Chapter 1: Chaperone
Chapter Text
Mother,
I have arrived at the inn just outside Gloucestershire. The journey has been uneventful. My chaperone and I are well situated here and comfortable.
I will write again shortly as the telephone in the tavern is out of service.
~Mary
Kitty,
What a horrendous trip this has been! Not only was I strong-armed into a childhood betrothal (what an old-fashioned and outdated idea), but then I was forced on this ridiculous expedition with Dull Dithers for company. Do you know, she knows nothing of Greek Mythology? Not even Shakespeare, for heaven’s sake! And now, we’ve been forced to stay at this dingy little tavern—called, of all things, The Old Flea—because the Masters of the House are Not At Home.
How humiliating to be cast off to this dreary place with no company. Not even a working telephone! I fear I may not make it to morning. I have paid extra for these letters to arrive home, and I hope to God I am not still living above this horrible pub when you reply.
Send help.
~M
Mary gazed at the letter in her hand. She was startled by Kitty’s ready reply, having received it only two days after writing the first, and ran up to her room in order to read it in private.
My dearest ‘Ma-weeee,’
Mum and I received your letters. Rest assured, she was not amused by your tone. You should know that living with our father's dry wit has trained her to sort out a genuine reply from a sarcastic one. She knows you're miserable and unhappy, and I think deep down, she isn't thrilled about this either. In fact, I caught her in a rare, vulnerable moment and got her to admit that she might have called off the betrothal. But our family situation (and reputation) being what it is…
Lydia is recovering. Reluctantly and with great protest. She hated being dragged away from Wickham in such a fashion. And you already know that my dear Leo called off our engagement after the scandal made its way through the gossips of Meryton. I imagine one's true colors reveal themselves in times of trial. I miss him, but I would have regretted marrying a man who cared more about reputation than the affection I thought we shared.
Just know that this doesn't have to be your fate forever. You, me, and Lydia could always accept our inevitable spinsterhood and live at Netherfield with Jane and Charles. They have already offered as much. The place is big enough.
Lizzie will no doubt become a world traveler and famous journalist, if only to escape her heartache over a certain Mr. Darcy, which she refuses to admit. She has been haunting our home like some pale, sickly Victorian child on the brink of death. You must tease her about it in your next letter.
Just know that no matter what you choose—marriage to a man with wealth and a home, or a life of singleness with your ineligible sisters—I support you wholeheartedly.
Love,
Kitts
Mary read the letter a second time. And then a third. Eventually, the knot of anxiety and anger began to ebb from her stomach, especially when she saw the way Kitty had written out her favorite childhood nickname for Mary. Furthermore, she was soothed by her younger sister's words. Mary, the third child of a family of 5 sisters, hadn't always gotten along with her siblings. Jane and Lizzie, the two oldest, had formed a bond long before Mary was born. And since Kitty and Lydia were only a year apart, the two of them had become inseparable. It left Mary feeling left out and ignored as the middle child.
Life had changed a great deal for the Bennets over the last year. Lydia's scandal, Jane's marriage to an extremely wealthy but humble man, and Lizzie's refusal of the even more eligible (but grouchy) Mr. Darcy had sent the family into a tizzy. After Kitty's own romance had soured, not to mention the damage to her close relationship with Lydia, the two middle Bennet sisters had grown closer.
Mary had never been opposed to spinsterhood. In fact, she had never subscribed to the idea of real life romance, despite obsessing over the stories in her books. But the thought of entering into a life without a husband seemed much less lonely with Kitty's support.
And now, this ridiculous betrothal…
It was some arrangement that had been made when Mary was just a baby and her intended was a small boy. It baffled her. Could she really envision herself entering into a marriage of convenience, just to give herself worldly comfort and security? She knew she wasn't pretty or accomplished enough to earn both an advantageous marriage and a love connection. She wasn't like Jane, whose beauty was unmatched and had captivated Charles Bingley at first glance. Her sweetness was an added benefit. Lizzie was talented enough to make her own fortune and way in the world, if she chose. But Mary knew that once she told Lizzie what she had learned about a certain Mr. Darcy, the two of them would find their way to each other at last.
