cautious and hold firm to her purpose.
Mary could not allow her mind to be swayed by anything, not her own emotions and certainly not the pert opinions of the Hardcastles. She would not abandon the moral precepts she had learned. She would not disappoint her parents.
And she would certainly not think upon Mr. Hardcastle again!
“Mary!” Mrs. Bennet called again.
Startled from her ruminations, Mary dropped her hand and dared a peek around the clock.
“Oh! Where has that girl gotten to?” Mrs. Bennet demanded as she marched in the opposite direction.
Mary stepped from behind the clock and sneaked back into the drawing room. Unfortunately, her reentry did not go unnoticed.
Mrs. Philips spotted her immediately, approached, and then gave her a heavy nudge in the direction of the pianoforte. “I believe it is time for some music. Your mother has been in search of you.”
“I am sorry, Aunt. I required only a moment to gather myself. I am ready now.”
Those last words were spoken to convince herself, but they fell flat.
Still, the purpose of the evening was to show herself to her advantage and thereby woo Mr. Randall. She must do her best to display her accomplishments and forget what she had heard in the hallway.
She looked quickly to her father who stood nearby.
He nodded and gave her an understanding smile. “This is your night, my dear.”
As if in a dream—or perhaps a nightmare—Mary floated to the pianoforte.
Usually, she exploited every opportunity to perform, but now, she wanted the formality over so she could think about what she had heard.
Mary felt her own artifice keenly as she settled on the stool, adjusted her wrinkled skirt, and opened the music she had chosen for the evening: one of her favorite concertos.
Settling her fingers on the appropriate keys, she became aware of every movement, cough, and whisper in the room.
Without a glance at the music, Mary began to play, but her heart was not in it.
Twelve
A gentleman in pursuit of a lady with a large dowry does not hesitate.
Mary discovered this truth the morning after the Philipses’ dinner party. She had passed an ill night of little sleep. She got out of bed long after the sun rose, feeling tired and cross, and joined her parents for a late breakfast.
Mary sat at the table with her hands wrapped around her teacup. The warm china heated her fingers, and the strong tea warmed her from the inside. But it was not enough to unknot her stomach or thaw the coldness around her heart.
Logic told Mary that she had no reason for such a glum countenance, but her heart refused to listen.
A knock sounded at the door, and Mary barely lifted her head when Hill entered bearing a letter for Mr. Bennet.
“This came for you, sir,” she said.
Mrs. Bennet squealed, a sound that made Mary’s head pound harder, and snatched the paper before her father could reach for it. Mary put down her teacup and rubbed her temples.
“You see, Mary! What did I tell you? An offer has arrived,” she cried, waving it about for all to see.
Mr. Bennet rose from the table, a piece of toast in his hand, and beat a hasty retreat.
His wife turned to call after him. “Mr. Bennet, do not forsake us! This letter is addressed to you, my dear. We require your opinion on this matter.”
Mr. Bennet scarcely paused in his flight. “I do not recall a time when my opinion was heeded, my dear. Simply alert me to Mary’s choice, and I shall give my consent.”
“An offer?” Mary asked, her stomach tightening again. “I do not believe myself prepared to receive an offer of marriage.”
Mary frowned at her own words. Spoken aloud, it almost sounded as if Miss Hardcastle had been right in her assessment the night before.
It sounded very much like she did not know her own mind.
But it was the truth. Mary did not know if she was ready for this offer.
Confused, she dropped her face into her hands.
“Pish!” Mrs. Bennet cried as she eagerly broke the seal and