“Ouch!”
He strode toward the voice and found a young woman standing near the path. At first, he thought she must be his hostess, but then he noticed the spectacles. A red blotch was already forming on her cheek. He watched as she carefully removed her glasses and examined them.
“Well, sir,” she said, “you did not damage my spectacles. I suppose I should be grateful for that, but strangely, I am not. I almost wish you had broken them, that I might have greater cause to vent my anger at you.”
He stood silent as she folded the spectacles, tucked them neatly into a velvet pouch, and secured them in her reticule. Then she turned to leave.
“I imagine you are a sister of Mrs. Darcy,” he said.
Mary turned to face him. “And I suppose you are Mr. Lewis, Mr. Darcy’s longtime friend.”
She turned away and began walking. He called out to her. “You are forgetting your book.” He waited until she had retrieved it, then followed a few paces behind.
“I imagine they invited me to keep the numbers equal. So then, am I to be your partner at the dinner table and on walks?”
She raised her brows and replied quietly, “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
This time, she did not look back, and he made no move to follow. He stood watching her as she moved down the path, her figure graceful and erect. She was a beautiful woman, much like her sister. Perhaps they were twins; they appeared of an age and bore a striking resemblance.
He lingered a moment longer. The woman’s hair was wavy, whereas Mrs. Darcy’s curls were tighter, but otherwise they were very much alike. Then he thought of the book she had carried. His brows rose. Could it have beenThe Odyssey? No, surely not. He had never met a woman who cared for such heavy reading, though, he reflected wryly, his own sister did spend hours over agricultural management and soil enrichment. Perhaps other women in the world enjoyed serious study as well.
He resumed his walk along the same path she had taken. His stride was long, and before much time had elapsed, he turned a bend and saw her again in the distance. She had reached thekitchen gardens. He stood watching as she bent to break a sprig of rosemary from a bush, crushed the leaves between her fingers, and breathed deeply of their scent. Her expression softened, and he thought she took great pleasure from the fragrance. When she disappeared through the kitchen door, he turned back and continued his walk.
That evening, when he joined the others in the drawing room awaiting dinner, he saw her sitting quietly with her sister and his own. She did not speak but listened while the other two women conversed. Bingley and Miss Bennet were seated on a sofa, their heads bent together in earnest conversation. Across the room, Richard stood near the corner, his gaze fixed upon Bella.
James’s jaw tightened. He scowled. Under no circumstances would he give his sister to that reprobate.
He was unable to pursue the thought further, for at that moment they were called in to dinner.
Earlier that evening, Mary had entered through the kitchens and hurried up the stairs to her sister’s chamber. She knocked impatiently. Ellis opened the door.
“Miss Mary, come in.”
Mary rushed to the dressing table where Elizabeth sat with half her hair still hanging down her back.
“Lizzy, he is a cad. A coxcomb. I am so disappointed. He is nothing more than a saucebox!”
Elizabeth turned, startled. “Mary, my dear, you must watch your tongue. Who has been impertinent? Of whom do you speak?”
“Mr. Lewis, the man we took such pains to prepare for!”
“I did not know you had been introduced.”
“We were not,” Mary exclaimed, “but he asked me just now in the garden if he had been invited merely to keep the numbers of men and women equal, and whether I was to be his partner at the dinner table and on walks!”
Her distress flared into anger, then embarrassment. She covered her eyes. “Lizzy, I was rude. I was so very rude. I do not know how I came to be so ill-mannered toward a gentleman I barely met.”
Her fingers brushed the spot where the stone had struck. “Ouch. He hurt me.”
“What is it, Mary?He hurt you?”
“I was hit by a small stone that flew over the hedge. I think Mr. Lewis threw it without checking to see if anyone was near, and it struck me. I feared my spectacles were broken.”
Both Elizabeth and Ellis moved near enough to inspect the mark. Ellis said, “The skin is not broken, but there will be a small bruise. Miss Mary, place a wet handkerchief on it to keep it from darkening further. Press it lightly to stop the bleeding beneath the skin.”
Elizabeth handed her a handkerchief, and Mary dipped it into the water jug before settling into Elizabeth’s reading chair. She leaned her head back against the cushions, pressing the cold, damp cloth to her temple.
After fifteen minutes, she rose. “I am going to my room to begin dressing. The encounter with Mr. Lewis has left me flummoxed. Something in that man’s manner set my nerves on edge, and he managed to bring out the very worst in me, something even Mamma was never able to do.”
