Page 12

Mary’s first few days in London were spent visiting the ladies she had become close to the previous year and catching up on all their news.

In the process, word went around among her acquaintances that she was in town and where she was staying, so it didn’t take long for invitations to arrive with her mail.

Out of respect for the fact that she was in mourning, Mary only accepted those invitations that were from people she knew fairly well, and she did not accept any invitations to balls. Even with these restrictions, however, she found that she was engaged a couple times a week.

Additionally, she and Elizabeth made several trips to the theater and to the opera, enough so that most weeks they were home only half the time.

Mary’s mornings and afternoons were spent taking care of her business concerns and volunteering with her charities as well as keeping in touch with as many of her friends and acquaintances as possible. She also took Elizabeth shopping as often as possible.

Mary paid for several new dresses for her sister, including one delightful ball gown, even though Mary wasn’t even certain there would be an opportunity for her to wear it. Elizabeth insisted that Mary purchase a few new gowns for herself as well.

It did not take long before Mary encountered Mr. Worsley.

A week after she arrived in London, she was attending a dinner at Mrs. Turner’s home.

As soon as she walked into the drawing room where the guests were gathering, her eyes found him.

It was impossible not to notice such a handsome man, even among a growing crowd.

He seemed to have felt her gaze landing on him, for within moments, he turned his head to see her. A smile of genuine pleasure grew on his lips and brightened his eyes. Mary felt a thrill shoot down her spine. She thought she smiled in return, but her focus was more on him than on herself.

It took mere seconds for him to excuse himself from the conversation he was engaged in and cross the room to greet her. “Mrs. Allen, it truly is a pleasure to see you again. You are looking remarkably well.”

“As are you, Mr. Worsley,” said Mary. It took her several moments before she realized that she should introduce her sister. “Oh, yes. Mr. Worsley, this is my older sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Elizabeth, this is Mr. Worsley from Eastbourne.”

Mary felt unaccountably nervous introducing Elizabeth to Mr. Worsley.

Usually, once a gentleman had a chance to speak with her, they tended to prefer her company to Mary’s.

While Mary didn’t mind most of the time, she was rather reluctant to give up Mr. Worsley’s company.

He had been so pleasant to talk to last year, and she had quite been looking forward to continuing their conversations.

Mr. Worsley bowed to Elizabeth and said, “It is a pleasure to meet any sister of Mrs. Allen. Have you been in London long?” This last was asked to both of them.

“Only a week,” replied Mary.

“And is this your first time in London?” he asked Elizabeth. “I don’t recall seeing you here last year.”

Elizabeth smiled and said, “In fact, I was in London last year.” After a pause, she added, “Though I was staying with my uncle in another part of the city. This year it is my eldest sister’s turn to stay with him, but Mary was kind enough to bring me with her.

I believe I got the better end of that bargain. ”

Mary expected Mr. Worsley’s attention to stay on Elizabeth, but he turned back to Mary and said, “I am glad you have your sister for company. I was extremely saddened to hear of Mr. Allen’s death, but I admit I was also concerned for you.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Mary answered. “I believe I am rather fortunate to have Elizabeth’s company in particular. Her perpetual cheerfulness makes it rather difficult to feel lonely.”

Mary expected Elizabeth to look either smug or impish at her compliment, but instead she was peering speculatively between Mary and Mr. Worsley. Mary had no notion of what her sister was thinking.

“I believe I should mingle amongst the other guests,” said Elizabeth. “I see a few people I am acquainted with, so they can introduce me further if necessary. You catch up with your friend, Mary.”

Before Mary could respond or protest, Elizabeth drifted away to speak with Mrs. Turner.

Mary turned back to Mr. Worsley to apologize for her sister’s desertion, but his attention was entirely on her, not on Elizabeth’s retreating figure. “Tell me truly, Mrs. Allen. How have you been?”

Mary did not discuss her true feelings with anyone, not Mr. Allen, not her sisters, not her parents.

Yet, somehow, what came out of her mouth next was the unvarnished truth.

“Some days are more difficult than others,” she said.

“Elizabeth’s company has prevented me from slipping too far into the doldrums, however. ”

“Do you miss him that much?” he asked. There was a tiny note of surprise.

“Yes,” said Mary, “and no,” she added.

She wanted to leave it at that, but Mr. Worsley gave her such a look of curiosity that she could not help but explain.

“You see, Mr. Allen is the reason I am the woman I am now.

He insisted that I take charge and make decisions, even before our marriage, but when I barged ahead making decisions, invariably I made the wrong ones sometimes.

Even then, he did not berate me or insult me.

He taught me how to correct my mistakes and not make them again.

