Mary Bennet and the Longbourn Tutor Read online

  “Please, allow me,” Mary insisted, rising to take the heavy wooden tray filled with enough food to feed a small army.

  “Thank you my dear, now let us have a good long chat. It seems like an age since you and your sisters have paid us a visit. It’s a sad yet wonderful thing to see all of you grown up so fast.”

  “I assure you, not that much has changed, but I shall do my best to fill you in on all of our news,” Mary promised and the two women, lost in conversation, did not notice the unusually prolonged absence of Mr. Everfield.

  *****

  The imposter, seeing his opportunity to make free with the contents of Evanston Hall, strayed far from the fancy indoor facilities so recently installed in the newly rebuilt house. With a ready excuse of being lost upon his lips, he wandered into one comfortable room after another, but did not find anything small enough to appropriate. That was the trouble with newer houses, they were often tidy to a fault. Despite inspecting a number of formal reception areas, there was slim pickings for any sort of valuable. It was only when he passed through the main entry hall that something caught his eye. Resting on a small table that was conveniently placed alongside an assortment of umbrellas and overshoes was an elaborately carved ivory pipe. It was cold to the touch, abandoned by its owner. Turning it over in his hands, he fingered the face of an elephant carved into the bowl. It’s upturned trunk forming the stem of the piece, with an inlaid collar of gold circling the mouthpiece. A beautiful thing, he thought and hated the idea of selling it. But as he pocketed the pipe, the feeling of being one step closer to freedom was calming. Realizing that he would soon be missed, he retraced his steps to the servant’s wing and tapped on the half open door where Mary and Mrs. Wennings sat sipping tea as the storm raged on. They had not even noticed his absence.

  Joining the women, he sat for another three quarters of an hour, listening to the mindless gossip before the storm abated and Mary rose to return to Longbourn.

  “Thank you for a pleasant afternoon. I promise to allow so much time between visits.”

  “See to it that you don’t!” admonished the housekeeper after giving her favorite Bennet child a brief hug.

  Once on the road, Mary’s desire for conversation had not subsided and she relayed the relationship between the owner of Evanston Hall and that of Longbourn.

  “Sir Philip is not only my godfather, but was also married to my father’s youngest aunt. So we are related by marriage. Unfortunately, Juliette died some years ago and he has never forgotten her. It was the fire that took her life. We were all surprised when he opted to rebuild, but the property has been in the family for centuries. The old fortress his part of his landholdings, but he never goes there. I suppose he is too busy now with his official duties and the rebuild of the main house to restore it.”

  “Official duties?” the imposter asked innocuously.

  Mary turned in her saddle to gauge his response before replying.

  “He is also the local magistrate.”

  “Well… that is convenient…should the need ever arise,” he replied with false sincerity.

  “Indeed it is,” Mary concurred with a tinge of unmasked irony before facing forward once again.

  The riders did not speak again until they returned to Longbourn. It was as if some strange secret had passed between them, yet neither knowing exactly what was shared.

  “Please ride Ellie the rest of the way to Meryton. It may be best for you to have the use of her during your employment. It would not do to have you falling ill again, and she could use the exercise.”

  Pleased to accept, and have the convenience of a horse, it would expedite his financial affairs immensely. The opportunity to return to the various residences they passed was now accessible, as well as finding other places to sell his acquisitions without notice. Turning the horse towards town, he said his good byes, but not before Mary issued one last demand.

  “Oh Mr. Everfield… I believe that I am ready to begin mathematics tomorrow. Please bring the borrowed books back with you.”

  “As you see fit, Miss Bennet,” he replied with a nod of acknowledgement and watched her enter the house before cantering away. He would have some intense studying to do before the next morning, but it was well worth the new advantages of tutoring Mary Bennet.

