Section I, Next Section
Part One
Mary Bennet looked up in surprise as the carriage came to a rolling stop. She had been reading, and as usual, time swept away from her. She looked up to see her father snoring in the seat across from her. She didn't always think her father enjoyed her company much, and the trip to Pemberley corrected her assumption. Mr. Bennet had slept almost the whole trip. She wasn't about to wake him now, knowing what foul moods he could be in after waking from a nap.
She stuck her head out the window of the carriage and sucked in her breath in awe. When Lizzy had written about the beautiful grounds of her home, she hadn't been exaggerating. They were extravagant! Mary wanted to get out right then and run all the way to the house, or should she say mansion. Being an introvert and preferring a good book to a romp in the lanes, these feelings were quite new. Just as she was thinking of them, the carriage started again. She almost fell out of the carriage it surprised her so. She quickly awoke her father.
"Father! Father! Wake up, we're here!" Mary told him excitedly.
It was probably the pure joy in her voice that woke him up. That hadn't been heard in Mary Bennet's voice for a very long time.
"What are you blabbering about, daughter? You better have woken me up for a very nice reason."
"In truth, Father, I have! We're here! Would you take a look around you? It's the most beautiful place I've ever seen." she sighed.
"Then you haven't seen many places," Mr. Bennet said gruffly.
Mary rolled her eyes heavenward. Was her father going to be determined not to like Pemberley? He had been slightly angry at Mr. Darcy from the moment he asked for his favorite daughter's hand. Being parted from Lizzy left a big hole in his heart and for the time being he would not let nice looking grounds change his feelings.
The carriage soon came to a complete stop in front of Pemberley. Lizzy and her husband were waiting near the entrance for them. Lizzy looked just as pretty and happy as ever. Mr. Darcy was still as tall and as handsome, only he actually had a grin on his face. Mary had hardly ever seen that. She didn't know him very well, Mary reminded herself. She certainly knew Lizzy, her favorite sister, would not choose someone of an ill disposition to become her husband.
Mr. Bennet stepped out of the carriage and then helped his daughter down. Lizzy automatically ran to him first. Mary couldn't help but feel a small pang of hurt, but she knew that Elizabeth and her father were very close. The greeting Elizabeth gave Mary was hardly disinterested. Mr. Darcy was as civil as ever, only with a little charm mixed in.
"I love your grounds here, Mr. Darcy. They are just like my sister wrote about." Mary said shyly, as she grabbed her book from inside the carriage just before it started to drive away.
"Thank you, Mary. I do take great pride in them." Mr. Darcy smiled.
The small group headed into the house, followed by the servants with the Bennet's bags. The house was even more impressive on the inside. It was so furnished...so rich!
"Oh, Lizzy," Mary couldn't help saying, "how can you live in here everyday? I'd be too much in awe."
Elizabeth and her husband laughed.
"She was, for quite awhile."
The room Mary was put in was extravagantly furnished. Mary was afraid to touch anything, for fear of breaking it. As she was helping the servants unpack, Elizabeth came to the door.
"Would you like to take a walk in the lanes, sister?" she asked.
"Oh, yes!" Mary quickly exclaimed. They set out on a path around Pemberley.
"How are things back in Longbourn, Mary?" Lizzy asked.
"You mean, how is mother, don't you?" Mary and Elizabeth shared a look and laughed.
"You don't know how much I envy you, Lizzy. You get to live here, with the man you love...away from her."
"Is she really that bad?"
"She practically has a fit everyday because Kitty and I aren't married yet. For heaven's sake, I'm only nineteen. I shouldn't have to go out and marry the first man who looks at me-- which hasn't happened yet, mind you. Kitty and I don't get along much either."
"I suppose you are glad to be out of the house then?" Elizabeth teased.
"By all means! Your invitation was a godsend. When you invited Father, he was so happy. You are his favorite, you know, and he had lived without you for too long."
"Why didn't Kitty come also?"
"Because Father didn't want her. He can only take so much of me and even less of Kitty. I think he just wanted to get away from mother." Mary confided.
"Yes, I wonder what the poor man will do when we are all married."
They both laughed and agreed he would lock himself in his library or move permanently in with Jane or Elizabeth.
"Of course, I don't think I shall ever be married."
"Nonsense. All you need do is find the right man and everything will fall into place." Elizabeth smiled and got a far-away look in her eyes. Mary was sure she was thinking of Darcy.
"When are the other guests arriving?" Mary asked.
The Darcys had also invited the Bingleys and one of Bingley's friends to visit. Mary was looking forward to seeing her eldest sister, Jane again.
"They should be arriving before dinner." Elizabeth said.
Dinner would be in at least three hours.
"Unfortunately, we received some bad news." she didn't pause long enough for Mary to ask, "Miss Bingley will also be accompanying her brother." The look Elizabeth gave Mary was priceless.
Mary smiled and they started to head back to the house.
"I'm glad you came, Mary. The outdoors will do you a lot of good. You really do look quite pale." Elizabeth gave her a prying look, but did not ask.
Mary had always been plain. When words were spread about the Bennet girls beauty, it never included her. She was certainly not ugly and at times could look very appealing, but she was completely, without a doubt plain. The paleness and circles under her eyes were evidence of many late nights.
Mary had a passion that no one knew about. She wanted to be a writer. She had always written things down, poems and little stories every now and then, but now she wrote real stories. She supposed she was an author. She had gotten several stories in magazines and already had two books published--under a pen name, of course. Sometimes, when Mary was writing, she cold not stop until she was finished. If that meant burning candles until the wee hours of the night and sacrificing the beauty she didn't even possess, that was the price she would be forced to pay. Writing came above all else.
Elizabeth had been talking while Mary was thinking. Mary often daydreamed during conversations, which probably was the reason why people didn't want to talk to her. She was different because she constantly had stories in her head. Unfortunately, she couldn't write as fast as she thought things up.
"...I must end this trip short and oversee the dinner. I'm trying to make it special." Elizabeth finished.
"I'm sure it will be wonderful," Mary politely answered.
Elizabeth left her, and Mary leisurely strolled around the house, studying it intently. Suddenly an idea popped into her head. Before she lost it completely she ran to her room and opened up her chest. She pulled out the blank sheets of paper and the pens she had and smiled. This was the part she loved. Starting a new story, creating new lives, new beginnings.
Mary tried to find a nice place to work but everywhere she went, she was always beckoned by the window. She had to go outside. Grabbing as many materials as possible, she raced back outside to find the perfect place. As she came to a tree, she looked up and saw it was perfect. The lowest branch was perfect to sit on and she had no trouble climbing up, even with all the parcels in her hands.
She immediately began to write, not paying attention to anything around her but the flow of words coming onto paper. After twenty sheets of paper, when she had finally run out of things to say, she looked up and sighed. She was surprised to see that it was semi-dark out. She knew her father would get mad if she was late to dinner here, so she jumped--very unladylike--down from the tree.
