Chapter 14

Mrs. Gardiner came to spend the day with her nieces. For both she and her husband were to dine at the Darcys house that evening, and having a day with the young ladies, all to herself, was not an opportunity to be wasted. St. James' Park was proposed again as an outing. Mrs. Annesley had the whole rest of the day free from her charge, while Mrs. Gardiner accompanied Lizzy, Mary, and Miss Darcy on a leisurely ride. This satisfied multiple concerns for several people, including Mr. Darcy, who was almost so agitated that he initially insisted on joining them. Lizzy kindly but firmly refused the assistance. She was in good hands with her aunt. She must walk, but with the open carriage, there was no risk of overexertion. That pacified him for the time. Besides that, Mary had been feeling poorly and was slowly recovering from being indisposed the last few days. Whatever the body's inclination otherwise, the exercise forced both sisters to take exercise but at a much reduced pace.

At one point, they did alight from the barouche with the aid of the footman. Nearby a shaded lane, thick with trees, they were able to keep each to their own pace. Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Darcy ended up pairing off and walking ahead, while Lizzy and Mary locked arms at much slower pace. Who was stronger and who was weaker, who was aiding the other, was impossible to know. Lizzy breathed the trees and late morning deeply, though her breathing was a bit forceful for a leisurely stroll. Mary, too, tried to focus on shorter strides so as not to aggravate the pain in her right. Once or twice, she paused and grasped her sister's hand with a grip that quivered with panic, for a few seconds before loosening.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to get back in the carriage, Mary? We can sit if you're tired."

"I'm well enough, sister."

"Have you been able to sleep these last few nights?"

"A little."

Lizzy shook her head. "Not enough. Of course, I imagine it's hard enough to sleep with the miseries. I know you're used to cramps, but how are you doing, since the news?"

"If I'm careful about my thoughts, I can almost forget sometimes," Mary assured. "I don't doubt Dr. Reis. It would be delusion to pretend it's not true. Did you already inform Aunt Gardiner?"

"Yes. I was able to talk privately with her before you came down."

"I'm so grateful, up until now, that they were here. Our aunt was so kind taking me to see Dr. Reis. It would've been an insult to keep this from her. She worries so. I hope you understand, and she understands, my not wanting to tell her directly."

"It's to be expected in circumstances… Mary, I've also been wondering: how will this change things with Lady Herncastle and the Starlight society?"

"There's no need to change anything, Lizzy. As the weeks go by, everything seems to be falling into place perfectly. Though my health may be fragile right now, my music has met with success I didn't dare dream of before. I've come so far! I'm not going to let my condition change anything. Like you! You're about to have your first baby, but that's not stopping you from being alive, taking the air, rob you from things you love."

"It's an adjustment, but it's hardly the same, Mary. Having a baby is a normal stress on the body. This… growth, whatever it is, it's not normal. So you shouldn't be too careless."

"At least, it does not hurt me constantly. I feel that because of my recent cycle, it was a little more miserable, but once it's fully passed, walking in the park or being at parties will not be like walking up a mountain. And take comfort, Lizzy, that Dr. Reis says it's more common than not, that these symptoms and the problem will resolve itself in a few weeks. Until he tells me otherwise, I've decided, I will assume that."

"So you will see him again in another week?"

"Yes."

"And your present engagements?"

"I feel that, by tomorrow, I may resume paying calls, accepting invitations… Why, whatever is so funny, Lizzy?"

"Can this really be Mary, my sister? Paying calls, accepting invitations out into society. These are the sort of social obligations that you so detested in past years."

"Well, it's not the same as Meryton—Oh dear, that sounded bad! No. What I mean is, it's very different here in London than in Hertfordshire. With smaller society comes less variety, even smaller-minded mentalities. It's… so much more free here. I like it here; though I must confess, some time ago, I'd have thought that as you do. I should've thought someone who so desired the life of town, the diversions, the luxuries, the attractions of this life would've been moral corruption. That is often the opinion of men such as Fordyce and Dr. Johnson."