It left Kitty, Lydia, and Mary to be “taken care of,” as their mother liked to say. She had always subscribed to the idea of marrying off her daughters, even though it was an old-fashioned concept in this post-war times. And despite their family's recent connection to the Bingleys, and even to Mr. Darcy, the prospects for the three youngest sisters didn't look promising.
Mary refused to be a burden on her parents. Not to mention the aggravation of living with them as she rapidly approached the age of 30. She wanted independence. And short of finding herself a lucrative career (with very few skills or talents to her name), she was forced to consider this ridiculous betrothal. If nothing else, it might be an adventure - something she was sadly unacquainted with in her life.
“Miss Bennet, I believe dinner is served.”
She glanced up at her chaperone (yet another outdated rule that her mother insisted upon) and gave Miss Dithers a weak smile. “Thank you, Thelma. I will be downstairs shortly.”
The florid-faced middle aged woman gave Mary a bow before leaving. Mary wasn't in a rush to follow. For heaven’s sake, it was 1953, and Mary was 28 years old. She could eat dinner on her own, if she wanted to. But no—she was forced to be accompanied at all times by the older woman, who was more like a piece of furniture than an actual companion.
Mary considered calling off the entire ridiculous affair and going home first thing in the morning. But part of her, the incurable curious part, was keen to see her betrothed at least once.
And so, she just pushed her thin hair back with a few extra pins and descended the steps. The Old Flea was hardly a fine dining establishment. The general hum of conversation filled the dark, low-ceilinged room, and a stout older woman asked them to choose between two singular items on the menu. The fish and chips weren’t too bad, and so Mary ordered them again. Miss Dithers chose the same.
But Mary called the older woman back to the table and ordered a pint of beer.
At Miss Dither’s disapproving glance, Mary just rolled her eyes. “We are in a pub, Thelma. I’m simply blending in.”
Her chaperone was annoyingly silent on the matter but still wearing an unhappy look on her ruddy face. She disapproved of drinking. Mary, on the other hand, enjoyed it. She was known to share a glass of wine with her father of an evening, and she could put down a pint or two at their pub in Meryton. This was not a well-known fact, but Mary and her sisters used to sneak off in the evenings and commune with the locals. Mary had even danced with a few strangers, when she was feeling bold enough to do so.
Tragically, this was how Lizzie had first met George Wickham. And how Lydia had eventually sealed her fate by running off with him several months ago, on the eve of her 16th birthday. Mary glanced around and quite enjoyed the anonymity she had in this new place.
Since there was no conversation to be had, Mary’s gaze wandered to a young couple nestled in a corner booth. She noticed the woman first. She was quite tall and strikingly pretty, with dark hair styled in the latest fashion and a set of bright blue eyes. They were brimming at the moment with unshed tears. Mary’s attention drifted to the man across from her, and…well, there was no other word for it. She was entranced by the look of him. He had slightly curling light brown hair and high, proud cheekbones. His eyes were large and a changeable color, in the dim lighting overhead. Still, he had the most expressive face she had ever seen before. At the moment, he looked sympathetic towards the young woman. He reached out and took her hand, and Mary felt a sting of unexpected envy.
“Your food, ladies,” the waitress said as she plopped the greasy plates down in front of Mary and Thelma.
She was startled back to reality and was caught in conversation with the old woman, who was the sole owner of The Old Flea. Mary was forced to offer a half-truth, saying that she and her companion were merely passing through. She didn’t like being dishonest, but the truth was far more complicated (and humiliating). By the time Mrs. Brown departed, Mary saw that the handsome man and his young lady had disappeared.
Mary went to bed that night and allowed her vivid imagination to run riot. She imagined Northanger Abbey as a dark, brooding mansion on the top of a hill. Perhaps the master of the house would be unwelcoming and cruel to her. The staff would lurk through the corridors, holding dark secrets of their own. She fell asleep with these intriguing pictures running through her mind, even while she knew the truth would be far less interesting.
Chapter 2: Betrothal be damned
Summary:
She was surprised by her own boldness, but given the circumstances, she wasn’t in the mood for pretense.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Mary mulled over her situation as the lorry bounced over the uneven roadway. She didn’t consider herself a particularly creative person. She enjoyed reading, but she didn’t have the talent to write her own stories like Lizzie. But owing to a somewhat solitary childhood, she had escaped into the world of books. She didn’t think of herself as a romantic—at least, not in the traditional sense. She had formed an attachment to William Collins, but that had been doomed from the start. He only ever had eyes for Jane, at first, and then Lizzie. And after being rebuffed by the two prettiest Bennet sisters, he had fixed his attachment on Lizzie’s own friend, Charlotte.