She was walking along, putting her papers in order and not really paying attention to where she was going, when she suddenly collided with another person. The person she ran in to was much bigger than her and didn't even falter at all. On the other hand, her papers went flying everywhere and she went falling to the ground.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, miss," a young man said with regret in his voice, squatting down to pick up her papers, wrinkling them in the process.
Mary was afraid that he was going to see what was written on the papers and quickly snatched them all up. There were papers everywhere and she didn't think she would ever get them all.
"It's all out of order..." she mumbled to herself as she tried to stack up the papers evenly. It was a hopeless cause.
"I really am sorry," the voice said again.
Mary realized he was there again. She was about to say a snitty remark when she looked up into the most handsome face she had ever seen.
Part Two
Mary could hardly catch her breath and she almost dropped all the papers again. The man had the most fine eyes of any man she had ever met. They were green, deep green. She shook her head a little to get out of her haze. She wasn't a flighty fifteen year old anymore. Actually, she never was.
The man couldn't have been over thirty. He was very, very tall--at least a head over Mary herself. He was smiling at her in a funny way.
"Do you like what you see?" he teased.
"What?" Mary asked, stumbling over thoughts. What was he talking about?
"You gave me quite an appraisal. Do you like what you see?"
Mary should have seen the teasing glint in his eyes, but she didn't. She took offense to his words. Not one to usually let pride get in the way, she did this time. She saw his clothing. It was not the attire of a gentleman. It was not refined. She sniffed. He must be some stableman, she thought.
"No, I do not like what I see, sir. And I do not like your choice of words, either." she said haughtily. The young man was not affected. He kept the same goofy grin on his tanned face. Mary then realized she was still sitting on the ground.
The man noticed at the same time and reached down and pulled her to her feet. She brushed off the skirt of her dress. "Would you like me to escort you back to the house?" he asked politely.
Mary gave him a long, snobbish glance. "No, thank you. I think I'll manage."
Before he could respond, she spun on her heels and flounced away. When she was out of his sight, she slumped against the nearest wall and a blush came to her face.
"Did I really say all those things to him?" she asked herself out loud.
Yes, you really did, Mary. Nice going. How do you ever expect to get a husband if you can't even be nice to an actual man who looks at you? She cursed at herself. Yet, why did she feel like this? She knew what would happen.
Several times there had been a man she had fancied herself in love with. She would talk to them and they would talk back, but nothing more would arise. They would choose someone else. Being poor and plain seemed to be the worst curse in the world.
Mary trudged back to her room to get ready for dinner. As she was fixing her hair she decided to add a character into her new story. The main characters were usually very similar. Whether they were rich or whether they were poor they were always one thing--beautiful. To Mary, the characters she created were her own. She wanted to make them the best possible and she did not want to hurt them by making them plain. The new character she added had, strangely, green eyes and very nice smile. He was very tall and not incredibly polite. He will be the hero, Mary decided. She grinned at herself in the mirror. It won't matter if he thinks it's him, she thought, because I don't think he'll ever be talking to me again.
She had just finished the second chapter when she looked up and saw the sun had gone down quite a bit. She started up and ran down the stairs. She spotted the maid, Mrs. Reynolds, but ran by her in a hurry. She realized several minutes later she probably should have stopped, because she was quite lost. She was walking backwards down the hall when she bumped into something and almost fell again. A strong hand reached out to steady her.
"We just keep bumping into each other, don't we, Paleface?" was the good-humored reply.
Mary looked up, up, up, into the now familiar green eyes. Then her face clouded.
"What did you call me? Paleface? That's an Indian name!" Mary said, aghast.
"I reckon it is," he smiled.
"'Reckon?' 'Paleface?' Where in the world are you from?" she asked as she tried to walk past him.
"The dining room is the other way, Miss Bennet," he told her.
She stopped. "How do you know my name?" she asked. The man shrugged. Mary narrowed her eyes at him and continued down the hall.
"It's the other way, Miss Bennet," the stranger said.
"I don't really care what way it is! I think I can handle walking to the dining room without your assistance! Why don't you go back to the stables or wherever it is you work!" she said indignantly all but running down the hall.
The man was insufferable! Normally people did not bring out this horrible side in her. Mary was the kind of person who did not get annoyed with people, exempting her mother and younger sister, Lydia, very easily. She was usually indifferent to them. He made her nervous. Maybe it was because he actually looked at her like she was worth something. Of course, if he was a stable worker, then he wasn't worth anything to her. Still, he made her feel strange.
She finally wound her way to the dining room and stepped in rather embarrassed.
"There you are, Mary. We were waiting." Elizabeth said with a smile.
"It's bad enough for you to be late at Longbourn, Mary, but it is an entirely different matter here." her father said sternly.
Mary agreed subserviently and sat down at her spot. She looked down at her plate and didn't want to look up.
"What kept you, my dear?" Mr. Bennet asked Mary, not willing to let the subject drop.
Mary searched her mind for an excuse she didn't use very often.
"I believe she got lost, sir."
Mary's head immediately flew up and met those green eyes--sitting across from her. Did Elizabeth often invite stablehands to dinner?
"Is this true, daughter?" Mr. Bennet wondered.
"Yes, father. Your house is so big, Mr. Darcy." she said as an apology, only taking her eyes off the man to notice her sister Jane, Mr. Bingley, and his sister.
"Jane! Hello!" she said to her sister and then greeted her husband and sister.
"Hello, Mary. It's so wonderful to see you." Jane, always benevolent, smiled hugely at her.
"Miss Bennet, if I could introduce our friend. This is Mr. Elliot Heighton, Mary." Charles Bingley properly made introductions.
"Yes, we've already met, Bingley."
"You have? Where?" Caroline Bingley asked. It was then Mary really noticed her. She was sitting next to Mr. Heighton with a possessive, challenging look right at Mary.
"We had the fortunate chance of meeting outside, before dinner. I believe Miss Bennet was writing something." he said.
Mary froze. The way he said that...She couldn't quite place it. She narrowed her eyes at him and tried to scrutinize his actions.
"What were you writing, Mary?" Elizabeth pryed.
"Uh, a letter to...mother, sister." she lied.
"Well, it was a very long letter then. I'd say at least twenty pages. You and your mother must get along quite well." Mr. Heighton said.
"Yes, we do..." Mary muttered, trying to put all her attention on the food on her plate. Everyone knew that Mary and Mrs. Bennet did not have a good relationship. In fact, they didn't have one at all.
"What were you doing out there so close to dinner, Mr. Heighton?" Caroline asked.
"I was taking a ride. I had just enough time to come back and, uh, change my clothes." he said, covering his smile with his hand.
Mary blushed when she realized she had called him a stablehand. That probably wasn't the worse thing she called him, either. He was having entirely too much fun at her expense!
