Author: Kat (blueeyedbookworm)

Part 19

I could not believe my eyes. The one man that I expected (and fairly hoped) that I would never speak to again was standing before me, smiling as though he had not a care in the world. A sinking feeling dropped heavily and sourly into my stomach, and if I had been a weaker woman, I should have fainted. What could he possibly be doing here? How could he dare show his face to me, after using me so ill? It took a moment before I could respond with anything more than a blank stare of shock. My manners, as natural as instinct, came blessedly to my rescue.

“Hello, Mr. Raleigh. You’re…looking well. Allow me to introduce you to my companion, Mr. Fletcher. I don’t suppose you have met.”

I looked back at Mr. Fletcher, surprised to see that his face looked as pale as mine surely did. I couldn’t fathom what had caused it until he opened his lips and said the most shocking words possible.

“Hello, brother. I never imagined I would see you here.”

The words fell upon me like a bag of rocks. What had he just said? Brother? What the deuce was going on here?

“Hello, Fletcher. It’s been a long time. I’m surprised you recognized me.” Mr. Raleigh looked odd…his face was almost smug as he gazed upon Mr. Fletcher.

“I’m sure I don’t know how I could forget you, Raleigh.” Mr. Fletcher’s face was carefully blank, his voice flat.

“I see you’ve met my sweetheart. Dear Mary, this is not quite the reception I expected. Are you not glad to see me?”

I heard Mr. Fletcher stuttering behind me, but I managed to speak first, my anger at his cavalier, presumptuous statement nearly blinding me. “I have no idea to what you are referring, sir,” I said, my voice full of venom. “I am not, nor have I ever been, your sweetheart. You would do well to put such delusions out of your head.”

“Mary, you wound me! After all of our past together, this is how I am treated? I –”

I cut him off. “Do not address me so informally, Mr. Raleigh. You have not the right. And you will desist with such talk, sir. Our past consists of a few short days and some silly letters. I have endeavored to put any connection we may have had from my mind, and suggest that you do the same.”

I was conscious of Mr. Fletcher’s presence behind me. I was sorry that he should have to play witness to such an altercation, but after the claims Mr. Raleigh had made, it was now vital that he stay to hear all that we would say. I couldn’t bear the thought that he would misunderstand and think that I was still somehow connected to Mr. Raleigh. It was better that he saw this through to the end. And I selfishly desired his company here – his solid presence behind me gave me the strength to say what must be said.

“But Miss Mary, how can you say such a thing? You know that I care for you.”

“I know no such thing, sir. All I know is that you asked me to come to see you, and then made no move to meet with me once I did so. And then, when I saw you by chance, you blatantly snubbed me. And you come here, pretending as though nothing is the matter. If that is your affection, I want none of it. As for this revelation that you and Mr. Fletcher are brothers…I know not what to say. I know not what to say to either of you.”

Mr. Raleigh seemed to be searching for words to defend himself, but before he could come up with more lies to spew out, I turned to Mr. Fletcher, whose face was an inscrutable mask. In a bold move, I took hold of his hand and looked into his eyes. At this point, I cared not a whit for whoever may be watching.

“Mr. Fletcher…my dear Mr. Fletcher. Please, come away from here with me.” As I started to lead him away, I turned and said coldly, “Good evening, Mr. Raleigh. And goodbye.” I turned away from his stammering face, and fervently hoped that I should never see it again.

Mr. Fletcher and I retreated to a corner where we would be mostly hidden from view. Everyone seemed to be deeply engaged in either dancing or conversation, and seemed not to be paying us any mind, as I was relieved to see.

“Mary, what on Earth…” began Mr. Fletcher. “It was he? He was the one who disappointed you in London?” His eyes held a roiling mixture of confusion, anger, and hurt.

My heart sank. “Yes, it was he. But I must assure you, I am no longer connected to the man –” I wanted to call him something much worse – “in any way at all. It is you I love, you I have loved these many weeks. You must believe me.” I looked pleadingly into his eyes as he looked with bewilderment into mine.