  ~Nineteen~

  For the next three days, Mary struggled with the basic concepts of Algebra and Geometry. It was not something she enjoyed. “Self-inflicted torture” she muttered as she closed the small bound book in which she had practiced her equations, but she had to admit that Mr. Everfield knew his mathematics. Unfortunately, he had not done anything to raise her suspicions again. Every time she thought of what appeared to be a lie, and equally rational explanation could be made in his defense. What she needed was some time away to think. Now, as the end of the week neared, she cancelled her Friday’s lessons and walked to Meryton with her work apron folded on top of a basket of baked goods. Atlas had finally returned from his trip to the mines in _________shire. As one of the only physicians for miles outside of London, he had volunteered to spend a few days every other month seeing to the needs of the mine workers. Today was his first day back and the surgery was already filling by the time she arrived.

  “A terribly dangerous occupation between the possibility of structural collapse and flooding in addition to the pounds of coal dust the workers inhale daily. I treat and endless number of lung complaints. Unfortunately, the only true cure is to quit the mines, something that they cannot do,” he explained when the flow of Meryton’s regular patients abated for a bit.

  “It does sound unpleasant. I cannot imagine going to work each day with the constant risk of death. It must be frightening for the families.”

  “It becomes a way of life, and they need the work.”

  “I know, I just wish there was some sort of alternative.”

  “Oh there are, but none of the mine owners want to bear the expense of safety equipment, so accidents are bound to happen.”

  “I shall not look at my warm fire the same way again.”

  “Let us not dwell upon what cannot be changed… at least not right now. How have your studies been going? Has the charming Mr. Everfield swept you off your feet?” Atlas teased to dispel his familiar twinge of jealousy that sprung each time he thought of Mary and her tutor.

  “Oh it’s fine, but that man is beginning to make me wonder a bit. I feel like he is hiding something. Ever since the evening with the telescope I have gotten the impression that he is always lying about something.”

  Atlas raised his eyebrows, but allowed Mary to continue.

  “Do you remember what Darcy had told us about his friend?”

  Atlas nodded. “They went to university together… and there was some sort of accident to Everfield’s hand as a young man.”

  “Well, I can tell you for certain, there is nothing wrong with them now… nor is he afraid of horses.”

  Alarmed, Atlas felt anger spark at what he knew was an overreaction on his part, but could not repress his thoughts.

  “Did he hurt you? What about his hands?”

  “Oh nothing like that, but it did seem odd for a tutor to have the callused hands of a laborer. Perfectly healthy and strong. Could Darcy have exaggerated the extent of the injury?”

  “I suppose, as it was some years ago, but have you ever known Darcy to exaggerate anything?”

  Mary laughed at the thought. “No, He always tell the exact truth, however painful it may be to hear. However, we do know one such person with a significant hand injury…”

  Realization hit Atlas Sutton like a lead ball to the head. “Indeed we do! If you are up to it, I suggest we have one last look at the remains after the last patient today. Sir Philip has insisted that the poor soul be interred immediately and my report sent to him directly. Unfortunately, it will be quite a trying ordeal. The remains have been unburied for nearly a fortnight and despite the cold of the icehouse, they are in exceptionally bad shape.”
r />   “Don’t you worry about me… but it does not make me feel too secure about Mr. Everfield not being who he claims.”

  *****

  A few hours later, Mary and Atlas examined the shredded remains of the unknown dead man one last time. Mary had to admit that the stench had become quite unbearable and she feared being sick. However, despite the attempt, they were not able to discover any new information. The remains were simply too badly decomposed.

  “I have finished transcribing the report… and made a copy. I don’t intend to let this go unsolved, especially if it is connected to my mysterious tutor.”

  “Mary… do be careful. I realize that this is pure speculation, but what if this poor fellow turns out to be Grayson Everfield? What does that make your tutor? A murderer?”

  “A repugnant thought, and one that would make me appear quite foolish for employing him.”

  “Foolishness aside, he came with excellent references…I just cannot bear the thought of you getting hurt. Promise me that you will not go anywhere alone with him?”