Dinner finished without further comments by Mr. Heighton. Later, in the sitting room, Caroline approached Mary. Mary really didn't appreciate it since she was in the middle of a very wonderful book. Caroline also spoke in that annoying way where her voice was just loud enough for everyone in the whole room to hear.
"Miss Mary Bennet, how are you?" Caroline asked, throwing a look at Mr. Heighton who was sitting on a chair by the fire next to Mary, reading.
"I believe I am just the same as I was at dinner, Miss Bingley," she replied and tried to turn back to her book.
"I would have thought you'd given reading up." Caroline commented.
"And I thought you would've been married by now," Mary shot back with utmost sweetness.
Caroline was left speechless for awhile and Mary got at least on page read. If she had looked up she would have seen a very amused green-eyed man.
"Oh, this hat is so uncomfortable to wear. But that is just the price we must pay to look good for our gentlemen. Wouldn't you agree, Miss Bennet?" Caroline pouted.
Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam gave each other a look, Mr. Bennet rolled his eyes heavenward, and Mr. Bingley looked uncomfortable. Mr. Heighton, on the other hand, looked quite intrigued with what Mary's answer would be.
"No, Caroline, I do not believe that. I don't think we should sacrifice our comfort just to impress someone--whether it be a man or not." she said simply.
"Yes, but that's you. No matter how much you sacrifice, as you so eloquently put it, it wouldn't make much of a difference to your appearance." Caroline laughed and turned away to talk to Mr. Heighton.
Mary looked down at her book and hoped her cheeks weren't too red. She took a deep breath and read on.
"How is your father, Mr. Heighton?" she asked.
"He is very well. The company is doing just wonderfully." he added.
"What is it that your father does?" Mr. Bennet asked from his seat.
"He owns a publishing company in London." Mr. Heighton answered, looking directly at Mary.
Her reaction was evident at once. She gasped, but tried to look nonchalant.
Mary knew she had recognized his name. She just hadn't put two and two together. Heighton Publishing was the company that published her books. She knew she was safe because she had only revealed her real name to the editor.
She was sure Elliot Heighton wouldn't know her real identity.
"What are you reading, Mr. Heighton?" Caroline asked loudly.
"It's a new book, recently published. It's quite good so far."
"Who wrote it? I've never seen it before." Darcy quipped.
"A relatively new author. Her name is Rose Templeton. Mary, have you heard of her?"
Part Three
Mary flopped down onto her bed and took a deep breath. She had the urge to cry, scream, and laugh all at the same time. She couldn't believe that Elliot Heighton! Who did he think he was? He's your editor's son, Mary reminded herself. She blushed when she remember what he had tried to pry out of her.
Mary had been at a loss over what to say. How could she? She couldn't admit she was Rose Templeton because she knew her parents would never let her write. There was no way that was going to happen! Luckily, her father came to her rescue, although not knowing it.
"I'm sure she has, Mr. Heighton. She has read just about every book ever written." This answer gave Mary time to compose herself.
"No, actually Father, I don't believe I have even heard of her. Sorry, Mr. Heighton, but I never have," she said, trying to look truthful.
"Hmm, that's a pity. I'd suggest you pick her up every once in awhile." the look in his eyes made Mary feel that he knew she was lying. Did he know?
"What does she write, Mr. Heighton?" Caroline asked, batting her eyelashes disgustingly.
"She's written a book of poems and two other novels. They're mysteries." he announced.
"Oh, I loathe mysteries! Why would you want to read a book where you have to think?" Caroline pouted.
"Why would you want to do anything if you have to think, Caroline." Mary muttered sarcastically. Elizabeth snickered but quickly bit her lip to stop herself.
"They're not...trashy mysteries. They're kind of creepy, though. I happen to like them. My father says she's been working on a few other novels that aren't mysteries."
That was true. Elliot's father had asked her to write non-mystery books. She had already sent one in to be published. Did Mr. Heighton tell his son everything?
Luckily, the subject died down and Mary was able to return to her room. She wanted to get away from everyone. She noticed Elizabeth had been looking at her strangely. She hoped Lizzy hadn't noticed the way Mary was acting, too. Mary turned on her stomach and hit her pillow. Wouldn't it be wonderful if that pillow was actually Elliot Heighton's face? She didn't dwell on that fact, she might enjoy hitting her pillow a few more times and her pillow didn't deserve that treatment. Only he did. Of course he had ruined her mind and concentration. There was no way she could work tonight because she was in a horrible mood.
Mary steered clear of Elliot Heighton for the next couple days. She actually got rid of a double nuisance by ignoring him because Caroline was always around him. She avoided both of them in one. How nicely that worked out, Mary laughed to herself.
Since she had obviously been snubbing Mr. Heighton, she was surprised when the tree she was sitting in started to shake and his face appeared out of the branches.
"What are you doing?" she asked him, as she gathered up her papers.
"I think I should ask what are YOU doing? It's not very ladylike being up in a tree like this." he told her, settling himself on a branch.
"You're probably going to break the branch and fall and snap your neck." she said. She wanted to get down but he was blocking her only way down.
"I'm sure you'll be happy about that." he smiled.
"Excuse me, sir. Even though I don't particularly like you, I have never once given any thought to wishing you an early death." she said. I have wanted to beat you to a pulp, but that's not the same thing, she gleefully said to herself.
"Why don't you like me?"
"I believe that is my business, Mr. Heighton, and not yours." Mary quipped.
"Do you want to get down?" he asked simply.
"What?"
"I'm blocking your only way down and I will not move until I get the answers I want." Mr. Heighton explained.
"Fine. I can wait as long as you can." Mary fumed.
Only after a few minutes she realized she couldn't. He seemed to have no problem staring her down. Mary couldn't bring herself to looking him in the eyes. He made her too nervous. You have no right to be nervous, Mary. He's just a man who would only give you a second glance if you looked like Jane or Elizabeth.
"Are you going to tell me?" he asked.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
"See, this is why I don't like you. You annoy me, you make fun of me, you make me feel quite uncomfortable, you ask me questions when you have no right to the answers, and lastly, you keep me trapped in trees. Would you like to know any other personal things while you're on a roll?"
Instead of getting angry or hurt at the insults she had just thrown at him, he laughed and smiled even bigger. What was wrong with him? She suddenly thought he might be insane. If he was, it probably wasn't safe to be stuck in a tree with him.
"Can I get down now?" she asked.
"Sure." Mr. Heighton lowered himself down the tree easily. Mary didn't have quite an effortless time. It was because of the skirts she thought as she was falling through the air. She was halfway down when it had caught on a branch. She landed with a thud on the ground. She lay there catching her breath for a few minutes when Elliot's face appeared.
"Sorry," he said with a smile.
"You didn't even try to catch me!" Mary said, sitting up.
