increase the land holdings.”
“She fears that when I inherit Allenham, I will simply sell the place to bail out Combe Magna,” he added. “When I met Marianne, I began to think that I may do the reverse, and sell Combe Magna to satisfy the debts, while building a life with Marianne near her relations. They might have even lived with us.”
“And this would not satisfy your aunt?”
“No, Miss Bennet. Neither she nor my father married for love, and she thinks it a foolish notion that I should wish to. I hoped that if she met Marianne, if she saw how well-suited we are…. But I made a miscalculation. One day, on a whim, I brought Marianne to see Allenham while my aunt was away. My aunt heard of it and was offended by my presumption. After that, and with all of Mrs. Jennings’s speculation, Lady Allen was resolved to disapprove of my dearest wish.”
“That is unfortunate,” Mrs. Gardiner said with a hint of skepticism. “But can you not break with her, and do as you would – live modestly until the debts are satisfied, and Combe Magna is profitable once more?”
Jane wondered the very same thing. “Surely Marianne cares nothing for fortune, and after living in the reduced conditions of Barton Cottage….”
“I would only subject her to more of the same, and I fear our affection would sour in the years of economy we should face before I could support her as I ought to do. And then, there is something else….”
Mr. Willoughby looked sadly at his mother, who patted his hand. “My husband is not well. John has been helping withthe bookshop since returning to London after his annual visit to Allenham, though I fear he is exhausting himself from thisandthe management of Combe Magna.”
“Oh, Evelyn, I am very sorry for you,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “But what of your husband’s relations? Are there not several brothers Hatchard?”
“There are. One of my husband’s brothers is a colonel who has been fighting on the continent, and has lately gone missing. One has been involved, but John has gone over the books and suspects the man of dealing dishonestly. The other two brothers would almost certainly swindle us, or simply ruin us through their ineptitude. My sons are too young yet; they are both at Eton. There is only John, for though he is not blood, my dear Mr. Hatchard trusts him implicitly.”
Mr. Willoughby gave Jane a sad smile. “Mr. Hatchard has raised me from a boy of six. It is a family business, and I love that shop. I love the smell of the books, the excitement of readers finding volumes that will thrill and enlighten them. And I have my half-sisters to think of, Sophie will come out next year, and Claire two years after. Their inheritance shall depend on the success of the bookshop, and yet their status may also be raised by Combe Magna thriving.”
“You know howthatgoes,” Mrs. Hatchard said to Mrs. Gardiner with a sad smile. “They are the dearest girls in the world, but they are the daughters of a tradesman.”
“They are also the half-sisters of a gentleman of property, which may raise their standing a little, if Combe Magna were more respectable when it is time for them to wed. Lady Allen has wielded my affection for them against me, painting a pretty picture of Combe Magna thriving, hosting house parties with a society bride so that my brothers and sisters might make fine alliances, or afford the luxury of love matches themselves.”
Jane wished to throw her arms around Mr. Willoughby and condole with him over his misfortunes. She wished to do the same with Marianne. “What an impossible situation! But why does Marianne not understand your circumstances, your sacrifice?”
“When I left her, I still clung to some hope that Lady Allen might be reasoned with, and I did not know the severity of my step-father’s condition. And since then… I have been a coward, Miss Bennet. I know it will break her heart.”
“Her heart is broken already, sir. The truth may at least be of comfort to her; she will find peace in knowing that you are acting nobly for love of your family, and that she has not wasted her heart on a villain.”
Mrs. Hatchard sniffled. “Oh, John, I feel so horrid that you must sacrifice! But Miss Bennet is correct. You ought to give her cousin that absolution, if it shall be of any comfort to her. He did love her, Miss Bennet; he spoke of her to me with such powerful sentiments, it broke my heart that his aunt should commence directly with pressing him into this match with Miss Grey.”
“But when you met my niece – forgive me, sir, but you gave the impression of an unattached gentleman.”
Mr. Willoughby colored a little. “I am still a romantic, Mrs. Gardiner, though I must take care to fall in love with a lady of fortune. To meet a beautiful woman in Mayfair, a woman in fashionable attire, residing at a fashionable address… I thought I had found that impossible harmony of a woman I could admire, who is actually suitable.”
For a moment, Jane regarded him with tenderness at the hopes he expressed, for up until an hour ago, she had shared them. “But you must understand that this is now quiteimpossible – I cannot betray my cousin by receiving your addresses, sir.”
His shoulders slumped, but he nodded. “I hope I may still call you a friend – Sophie wishes to know more of you and your sister.”
“To that I will certainly agree.”