"Well, that is a definite change. A positive change. Morality, if you think about it, is a the result of halves: one half, guidance, and the other half, good choices. Any country town, any metropolis, any civilization in the world can offer you both paths. It's up to you, up to every one of us, to define our values and our character by the choices we make."

"I think that a reasonable view of the matter."

"But Mary, please take this seriously. You'll always have your music, for all your life, but there are plenty of men and women who do not have good health. It would be a moral wrong to take that for granted, to neglect those concerns for the bettering of your musical career."

By then, both of them were a little breathless, too much conversation while walking. Each one was thinking of waving to the coachman at a distance for the carriage. Other carriages began to pass them by, nodding or greeting them on the way. Besides the trees, a little stream on the right side of the lane also drew attention, not just from the human perspective but prattling ducks and honking geese. Both sisters stood watching a mother duck with chicks, leading them through the gray murkiness, like a teacher with her pupils; far more amusing than any lady or gentleman in the lane. A small group of horse hooves were clopping nearby, from off on the left side of the lane. Their backs were turned when the call of a good morning to Miss Bennet utterly surprised them.

"Mr. Cummings?"

He, at once, dismounted from his horse, dismissing himself from the company of other friends. Of course, he was no different from his usual good manners from the previous parties, in all but one respect—now, he smiled. It was a fortunate coincidence and a pleasure that he had agreed to accompany his friends to St. James'. Mary immediately, with some contained delight, introduced her sister, Mrs. Darcy. On seeing their exhaustion from standing, Mr. Cummings recognized the situation and raised his arm for the coachman. It was hoped that nothing was amiss, and Mrs. Darcy was not unwell. In short time, Mrs. Gardiner and Georgiana had returned to be of assistance. All the ladies were returned to the barouche at once. However, unwilling to let an opportunity go by, Mr. Cummings mounted and asked whether walking along with them were an intrusion.

"No indeed, Mr. Cummings," assured Lizzy. "Although, if you do tire of our conversation, we'd certainly not blame you."

"Oh, I highly doubt that, madam. For you both appeared to me, too much diverted to need anyone else's company."

"Now, that is not true," replied Mary. "Such subjects as ours ought to exclude no one."

"What subjects? Pray tell!"

Mary drew a deep breath. She felt Lizzy's and Mrs. Gardiner's eyes keenly, as well as their bemused expressions. "Really, nothing, sir," Mary staggered. "We were looking at the ducks on the water there. There are a good number of chicks it seems…"

"Are ducks one of your inspirations?"

"What do you mean?"

"For your music, I mean."

"Oh! I think some of them are pretty looking at, but… no, I can't say so." Mary was comfortably seated, back against the barouche box alongside Georgiana. At least, the gentleman was separated by a distance from carriage and his own horse, but neither the distance, nor the mild, fresh air could dispel the warmth from her cheek.

"In my own opinion, if ducks inspired music, it would be a whole other instrument in the orchestra," he declared.

Mary certainly reacted to such comment and many more the like as they drove along. Mrs. Gardiner and Lizzy were happy, though not used to it, the animation with which Mary conversed with this new acquaintance. It did not matter whether the topic of conversation were musical theory or baby ducks, whether it were so important as business and foreign affairs or some silly display in a shop window. He was from London, and raised in London, a good deal of his life; yet, society had not made him vain and empty-headed as it tended to do to many young men. Intellect burned brightly in his speech and his countenance; if that were lacking, Mary would've seized upon any excuse to be rid of their voluntary companion. Though shy at first, gradually, liveliness had surpassed her aunt, her sister, and Georgiana. The mild to moderate pain of earlier had eased, seemingly forgotten.

When it came time to make their way home, he insisted on escorting them. Lizzy did not hesitate to take the offer, all too keen to have the young man in their drawing room, in the quiet of indoor settings, and situate Mary in a more ideal way for conversation. When an invitation to tea was offered, Mary, by her blush, did not mistake her sister's meaning. Please, come in, let us observe you, and please continue to talk and visit: for we must make out your character. That scheme was unfortunately thwarted by Miss Sothern, who had just arrived upon their return, and was already waiting for Mary by the piano. They had work to do!