Even though we were only married for about a year, he changed my life in more ways than I can count.

“So, yes, I miss him. I miss his support, his knowledge, and his wisdom. But if you are asking whether I miss his company, I think I would say that I have passed through that pain and am on the other side.”

It felt almost sacrilegious to say that she no longer missed Mr. Allen’s company, but somehow, looking into Mr. Worsley’s face, she could not say anything but the truth.

“I don’t know whether to say that I am glad you are beyond the pain of missing his company or to sympathize with you about missing his wisdom,” said Mr. Worsley.

“Both would be accurate. My father is like that for me, teaching me how to manage land and real estate. When I was twenty-one, he gave me control of all his property around Eastbourne with the instructions to make it grow. Like Mr. Allen, my father pushed me to do more than I was comfortable with, but he has always been there to help me learn from my mistakes. I am only grateful that he is still alive.”

Mary appreciated his sympathy and understanding, but she did not wish to continue the topic. She asked, “Will you tell me about Eastbourne? I’ve heard you and others mention it, but I know nothing about it other than it is a growing seaside village.”

“It used to be just a fishing village, but my father began promoting it as a resort many years ago when the idea that sea air is healthful became more popular. It has such smooth beaches that it truly is a wonderful place to enjoy the sea air, and since it is facing the English Channel, it gets fewer severe storms coming in off the ocean.”

“You mentioned that you were trying to build it up,” said Mary. “What have you been doing?”

“Honestly, right now one of my biggest challenges is keeping pace with growing demand,” Mr. Worsley answered.

“I have been building houses and various types of lodgings, though I have to be careful to not outstrip demand by too much. Additionally, I have been investing in local shops, teahouses, and even a circulating library to ensure that there is enough entertainment beyond simply sea bathing and hunting for seashells and seaweed.”

“It sounds like a wonderful idea to build a circulating library,” said Mary. “I imagine it would be quite delightful to sit in the sun near the ocean and read.”

Mr. Worsley laughed. “I take it that you have never been to the seaside.” When Mary shook her head, he said, “The wind is often quite strong and can whip up out of nowhere. Though it is pleasant enough when one is walking, I would not take a book outside to read unless I knew for certain that it was an unusually calm day.”

“Perhaps I should take a vacation to the seashore, then,” mused Mary.

She had never considered going anywhere but Meryton and London, but now that she no longer had anyone telling her where to go or what to do, there were many options available that she had not considered.

“It sounds as though it would be a unique experience.”

“You would be welcome in Eastbourne at any time,” he said.

They chatted a bit more about the sea and Eastbourne for a few minutes until dinner was announced.

For the first time since returning to London, Mary felt quite content.

Up until then, all her experiences had been overshadowed by her memories of her husband.

Her friends had been his friends, and her society had been his society.

Somehow, Mr. Worsley didn’t fit that pattern, even though she had met him through her husband’s connections. Mr. Worsley felt like her friend, wholly and completely, instead of a friend she had simply inherited from her husband.

A couple of months passed easily and quickly for Mary and Elizabeth following the same pattern as the first few weeks.

Elizabeth was exactly as successful as Mary had anticipated.

Though she wasn’t the prettiest lady in London, she was far from plain, and her lively wit and cheerful demeanor tended to attract many people.

Elizabeth had developed a couple of favorite young men, but Mary could detect no hint of peculiar regard between them, so she did not concern herself overmuch.

It was well known that Elizabeth had just five thousand pounds by way of a dowry, which was mostly furnished by Mary.

Such an amount would be quite attractive in some circles, but it was not quite enough for the gentlemen Elizabeth had been associating with.

In the second week of March, Mary reached the half-way point of her year of mourning. One morning, Elizabeth asked, “Will you be changing your clothing to reflect your status to half mourning?”

“The idea hadn’t even occurred to me,” said Mary. “But now that it does, I don’t feel it necessary to go out and buy an entirely new wardrobe simply so that I can change the color I wear.”

Elizabeth seemed disappointed. “I suppose I had hoped that if you were in half-mourning, we could go to a ball once in a while, but I would not wish to impose upon you,” she said.

“You do like dancing,” said Mary contemplatively. “I suppose I could get one or two gray ballgowns, so that we can go to balls without me bringing down the lively atmosphere with my widow’s black, but I refuse to buy an entire wardrobe. Black will do very well for most situations.”

This immediately brought the smile back to Elizabeth’s face. “Thank you, Mary,” she said.

A week later, Mary and Elizabeth attended their first ball in London that year. Mary wore her new gray ballgown, though it was rather simplistic as far as ballgowns went.