  “I promise not to do anything rash, but I will be watching him closely.”

  ~Twenty~

  The next day, Mary and Atlas, along with Sir Philip Evans, witnessed the internment of the murdered man into a pauper’s grave on the edge of the Meryton churchyard. It was a somber occasion as there was not even the need for a full coffin, just a small plain wood box that held what had once been a living person.

  “Should we say a short prayer?” Mary asked quietly. Meryton’s only minister had attempted to refuse services with the rationale that he could not perform such without knowledge of the deceased’s baptism. Irritated, Mary had wanted to shout at him, but at least Sir Philip had demanded burial in hallowed ground. Apparently, Reverend Morton’s fear of the Lord balanced with that of the magistrate and he acquiesced. At least it had not been Mr. Collins present, she thought with an inward groan. The Bennet cousin was hard enough to tolerate on the best of circumstances. It still mortified Mary to think that she once contemplated marriage to that insufferable man to save her family from financial ruin. It had indeed been an act of providence that he had favored her sister, whose subsequent rejection had sent him scurrying away.

  Now, dressed in his funeral robes, the dour faced Reverend Morton intoned an indecently short incantation for the deceased and immediately made his excuses, leaving the trio alone by the small mound of dirt.

  “Will this be the end of it then?” Atlas inquired of Sir Philip.

  “Unfortunately, unless further development arise, we will close the case. His identity may never be known, and the responsible person never caught.”

  Mary did not like the idea one bit, but was at a loss as to what could be done. As a last token, she had arranged for a small headstone to be placed with the words “unknown but to God” inscribed upon it. It was the best she could do. Now, her thoughts must turn to the mystery of her tutor.

  *****

  As Mary and Atlas had been thus occupied, Fitzwilliam Darcy had an unpleasant discovery of his own. On the heels of his lovely wife Elizabeth’s announcement of her pregnancy and subsequent private celebration, a messenger arrived with a missive from Mr. Davies. The proprietor of The Silver Emporium had kept his word to investigate the acquisition of Mrs. Bennet’s pearls.

  Not wanting to disturb his wife with anything possibly unpleasant, Darcy excused himself and took the letter to his private library. It was short and to the point. The person who had sold Mrs. Bennet’s necklace to his shop had not been any member of the Bennet family. Described as a well-built man in his early to mid-thirties with dark curling hair, he had signed the sale registry B.R. While this was not much information, it gave him mixed emotions. Relieved that his in-laws had not experienced some new financial trouble, he was now positive of theft. This knowledge, combined with the stolen items reported during the Bingley garden party, was proof that a thief was making the rounds at Meryton. Not wanting to risk Jane Bingley finding out, Darcy decided to make the half day’s journey to Meryton to inform not only Charles Bingley and Sir Philip Evans, but also Atlas Sutton. In the absence of any younger male relatives of consequence at Longbourn, Atlas Sutton had made his intentions towards Mary Bennet obvious. That is, obvious to everyone but Mary herself. Darcy had taking an instant liking to the younger man, and had place his trust in him to watch over the Bennets. While Mr. Bennet was yet of sound mind, his increasingly frail health had made his family quite protective. Darcy did not want the elder man to be unduly upset if unnecessary. As it was too late in the day to begin a journey, he gave orders to his valet and rejoined Elizabeth in the parlor.

  “Was it important?” she asked not looking up from where she concentrated on the construction of a tiny lace bonnet. Never one with the patience for intricate stitchery, Elizabeth Darcy frowned and tossed the piece down.

  “Oh nothing to worry yourself about, but I will need to inform Sir Philip Evans.”

  “Now don’t start treating me like an invalid! I want to know what is going on.”

  Darcy sighed and dropped down beside her. In the year in which they had been married, he found it difficult to keep anything from his inquisitive wife.

  “It is as we surmised. Your mother’s pearls had been stolen. I dare not trust the post with this letter. Besides, it could delay the apprehension of the thief, so I must ride to Meryton in the morning.”

