Page 28 of The Duke of Derby (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Jane and Richard decided that the best thing for the duchess, and for them, would be to share a wedding date with Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.

That way, though Jane’s mother still insisted on hosting a separate engagement dinner for the happy couple, she would not have to prepare two different wedding breakfasts.

Once again, Lady Matlock was called on to assist the duchess in preparing a special dinner, and once again, the house was in temporary uproar as preparations proceeded.

Mary paid it all little attention other than to be happy for both her sisters. She had noticed how overwhelmed Jane was at the idea of having her own title and her own estate, but now that she had found a good man to share it with, Jane was much calmer.

Though she helped her mother when she was asked to do something specific, Mary’s attention was mostly fixed on her books and her occasional visits from Lord Appleby.

After his first visit, he waited a week before calling again. Then she saw him once more at Elizabeth’s engagement dinner, where they spent much of the evening talking with each other. Since then, he had called three or four times a week.

Mary enjoyed their conversations enormously. Since he had always accepted her as she was despite the fact that their friendship had begun with her embarrassing herself completely, she somehow always felt easy about being herself and saying whatever was on her mind when she was in his company.

It didn’t take long for his attention to raise questions in her mind as to his intentions, but many long years of experience would not allow her to believe that he had any romantic notions.

Their conversations were never peppered with flirting of any kind and instead were full of more esoteric thoughts.

That isn’t to say that Mary felt nothing for the gentleman. He was handsome and kind, and Mary would have been inhuman to not be attracted to the one man in the world who had treated her as though she mattered.

Mary was not inhuman, despite her efforts to the contrary. As the weeks passed by, she felt her attraction to Mr. Appleby grow. By the time of Jane’s engagement dinner, which was held in the middle of November, Mary’s attraction to Lord Appleby had grown to the point of pain.

She thoroughly enjoyed his company and his conversation, but she found it increasingly difficult to not wish that he saw her as something more than a talking library, perhaps something a bit more desirable than plain, awkward Mary could ever be.

Just as at Elizabeth’s engagement dinner, Mary and Lord Appleby were placed next to each other at Jane’s dinner. Mary assumed that Mama thought she was doing Mary a favor, but Mary began to wonder if Lord Appleby felt displeased with his placement.

Throughout dinner, he was a little more distant, and their conversation was a little more awkward than it had previously been. They still conversed, but unlike before, Lord Appleby also took time to converse with his dinner partner on his other side as well.

Mary knew she shouldn’t be disappointed. He was being polite. It was she who was being unreasonable by expecting him to ignore everyone but her.

After dinner, Mary did her best to mingle with the guests, not because she wished to but because it was the best way she knew to avoid speaking with Lord Appleby any further. If she was constantly in conversation with others, he could find no way to interrupt.

She wasn’t entirely successful. He still tried to talk to her towards the end of the evening. It seemed as though he wished to tell her something, but he kept changing his mind. This made their conversation stilted and confusing.

By the end of the night Mary had such a bad headache that she was queasy with the pain. But the pain in her heart was even worse. She resolved to not see him the next time he called.

Her resolve was tested the very next day, when the butler announced that he was requesting to see her, and she failed in her resolution. Somehow, though she knew it would be painful, Mary could not turn him away.

When he entered the room, he looked absolutely terrified, and Mary immediately wondered if something was wrong. He barely spared a glance at her mother and sisters before making his way to her side.

He immediately said, “Lady Mary, I wonder if we might sit a little apart from your family. There is a rather delicate subject I wish to discuss today.”

Mary was entirely alarmed at this point, but she did her best to not let such feelings show. She led him over to a sofa that was against the far wall. It was almost never used, because it was far from both the fireplace and the window.

They sat next to each other, each turned slightly toward the other, so they could still speak face to face.

“Lady Mary, we have talked a great deal about the nature of morality and truth,” he said. “We’ve discussed the purpose of government as well as many other subjects of a weighty, philosophical nature. What I was hoping to learn today, and possibly discuss with you, is what you think love is.”

Mary felt her eyes widen, and it took her a few seconds to formulate an answer. She wished, for one brief moment, that he was telling her he loved her, but he was not. He was asking an objective, philosophical question.

At first, she could not understand why he would ask her such a thing. The only reason she could come up with was that he must have found a lady he liked, and he was attempting to understand his own feelings about her.

A pang of disappointment swept through her. If he married someone else, she would likely never see him again except in the most neutral settings, for no lady would wish for her husband to be close friends with another lady.

She brushed her thoughts aside and decided to face the present rather than think about her fears for the future.

“The first thing that comes to mind is how the word love is used in the Bible,” she said.

“We are told to love our neighbors as ourselves and to love each other as Jesus loved us. This leads me to believe that love is a selfless sort of thing, where one puts the needs of another above, or at least equal, with our own needs. That includes both recognizing and filling those needs. By taking care of each other in this way, society and families can be made stronger.”

“That makes sense,” he said. “It certainly explains why the commandment to love each other is so central to religion. What I don’t understand is why the same word is used to describe romantic love. What is the commonality between the two? What is the difference?”

Mary gave him a sad smile. “I am afraid that I am the last person on earth who could explain anything about romantic love,” she said. “You might be better off consulting one of your friends.”

“Try, Mary,” he said. “Just think about it for a bit.”

For a moment Mary couldn’t breathe. Lord Appleby had called her by her name, and she was almost certain he hadn’t even realized he had done so. What did that mean?