Still, Mary enjoyed reading about romance. She lost herself in gothic tales with brooding heroes rescuing the heroines in compromising situations. Every scenario, each more impossible than the last, held her interest as if she was merely a sort of anthropologist. She was making an intense study of romance, from the outside. Mary Bennet wasn’t born to be a heroine, after all.
Additionally, when she learned that her “betrothed” lived in a place like Northanger Abbey, this piqued her interest. She had read about a specific architect, and the name of the estate was familiar to her. It was not known for its gardens or elaborately designed rooms. Instead, there was a secret that she dearly wished to see for herself.
All of this, in addition to the pressure from her own mother, had led Mary on this journey. She had thrown caution to the wind and decided she might as well get something out of this trip, if not a husband. So far, this adventure wasn’t off to the best start. As the car approached the gates of the grand estate, it was just as she feared. Northanger Abbey was not a gothic mansion set on a rocky hillside. Instead, it was quite charming—if such a spacious estate could be called “charming.” It wasn’t as enormous as Pemberley, but it was bigger than Charles Bingley’s home of Netherfield.
The staff were just as plain and ordinary as any other household. There was a butler, a pretty maid, and a young man who was wearing plain clothes, possibly the groundskeeper. A severe gentleman by the name of Chester Logan was in charge, and he greeted them with a cold smile as he led the two women inside. He was tall and domineering in his attitude, barking orders at other servants who appeared and whisked Mary’s single suitcase up the stairs.
Inside, Northanger Abbey was brightly furnished, if a bit outdated in its decor. In fact, the closer she looked, the more Mary began to see that the place was looking a bit shabby. It wasn’t festooned with intricately carved wood panels. The staircase was unimpressive bordering on plain.
Mr. Logan interrupted Mary’s overt examination of the front room. “General Tilney will meet you in the West study, once you are situated in your rooms.” He gestured silently for Miss Dithers to follow a different maid towards the servant’s quarters.
Mary opened her mouth to protest, but Mr. Logan was wearing such a severe and disapproving look that she decided against it. She felt a bit guilty that Miss Dithers would have less spacious accommodations, even though she knew this was the norm with “chaperones.” The concept was still a bit lost on Mary, owing to the fact that she was a grown woman, and this wasn’t the Edwardian age. She resolved to find a way to release Miss Dithers from an unhappy assignment. She would use her own money to pay the woman’s wages, if necessary.
That was if Mary decided to see this nonsense through to the end. She had a secret to discover at Northanger Abbey, after all.
Mary soon found herself alone and following the young, pretty maid she had seen earlier. She had bright red hair (either dyed or natural, it was striking), and she had the sort of figure that was not complimented by the boxy maids’ uniform. Even her name was exotic. The more Mary looked at her, the more this beautiful woman looked out of place in her occupation.
“I’m Ruby,” the woman said, shaking Mary’s hand. “Never put much stock in all that stuffy curtsying thing, so don’t expect it from me.”
Mary detected a hint of Yorkshire in the other woman’s voice, and she smiled at her blunt turn of phrase. “I don’t require any curtsying. I may not be here very long anyway.”
Ruby tilted her head. She had outlined her eyes in dark eyeliner, giving her a cat-like appearance that was alluring. “Thinking of bunking off the engagement?”
Mary blushed. She wasn’t sure it was proper to confess quite so much to this stranger—and someone so well acquainted with the masters of the house—but she couldn’t stop herself. “I’ve never met the man in my life.”
Ruby smirked. “Bobby’s flashy, but he’s a good sort. Hasn’t made a pass at me even once.” She bobbed her hips side to side, and this made Mary laugh aloud.
She felt a rush of relief. Perhaps she’d made a friend already. “Do you know about the architecture of the place?”
The other woman frowned. “Architecture? Goodness, no. But you might enjoy looking at Bobby’s younger brother, Henry. He’s quite handsome, too. But you wouldn't get the family title if you married him. And, of course, there’s…” Ruby’s face clouded over suddenly. She looked as though she wanted to say something else, but a tinkling bell was heard down the hall. “That’ll be for me. Should I come back and unpack your bag for you, Miss?”
