Letting her feet rest flat on the ground, she shoved her disappointment aside, the unfamiliar man with Mr. Darcy the only figure to enter before the door closed behind.Her family had not come… not one.
“Darcy!” Richard greeted, his hand leaving hers so he might wrap his cousin in a hug.
“Fitz! Do you know how worried I have been?”
“As if that is my fault,” Richard teased, his attention turning to the other man. “Aldry! Did Darcy bring you into all this?”
Nodding, Aldry grinned, “And Peters and Lightcliffe. We have worked night and day for you and…”
“My wife,” Richard finished quickly, a warning look in his eyes. “Her family and I are grateful for that. Here, let me introduce you to our hosts properly; I assume we cannot leave until morning given the horses, for I cannot imagine when the last posting inn would have been?”
∞∞∞
Hours spent in the company of their hosts gave way to conversations of a far less detailed nature, their lie of being married made plain to all before anyone might call her Miss Mary, and from there, only those details thought to keep their secret were allowed to be told.
As always, such deception left her uneasy, though she continued to hope that one day, the truth might be revealed, an apology given, and, perhaps sooner than these, some recompense for their kindness bestowed.
Still, such desires would have to wait, for as the hours passed and the young Johnsons began to yawn, Mrs. Johnson directed Mr. Darcy and Mr. Aldry to a room shared by her sons, the men ready to refuse such an offer knowing the boys would be put out, yet she, as a good host, refused.‘For one night,’she claimed, her sons nodding ruefully,‘a couple of fine, young lads might manage a bit of discomfort.’
Thus, it was agreed, albeit reluctantly by all but Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, and the two men were seen to their rooms, the boys scampering off to whatever nook their mother whisked them to.
Pressing back a yawn, Mary made her way to Richard’s side, full ready to retire with the bulk of the household until Mr. Johnsonsaid, “I wanted to tell you what a pleasure it has been having you both.” Their honest thanks showered upon him, the pair wore matching expressions of confusion as their host raised a hand to interrupt, a smirk forming as he remarked, “I only hope that the next time we meet, Miss Mary Bennet here will have become your wife, Colonel.”
Eyes wide, she and Richard stared at Mr. Johnson slack jawed, every interaction with him playing in Mary’s mind, none explaining how he knew.
Had he overheard them?she wondered.
“What gave us away?” Richard laughed awkwardly.
“My wife suspected early on that you two were not wed, but I thought little of it; the pair of you are obviously in love and know each other quite well, and while a man might lie as you did to obtain room and board–all the more so when another first assumes it–I still continued in my assumption. Such was my belief until you admitted having been kidnapped, then it all became clear: protection. You, sir, were not only protecting her by assuring food and shelter, but you sought to protect her reputation.”
Cheeks flaming, Mary prepared to offer her apology, only to hear Richard begin his own, “Mr. Johnson. After lying to you about this and our kidnapping, I know I have no right to expect it, still, I offer my apologies and ask for your forgiveness. Every member of your family, all of your neighbors, have shown nothing but kindness to us and we have repaid it abominably… Rather,Ihave repaid it thus, for indeed, Mary had every intention of speaking the truth, and it was I who stopped her.”
“That,” he paused. “Is one form of deception I am willing to abide. For a colonel to protect another, or a man who loves awoman, that is a natural thing… and it is something I am happy to forgive.”
“Thank you, sir. You have my sincerest thanks, for everything you have done.” Gaze drifting toward Mary, Richard turned back to Mr. Johnson, concern thick in his voice, “Does anyone else know of this? Of our not being married?”
“Aside from myself and my wife, no, no one knows and from our lips they never shall hear it… Perhaps one day you two might return here as Colonel and Mrs. Fitzwilliam, and that truth might replace the lie?”
“I assure you, sir, that joy is my greatest intent,” Richard smiled down at her, the glow of his eyes a sight she hoped she might often see.
“Ah, my dear,” Mr. Johnson spoke, the soft sound of footfalls drawing nearer causing Mary to turn her head, his wife having seen to their guests. “I have told these two of all we know, and though unnecessary in my opinion, apologies and forgiveness have been given. It shall be a sorry thing to see them go in the morning.”
“Apologies?” Mrs. Johnson frowned. “After all ye have endured, protecting Mary in any way possible was best–even if I would box my sons’ ears if they lied, I think this is to be the exception… And considering he has been sleeping on the floor this whole while, I think recompense has already come.” Smiling she set her hands on her hips, “Oh, neither of ye look surprised now; half the time ye left the bedding on the floor. A genius it does not take.”
“You never told me,” her husband pouted, the playful laugh which followed spoiling the effect.
“I knew; that was enough. Now then,” Mrs. Johnson said as she turned to Mary and Richard, “as my husband says, we shall miss ye both, though that ye can return home and find safety I am content. Tomorrow morning I shall make a fine feast to send ye off and some food for the road, and the pair of ye will duly ignore my tears as ye leave. Are we agreed?”
“Agreed,” Mary laughed as she hugged Mrs. Johnson, her own eyes growing watery. “Though I will help you, just as has been our custom.”
“As has been our custom,” Mrs. Johnson echoed, the pair parting with bleary eyes before saying goodnight; the day to come long and sad.
Chapter 17
Miss Elizabeth Bennet in Hertfordshire
Walking arm in arm with her friend Charlotte, Elizabeth sought to ignore the unrelenting whispers and stares she received as they made their way through Meryton, the unkindness an all too familiar thing whenever she ventured into society.