"Sorry," he shrugged before turning on his heels and strolling away. She thought she heard him whistling!
"That self-righteous, pompous, inconsiderate oaf!" Mary muttered to herself as she picked herself and her papers off the ground.
She was in a horrible mood when she walked back to Pemberley. Her mood was only worsened when she saw what awaited her there.
Part Four
"Mary! Mary! Hello!" the unmistakably loud and shrill voice of Mrs. Bennet.
Mary felt like turning on her heels and running--screaming all the way. Why couldn't she get away from her mother? Anything she did always failed.
"Hello, Mary," Kitty called.
Great, Kitty too, Mary thought. Her younger sister could sometimes be her friend, but mostly was annoying. She was silly. Mary never had a confidante with her sisters. Jane and Elizabeth were too good of friends and Kitty and Lydia were simply too stupid. Her confidante were her books and stories.
"Mother...why are you here?" Mary asked before she thought better of it.
"The ball, you silly!" Kitty answered for her.
Confused, Mary looked over at Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam.
"Don't you remember I told you we were having one tomorrow?" Lizzy asked her.
"No...when?"
"At dinner, a couple nights ago. I believe it was when the Bingley's arrived." Fitzwilliam told her.
"I even asked you if we should invite Kitty and mother and you told me yes." Elizabeth reminded her.
"I did?" Mary asked, astonished with herself. She was in the habit of not paying attention to conversations sometimes, but she couldn't believe she had actually said yes to wanting her mother at Pemberley.
"Of course you did, Mary. You are such a fragile girl and I know you couldn't stay away from your dear mother for too long." Mrs. Bennet said sweetly.
"I really just cannot believe I don't remember you telling me about this. I'm sorry. I probably should have been helping you get ready or something." she told her sister as they walked into the sitting room where Caroline and Mr. Heighton were reading.
"Why would you remember a thing like a ball, dear Mary? They're not your concern." Caroline smiled.
She was about to come up with a defense when Mr. Heighton spoke up.
"Why aren't balls any of her concern, Miss Bingley?"
"She's a wallflower. She doesn't dance hardly any dances, if any at all. I just wouldn't think she enjoys them." Caroline answered.
"Actually, she does enjoy balls very much. Thank you for answering for her though," Mary said through gritted teeth.
Mr. Heighton laughed at the way Mary showed her disapproval for the way Caroline spoke as if she wasn't there.
"Now, where's my Mr. Bennet? He did not come to greet me? I simply can't believe it!" Mrs. Bennet was back to yelling.
"He's out shooting with Mr. Bingley, mother," Jane answered.
"At his age? I should think not! Elizabeth! Show us to our rooms and then send for someone to fetch him. If he dies, you know, that horrid Mr. Collins takes over Longbourn. Oh, I loathe the day it comes!"
"Yes, mother, but Father is not going to--"
"Lizzy, do not contradict me! This may be your home but I am still your mother! Our rooms, please."
You could still hear Mrs. Bennet all the way down the hallway and even on the staircase. Mary grimaced and suppressed the urge to cover her ears. Caroline Bingley didn't seem to have the same discipline.
"Your mother is very talkative, Miss Bennet," Elliot Heighton said, smiling that same horrible grin.
"So that's what they call it these days," Caroline murmured loud enough for the whole room to hear. Mary took a deep breath and promised herself she wouldn't take the book Caroline was holding and hit her in the head with it. Of course, she could always turn and do the same thing to Mr. Heighton. She had quite a smart on her backside because of him and it was a pleasant thought.
"If you two will excuse me, I think I'll take a turn in the lanes to keep something in check." Mary curtsied.
"What's that?" Caroline couldn't help but pry.
"I really don't think you want to know." Mary turned and raced out of the room.
"That girl..." Caroline started, shaking her head.
"Yes, she's really rather lively isn't she?" Mr. Heighton asked, not even taking the time to look up from his book.
"What? Mary Bennet...lively? Those three words shouldn't even be said together in the same sentence. She's about as lively as a slug. I find her most disagreeable." Caroline ranted, expecting to get his approval.
"Hmm," he said, getting up, "I find myself thinking quite the opposite. She's a little on the eccentric side, but that's not always a bad thing now, is it?" He really didn't give her any time to answer because he didn't think he could force himself to endure Caroline any longer.
Mary really had little time to think of anything in the next coming day. She helped Lizzy and Jane get everything finished for the ball. She was finally given a chance to get ready. She wanted to look extremely well tonight, but she didn't know why. She couldn't think of anyone she wanted to look special for, yet something inside her made her pay extra close attention to her looks.
When at last the maid and she were through, Mary dared look at herself in the mirror. Not too bad, Mary thought. A few nights of good sleep and days spent outside really cleared up her paleness. The circles under her eyes had disappeared. She hadn't made her looks better, but then again she hadn't worsened them either. The dress color did compliment her dark hair and eyes rather well.
She felt the familiar flutter of butterflies in her stomach as she made her way down the stairs. Balls always did make her nervous. The first man she met was her father, who escorted her in. They both sat down at the table where, unless a miracle occurred or one of the older gentlemen felt bad for her, Mary would sit all night. She had given up playing the piano because she knew she was not very good at it.
The dancing had already begun. Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam were out along with Jane and Charles. She saw Caroline's large hat towering over even the tallest man and recognized the man she was dancing with. She made small talk with her father and mother for about an hour when a miracle happened.
"May I have the pleasure of the next two dances, Miss Bennet?" a male voice asked behind her. She turned around and faced Elliot Heighton. She narrowed her eyes and put a scowl on her face. He would ask her just to poke fun because she had no partner. Well, she would avoid her embarrassment and his fun by refusing him.
"Oh, Mary! So tall and handsome! Of course she'll accept, Mr. Heighton!" Mrs. Bennet called out behind her. Mary reddened but she had no choice now. She nodded her head and stood up. The present dances last chord was still dwindling so they went and took their place.
It felt strange to be dancing with him. She felt a strange tingle in her stomach. Very strange indeed, considering how much she despised the man.
"May I ask how the ground is, Miss Bennet?" he asked, a very boyish and childish grin on his face.
"Pardon me?" Mary asked, confused.
"The ground, where you fell." He was waiting for the insults he knew she would hurl at him.
"I'm sure the ground is perfectly fine. No thanks to you, though, I have bruises all over." Mary's eyes practically spit fire, but she tried to keep it contained. She knew all eyes were on her because she did not usually get asked to dance by such a handsome man. She had no inclination to start a scene.
"You are a very good dancer, Miss Bennet," he said.
"And you, Mr. Heighton are a horrible liar. I am not a good dancer and I probably never will be. It is probably because of lack of practice."
"Lack of practice? Why would that be?" he asked. He looked like he honestly didn't know what he was talking about, but she knew better.
She gave him a look. "Men simply don't like to dance with me. What was it you called me before? Paleface? That certainly has much to do with it."