  “Normally I would insist upon accompanying you, but I must confess to now having the best digestion lately,” she acknowledged.

  Darcy patted her hand, “I shall return as soon as I relay the letter and not a moment later,” he promised before suggesting they retire early as he wanted to leave at first light.

  Rising, Elizabeth nodded her agreement, but kept her worries about her family unsaid.

  ******

  While the extended connections of the Bennet family were occupied, the Longbourn tutor did not spend his off day idle. Instead, he made use of the borrowed horse and returned to the ruined fortress. A distance that he could just have easily walked if needed, it took half the time on horseback, giving him much time to better examine the grounds alone. Entering the ancient battlements once again, he climbed as high as he safely could and took measure of his surroundings. From that vantage point, he could clearly see the main road, and in the distance Evanston Hall. Smiling to himself, he was pleased that the ruins were concealed by a dense growth of trees. It was an excellent place to hide. Returning below, he scouted the other rooms off the main hall that had not fallen into complete disrepair. To his delight, there were a number of them with the ceiling still intact, especially the kitchens. Pushing open the rotted remains of what used to be the cellar door, he peered into the darkness as the sounds of scratching rats echoed upwards. Grimacing, he brushed aside a childhood memory of a time when rats were all too common in his living arrangements. Choosing to return to the library that contained the carved runes, he carefully deposited his small cache of stolen valuables. Over the past week he had been able to acquire a number of items. He surmised they might be worth nearly two hundred pounds, almost enough to pay his debts and passage to the Americas. Perhaps a month longer and he would be able to disappear from England forever. Arranging a number of fallen stones around the cache, he rode at his leisure back to Meryton, oblivious that he had been discovered.

  ~Twenty-one~

  By the time Darcy arrived in Meryton the next day, it was already late afternoon. The journey had been less than kind to travel due to a downpour the previous evening that had resulted in trees barring the main road. Some hours delayed, he chose to stop at the surgery of Atlas Sutton first to share his findings before riding the final distance to Evanston Hall.

  Reining his horse just outside, Darcy was relieved to find that not only was Atlas in residence, but the reception area nearly empty. A solitary child of about six years swung his feet from the bench upon which he perched. Seeing the tall stranger, the child looked up curiously as Darcy scanned the
room.

  “Are you waiting for someone?” he asked the child gently.

  Nodding in response, the child took the question as an opportunity to ease his boredom.

  “My name is Edward. Mama’s in with the doctor, but she isn’t sick.”

  “That is good to hear. Has she been in there long?”

  “Forever! But I can wait. It is my job to escort her home, so I must be patient,” the boy informed him with an exaggerated puff of his thin chest.

  Darcy smothered a smile just as the door connecting the examination room opened to reveal a well-dressed woman in advanced stages of pregnancy. Swallowing hard at the realization that this would soon be the state of his Elizabeth, Darcy turned to the boy who now stood, offering his arm to his mother.

  “Good day to you, Master Edward,” Darcy said and bowed politely to the woman as she waddled out the door with her son who grinned broadly at Darcy.

  “What was that all about?” asked Atlas with a laugh from where he stood watching the exchange.

  “Oh just a few words between gentlemen.” Darcy replied and quickly changed the subject to the purpose of his visit. Since his marriage, he had softened considerably in his formal ways, but did not care to have it publicly known.

  “I have just arrived with news of some importance in regard to the rash of thefts in the area. I was on my way to Evanston Hall, and presumed that you would want to be informed.” Darcy explained as he showed Atlas the letter from Reginald Davies.

  “It is definite proof that there is a thief keeping close company with the families of Meryton.”

  “Indeed, and I should like to accompany you, but first we must stop at Longbourn.”

  “Is anyone ill?”

  “No… It is just that Mary was supposed to assist me in the surgery today and she did not show up. There were so many patients that I have not had time to send an inquiry.”