A Chance Meeting pt 7

Tea with Mrs. Johnstone proves a mite … unusual. 

Part 7

The next several days provided conversation, the likes of which she had never had, frankly, never even imagined. While she and Mr. Johnstone disagreed not infrequently, sometimes quite widely, he always listened politely, argued intelligently, and conceded defeat as often as she did. He was open to changing his opinions in a way she had never before experienced. It might have seemed suspicious, but there was nothing to be gained by playing games with her. He already had what he wanted, access to the library book—what more could she offer him? So, she resolved to enjoy the rare experience while she could.

Friday morning, he arrived at his usual time. Mama herself greeted him at the door as though Hill could not be trusted for such an important visitor.

“You are very welcome, Mr. Johnstone, please do come in.” Mama flounced into the parlor where Mary waited.

“Thank you, Mrs. Bennet, but I fear I will not be able to make my usual visit today.” He bowed slightly.

Mary rose from her place at the window side table, where she always sat whilst waiting for him. “Pray why not?” Hopefully their spirited debate yesterday had not been so spirited as to dissuade him …

“You must forgive me, but my mother and I return to Heatherington tomorrow and there is some business I must see to before we leave.” He really did look a bit disappointed, and since he was hardly an accomplished actor, the look was to be believed.

“We will be sorry to lose your company, sir.” Mama had a vaguely suggestive note in her voice, but it was entirely unclear what she might be pushing for.

“Likewise, madam. But I do not come bearing only bad news. My mother offers both you ladies an invitation for refreshments this afternoon. It seems she is so grateful for the way you have relieved her of my disagreeable company, that she would like to thank you both personally.” There was a little chuckle in his voice. Though he teased his mother mercilessly, and it seemed that she could be a bit …ah … difficult … at times, there was a genuine warmth between them that Mary could not help but envy just a bit.

“How very delightful. We should be very glad to attend your mother—at the vicarage I assume?”

“Yes, my Aunt, Mrs. Daring, is looking forward to your company as well.” He glanced toward Mary, one eyebrow lifted in question.

“It has been far too long since we have been able to spend time with her. We will enjoy it very much. Pray excuse me, I must make some arrangements with Hill for the afternoon.” Mama bustled off as though on an important errand. But it was obvious that her errand held no real urgency and she was merely creating what she would have called “an opportunity.”

Mr. Johnstone stood, hands limply in front of him, looking at Mary a little sheepishly. “Honestly, I really do have to attend to a number of—”

“Pray sir, you have no need to defend yourself to me.” She stood and took a few steps closer to him.

“Perhaps not, but I do not want you to misunderstand my abandonment of you this morning. I would much rather study with you than attend to orders, delivery instructions and school contracts. So, I would like extend you an offering of good will.”

“An offering, I do not understand.” Her brow knit in exactly the way her mother warned her to avoid.

“You have never met my mother. She is not exactly as one might expect.” He scuffed his toes on the carpet.

“I definitely do not understand. You have spoken a great deal about her.”

“It is true, I have, but I have not perhaps included all the relevant details.” His head hung down just a bit—too much like a guilty little boy.

It was hard to tell if he was being playful or not. She allowed a hint of sternness into her voice. “Pray tell me what you mean.”

“In the first place, you may have heard that she is half blind and deaf.”

“Maria Lucas mentioned that. She thought you were most solicitous of your mother’s infirmities.”

“I am not surprised.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I do not wish to make my mother seem disingenuous, but she is in full possession of her faculties.”

“Then why …”

“Why indeed. Since my father’s death, she finds herself wearied by what she considers unworthy conversations and interactions. And there are increasingly many of those.”

Mar’s eyes widened. “So she feigns incapacity—”

“To avoid what she finds dull or distasteful.”

Mary snickered under her breath.

“I am pleased you can find it amusing. My sister and I find it rather embarrassing. I go along with it because trying to cure her of it has been utterly ineffective, and all told there seems little enough harm to it.”

She covered her mouth and giggled just a bit. “I can well understand.  Having sat through my share of social calls which were distasteful, I can appreciate her strategy for what it is.”

“Then you are not put off?”

