“No. Tomorrow, first thing, I shall take the barouche and catch the Town Coach so that I may visit him in person as soon as possible. But should Lady Catherine ask where I am, you must be circumspect.”
“Of course, my dear. You may depend on me. I shall go pack your bag.”
She kissed him lightly on the cheek and left the room.
***
Mrs. Bennet was in a state of happy anticipation for the day. For once, she had convinced Lydia to hire a day nurse (of course, it was she who paid for the girl) so they could spend time in Trent without the twins. She eagerly anticipated the time alone with her youngest daughter and envisioned a lovely walk around the commerce thoroughfare, shopping, and a fine lunch.
She checked her reflection in the mirror a final time, satisfied at what she saw. The great beauty of her youth was long gone, she had to acknowledge, but she had kept her figure fairly well—even after five girls—and looked quite handsome for her forty-three years, she thought. She adjusted her new bonnet a final time.
“Mama, are you ready? The carriage is here!” Lydia yelled from downstairs.
“Coming!” Mrs. Bennet called and hurried from her room.
“Boys! Where are you?” Lydia continued. “Come meet Miss Drayson and then say goodbye to Mama and Grandmama.”
Just as Mrs. Bennet reached the top of the staircase, Edward and Gerald bolted out of the nursery, racing each other to the stairs. Heedless of their grandmother’s location, they ran too closely to her as they rushed down, knocking her off balance. Unable to right herself, Mrs. Bennet lurched away from the only source of stability—the railing—and with a small shriek, tumbled down the staircase to the bottom where she lay still, her neck at a horrible, unnatural angle.
Chapter 3
“A Mr. Yarby is here, sir,” Mrs. Hill said after receiving admittance to Mr. Bennet’s study.
“Ah, very good. Please show him into the drawing room, Hill. I shall join him directly.”
The housekeeper nodded but did not depart. “There is a second person, sir—a lady who arrived with Mr. Yarby.”
Mr. Bennet raised an eyebrow. A lady? As far as he understood, Mr. Yarby was unmarried. He shrugged. “Very well then. Show them both in, please, and bring tea.”
After Mrs. Hill departed, the master took a minute to collect himself, then taking the pages of Mr. Yarby’s sermons to discuss with the applicant, went to greet his guests. He entered to find Mr. Yarby standing by the fireplace while the lady accompanying him perched gingerly on the settee nearby. The two turned expectant faces to him as he entered.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Yarby,” Mr. Bennet said with a slight bow of the head. “I do appreciate your coming all this way. Very pleased to meet you.”
Mr. Yarby bowed. “It is I who am pleased and honored by your invitation, Mr. Bennet.” He turned to the woman who rose from the settee. “Sir, may I present my sister, Mrs. Withers? She was widowed two years ago and now lives with me.”
Mr. Bennet turned his attention to the woman. Well groomed and handsome, if a bit on the plain side—certainly no one would call her a great beauty—she was dressed in a muslin day dress of light blue with a rust-colored spencer jacket that complemented both her complexion and thick, auburn hair styled simply under a modest, pale-blue bonnet. She curtseyed.
“Welcome to Longbourn, Mrs. Withers,” he said with a bow.
“Forgive me for arriving unannounced, sir,” she said in a warm, well-modulated voice. “It is unpardonable, I know, but I have never been to this part of the country before. Any new place is always a welcome diversion to me, so I begged Robert to allow me to join him. Do not fear, however, that I shall interfere or insert myself into your business with my brother. I thought to avail myself of a walk around your property while you two speak if that would be acceptable.” She smiled, and Mr. Bennet noted how that simple act lifted her from plain to moderately attractive. He put her age at perhaps early or mid-thirties. Was she an older sister?
“No imposition at all, I assure you.” At that moment, Mr. Bennet heard footsteps behind him and glanced over his shoulder to see his daughter Mary walking past, holding some music. Oh Lord, was she about to murder another piece on the piano? That would never do. He called to her, and she stopped and entered the room.
“Yes, Papa?” Although Mary addressed her father, her eyes were firmly fixed on the unknown gentleman. Mr. Bennet’s eyes turned from his daughter to Mr. Yarby, who was now standing. Noting the direction of Mary’s gaze, he cleared his throat to return her attention to him. Her face colored as she lowered her eyes. “Did you need something, Papa?” she stammered.
“I wish to introduce you to our guests. Mr. Yarby, Mrs. Withers, this is Mary, the third of my five daughters. Mary, Mr. Yarby has come to interview for the vacant rector position. His sister, Mrs. Withers, has joined him. Would you be so kind as to take her for a tour of our park while he and I conduct our business?”
Mary curtseyed to the couple. “Very pleased to meet you both. I am happy to escort her, Papa. If you will come with me, Mrs. Withers, I shall get my jacket.”
The two ladies began to depart as Mrs. Hill entered the room with a tray of tea and cakes. Mr. Bennet offered some refreshment to Mrs. Withers, but she said that, after the long ride, she would much prefer a walk. As she and Mary exited the library, Mrs. Hill poured for both men, and at last, the gentlemen could discuss their business.
***
Mary and Mrs. Withers walked in silence for a time. Mary did not wish to be rude, but her mind was still on the handsome rector she had just met—wavy, dark-brown hair with dark eyes to match. And when he smiled, Mary was sure she had seen two dimples. She could only hope he would get the job. Oh, to gaze upon such a face in the pulpit every week! But she broke away from her daydreaming and realized she must make some effort at conversation with her walking companion.
“How long has your brother been with the church, Mrs. Withers?” she asked tentatively. Was it proper to ask such a thing? She did not wish to appear rude or overly inquisitive. But Mary saw no sign that her guest noticed her nervousness as they continued along the garden path.
“He has been the curate at a parish in Dorset for less than two years, Miss Bennet, which is why we were quite frankly surprised to receive your father’s letter inviting him to a personal interview. We assumed Mr. Bennet would seek out someone with far more experience.”