“That won’t be necessary. And it’s Mary, please.”
Ruby frowned again, this time with a hint of amusement. “No, I think that ‘Mary’ is far too plain for you. I’m certain to think of a better name that suits you.” The bell was heard ringing again, this time more insistent. “Just as soon as I deal with Logan the Terror.”
Mary barked out a laugh, but she was less sanguine about this joke. She wasn’t sure how to take Ruby’s comment about her name, either. It wasn’t exactly a compliment. Soon enough, tea was announced, and Mary was led through the dim hallways by a different maid. She found herself alone for the moment in a spacious study. The cushioned chairs in front of the fire looked a bit faded. The carpet underfoot was threadbare in patches, beneath larger pieces of furniture, and it left Mary wondering…
“Still not here?” A booming voice echoed down the corridor. “What on earth am I to do with the girl in the meantime?”
A softer male voice responded (Mr. Logan), but she couldn't hear his reply.
She certainly heard the master of the house, who shouted, “She what? Pay the woman off and get rid of her at once.”
Mary was left to stand there, waiting for an uncertain length of time as footsteps were heard coming and going in all directions. She was drawn to the window by noise outside and saw, to her dismay, that Miss Dithers was being led towards a waiting car. The lorry that had brought them to Netherfield was gone, so the dusty Ford Prefect had to belong to the Tilneys. Mary bolted from the room and went in search of the front entrance—only to be stopped by Mr. Logan.
“Miss Bennet, I think it best that you wait for General Tilney in the study,” he said, looking just as severe as before. He was a tall, burly sort of man who loomed above her. He might have been more menacing if it weren’t for the boyish way his ears stuck out from the sides of his head.
“But—my chaperone,” she protested.
“She’s being sent away, under orders of the General.”
“What on earth for?”
Logan’s jaw clenched briefly. “That is not your concern.”
“It is my concern, since the woman was sent here to keep me company.” It didn’t matter that Mary had been scheming different ways to send Miss Dithers home. She felt bereft at the sudden and unexpected departure of the only person she knew, even if it was a begrudging sort of relationship.
“You are quite safe here, Miss Bennet. She acted unprofessionally, and she has been dismissed. If you are in need of another chaperone—”
“I never required one in the first place, Mr. Logan. But the fact of the matter is that she was employed by my family. Shouldn’t it be my decision if she is to be sent packing without a moment’s notice?”
Mr. Logan held his ground. He seemed on the brink of saying something else, but a figure appeared behind him.
“That’s quite enough, Chester,” the booming voice said. It was the master of the house, General Tilney.
Mary’s overactive imagination went into overdrive when the man stepped out from behind Mr. Logan. He wasn’t as tall as his butler, but he was twice as imposing. He had large, expressive eyes that flashed with anger at the moment. Despite being well-groomed, he had a grisly sort of appearance with wiry, prominent eyebrows and a thick head of white hair. “I’m surprised your mother hired such a lady in the first place,” the General said to Mary without preamble.
She swallowed, mustering enough courage to confess, “She was unnecessary, I admit. But her dismissal is irregular, and I have to protest her treatment.”
The General shrugged one shoulder. “It couldn’t be helped, Miss Bennet. I will explain the reasons better with time. But for now, should we not enjoy some refreshments?”
Mary glanced at Mr. Logan and knew that she would find no ally there. She merely nodded her head and allowed herself to be guided back into the study.
“I could ask Ruby to take over for Miss Dithers’ duties, if you like,” General Tilney said as he poured tea into three cups on the waiting tray.
Mary felt a rush of indignation as she was forced to remind him, again: “I do not require a chaperone, Sir.”
“And yet, your family hired one? A nosy, bothersome old lady, if you ask me.”
She couldn’t exactly disagree on that point, but she was defensive of a woman she didn’t even like, only because she had been set adrift in a strange house. It emboldened her to be uncouth towards her host, who hadn’t made her feel welcomed here. “I may not have enjoyed the woman’s company, but I am now alone in a stranger’s home with no friends. You can imagine that is an unenviable position to be in, Sir.”
He studied her with his keen hazel eyes. The careworn lines around his face were deep, and the crease between his thick, bushy eyebrows only deepened. “But you aren’t a stranger. We have met before, Miss Bennet, on two separate occasions.”