"You don't look pale now. You must not have stayed up to write."
Her eyes flashed to his face. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, the twenty-paged letters you write to your mother. Now that she's here I suppose there's not a reason for that." he smiled.
"Oh, I thought you meant something else."
"Like what?" he asked. She refused to answer. He laughed.
"Why did you laugh at me?" she asked. He shrugged.
"I really would like to know."
"And I'm afraid I wouldn't like to enlighten you."
"So you can ask me any personal question you want and I'm not even allowed to receive an answer for a simple question of why you were laughing at me?" she all but yelled.
Talking with this man was utterly impossible. To have a normal conversation with him was inconceivable. She came to the conclusion that he was dim-witted and just couldn't understand things as quickly.
"Your cheeks get red when you get mad," he told her.
This response corrected her theory.
"Thank you for telling me something I already know." She breathed a sigh of relief when the dance was over but then remembered she had promised him another.
"I think we should just not speak to each other this time," Mary told him.
"Why not? Do I annoy you, Miss Bennet?"
"Should I speak freely?" she asked him.
"Go ahead."
"All right then, yes. You do annoy me, very much as a matter of fact."
He laughed. "Good. Then I have succeeded."
She was too angry and annoyed to speak and he probably realized this because her cheeks got an even darker shade of red.
"You're right. You aren't very good. I'm afraid I'm going to have to dance with you again. It's for your own good." he told her simply.
"But--"
"I'm sorry, but you need the practice, Rose."
Part Five
Mary was surprised that the whole room, besides her partner, hadn't heard the loud gasp she had uttered. She looked up at Mr. Heighton with wide, wide eyes and tried to act natural. Maybe she just hadn't heard him correctly.
"Nope, you did." he told her, as if he had read her mind. Mary thanked God that the dance was finishing. After curtsying to the horrible man she had been dancing with, she ran across the room, through the opened glass doors, and onto the balcony. She didn't even care about the scene she had created. She just hoped no one would come after her. She had caught a glimpse of Elizabeth's concerned face.
The crisp air cooled her warm and angry cheeks. She looked up out at the stars and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She then heard footsteps coming out of the ballroom and onto the balcony.
"Go away, Lizzy," she said, expecting her sister.
"I'm sorry, but Mrs. Darcy isn't out here," a voice said.
Mary whirled around and saw Elliot Heighton.
"Well, you can go away, too. I especially don't want you here." she told him.
"I just came out here to check on you. Since I caused your embarrassment, whatever that might be, I figured it was the only chivalrous thing to do." He explained, stepping closer.
"I wouldn't come any closer. I might be tempted to throw you off." she told him.
This threat was greeted by a warm peal of laughter--not the reaction she had been hoping for.
"How do you ever expect to do that, Little One?" he asked.
"Oh, so now we're back to name calling. I'll have to keep track of what you call me so I know what to answer to!"
"Well, obviously you are okay and not in danger of throwing yourself off the edge. I think I'll go rejoin the party." He started off towards the ballroom.
"Why? So you can ruin somebody else's evening?" she murmured in contempt. He had anticipated her insult and had turned around before the words were all out of her mouth.
"You are over reacting. It's not like I killed your sister or something," he retorted.
"You may as well have killed me, though," she said softly.
Something about the way she said those words stopped him cold. What was she talking about?
"What do you mean?" he asked.
She turned her head away for an answer.
"I would really appreciate it if you answered my question." he said, touching her shoulder. She jerked away, like his touch was poison or something.
"You see, just five minutes ago, everything was fine. I thought two people knew my secret--your father and me. Now all of a sudden I find out you did too! And you knew the whole time! That creates a big problem for me."
"What's that?" he asked.
"How many other people know? How many other people know that Mary Bennet is Rose Templeton?" she all but screamed at his face.
"The whole ballroom, if you don't keep your voice down. Look, I read one of your books one time and I was curious, so I asked my dad some questions about you. He told me your real name. I certainly never expected to meet you. But I can tell you truthfully that I have never told a soul and my dad's revealed it to no one but me."
"But why should I believe it? Can you give me one good reason?" Mary wondered.
"Only that, I'm not that kind of a person." He shrugged.
"Oh yeah, and the way you've acted this week has really proved that! You've taunted me about it, left unanswered questions, caused reason for suspicion for me. My family's probably making assumptions as we speak!"
"All right, I admit, I was wrong in the way I acted. I thought...well, I just figured it would be fun to tease you about it. I have not told anyone else, though. My father always told me that an author took a false name for a reason and that was their business. We have no rights in letting the public know. If I did, my father would have my hide." he explained.
Mary turned away and started to pull her right earlobe, as she always did when deep in thought. What he said made sense and she had met his father before. Matthew Heighton had seemed a very honorable and trustworthy man. Just because his son had turned out all wrong did not make him any less.
"Could I ask you a question?" Elliot asked.
Mary's eyes flashed with anger. "Why not? You practically know everything else about me anyway."
"Why would it matter if the public knew who you were?"
Mary sighed. "It's really very simple. My parents would never let me continue writing. My mother especially. She would say it's unladylike and barbaric for a woman to write. The truth is, writing is my whole life and I would all but die without it." She seemed to stop, but then continued, "I never really had any friends, I was never liked by many people. Writing is what has filled that void; it can never hurt me or reject me. Plus, I always used to do things to get attention. Nobody ever gives me half a glance because I'm so plain, I suppose. When I was younger I always used to play and sing at balls," Mary smiled when she remembered her stupidity.
"What's wrong with that?" Mr. Heighton asked.
"Obviously, you've never heard me. I'm horrible. Even so, I'd try to get noticed because I thought I was nothing special. Now, even though I still am nothing special, at least I can do something special. When I see people reading my books, I feel like I'm on top of the world. It's magical."
Elliot was about to agree wholeheartedly, but that she was magical.
"That's why I couldn't live without writing, and if you dare laugh I'll be forced to kick you in the shins." she said to him quickly.
"Why would I laugh?" he actually looked taken aback.
"I've never really told anyone this. I don't say my emotions well, I just write them through my characters." she explained.
"Well, I promise I will not tell who Rose Templeton is." he said solemnly.
"Even through torture?"
"Through the worst."
"Even through threats of death?"
"I'll take it to my grave." He smiled and she hooked her hand in his arm as they started to walk back to the ballroom.
"Besides, I wouldn't want you to stop writing. I enjoy your books too much." he told her.
"You do? Really?" she asked with surprise at his compliment.
"Yes. You're one of my favorite authors, behind Shakespeare and Dickens, of course." he grinned.
"Don't be silly. I don't even deserve to be mentioned with the likes of those." she said in modest.
He shrugged his answer. Right as they were about to enter the ball room, he stopped.
"You know, you really shouldn't be so hard on yourself, Mary. I don't think you're plain at all."
