The Lucases of Lucas Lodge Read online

  One thing only was she truly certain of: that as long as there was a Thomas Fairhead in Hertfordshire, still unmarried and still agreeable, she could never think of any other man. This resolution made her feel stronger, and more sure of herself, although she shrank at the thought of having to receive Mr. Thripp’s attentions—and still more at the idea of having to explain her apparent obduracy to Sir William and Lady Lucas. How headstrong they would think her! And yet she could not explain her feelings, for she was too well-bred to say that she disliked Mr. Thripp, and they would surely not consider the fact that she was not in love with him to be reason enough to refuse him.

  They were now approaching Lucas Lodge, and Maria now recollected herself and wished to talk, but her embarrassment had overcome her, and she struggled to find a subject. A similar change seemed to have come over him, for he, too, appeared to be wrapped up in his own thoughts and unwilling or unable to speak. At length she looked up and found his eyes upon her. He looked away, and prodded at the hedgerow with his stick.

  ‘It is a pity we arrived in Hertfordshire so recently,’ he said, after a moment. ‘Had we come earlier I might have been in time—’

  He would not meet her eye, but seemed to want to say more. Maria felt her heart beating rapidly, and silently willed him to go on. They were just then interrupted by a loud tumult in the lane, and saw a group of boys running towards them, who all stopped and yelled at her that she was wanted. Maria’s vexation was great, for it seemed to her that, had they been only a minute or two later, Mr. Fairhead might have said something of great interest to them both. But the moment was gone, and could not be retrieved.

  ‘It is my brothers,’ said Maria. ‘Mamma wants me.’

  She bade him goodbye and with a last parting glance went inside, there to spend the rest of the day in agitation, wondering at the revolution in her own heart, and conjecturing as to whether he would wish to continue the conversation when they next saw each other, and what her reply might be if he did.

  SEVENTEEN

  Miss King, meanwhile, was feeling not a little vexed, for she was becoming frustrated at her lack of success so far in drawing in Thomas Fairhead, who was demonstrating a regrettable inclination to behave as he liked. Mary had spent so much time at Netherfield Park, and had directed so many arch glances and captivating smiles at him—although, at Louisa’s suggestion, she had suppressed her natural tendency to lively and sparkling conversation—that by now he ought to have been brought to the point, had he been in the right way of thinking, but instead of submitting to the influence of his sister and the charms of her friend, he remained much the same as ever: cheerful and obliging, but seemingly without any intention of marrying Mary King. And Mary’s vexation was become all the greater, because she had begun to suspect him of admiring Maria Lucas: so many times did he come in, having just returned from a walk in which he had happened to bump into Miss Lucas, or mention that he had just then seen Miss Lucas and her father in Meryton, or report some other such accidental meeting, that it almost seemed as though he saw her every time he went out. Only the day before, Mary had been out with Miss Fairhead when she had spied Maria walking with Mr. Fairhead about the grounds of Netherfield Park; instead of coming to join her and Louisa, however, they had kept walking in quite a leisurely fashion, seemingly quite wrapped up in one another, until it was too late for them to catch up, for Louisa had wished to return to the house and Mary had had no choice but to comply. The encounters appeared too frequent to be coincidence—so frequent, in fact, that Mary began to wonder whether Maria were quite as foolish as she seemed, and whether she had perhaps had designs on Thomas Fairhead all along. It had never occurred to Mary that Maria would have the sense to do such a thing, but where there was an advantageous marriage in the case, perhaps she was not so different after all from Charlotte, who had secured Mr. Collins for herself not three days after he had proposed to another woman. The Lucases seemed artless enough, but it could not be denied that if there was anything to be had, then they were first to put themselves in the way of getting it. It looked as though Maria were a more serious rival than Mary had at first believed.

  This would never do. Mary thought of her ten thousand pounds, which ought to have been enough, and wished it were twenty, for surely then she would not be still living with her aunt and uncle, but would have knights and baronets at her command and have merely to choose between them. As it was, her only prospect was Thomas Fairhead, and she meant to have him if she possibly could. But had Maria got there before her? She decided to pay a long overdue visit to Lucas Lodge and see what she could find out. Maria was out when she arrived, but Lady Lucas was sitting alone, with a cold, and was only too happy to see Miss King.