She blinked at him. “We have?”
“I believe you were three or four years old the first time. Your mother wished to renew our acquaintance. We also formalized the agreement we had made between our families when you were, perhaps, seven.”
“I can hardly be expected to remember—”
“You were enthralled with my son,” he continued, as though she hadn’t spoken at all. “Robert was indifferent, but that was to be expected. He never could fix his attention on one girl at a time.” His expression shifted into annoyance. “And if this cup of tea is cold by the time he makes his grand entrance, I will have words with him.”
Mary stared down at the tray, where soft tendrils of steam emanated from the untouched cup and saucer. She wasn’t sure if the General was in earnest or if there was even a hint of humor in his demeanor. She was uncomfortable, to say the least, and wondered if she might put an end to this ill-fated adventure once and for all. Silence descended like a heavy blanket in the room. They sat and sipped their tea for a lengthy period of time. She was just mustering the courage to ask him a few more prying questions when a car roared down the driveway.
Mary and the General had a fine view of the front of the estate from this room (he had chosen it for this specific purpose). She watched, intrigued, as a slim figure exited the sleek, light blue car. He looked a bit disheveled with the top buttons of his shirt undone and the scarf around his neck in disarray. He sauntered towards the front door with a confident stride and a devil-may-care attitude. And the moment he turned his face towards the window, Mary stifled a gasp. It was the handsome man from The Old Flea the prior evening.
Only, he looked so different in the light of day.
“Logan, you are looking positively miffed today,” the light tenor voice echoed down the corridor as he entered the house.
Mr. Logan didn’t respond.
“The silent treatment? How utterly unoriginal of you, my good man.”
Soon enough, the young man—whom she now knew to be Robert Tilney—strolled into the room with the same blasé attitude.
“Ah, Father. Lovely to see you. And this my bride-to-be, I presume?” He turned his gaze to Mary.
She saw that his eyes were hazel, like his father’s, only they were a lighter shade of coppery brown flecked with green. His expressive face told her nothing, aside from the bland smile he wore. He looked unimpressed with the sight before him.
Mary felt a hot surge of emotion, and she wasn’t sure she could put a name to it. Humiliation was the chief feeling. She suddenly rose to her feet. There wasn’t an adventure in the world that was worth this sort of treatment. “No, I don’t think so, Mr. Tilney,” she said at last.
He put a hand to his chest as if her words were a physical blow. “I’ve made that good of an impression already?”
“Hold your tongue, you fickle youth,” the General hissed. “At least invite the young woman to stay for dinner before she escapes this old place for home.”
Robert looked non-plussed, and he gestured to the seats with an inviting smile.
Mary reluctantly sat down. The General handed his son a tepid cup of tea. Robert said nothing about it. He stole a glance at Mary, but nothing else was said for the moment.
The General finished his cup in two gulps before excusing himself in a gruff manner. Robert stiffened. The silence that followed his father's abrupt departure was so profound that Mary winced when the springs in her chair squeaked.
Robert sighed and set his cup down with a clatter. “This is utterly ridiculous.”
Mary blinked at him. He was undeniably handsome. But the longer she looked at him, the more she began to remember something.
He gave her a sheepish smirk as he added, “The situation is ridiculous, Miss Bennet. Not you.”
“On that we can agree,” she said in an icy tone. “Though I imagine any relationship that began the way ours did was doomed for failure.”
He frowned, and the scowl he wore was almost as severe as his father's.
“I don't know if you remember our second introduction. But there was an incident involving my hair and a bowl of soup.”
Robert laughed—a startled bark that felt too loud in the present circumstances. “I was an unholy terror in those days. I doubt you’ll find me much changed.”
Mary held his gaze. She had light blue eyes that were a bit too pale, and she knew they lacked the sort of warmth that emanated from Robert’s eyes. And when she compared herself to the lovely young woman from The Old Flea, Mary imagined Robert wasn’t too pleased with the looks of his betrothed. She had questions for him.
But it was Robert who leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “This is all a bit…awkward.”
“I have no doubt you could find a much more eligible woman on your own, without this ridiculous arrangement getting in your way.” She was surprised by her own boldness, but given the circumstances, she wasn’t in the mood for pretense. She missed the expression that passed over his face as she continued, dropping his gaze while she spoke. “Why don’t we consider this a sort of—trial period, of sorts? And if we find we are ill-matched, we can go our separate ways. Betrothal be damned.”