With that, he led her into the ball room, kissed her hand and left her speechless.
Part Six
It seemed that the day after a ball there was an unwritten rule you could sleep late. Mary woke up past nine thirty and she was the first one up. She was going to take advantage of the situation, though. She grabbed her materials and headed down to the sitting room. She took a deep sigh and sat down in the empty and silent room.
"Alone at last!" she said out loud before setting down to do some serious writing.
She was so busy creating the green eyed character, she didn't notice Jane coming into the room.
"Mother is requesting your help, Mary," Jane told her.
"Oh, good morning, Jane. I didn't know you were up."
"Only mother, you, and I are up in the house. Mr. Darcy, Charles, Mr. Heighton, and father are all out hunting." Jane explained.
"I will go right up." Mary pronounced. As she made it to the door she suddenly realized her story was sitting out.
"Jane, will you make sure no one reads that, please?" she asked. She knew Jane would never read something that wasn't hers, but Mary did worry that other people would--one of the servants, perhaps.
Mary skipped up to her mother's room and opened the door with unaccustomed cheerfulness.
"Good morning, mother. It's a beautiful day out!" she announced, seeing her mother was still in bed.
"Oh, Mary, I have the worst headache! And my nerves! My nerves are withering today! Do you know why?" Mrs. Bennet gave Mary no chance to answer, which was really quite a blessing because Mary had no idea what had severed her mothers 'delicate' nerves this time.
"It's all because of you! The talk I had to endure last night! It was quite scandalous with you and that Mr. Heighton out alone on the balcony for so long! Have you no consideration for your mothers feelings?" Mrs. Bennet moaned.
Not really, mama, since you have no consideration for mine.
"Mother, we were not doing anything wrong. I was simply...faint from dancing and he came out to see how I was doing and wouldn't leave until he was sure I was better. It was really quite gentlemanly." Mary told her, fetching her wash basin and towel and putting out her morning dress for her.
After tending her mother for well over an hour, Mary was finally free to go back downstairs. She took the steps two at a time, worried because her papers had been sitting out for so long. She had reason, because there sitting in the over-stuffed chair, engrossed in the first copy, was Elliot Heighton.
Mary walked quietly into the room and watched him for a few seconds. The fact that he looked interested was quite the compliment in itself, and she should have known he wouldn't have stopped himself from reading. She cleared her throat loudly and he jumped and looked up, not even having the graciousness to look guilty.
"Quite a good piece of work you have here, Mary," he told her.
She was so busy grabbing her papers from him, she didn't notice the familiar use of her name.
"I thought so myself. Mr. Heighton, I do not usually let people see a work-in-progress. If you'd kindly refrain from sneaking a peek from now on, I'd greatly appreciate it." she said, trying to get the last piece of paper out of his hand.
He wouldn't give it to her but stood up to his full height.
"I would greatly wish for you to accompany me on a walk, Mary," he told her.
"Miss Bennet!" she hissed, "You can't call me by my first name in here. People will start to think things." she admonished him, but took his arm and allowed him to lead her out to the lanes.
"It's a wonderful day out, isn't it, Mary? I can call you that out here, can't I?" he asked, while sending a grin her way.
Funny, she didn't think his grin so horrible today.
"I want to talk to you about your story," he started.
"Oh, please no! It's not finished."
"No, but it is very good. The main hero...what's his name? Henry, I believe you call the chap, he really strikes me as familiar. Reminds me of someone I know very well." he said, with a teasing sparkle in his eye.
"Really? Well, of course, that must be strictly a coincidence." Mary put in, not bringing herself to look at him in the face.
"Mary, I've figured out who he reminds me of!" Elliot stopped, but Mary still would not look at him. "He reminds me of...me!" He waited for her response.
"Hmmm." she said, walking off.
He caught up to her within a few seconds.
"Tell me, Paleface...am I Henry Hill?"
Mary's blush gave it away.
"Good! That is me! I knew it and it's a good thing too, because I like that chap. Of course, in the beginning he seemed a little unlikable..." Elliot smiled and caught Mary looking at him.
"In fact you can tell how much you like me just by reading every chapter. In the first three I was detestable, the next three you were somewhat indifferent, but now I really think you're starting to like me!" he announced gleefully.
"Why, Miss Bennet! You are blushing!" he said with fake surprise.
"You're so observant, Mr. Heighton." She started to walk away, but Elliot grabbed her arm and turned her so she had to look at him.
"Is my smile 'really quite charming' and my eyes 'wonderfully engaging'?" he laughed.
"Well, right now you're smile is the last thing I want to see. I cannot lie though, you do have quite...interesting eyes." she said quickly.
"Interesting?" he prompted.
"All right, very nice ones. There. Are you happy? You've got your answers and I'm so embarrassed I'd like to cry." Mary stated.
"You won't. You're made of tougher stuff than that. I really am quite honored to be included in your book, Mary. And I don't think you have anything to be embarrassed about." he told her. Just when she thought he had turned a new leaf and was going to be kind, he came back with, "Many girls have told me they've fallen in love with my eyes." He laughed as Mary rolled her eyes.
"Tell me, do the hero and the girl get together at the end?"
"It's not a tragedy, so I'm sure you can guess. I'd be going against literature these days if they didn't get together and have a happy ending." she sighed.
"And are you like the main character?" he asked, while looking at her a little strangely.
Mary laughed a bitter laugh.
"Of course not! I try to make them the complete opposite. My characters are always beautiful and are always well liked." she stated.
"And a bit conceited?"
"Who wouldn't be if they were like that. Me, on the other hand, I'm completely unconceited because I have nothing to be conceited about." she mused half heartedly.
"Well, I'd rather have unconceited over well liked any day. It's a pity though, if I'm Henry Hill and he gets together with Anna at the end and you aren't her."
"Sorry," she shrugged, uncomfortably with the way he was looking at her, and then tripped over her own feet.
Elliot let out a laugh and made a big deal of supporting her upright the rest of the walk back.
Over the next few days, Mary found Elliot to be quite a wonderful companion. She was starting to think of him as a friend. They took walks everyday and when people weren't around, climbed the tree. She even found herself asking advice about her story and reading chapters aloud to him. He loved reading and they had many talks about the greats. Many disputes, to be accurate.
Elliot could see Mary Bennet's opinion of him rising just by the way Henry Hill was portrayed in the story, and that fact made him very happy.
Part Seven
"I've just been given some very unfortunate news, Mary," Elliot said from the ground a couple weeks later.
Mary looked down with a start but gave him her usual half smile. He was looking very handsome that morning. When that thought left her head she almost wanted to smack herself for her stupidity.
"What would that be, Mr. Heighton?" she asked as he limberly pulled himself up the tree.
"You're leaving today." he pouted as he situated himself on his usual branch.