  ‘I thought I should see nobody all morning,’ she said. ‘It is too unpleasant for me to stir out of doors, but yet I am not unwell enough to remain in bed, so I am glad you are come, Mary. Maria will be back shortly, but I do not expect her to bring any news. We have not seen you here for some time. And so what can you tell me of your aunt and uncle? I hope they continue well.’

  Mary replied with such news as she had, but was impatient for Miss Lucas to return, for she wished to speak to Maria in private, to try and ascertain whether she had any deliberate designs on Thomas Fairhead. She had half-forgotten the falsehood she had told about Mr. Thripp, since it had seemingly come to naught, and so she was surprised when Lady Lucas lowered her voice and said:

  ‘By the bye, there is something I wish to speak to you about in confidence. What about this business between Mr. Thripp and Maria?’

  Mary coloured slightly, for her first thought was that she was about to be blamed for having started the rumour, but she was relieved when Lady Lucas went on:

  ‘Has Maria talked to you about it? It was you yourself who brought it to Sir William’s and my attention, and so it seems I must come to you for information, for to be sure I can get nothing from Maria. She vows she will not speak to him, but speak to him she must, for we cannot leave him without an answer, or he will go away and change his mind about her. Tell me, what think you of his chances?’

  ‘Has he then proposed?’ said Mary, in some astonishment.

  ‘Did not she tell you? Yes, he has,’ said Lady Lucas, ‘but I am afraid he did it in too much of a rush, because Maria ran away.’

  Mary stared at Lady Lucas. She had not believed for a moment that Mr. Thripp really admired Maria. Her purpose in telling the lie had been first of all to lead Thomas Fairhead’s thoughts away from Miss Lucas, and then afterwards to put the idea into Sir William’s head, that he might overlook Mr. Fairhead as a prospect—for Sir William was just the type to try and forward a match between his daughter and Mr. Fairhead if he suspected anything was going on, while Mary’s uncle was sadly neglectful in such matters, and Mary felt the need to shift for herself. But now it seemed that she had unwittingly told the truth, and that Mr. Thripp did indeed want to marry Maria. How very strange! It was the most extraordinary coincidence—or so she thought, for she had no idea that it was her own lie which had first set in motion the train of events. Mary marvelled for a moment but, never slow of understanding, she immediately saw the potential benefit to herself, and felt her spirits lift. Perhaps her fortunes were about to turn.

  ‘Then she has not accepted him?’ she said.

  ‘No,’ replied Lady Lucas. ‘You know how easily she takes fright, and I need not say I have remonstrated with her for her foolishness, but we had to send him away without an answer, and now she declares she is too afraid to speak to him again. You must help us, Mary. Tell me, does everybody know about it? Do not spare the truth, for I fear everyone in Meryton is whispering about it and asking what Maria would be about.’

  ‘No—I do not think everybody knows of it,’ said Mary with apparent hesitation. ‘I am sure there must be some who have never heard it—and you may be sure, Lady Lucas, that I have always taken great care to deny it whenever it has been repeated to me, and shall continue to do so, for I would
not have dear Maria the subject of idle speculation of this kind. It is uncharitable to sport in this way with people’s affections—not least those of our friend Mr. Thripp, who must feel the loss of dignity which inevitably occurs when a man is refused by a woman. You will certainly hear no confirmation of the rumour from me.’

  The fact was, of course, that Mary had never heard the rumour repeated by anyone, for it had sprung entirely from her own imagination, but she thought it better to insinuate that all the neighbourhood were talking of it—first, so that nobody might suspect the part she had played, and second, so that the Lucases would be all the more eager for Maria to accept Mr. Thripp.

  ‘Dear me,’ said Lady Lucas, and wrung her hands, for she suspected that Mary had softened the truth a little, and that the Lucases were the talk of the whole town. ‘Miss King, you will help us, won’t you?’