“You don’t know my father.”
She cautiously lifted her eyes to his. “I assure you, my mother can be twice as stubborn. But we are adults. We can decide for ourselves if—”
“Dinner will be served in a quarter of an hour,” Mr. Logan said.
Mary jumped, and she wondered how she could have missed his arrival. It left her curious as to whether he was listening to their conversation.
The young man stood at the same time as Mary and gestured to the door. “Shall we, Miss Bennet?”
She didn’t take the arm he offered. It felt too formal. Too—contrived, in a way. “You can call me Mary.”
“Then, you should call me Bobby. It’s only ‘Robert’ when I’m in trouble.”
She smirked and was spared the opportunity to offer a retort as Mr. Logan was waiting for them in the hall. He loomed behind the pair as Bobby led the way to the dining room. Mary had the distinct impression that Miss Dithers had been replaced by the stone-faced Chester Logan.
Mary ignored the knot of anxiety in her stomach. She would see this through for a few days, at least. Just until she satiated her own curiosity.
As they walked through the front hallway, there was a loud knock on the front door. Mr. Logan muttered something under his breath and gave a sharp look to the nearest maid who had rushed to answer it. She shrank back with a soft apology.
Mary and Bobby paused on the threshold of the dining room in order to observe the unexpected intrusion. The door opened, and a peculiar sight greeted them.
The first person Mary saw was the pretty young woman from The Old Flea. She was still just as tall and lovely, which was only enhanced by the flush of exertion on her face. Draped across her arm was—strangest of all—a man of the cloth. His black hat was askew, and his robes were muddied on the bottom. He limped heavily on one foot.
“Miss Morland,” Mr. Logan said in some alarm, looking at the beautiful woman first. “What are you doing here? And what has happened to Father Brown?”
Notes:
Let’s goooooo!! <3
Chapter 3: Banter
Summary:
“I think you are a closet romantic yourself, Mary.“
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The commotion that followed might have been amusing, if Bobby Tilney wasn’t filled with conflicting emotions. For one thing, he hadn’t expected to see Catherine so soon, and under such strange circumstances. Nor was he prepared for the unorthodox arrival of the kindly, if absentminded, priest. His family had been acquainted with Father Brown for many years, ever since his arrival in Gloucestershire and subsequent appointment at the local parish.
It took several moments to sort out what had happened. His father didn’t help the situation by shouting above the hubbub with his booming voice. He demanded to know what had happened—and why Catherine Morland had set food on his property.
“Father, perhaps we should tend to the priest before you interrogate my friend?” Bobby interjected.
The General was unhappy with his oldest son, but he knew this was the practical course of action. A decision was made, and Mr. Logan and Bobby assisted the injured curate into the study. They learned, through a broken monologue from Father Brown, that he had been on his way to Northanger Abbey on his trusty bicycle. A flat tire had left him indisposed at the side of the road, and a passing car nearly ran him over. He had been forced to bolt into the bushes, whereupon he tripped and twisted his foot against a root.
“I imagine they couldn’t see you in your black robes,” Mary said as she reached for a footstool and propped his injured ankle upon it.
“Just so, Miss,” he said, giving her a curious look through his tiny spectacles. He was portly with a kind and gentle demeanor. Mary liked him immediately.
“I was walking this way myself and happened upon the poor Father,” Catherine said.
“And how did you find yourself walking in this direction, Miss Morland?” The General retorted sharply.
Mary caught the pleading look that Bobby sent to The General, who ignored it.
“Might I take a look, Father?” Mary inquired as she bent to examine the muddy cuff of the priest’s uniform.
He peered at her with his usual keen curiosity. “Are you a nurse, Miss?”
“I’m not, but I’ve read a great deal about tending to acute injuries such as this.”
“I’m terribly sorry, General,” Catherine added in a thin voice, since the master of the house had not stopped glaring at her. “I didn’t wish to be an inconvenience and only came to pass on a message to Bobby. It was just a happy—or unhappy—coincidence.”
The General just grunted in reply. Bobby knew that his father didn’t believe this to be true.