“I want to believe you, Mary. I want it more than anything. I just…you must give me some time to think, I beg you. I must sort this out. I-I think I must leave now. I promise I will speak with you soon, Mary. Goodbye.” He squeezed my hand once, the look on his face begging me to understand. I endeavored to do so. He slid his hand from mine, slipped out of the room, and was gone. I stood alone in the corner, my mind blank with shock and confusion, as it sat in the quiet before the storm of questions that I knew were soon to come. I longed to melt away into the floor, or at least to sink down with my back to the wall and hide from the crowd. But I did neither; I had to leave, and I had to leave now. I swept off to find Papa; he was sure to be sympathetic to my desire to go immediately, since I knew he didn’t want to be here in the first place.

I found him nursing a drink and watching my mother chat animatedly with a group of women standing a few feet away from him. His gaze was languid and mildly amused, but then he looked and saw my no doubt deathly pale face. His look immediately changed to a worried frown, and he touched my shoulder when I came to stand in front of him.

“Mary, dear girl, whatever is the matter? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Worse,” I said. “But I can’t explain here. We must leave, immediately.”

“I admit, I desire to be off as well, but can you not tell me what has happened?”

“Not now, Papa, please understand.”

“Your mama will be unhappy to leave, you know.”

“Tell her I’m unwell – tell her you’re unwell, whatever it takes. I don’t care…I can’t bear to stay here another moment, Papa.”

The urgency in my tone seemed to stir him. “All right, my dear, just give me a moment to convince your mother.”
He went over to her and explained in a hushed voice. “What?” she answered loudly. “We can’t leave yet, I’m just telling Mrs. Bancroft about –” Papa appeared to cut her off by speaking something quietly into her ear. I had no idea what he said, but whatever it was, Mama appeared to be convinced. I thanked the good Lord that my escape was nigh. Papa led us quietly out of the dance hall, though he could not keep Mama from saying a few goodbyes on the way out. I wanted to groan with impatience, but soon we were outside and heading to our carriage, Mama chattering the whole way.

“I’m sure I don’t know what on Earth couldn’t wait a bit longer,” she complained. “I’ll have you know I was right in the middle of a conversation, you troublesome child. I know you do not care for balls, but how could you be so selfish?” She continued in a similar litany as we climbed into the carriage and started off. Thankfully, she trailed off after a few minutes, and the three of us fell into a strained silence. Papa looked at me questioningly after a while, but I shook my head slightly, hoping he would interpret my look as “Not yet,” the way I meant him to do. Thankfully, he seemed willing to wait for the moment.

When we arrived home, Papa spoke up. “I think we all ought to meet in the drawing room for a bit.”

“Mr. Bennet, what –”

“Please, my dear, come along,” said my father in an authoritative tone. “I believe Mary would like to speak with us.”

We were seated in the drawing room, my father in his favorite chair and my mother across from me.

“Now, Mary,” said Papa kindly. “Won’t you tell us what this is all about? What has got you so troubled?”

I took a deep breath. “I’m afraid it’s rather a long story, Papa.”

“Don’t worry about that, Mary. I can tell that your mother is dying to find out, and I admit that I’m very curious as well. What has happened, daughter?”

And so I began. I told them I had seen Mr. Raleigh at the dance hall, and Mama immediately expressed her confusion, having thought that Mr. Raleigh was my beau, or something very near it, so why should seeing him make me want to dash off like a scared rabbit? And so I explained to them what had transpired in London, and how Mr. Raleigh had treated me. They were shocked to hear about his behavior and became as confused as I was. After my explanation, both of them seemed understanding of my need to leave the ball so quickly.

I did not, however, mention a word about Mr. Fletcher. I had not the foggiest idea of how I would explain our situation to my parents, since I could no longer be sure where I stood with him. I hoped desperately that he would understand, but I could not dare to count on that hope yet; it was much too soon. When the time came, I would tell them about Mr. Fletcher, whatever the end. But for now, I remained silent about him, knowing that I had already given my parents plenty to think of.

“Well, Mary, you’ve had a great deal of excitement,” said Papa. Oh, if he only knew. “I daresay it’s high time you went to bed; and us as well. It’s been a long evening.”

“Yes, Papa. Thank you both so much for understanding,” I said fervently.

“Of course, Mary,” Papa said warmly. “What kind of parents would we be if we didn’t help you out of a scrape? I’m sure it’s not the first time.” He chuckled.

We ascended the stairs, retreating into our respective chambers for the night. I wished my parents peaceful minds and sound rest, knowing that I would receive neither. I prepared myself for a long and sleepless night.

End Part 19

*Special thanks to kggir21 for inspiring this latest twist.