What joy to paint such utter astonishment on his face. “Hardly. I can respect her resourcefulness.”

“And you will keep what I have said between us alone?”

“Of course. I appreciate your insight and will endeavor my best not to be insipid to her. I fear though, at times my mother—” Her smile was nearly impossible to suppress.

“My aunt has spoken of Mrs. Bennet often enough that my mother knows what to expect. She will not paint you with the same brush.”

“That is very gracious, I am sure.”

“I hope you shall have an enjoyable afternoon with her.” He bowed again. “But I really must leave.” His eyes revealed true reluctance.

“I hope all your errands are rewarded with easy success.” Mary curtsied.

“Thank you.” He disappeared through the parlor door, feet dragging just a bit.

What an odd conversation. What kind of woman was Mrs. Johnstone?  How much disability would she feign today? It would be an interesting tea, no doubt.

Mama had insisted on having the carriage even though the vicarage was closer than Lucas Lodge—a very easy walk. But it was far more of a show to arrive in the carriage, so that was the way they would go. Luckily the farm could spare the horses and they were all spared a spirited debate between Mama and Papa. No one was disappointed by that.

Mama prattled on the entire way to the vicarage: about Lydia’s recent letter, the latest news from Lady Lucas, and a number of other points of interest that were of little interest to her listener. Just as well, Mary had perfected the skill of smiling and nodding to feign interest quite some time ago.

Not entirely unlike Mrs. Johnstone.

This should be a very interesting afternoon.

Mrs. Daring greeted them at the door. She was a stout, plain woman, mother of four strapping sons, all currently off at school. Her eyes were pretty and kind though, and she had a sweet voice and laugh that easily made one forget that she was plain.

Mrs. Daring led them to the parlor when Mrs. Johnstone was already installed.  According to Mama, the room was just the right size and properly decorated to be in the home of a vicar. Welcoming, and neat, neither too high or too low for their station. To Mary, it seemed rather nondescript, bearing little to reveal much about the resident. But according to Mama that was a proper thing. Why, she had no idea, but to question Mama on the matter was probably not a good idea.  The table before Mrs. Johnstone bore a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of still-warm biscuits that smelled of spices and sweetness.

“That you so much for accepting our invitation on such short notice.” Mrs. Daring sat next Mrs. Johnstone.

The two women could not have been more different. Mrs. Daring was plump and blonde and sweet, rather like an under baked Chelsea bun, with shiny raisin eyes and a disposition that was universally pleasing. Most everyone in the parish liked her very well—which might not sound like a great accomplishment, but indeed it was.

Mrs. Johnstone was dark, her face lined and cross-looking, with sharp angles everywhere one might look. Rather like an overbaked paste crust, she looked like she might go to pieces with little warning. Clearly her son did not favor her. In truth, by appearance alone, she was rather intimidating.

“Before we get too comfortable, pray Mrs. Bennet might I trouble you for your opinion about my rose garden?” Mrs. Daring clasped her hands before her ample bosom. “It is well known in Hertfordshire that there is no one who keeps roses as well as you do.”

Even Papa conceded that the general opinion was right. Mama’s rose beds were a site to behold.

Mama’s cheek’s flushed. “You are far too generous. My rose gardens are hardly that impressive, but I would be happy to help you in any way I can.”

“Pray come and see, then, there is this spot in the back beds where something is vexing my roses and I have no notion of what it could be.” Mrs. Daring led Mama out, describing her troubled plants as they went.

Mrs. Johnstone turned to stare at Mary. Her eyes were dark, sharp and clear. A quick intelligence flickered behind them. Definitely not half blind.

“We have been enjoying some very fine weather, have we not?” It was rarely a mistake to remark about the weather. Mary sat across from Mrs. Johnstone.

“I do not see why you would not do for Mr. Collins.” Mrs. Johnstone pressed her lips into a thin, sour frown and leaned slightly back in her thinly upholstered chair.

“Excuse me?” Mary gasped, but managed not to allow her jaw to gape—just barely.

“You heard me well enough. That Lady Lucas went on and on about her eldest daughter’s conquest, with that Collins man.” She pressed her elbows into the chair’s arms to sit up a little straighter.