"Can it not wait a day or two?" suggested Lizzy. "We don't often have our aunt the whole day, and you ought to rest awhile." Discreet words to suggest that Mary should remember her earlier weakness.

"Nonsense. I'm well enough, and I do not mean to dismiss myself from the company. Pray forgive me, Aunt. I don't mean to be rude at all. But you see, Miss Sothern and I have a prior engagement. We shall not be long."

"Then, I suppose the rest of us will convene in the solarium. I hope you don't mind, Mr. Cummings?"

"No indeed, madam. But before I join you all, may I have a word with Miss Bennet? I have some news for her from my father."

This hasty exchange was arranged in the foyer, and Mr. Cummings was led to the drawing room, where Miss Sothern sat happily waiting.

"Do you wish me to disclose this privately or are you comfortable?" he asked.

"Not to worry. Rietta may hear your news. What does your father have to say?"

"Miss Bennet, he'd like to request an interview with you tomorrow." Both women gasped. "Yes. He's desirous to make a contract."

"How wonderful!"

"Oh, Mary! Didn't I tell you!" cried Rietta. "Though I'm not surprised, you being a sensation in no time at all."

"Would you like to accompany me, Rietta?"

"I'd be delighted!"

"What time, Mr. Cummings?"

"Eleven o'clock tomorrow morning."

"Eleven… Oh no," Mary paused. "Oh dear, I promised to go with Georgiana to call on some old friends of hers. Mr. Cummings, might your father be available at a later time tomorrow?"

"I'm afraid not. He's leaving for the country on a brief visit. He would like to arrange this before he goes; his view was to get the contract with you, then start on printing and distribution with the major book markets in town. You'll start seeing your sonata in print and on the shelves, on window displays within two weeks or more."

"Two weeks!"

"I'm sure Miss Darcy will understand, Mary," pleaded Miss Sothern.

"I'm sure she will, but I just don't like to break engagements on such short notice."

"If you would like, we'd be glad to have Miss Darcy along," assured Mr. Cummings. "Just so that no one is slighted. She may join us, and perhaps, the four of us may celebrate and dine out tomorrow?"

"What do you say, Mary? Miss Darcy will be so pleased. She's been your biggest advocate. She would not wish you to delay this longer than necessary. Oh, please?"

"Well… I suppose I could ask."

"Excellent! I'll confirm with my father this evening… But in the meantime, I'll leave you ladies to your business, and I'll just be joining the rest of the family. I hope to see you shortly."

For as much as Mary dreaded to ask such a favour, dreaded the disappointment of cancelling her appointment with Georgiana, it seemed removed from thought. Mr. Cummings, as she would learn later, took the liberty of extending the invitation himself and put the concern out of Mary's primary concerns. After all, these were friends that Georgiana had not known particularly well, with the distance and absence of a few years. The obligation to see them, someone not even yet an acquaintance, was felt less and less. Georgiana would not mind and did not mind, apparently. And Mr. Cummings, when longing to see them shortly, spoke not to them—but to her. He looked at her, and he hoped that the time in between now and then was short.

On the following day, their plans were successfully carried to the office of Grandison Publishing. Mary was privileged to meet with Sir John Cummings once again, and after some short, official discussion, committed her approval to paper. Within a fortnight, he assured, Ignotus would be unknown no more. Now, every worthy and aspiring musician across London, and across the country soon enough, would be purchasing her composition!

Congratulations for Mary! Her deal is sealed.

I'm afraid Mary is not the only one facing a dilemma though. My updates will probably slow down for a few weeks. Last few days, I've been dealing with a bad flare of carpal tunnel. So typing is extremely difficult, and a lot of natural movement with my left wrist is nearly impossible. So if you're wondering why, be assured that I've not forgotten. This story will keep going until it's finished. Kills me because I'm getting to more exciting sections, and trying to start my new job remotely as well as keep going in my current job. I need my hands.

Can't say this chapter was an exciting one. I feel like I'd call it filler, but was also struggling with a little writer's block at the time.