Chapter Text
Despite accepting her new future only that morning, somehow Mary had found herself standing opposite Mr Thomas Hayward in her Aunt and Uncle’s Parlour. The heartache from Mr Hayward’s disappearance had dulled slightly, although it had not left her completely. Seeing him before her, sheepishly clasping his hands before him, the pain only reignited.
She had only returned from her walk in the park, not having even taken her bonnet off before Aunt Gardiner had ushered her into the room, with not so much as a word. The doors were closed decisively behind her, a clear symbol of her intent.
“Miss Bennet-“ Mr Hayward paused, glancing down and gently taking the young woman’s hands. “Mary.”
The slight tremble of his hands reverberated into Mary’s. She was much more taken with the warmth and tingle from their closeness. Yet she could not ignore the hurt in her heart.
“Where have you been?” she cut off the young man, pulling her hands out of his grasp. “You have been gone for some weeks now, without even so much as a letter to let your friends know were you safe?”
Mr Hayward swallowed guiltily. “I visited Yorkshire.”
Mary scoffed. “Visiting, or hiding? It is not a good enough explanation as to why you left before I even had the chance to speak to you after our visit up Scafell.”
“Your decline at the lakes wounded me more than you shall ever know. My behaviour was unjust and I must apologise. Mr Ryder,” his face scrunched up at the mere mention of his name. “displayed his affection quite clearly. Once he mentioned his plan to propose to you with the backing of his Aunt’s inheritance, I resigned myself.”
“Mr Hayward- do you think me so shallow as to care for Mr Ryder’s sudden fortune?” Mary could hardly hold back her frustration.
“My entire life, I have been treated as less than by my family, discarded and thought unlikely to find a love match. My only real hope was to be a companion to mama then God knows what next. Perhaps spend the rest of my days relying on the generosity of my sisters. Then I came to London.”
Turning to face him, she cried. “I came to London, and my whole world changed. I was more than the sister that never married. I made friends, I read poetry and for once in my life, I did not feel like a burden.”
Only the pigeons could be heard cooing outside, as the pair stood opposite one another.
Mary sighed and nibbled the skin of her thumb. “Perhaps you do not know me as I thought, if you were to think so little of my character as to be wooed by Mr Ryder’s fortune, rather than his person.”
As her cheeks flushed, the young lawyer’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a deep swallow. “When you mentioned your sister’s situation with Pemberley, I-I just assumed-“
“Yes you did assume, Mr Hayward.” Mary dropped her thumb from her mouth as it curled downwards. “You and Mr Ryder seem to think me somewhat of a passive child who shall do as she is told, just as my mother did. I will repeat what I told her, I will not marry Mr Ryder.”
The air seemed to disappear from the room. Although Mary continued her train of thought, walking aimlessly around the parlour, Mr Hayward could not focus.
She will not marry Mr Ryder!
He could barely contain his grin. Although he had read Miss Bingley's letter, hearing it from Miss Bennet was truly delightful.
“I have come to realise I may be different from my sisters, from my family, but I am allowed to be happy in my own right. That is why I declined Mr Ryder’s proposal. I wish to be my own woman.”
As quickly as the flame sparked, it was snuffed out, as if the man were back on Scafell, soaked to the skin. He was silly to think that after his behaviour Miss Bennet would hold any favour for him.
She does not intend to marry anyone.
Mary paused, eyes closing slightly. “And yet.”
And yet!
Turning slowly to the young gentleman, her expression softened into a more subdued emotion. “I have spent the last few weeks, thinking solely of you, Mr Hayward. I had written to you a number of times, imploring you to return and provide some sort of explanation. Some conclusion to our conversation.”
Striding forward, Mr Hayward gathered Mary’s hands in his own once more. “That is why I have returned, Miss Bennet. To apologise, but also to rekindle what we started.”
“The last few weeks have filled me with the utmost pain. I felt more distraught by how we left things on that mountain than I did my understanding with Miss Baxter dissolving.”
The mention of Miss Baxter’s name prickled Mary with guilt. Sensing her unease, Hayward stepped closer.
“Understand, Miss Baxter felt much the same. We were not a match.” His index finger gently brushed her hand as he looked at her from beneath his brow. “She could sense my attention was drawn elsewhere, as were her own. We were young when we came to our agreement, and new to society. Our naivety fooled us to believe it was love.”
Hayward released a soft huff of air. “I now know that was never the case. I had affection for Miss Baxter, yes, but I have only felt love for one person.”
The intense look in his eyes made it impossible for Mary to break away. If someone were to walk in, they would surely see it inappropriate that the two were standing so close together, hands joined between them. Yet, despite propriety, Mary could not find it in her to care, desperately hanging on Mr Hayward’s words.
The curve of his lips tilted upwards and the corner of his eyes crinkled. “When I am near you, Miss Bennet, the world stops still. My heart beats only for you. I wake each morning, wishing to speak to you. To hear of what you are reading, or studying, or whatever thought has passed your mind. When I lie in my bedstead, I think of your smile and your laugh. It makes it impossible to find rest.”
Mary’s chest felt fit to burst, as she was overwhelmed by the confession. She had no time to process, though, as Hayward continued.
“I know I cannot give you Italy, or wealth. I have had to work for everything I have, and I will happily do so to give you everything I can. You possess my soul, my entire being. Whatever you wish for, take it. I will give you anything, as long as I can have the privilege of sharing my life with you, Miss Bennet.”
His words slowed with emotion and Mary could not mistake the shine in his eyes, nor the tremor of her own.
“Mary Bennet- will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”