  ‘Certainly, ma’am, if I can. What is it you wish me to do?’

  ‘Talk to Maria. I fear she is too timid even to be as dutiful as she ought and confess her true feelings to her own mother, but you—you are her intimate friend, and she may say things to you which she would shrink from confessing to her parents.’

  ‘Do you think she loves him, then? For she has said nothing to me.’

  ‘She says she does not, but I cannot find out whether there is any chance that she may grow to love him, for she bursts into tears every time I ask her. You can see the delicacy of our position, for Mr. Thripp is anxious for an answer, but Maria is so very unwilling to speak to him that I do not see how the thing is ever to be resolved.’

  ‘Do you wish them to marry?’ said Mary. ‘It is certainly a very suitable match for her.’

  ‘That is what we have said to her,’ said Lady Lucas. ‘I do not want to be accused of forcing my own daughter into a marriage which is disagreeable to her, but really I do not think she could do better. It is a question of persuading her of that.’

  ‘Well, I shall try it, if you think I may be of help,’ said Mary. ‘Of course I cannot ask her to behave contrary to the dictates of her own heart, but perhaps I can make her see reason.’

  ‘That is all I ask,’ said Lady Lucas gratefully.

  At that moment, Miss Lucas herself came in, and Lady Lucas shortly afterwards left the room. Maria was surprised to see Mary, who had not called for a fortnight or more. Miss King appeared quite unaware of the deficiency, however, and said gaily that it seemed an age since they had met.

  ‘And yet was not it you I saw yesterday in the grounds of Netherfield Park?’ she went on. ‘I thought I saw you walking with Mr. Thomas Fairhead.’

  ‘Oh! Yes,’ said Maria. ‘I happened to meet him while I was out walking, and he was kind enough to show me the view from the top of the hill.’

  It was said innocently enough, but there was a consciousness as she spoke which convinced Mary that the danger was real, and that something must be done.

  ‘That was kind of him,’ said Mary. ‘Why, Maria, I believe he has taken pity on you—just as we all have.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Maria.

  ‘I did not intend that he should find out about it,’ went on Mary, ‘but you know how people will talk. I dare say he heard of it from someone in Meryton, for I assure you I have said not a word about it.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About you and Mr. Thripp, of course. Why, you must know that there is talk of nothing else in Hertfordshire.’

  ‘What!’ cried Maria in horror. ‘In Hertfordshire! I had no idea the news had spread so far.’

  ‘Well, perhaps not the whole of Hertfordshire. Do not distress yourself, Maria—you know how I exaggerate at times.’

  ‘But many people are talking of it, you said,’ said Maria. ‘And Mr. Fairhead—does he know of it too? Oh, gracious me! What must he think of me?’

  Had there been any doubt in Mary’s mind as to Maria’s feelings for Thomas Fairhead, it was now entirely dispelled.

  ‘Do not worry,’ she said. ‘I do not suppose he thinks of you from one moment to the next, except to pity you, and wish you well, as we all do. But he did agree with me that it was a shame that your future has been left in so much doubt through your own want of courage. We talked of it at length yesterday, and he and I are quite of one mind in our wish to see you happily settled. By the bye, it is quite astonishing how similar our minds are! There is such an affinity between us, and he quite laughs at me for it, although of course I chide him for his nonsense. Be that as it may, he thinks you a very good sort of girl, and is convinced that you are the very person to make Mr. Thripp happy.’

  ‘Did he say so?’ said Maria falteringly.

  ‘Certainly,’ said Mary. ‘I believe he was almost minded to mention it to you yesterday when he met you in the park, except that he is far too gentlemanlike to take such a liberty. But Maria, I am quite angry with you. I did not think you would keep such a secret from me—one of your most intimate friends! Can you doubt but that I would have been only too happy to smooth away any little fears and doubts you might have had—done everything in my power to set your mind at rest—encouraged and rejoiced with you?’

  Maria hung her head.

  ‘There is no secret,’ she said. ‘I had never thought about Mr. Thripp until the other day, and I had no idea that he intended any such thing.’