Mary’s cheeks burned. That was not a topic Mrs. Johnstone was welcome to discuss with her.

Her eyes narrowed. “Why would he have chosen a woman ten years older than you when he could have had a young and—well reasonably pretty—wife?”

“I … thank you for the compliment …” Not that it actually sounded like one.

“That was not a compliment.”

How kind of her to clear up the confusion so quickly.

“It was merely a statement of fact. You are a decade younger that Mrs. Collins, and you are not displeasing to look at. Not the beauty of your family as I understand—”

“No, that would be my sister Jane. There is hardly one woman in fifty who would not suffer standing beside her.” At least it was easy to slip into her script about her elder sisters.

“You must be relieved that she is no longer in your house.”

“Why would I feel that way?” Why did this woman persist this way?

“What plain girl would not appreciate having one less beauty to be compared to?”

“Jane is a sweet and gentle soul who goes out of her way to be pleasing to those around her.” It was far easier to say because it was true.

“So you are not jealous of her beauty?” Mrs. Johnstone rested her chin on an open first and stared.

“That is a very personal question.”

“The most interesting ones are.” Mrs. Johnstone eyebrows flashed up. “So are you jealous?”

Mary’s eyes narrowed a bit. “Have you a very pretty sister?”

Mrs. Johnstone laughed thinly. “Interesting that you would think to ask. Suppose I do.”

“Then one might wonder if you ask of jealousy as a comparison to your own experience.”

“One might. But that one might also be avoiding a more significant question.  Why did you not do for Mr. Collins? Lady Lucas made it sound as though there were those who believed that you would make an excellent match for the man.”

“I certainly cannot speak for him, and would not begin to. But I believe that his attentions were directed to my second eldest sister, Elizabeth. When he did not succeed with her, I believe his disappointment might have turned his eyes away from our family circle.” There was enough truth in that answer to satisfy anyone, or at least there should be.

“And the former Miss Lucas’ behavior had nothing to do with it?” Mrs. Johnstone cocked her head as though she suspected something that none would say in polite company. But then again, was this polite company?

“It sounds very much as though you want me speak negatively of our friend.”

“I am not leading you in any direction, merely asking your opinion.”

“I know nothing of her behavior save what I witnessed in public, which was always appropriate and ladylike. If you wish to know any more, you will have to consult the lady in question.” Mary straightened her spine and pulled her shoulder’s back.

“So you bear her no ill will?”

Mary licked her lips. “Surely you have heard from your son that I have spent the last two weeks working diligently on a favor for her. Is that the behavior of someone bearing animosity?”

“One never knows. Sometimes people act quite the opposite of how they actually feel.”

“I have heard that.” Mary rose—if she stayed seated one more moment she might well lose control over her tongue—and wandered toward the fluttering curtains. “But, if one believes in the hand of Providence, then one must also believe that things work out as they should, whether or not one understands that at any given moment.”

“Those are brave words for a young woman who may have watched her only chance at a future wed another.”

She completely turned her back on Mrs. Johnstone. Though it might be considered rude, it was also entirely necessary. “Perhaps so. But I am not yet one and twenty. It would be foolish to resign myself to any particular fate just now.”

“So you really are not bitter?”

“What I feel or think in the privacy of my own thoughts is not for you or anyone else to know. I believe that one reaps what they sow and that is a choice I can make separate from any of the things you are asking me about. Since you seek to judge me, madam, I would ask you to do so on the basis of what I have been seen to do and heard to say, not what others suppose about me.” Her breath left little clouds on the window pane that disappeared as quickly as her words.

“That is surprisingly more difficult a favor to receive than you might realize, but an entirely fair one to ask for.”

Mary turned to find Mrs. Johnstone pouring glasses of lemonade. Footfalls and voices filled the corridor just outside the parlor.

“I cannot thank you enough, Mrs. Bennet,” Mrs. Darning gushed, leaning on Mama’s arm. I had no idea the bushes were not getting enough sun. I will move them directly to the spot you suggested.”

Mama looked ever so satisfied. She did so like to be helpful. It was good one of them was pleased with their visit.

Find earlier parts of this story HERE

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