Free A Summer Shame by Elizabeth Ann West

against the woman, pulling herself away as a shiny piece of silver appeared in Mrs. Younge's other hand, a long, sharpened pin pulled from her hair. A shot rang out and Mary crumpled to the floor, kicking her feet beneath her. Strong arms lifted her and she was suddenly turned and turned about, hysterically yelling, "Wickham ran out the back, Wickham ran out the back."
    "Sssh, they have him. You did well, you did well." Richard lifted Mary as she started to go limp in his arms, overwhelmed by the danger she had placed herself in, unable to grasp how Mrs. Younge lay dead, bleeding in her own parlor.
    "Richard," she uttered, barely trusting her own voice. "I am so sorry I ruined the plan."
    Reaching the carriage, he placed her inside and hopped up to join her not caring about Colonel Forster taking the credit, and trusting the driver would fetch Madeline. He wiped the tears streaming down Mary's face and looked into her deep, brown eyes, woefully affected by the knowledge of how close he came to losing her. Before knowing his own plans, Richard Fitzwilliam leaned in and passionately kissed his fears and love directly upon the lips of Mary Bennet, pulling her close to his person in the privacy of the carriage.
    A sudden pull on the door behind him made Mary jump back and the Colonel relinquish her as a groggy Madeline was assisted into the carriage.
    "I supposed you wished to spirit the ladies away from this nasty business as quick as you may. No need to list their role in the report." Colonel Forster gruffly dismissed their small party from his official business.
    Mary bit her lip and looked out the window, scrunched as far away from Richard as she could. Before Colonel Forster  could shut the door, Richard asked about Wickham.
    "Oh, he'll hang for sure." Colonel Forster tipped his hat and slammed the carriage door making Mary jump in her seat.
    As the carriage rolled away, the entire party remained silent until Madeline unfortunately lost the contents of her stomach. Mary busied herself with tending to her poor maid's condition, secretly stealing glances at the Colonel as her feelings tumbled over and over in her heart.
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Chapter Seven
     
    The parlor drapes of Matlock House in London were drawn as preparations to close the house were well under way. Lady Matlock bustled into the parlor at the request of her youngest guest, anxious to hear what the girl had to say. Mary Bennet had been quieter and more withdrawn than usual and she was hopeful the young woman was finally confessing that which vexed her.
    "The silverware is secured away and the books Reginald wished to be packed are set aside. Now, Miss Mary, how can I help you dear?" With a genuine smile, the grand dame of Matlock took a regal seat in her normal armed chair to begin the interview on an open tone.
    Scrunching her handkerchief, Mary twisted the cloth in mimicry of the knots in her own person. She had no wish to disappoint her kind sponsor in society, but after much prayer and reflection, found there was no other solution to her fall.
    "I am afraid I cannot in good conscience travel to Matlock for the hunting season." The young woman frowned and gazed down at the most famous Oriental rug in London, finding little humor in its infamy.
    "I see." Lady Matlock pursed her lips. Mary was not like Jane, deep in this girl was a soul accustomed to being quiet, to being overlooked. If Margaret Fitzwilliam pushed hard, she knew the stronger Bennet sister would have no qualms shutting her out entirely. Still, the Countess of Matlock had a nose for romantic anguish and Mary's behavior was suspect. "May I ask why you have changed your mind?"
    Plainly, Mary met the older woman's eyes with an overwhelmed expression that was strikingly similar to her sister Elizabeth when she was piqued. Mary shook her head gently. "Please, my lady, it is a shame I must bear alone. I fear I cannot trust myself to fulfill the standards so required by such a house party."
    Mary swallowed,