  ‘And yet when I first heard about it, I was by no means surprised,’ said Mary. ‘I saw you both dancing at the assembly, you remember, and no-one on seeing you together could have doubted his admiration. I am sure you yourself must have been conscious of it, for I am almost certain I saw you blush on more than one occasion. Confess it, Maria: I know how timid you are, and unwilling to think of such things, but I think now you might admit that you were not as surprised as you claim to have been, when he first declared his affection for you.’

  Maria was about to deny all knowledge of it, but Mary continued:

  ‘To be truthful, I am very glad of it—not only for your sake, but also for that of your parents. They are excessively kind and indulgent, but you must be aware that it is no little hardship for them to continue to support a woman of almost five and twenty, especially when there are so many other children to care for. Your mother says nothing, but I am sure she must feel it. You know your duty, Maria, and I know that despite your modesty, your sense of right will tell you what you must do. When so many people of greater experience and wisdom expect it of you, how can you presume to know better than they? Naturally, I shall never be the one to tell you what to do, but I confess that I shall be very disappointed in you if you do not accept Mr. Thripp’s proposal, for I know you well—perhaps better than you know yourself—and I am certain that he is the very man to make you happy. He will show you every courtesy, I am certain of it. And I shall be your first visitor at the parsonage. How envious I shall be!’ (Here there was a sigh.) ‘I can never hope to be as fortunate as you, Maria. You know my feelings about men and marriage, and I am happier alone, but it means that I must resign myself to never having a home of my own. You must take pity on me, and invite me often, that I might enjoy playing at housekeeping by proxy.’

  She had taken Maria’s hand as she spoke, and there was such sincerity in her eyes that Maria could not but be deeply affected—not least, because of what Mary had said about Thomas Fairhead. He thought her a good sort of girl, and wanted her to marry Mr. Thripp—so Mary had said. Maria was not the sort to suspect a friend of an untruth, and so she believed it absolutely. This was a blow indeed! Her heart sank, and for a moment she knew not how to support herself, as the conviction came to her that she had deceived herself—or that her own wishes had deceived her. Thomas Fairhead did not admire her—probably did not even think of her, except as his good nature caused him to wish her married to another man. That was the truth of it, and whatever she had believed was wrong.

  The happy dream in which she had been wrapped up since yesterday was now revealed as a mere wild fancy. How could she have been so foolish as to think he liked h
er? It had been a most reprehensible mistake on her part, born of a vanity she had believed herself to be without. Mary King was right: she could not hope to attract the admiration of a Thomas Fairhead. But was it, then, her fate to be married to a Mr. Thripp? It seemed it was not only her parents who thought of the match with approval, and wished for her to accept his hand, for here was Mary, too, emphasizing the advantages of such a marriage.

  At that moment Maria felt more unhappy than she ever had before. Was she really such an undutiful daughter as to disappoint her parents by refusing a man who was in every respect such an excellent match for her? Could she really be so ill-bred as to continue to avoid Mr. Thripp, when he wanted nothing but to offer her his hand in an honourable fashion? She was indeed ungrateful if she could forget what was due to her family. They would never force her into a marriage against her will, but she could not wonder at their anxiety to see her settled, for she was now approaching the age at which all hope of ever marrying must be at an end. She knew she ought to rejoice at the offer she had received, but instead she wanted to weep for the one she had not. Her pride would not let her do it before Mary, however. She would hide her pain within her own heart, and no-one should ever know how she suffered.

  Mary King had been watching Maria closely while all this went through her head, and was satisfied that her words had taken effect. Had Maria entertained any hopes of capturing Thomas Fairhead’s heart, they must now have been dashed, and Mary was confident that with a little address, she might soon persuade Miss Lucas that her happiness lay with the church. She rose now to depart, for she judged it better to leave Maria to think over what had happened, but she was determined not to neglect her friend again—at least until she had talked to her enough to attain the object that was now so dear to her heart: to bring about an engagement between Maria Lucas and Mr. Thripp, leaving the way clear for Mary to secure Thomas Fairhead for herself.