Once Mary could breathe evenly again, she said, “Well, in books romantic love is often characterized first by someone thinking someone else is handsome or beautiful, but that can’t be all there is to it or else only the most beautiful people would ever have love, and I know that isn’t the case.”

She thought for a bit more, and he said nothing as she did so. She thought about her sisters, her parents, her aunts and uncles, and her neighbors.

“There seems to be different types of love, or perhaps different stages,” she said, hesitantly at first. As she began to analyze what she knew, though, her own insecurities and her feelings for Lord Appleby faded into the background, and she was able to speak her thoughts as they came to her, the way she usually did with him.

“The love I see that my sisters have for their betrotheds is mostly attraction with an underlying respect and friendly affection.

It is closer to what one sees in romance novels, though a bit more sensible.

“The love I’ve seen in some of my married relatives is more mature. While there is still clearly attraction, it is more complete. It is something similar to what the Bible tells us is ideal in that they love each other as much as themselves, but it is deeper and more personal.”

Her thoughts went to her parents. They had not always got along particularly well, but Mary was convinced that, despite it all they still loved each other on some level.

“Then I suppose there is a different kind of love that is simply built on shared experiences and connection, something like what one sees in older married couples. Though they might bicker, you can be certain that they would suffer if one of them dies.”

She thought about what each of those kinds of love, or stages of love, had in common with each other.

“I suppose the word, love, is somewhat of a synonym for connection. The initial stages of attraction are like a kind of wish to be connected to someone. Then as a couple lives together and works together that connection deepens as they grow closer to a more perfect form of love, that of being one heart and one mind.”

As she thought and spoke, she was looking at her hands in her lap. She had almost forgotten that she was speaking to Lord Appleby. Now that she was done, however, the realization of what she had said made her cheeks flame with embarrassment.

She looked up at him. His face was suffused with a gentle smile, and warmth filled his gaze. “That was beautiful,” he said.

Mary wished most fervently that such warmth and happiness was for her, but she could only assume that he was thinking of another lady. She stuffed down any selfish desires and said, “I hope it was helpful to you.”

“Very much so,” he said. “Thank you.”

After a few false starts on other subjects, they settled on talking of nature and why it seems to have such a soothing effect on people. Eventually, Lord Appleby took his leave, and Mary went up to her room.

She sat on her bed, wishing she could somehow relieve her feelings by crying, but they were too deep, too raw, and too unformed for tears to come.

Mary loved Lord Appleby. He was the only man she could imagine spending the rest of her life with. She longed for him to return her love, but it was a hopeless, fruitless sort of longing that caused far more pain than happiness.

She mulled over her own feelings and her own despair for quite some time. Eventually, however, she managed to pull herself far enough out of the doldrums to be able to tolerate her family with equanimity.

~~~~~

Lord Appleby returned the following day, much to Mary’s surprise. Even more to her surprise was the fact that he requested to speak with her alone.

Her mother gave her a knowing, encouraging little smile, but Mary felt her stomach sink.

There was no way Lord Appleby would be proposing, and her mother was certain to be disappointed.

He must be here to consult with her about some other lady he had fallen in love with, a continuation of their conversation from yesterday.

She led him to the blue salon, where they were far enough away from the busyness of the rest of the house that she was certain they would not be overheard, even by servants.

Once they were both in the room, she turned to him and said, “How can I help you, Lord Appleby?”

“Mary, your description of love yesterday sent me into a great deal of deep contemplation, and I have thought of nothing else for the last twenty-four hours. If the beginning of love is fundamentally a desire for connection, and the ideal end goal of love is complete unity, then I must be very much in love with you.”

Mary had steeled herself to hear him speak of someone else. The beginning of his little speech only strengthened that belief. As such, his conclusion caught her completely off-guard.

“Y-you…you love me?” she managed to ask.

He smiled, and there was even more warmth in his expression than there had been yesterday.

“Yes, I do,” he said. “It has grown steadily since the day we met, though it took me until only a few days ago to recognize how I felt. Even then, despite knowing that I desperately longed to kiss you senseless and despite feeling like my time spent in your presence was always when I felt most alive, I was not certain it was love. Not until you explained it to me.”

“But…I don’t know anything about love or romance or anything like that,” she said.

“I think you know more about it than most ladies who have actually experienced it,” he said. “Tell me, Mary. Do you love me in return?” The warmth in his gaze was dimmed slightly as uncertainty made a brief appearance there.

“I do,” she said firmly. “Of course, I do. How could I not? You are the only man to ever see me as a woman. Do you know…can you comprehend…what that means to someone like me?”

Tears gathered in her eyes and one single drop began to make its way down her cheek. “I think I do,” he said gently. He placed his hand on the side of her face and wiped the tear away with his thumb.

“Is this real?” said Mary. “This can’t be real, can it? I must be dreaming.”

Then Lord Appleby did something that couldn’t possibly have been a dream. He kissed her. And the experience was very, very real.

When they separated, he pulled both her hands into his and said, “Lady Mary Bennet, will you bestow the greatest happiness a man can know upon me by agreeing to be my wife?”

So many of the walls Mary had built up around her heart crumbled at once that Mary could not stop or even stifle the sob that burst out of her as more tears began to fall. Even so, she smiled more brightly than she ever imagined she could. “Yes,” she said. “Absolutely, yes.”

Lord Appleby gathered her in his arms and held her as she sobbed into his shoulder.