The Secret Life of Miss Mary Bennet, Katherine Cowley [books successful people read .TXT] 📗

by finding the rings? Or had she performed the exact part they had hoped she would play?

Mary’s thoughts led her in endless, futile directions until Withrow and the thief finished their conversation, embraced, and left the trees in opposite directions, Withrow towards the castle, and the thief towards the main road. There was a brief moment of panic as Withrow paused not far from her hiding place, but then he was gone.

*

Mary returned to her room, collapsed into her bed, and fell into a restless, uneasy sleep. A knock on the door jolted Mary awake. The door was pushed open a crack, and a voice came from outside. “Excuse me, miss, but Mrs. Boughton has sent me to help you prepare for dinner.”

“I do not need someone to wait on me.” Mary never needed the help of maids to dress, not even for a ball.

The door pushed opened the rest of the way, revealing a pretty girl with dark skin and a smiling face.

“Don’t worry,” said the maid. “You are not my only task. But this is a big house with many expectations, and you are rather short on time, and it’s no trouble at all.”

Mary tried to come up with some way to stop the maid but could not find the words.

The maid was opening all of Mary’s cases, examining the clothes. “I’m Fanny, by the way. Fanny Cramer.” She settled on the nicest black gown, the one Mary had worn on the day of the funeral. “Now this one will be just right, unless you want to leave mourning behind and put on some colour for tonight.”

“I am not one of those young ladies who is in mourning for only a week or two. I plan to wear black for my father for at least three months.”

“Whatever suits your fancy,” said Fanny. “It is a bit unusual though. I have never heard of anyone wearing it for more than a month or two.”

Before Mary knew it, Fanny had disrobed her and put on the new gown. She was efficient and friendly, keeping up a constant chatter, and fortunately, did not seem to expect Mary to respond.

“Do you need help going down?”

“I was given a tour of the castle.”

“It will be the smaller dining room tonight, the one on the left. While you’re there, I will put away the rest of your things for you.”

Normally, Mary did this sort of thing herself, but she was tired, and Fanny seemed the sort who would do it even if told not to. She owned nothing overly private that Fanny could not see.

“Be careful with the music. And with the family names chart. I spent a long time copying everything down and would not like to see it wrinkled.”

“I always treat everything with care,” said Fanny. “Don’t you worry over it.” She squeezed Mary’s arm in a manner that felt rather familiar for having just met. “Now go and eat. It will help you feel better.”

Mary was feeling quite well and had not said anything that would have indicated otherwise, so she wondered at Fanny’s statement. But she was hungry, so she went down the two flights on the small spiral staircase and entered the smaller dining room.

Mr. Withrow was already seated, but he stood when she entered.

“Good evening,” said Mr. Withrow.

“Good evening,” said Mary.

The servants brought out the food, course by course, and Mrs. Boughton stood on the side, a watchful chaperone. Mr. Withrow appeared to be thoroughly engaged in his food and did not speak. Mary wondered if he disliked her so intensely after such a short acquaintance, if he simply found her so far beneath his notice, or if he was treating her this way because of her previous accusation.

“What business called Lady Trafford to Brighton?” asked Mary.

“One of the charities she is involved in, I believe.”

“Oh really?” asked Mary, trying to draw out more details. “What did they need her for?”

“I am not aware of the particulars.”

She wondered if he did not know, or if he was simply being evasive. If a family member of hers went off on urgent business, she would have found out the particulars before they left.

“Does Lady Trafford do a lot of charity work?”

“A reasonable amount. She does what she can and never feels she has done enough.” He took a very large bite of food, apparently not wanting to elaborate.

“I think that is very commendable. A soul that is turned towards others does some of the most important work.”

He nodded but did not respond.

“What charities does she assist?”

“A large number, both in Worthing and other nearby locations. I cannot keep track of all their names.”

He really did not want to give her any information. “I would like to do work for the benefit of the poor and the needy as well. Is there any society that might be able to use my skills?”

He sighed. “I am not personally involved in any of them, so the best thing to do would be to wait and ask my aunt when she returns.”

There were other things Mary wanted to ask, such as how exactly their families were related, how often she might expect to visit Worthing, and most especially, Withrow’s connection to the thief, but Mary suspected he would deflect her questions, so she did not verbalize them. They sat in silence for a few minutes until Mary asked, “May I use the library?” Mrs. Boughton had already implied permission to use the pianoforte but had not been clear about the library.

“Lady Trafford will, without doubt, grant you a full run of the house.”

It was an indirect permission, but she would take it.

Then he added, “When I am working or reading in the library, you are welcome to procure a text, but I prefer not to be disturbed.”

Her father had been much the same way. He preferred if the library was kept a place of quiet contemplation. “I will not disturb you.”

They finished their food in silence. Mary stood to leave.

Withrow raised his hand to