Free The Pursuit of Mary Bennet by Pamela Mingle

purpose of our entertainment.”
    “A pity. Are you still set against attending the upcoming ball?”
    Oh, why had I ever made that silly statement? Although I felt as if the words were stuck in my throat, I finally choked out an answer. “I-I’ve decided to go. To the ball.”
    If I were he, I would have laughed. But he was absolutely serious when said, “Will you promise, then, to stand up with me? The first set? And one other?”
    “I will.”
    “I’m honored.”
    A smile—probably a very silly-looking one—burst out. The world seemed not such a bad place after all.

Chapter 8
    T he day at last arrived for our visit to Linden Hall, Mr. Walsh’s estate, and by now, I had developed a great curiosity about it. Jane, Mrs. Ashton, and I traveled in the chaise. The men rode, except for John Ashton, who insisted on driving Kitty in his curricle. His wife smiled tightly when he suggested it, and Jane made disapproving faces at Kitty, but to no avail. She didn’t see, or pretended not to.
    We turned off the road onto a lane, which soon broadened into an avenue lined with sycamores. The house came into view, set atop a gently rising slope, with a broad expanse of verdant lawn reaching toward a small lake. On one side of the house lay gardens crisscrossed with gravel paths, and on the other, a wood. The look of it surprised me. I had expected a more rustic setting.
    The house itself featured evenly spaced, linteled windows. A lady stood at the top of the stone steps, Henry’s mother, no doubt. Flanked by a smiling Mr. Walsh and Charles, who had already arrived, she waited to greet us. John Ashton and Kitty had pulled up just ahead of the chaise, and we all ascended the steps together.
    “Mama, allow me to present Mrs. Bingley,” Mr. Walsh said.
    “Welcome,” she said warmly to Jane. “I’m glad to have the privilege of meeting you at last, since I have known your husband for quite some time now.”
    “I’m honored to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” Jane said.
    “And this is Mr. and Mrs. Ashton.” Mrs. Ashton curtseyed prettily, while her husband gave a small bow. “And last, may I present Miss Mary Bennet and Miss Kitty Bennet?”
    Edging closer to me while I acknowledged the introduction first, Kitty clamped her foot on the hem of my dress as I curtseyed, applying a firm pressure and making it impossible for me to rise fully. Not wishing to embarrass her, I spoke softly. “You’re standing on my dress.”
    “How ridiculous, Mary. Of course I’m not standing on your dress.” She moved her foot aside and I sprang upright. Jane’s face wore an uneasy expression, and I exerted myself to make up for the lapse in manners.
    “How nice to meet you, ma’am,” I said. “Your home is lovely.”
    Not content with stepping on my hem, now Kitty shouldered me aside to greet our hostess. “I’ve told Mr. Walsh over and over again how keen I was to meet you, ma’am,” she said. “I declare, I thought I would never get the chance.”
    A warm smile lit Mrs. Walsh’s eyes. She was a handsome woman, probably somewhere in her forties. “Shall we go in and have refreshments?” Her son offered her his arm, and they led the way.
    The front door opened into a small rotunda. We passed through it into a sitting room warmed by an inviting fire. “What a delightful prospect you have from here!” said Amanda Ashton. “I never saw anything quite so charming. What do you say, John? Do you not agree?” With a bored look, her husband nodded.
    When we had all arranged ourselves around a low table spread with platters of fruit, cheese, meats, and bread, Mrs. Walsh poured tea. Tall, arched windows lined one side of the room. “How nice to look out upon the woods from here,” Jane said.
    “We are very fond of walking there,” said the older lady. “Henry has had paths constructed, winding all through the grove. It’s quite enchanting.” She looked at her son with motherly pride.
    “I’ll take you on a tour