"You are right, Mr. Heighton, but then I already knew that." Mary replied.
"I didn't know about it until Caroline announced it to me this morning." he said, giving her a look which implied he was not appreciative of not being let in on that tidbit of information.
"Yes, and I'm sure Caroline is sad to see me go." she laughed.
"Maybe she isn't..." Elliot trailed off.
"Why Mr. Heighton, do I sense some feeling...some sensitivity coming from your usual merciless teasing soul?" she asked, beginning to climb down the tree.
"This isn't a time for jokes, Mary. I really will miss you...you and your dry humor and your wonderful stories." he sighed.
"Mr. Heighton, if it is any consolation, I will miss you terribly. Would you believe me if I said you are my first real friend?" she asked.
"Yes, I'll believe you. And Mary? Will you ever call me Elliot?" he asked.
Mary shrugged and walked away from him. The dramatic departure of Mrs. Bennet was one of her best scenes yet. She ranted and raved about leaving this wonderful place and about how Lizzy had no child. She squeezed out the tears about leaving her child again and barked at their father about not buying another home closer to Pemberley.
Mary rolled her eyes and said good bye to her sisters and their husbands. She even managed a polite farewell to Caroline. She didn't think leaving Elliot would be so hard except that she didn't know if she would ever see him again. When they were alone he had liked her enough but only time would tell what would happen through time and other acquaintances.
"I'll write you," he told her as he bent to kiss her hand.
"You better," she whispered back as she headed into the carriage.
Back at home, she was just getting back to her dull friendless life when one morning she decided to go for a walk. Kitty had been going every day into Meryton to see some friends and the men there. She was now getting crazy for a husband. She claimed she didn't want to die an old maid like Mary. Her mother was getting on Mary's nerves even more while her father just basically ignored all three of them, but giving Mary some attention every once in awhile.
Mary was really missing Pemberley's' beautiful grounds and her tree and Elliot. She hadn't realized how much she valued his conversations. One night she even went to bed crying because she felt so lonely. She hadn't cried herself to sleep since she was five years old and was just glad no one had heard her.
That particular morning, she accompanied Kitty, but only as far as Meryton. She then took another lane altogether, heading near Netherfield. It was such a rainy day out that nobody was out for a walk. This was why she was so scared when somebody came from behind and covered her eyes with their hands.
"Guess who?" asked a familiar voice.
"Elliot?" she asked excitedly, turning around and giving her friend a hug.
"Ha ha, I caught you! You said Elliot and Mr. Heighton." he grinned.
"Elliot, be quiet! What are you doing here?" she wondered.
"Charles invited me to Netherfield and I said yes."
"Really, shouldn't you have things to do, Elliot?" she teased.
"The truth is, Mary, I couldn't stay away from you."
Part Eight
Mary could hardly believe her luck and so she let the last comment slide to nothing but a tease. She would no longer be bored to tears, literally!
"I'm so glad you're here!" she exclaimed, unsuccessfully repressing the urge to hug him again.
"Let me breathe, Mary," Elliot said whole-heartedly. "Did you miss me that much?"
"And more! Everyone around here is so...dull and unimaginative. I was practically strangled by it." she said smiling a genuine smile from ear to ear.
Elliot suddenly turned serious. He looked at her hands which were clasped in his, and then at her grin, and finally at her eyes. He remarked at a how a smile could change this girls face completely. Her eyes started to sparkle, her face glowed becomingly, and she seemed to give off a vibrance that simply wasn't there when she was in her usual frown.
"You need to be more like this, Mary." he told her simply.
"What do you mean, El- Mr. Heighton?" she asked, smiling even more at her near blunder.
"Laughing, happy, smiling..." he said, "You are hardly ever happy and when you are, no one can tell."
Mary was suddenly mad. "There's nothing really to be happy about, Elliot. I have literally no friends or acquaintances, I will most likely never get married and I do not want to become a governess. My father ignores me, my mother annoys me, my sister--"
"You can stop now, Mary. We all have our sob stories to tell and we don't need to bring them up for pity." he interrupted her.
"How dare you? I'll bet you do not! I'll bet you have the perfect life, don't you? Good looking, rich, free to do whatever you choose--"
"Stop!" Elliot suddenly yelled, turning towards her almost fiercely.
Mary jumped back in surprise, and with a little fear. He had a wild look in his eyes. A look that, if was not just Elliot, she'd be afraid of.
"Do you know how it feels to lose a mother to some illness no one can prevent or treat? Do you know what it is like to see someone you love slip away day by day and feel so helpless because she was hurting but you couldn't help her?" he asked, in a voice that was barely a whisper but that Mary heard like he had screamed it into her ear.
Elliot looked like someone had punched him hard in the stomach and he staggered away to a fence. He leaned against it and took big breaths, all the while his back turned away from her.
She felt horrible but she knew she needed to do something to comfort him, to help him. She had resurfaced the pain and she needed to help him out of it. She walked over and sat by him, not saying anything, just watching his face. One tear ventured its way outside his eye, but he wiped it away quickly glancing at Mary to see if she had seen.
Forget your pride now, Elliot Heighton, she willed him. She smiled at him and started to speak.
"I don't know what to say to you. I feel like sorry isn't enough." she sighed, "I guess I should apologize for being selfish and self righteous and a brat."
He smiled finally.
"You aren't those. Your problems are as real as mine were. Mine were just a little more..." he trailed off.
"Important." she finished for him.
They sat together for a few moments longer.
"Please don't stop there, Elliot. You let some of your memories out and it will only help if you get all the rest out as well." she prodded him.
He needed no more encouragement.
"When I was a young man, just before going to Cambridge, my mother turned ill. No doctor knew how to cure her or even diagnose her at the time. She would have what they call seizures from time to time. Time would only tell when they came."
Mary didn't want to interrupt him, but she needed some information.
"What are...seizures?" she asked.
"I'm not sure, exactly. All I know is that she would fall to the floor and convulse. Sometimes she would even foam at the mouth." he said, shuddering noticeably at the memories.
Mary instantly grabbed his hand with hers and squeezed it, trying to give comfort. His eyes were closed and his voice wavering because of withheld tears.
"She would have a seizure and then be fine and normal a few days later. This went on for quite some time. One day her seizure was extremely bad and when she fell, she fell down a flight of stairs and broke her neck."
Mary couldn't help gasping and her tears flowed freely as she thought about the horrid things the man next to her had to endure. To think of her mother with that pain....No, it was too much to bear.
"She died instantly." he said and then looked up and saw her tears.
"Look what happened when I was trying to make you smile." he half-heartedly teased, wiping her tears away. "You look beautiful when you smile."
Again, she brushed the compliment aside, barely even hearing it in the first place.
"Oh, Elliot, I'm so sorry! I know that is not enough to say, but it really is true. I don't know what to say--"
"You don't have to say anything, little one. It was a long time ago. I try not to think about it."
"You can still feel it, though, and--"
He silenced her with a look. "Enough. My mother has been relived too long today already. I suppose I should be getting back and you should too. Would you like an escort?" he asked.
She, mute, shook her head no. As she watched him walk away she realized his easy-going, teasing, manner was just a facade or a layer of his outer self. Elliot Heighton was turning out to be quite a complex character.
Part Nine
"Mary! Where are you going?" Mrs. Bennet screamed from the sitting room as Mary tried to sneak out the front door.
"I'm just going for a walk in the lanes mother!" she called to her mother praying her mother wouldn't remember she'd already been to the lanes two times just that day.
"Haven't you already taken a walk today? You don't want to fatigue yourself, girl!" her mother scolded. "Will you not come and read to me? My nerves are too overbearing today to read to myself."
Just my luck, Mary thought dryly. She had promised to meet Elliot at the fence in ten minutes. Even if she ran, she would hardly make it--if she left right then.
"I...I can't mother." she said.
"And why not?"
"Because I...I...dropped my hat and I have to go get it." she lied.
"You did not notice your hat was gone the whole way back?" Mrs. Bennet asked.
"Uh, no, mother." Mary replied, looking at the ground.
"Really, child, sometimes I believe your head is in the clouds." Mrs. Bennet made a gesture towards the door and then screamed, "Kitty! Kitty! Come down here and read to your poor mother!"
Mary could only leave fast enough. She raced down the lanes, nodding to people she knew, and smiling to people she didn't. Everyday since the Bingley's had returned to Netherfield, Mary and Elliot had been meeting by 'chance' while taking walks. No one had found it strange yet, even though they happened to 'meet' at the same place at the same time everyday.
When Mary skidded to a stop in front of their meeting place, Elliot was leisurely leaning against the fence post, his pocket watch in hand.
"You are late, Miss Bennet," he scolded playfully while Mary caught her breath.
Mary pulled out a huge manuscript of paper. Elliot took one look at the twinkle in her eyes and knew what it was.
"You finished it?" he asked excitedly.
Mary nodded and couldn't even check her Cheshire grin. It was done! One of her first real novels!
"I just need you to proof-read the last two chapters and then I can mail it to your father." she told him, as he eagerly took the load of papers from her.
"Better yet, you could give it to him in person." he said.
"What?" she asked.
"You could come to London and give it personally to my father. I think he would like that touch, don't you?"
"I cannot go to London by myself! Not only would it be improper, my parents would never allow it!"
"What if I were to travel with you? You could come to...teach my younger sister to play the piano!" he exclaimed.
Mary could not help but burst into laughter. "Me teach someone else how to play the piano? My family would never believe it." She narrowed her eyes. "Do you even have a sister?"
"No, but they don't have to know that. Don't you have any relatives or anyone you could stay with?" he asked.
"As a matter of fact, my aunt and uncle were requesting that either Kitty or I come visit them in London." she remembered.
"There. You'll come give it to my father in person. He'll love it, I know he will."
"How do you know?"
"Because I love it, silly. I like how you didn't just write about one girl and one man. You wrote about how things affected their whole families."
"Let us just hope the public likes it as well." she prayed.
"They will. If only I could convince you to use your real name." he smiled.
They had been over this for weeks. Elliot claimed that people would have more respect for her and when her parents realized how much money she made, they would not mind she wrote at all. Mary, on the other hand, was determined to keep her privacy.
"It will never happen, Elli." she said, purposely trying to annoy him. She knew it worked when he groaned in disgust.
"Do not call me Elli, Mary. That is a girls name." he whined.
"But it's perfectly all right if you call me Pale face?" she asked.
"You don't look pale today, little one." he laughed when he saw her face. She flounced away from him, pretending to be mad, and sat down on the fence. He followed her, turning to the chapter he had left off.
"Did you have any troubles writing any of this?" he asked absently, while paging through for content.
"Yes," she answered, turning red. He looked up and saw her blushing like a fool. It made him grin like the devil right back. As a result, Mary got redder.
"What part?" he asked.
"The...the...love scenes." she said. He didn't think she could turn any more red, but her face flushed to a dark crimson.
"The what? I didn't hear you?" he teased, sitting down right by her because he knew she wanted him as far away as possible when she was embarrassed.
"You heard me. I feel like their fake and that they don't sound right." she said.
"You use lots of adjectives." he announced.
"Pardon me?"
"You know, like, 'Your face is like the sun rising in all it's glory and splendor in the morning.'" he quoted.
"I never know what to put. No one has ever said things like that to me, save my father out of duty, of course. I've never even had a beau so especially when they...when they kiss, I feel naive." she regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. She saw the way Elliot was looking at her all of a sudden. Like he was going to do something to her she would regret.
"Hmmm, this is just like the dancing problem." he told her.
"In what way?" she asked.
"You need some practice."
She was unprepared when Elliot, his eyes locked on hers the whole time, leaned close to her face. Her eyes were as wide as saucers.
"What are you doing?" she asked, restraining him by placing the palm of her hand on his chest.
"I was going to kiss you." came the cheery reply.
"K-kiss me? I don't think so." she said, nervously. She could hear her heart beat pounding in her head. Of course, the heart beat she felt under her palm was steady and calm.
"Oh, but I do, little one." He leaned in closer again, this time grabbing her chin in his hand. She stopped him two inches away by joining her other hand on his chest as a barrier.
"I--I don't think," Mary started but that was all the time Elliot gave her to think. Suddenly his lips were pressed hers in a light but passionate kiss. He pulled her into his embrace and held her tight until they parted. Mary was breathing deeply, her face flushed as usual. He took her hands off his chest and delicately kissed each one. It was then that Mary fell backwards off the fence.
She landed with a thud and Elliot came falling on top of her. She was lucky it was such a short drop because she was a small woman and he was a tall and strong man. He knocked the wind out of her and then rolled away.
"Are you okay?" he asked, concern in his eyes.
"Are you asking me or the ground?" she mumbled. Elliot laughed and helped her up.
"You can stop blushing now," Elliot quipped.
"I'm mortified. For goodness sakes, I just fell off the fence!" she said.
"Worse things have been done...believe me." he smiled, hoisting her over the fence.
She brushed herself off. "I guess I should thank you or something." she muttered.
"For what?"
"For...helping me with troubles in my writing." she said with careful words.
"Oh, you mean kissing you?" he asked.
She nodded.
"You don't have to thank me--"
"But I want to!"
"Then do it."
"Fine, thank you." she was even more flustered now.
"You are a strange one." he laughed. He tipped his hat.
"Until tomorrow, my sweet authoress."
"Yes, tomorrow, my gallant..." she stopped. "Elliot? What do you exactly do?"
He had to think about it. "I guess you could call me your editor now."
"Fine. Until tomorrow, my gallant editor."