“A sprained ankle,” Mary declared. She was aware of the tension in the room and decided to act oblivious. “Rest and elevation might just be what you need, Father.”
“If I could get a lift into town,” the curate began with a wince. He was also painfully aware of the tension in the room, and he had a sharp sense that his presence would be as unwelcome as Catherine’s, even though he had been invited to dinner at the last moment.
But Mary was insistent. Perhaps part of her wished to have a friendly face in Northanger Abbey. “I don’t believe you should put any weight on it, at least for a few days.”
General Tilney let out an audible sigh.
“I would hate to impose on you, Sir,” Father Brown said in his gentle voice.
“It is no imposition,” the master of the house said. But his tone implied otherwise. “Chester can fix a guest room. Unfortunately, we will not be able to accommodate Miss Morland for the night.”
Catherine flushed and was quick to say, “Oh, that won’t be necessary. I am staying at a local inn.”
The General grunted. “Somewhere respectable, I hope, and not that flea-infested pub.”
“No, indeed, Sir,” Catherine said. “Somewhere respectable.”
But one glance at her was enough to tell Mary that this was a lie. The other woman was quite easy to read. Her large eyes were expressive, and she had a tendency to blush at the slightest provocation.
“Then, I regret to say farewell so soon,” The General began, addressing Catherine with his usual brusque manner.
It was Bobby’s turn to protest. “She should stay for dinner, at least. She has walked a long way with an injured priest.”
Mary watched Bobby for a moment, and she realized that he was eager to have an ally in his home, too. Though, the fact that it was the same lovely woman from last night didn’t soothe Mary’s rattled spirits in the least.
Mr. Logan announced dinner once more, and there was more confusion as Father Brown insisted he did not need to partake while the others dined in the next room. The ladies objected, as did Bobby, and it was decided that they would all take dinner in the study. This way, the party would not be broken and they could all eat together.
The General didn’t like this idea and had no qualms about expressing his distaste. “Highly irregular,” he muttered. No one paid heed to his remarks, however.
Ruby appeared and assisted the others in serving the first course. Mary caught sight of a strange interaction between The General and the pretty young maid. She leaned down in the process of setting his plate on a nearby table, and as she did so, she whispered something in the old man’s ear. His neck appeared to grow ruddy with a flush, and he muttered a sharp retort. She watched as The General motioned to Mr. Logan. A single glance was all it took, and Ruby did not appear to serve the next dish. Nor did Mary see her the rest of the evening.
She decided conversation was necessary, and she turned her attention to the injured priest. “Have you served in your parish for very long, Father?” Her gaze went once or twice to Bobby and Catherine, who were talking quietly in the corner while they ate.
“Oh, it’s been several years, now,” he said as he munched on the cold cuts of meat. Northanger Abbey’s cook was efficient but unimaginative. There was plenty of food for everyone, but it was rather plain.
The General packed away his dinner in short order, and he excused himself after an unfashionably short amount of time. He was heard stomping down the hall and exchanging hushed, angry words with Mr. Logan.
“Bobby, I was wondering if you knew I was invited to attend this evening,” Father Brown said with a certain twinkle in his light blue eyes.
Mary watched as Bobby turned, realizing that his father was gone and that the conversation could relax a bit more. Mary had to wonder if Father Brown had noticed her surreptitious glances at the attractive couple in the corner and this was his way of involving everyone in discussion. It worked like a charm.
Bobby’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and he let out an uncomfortable cough. “Not exactly, no. It seems my father had schemes that even I didn’t know about.”
“I doubt he planned the accident that happened to poor Father Brown,” Catherine said with a laugh.
“No, and what a strange coincidence that you should be walking by at that precise moment?” He retorted.
She scoffed. “Well, you don’t think I tried to hit a priest with my nonexistent car, Robert!”
Bobby gave Mary a playful smirk. “See what I mean? Only when I’m in trouble.”
She gave him a wan smile in return. It was difficult for her to relax, even with Father Brown’s kindly companionship. She felt out of her depth in so many ways. She was never dazzling at social gatherings—not like her sisters Kitty and Lydia. Nor was she witty enough to banter like Lizzie and her Mr. Darcy. And she certainly wasn’t as pretty as Catherine Morland or Mary’s oldest sister Jane. She didn’t captivate or demand attention on her own. There was a closeness between Bobby and Catherine that bothered her, though she couldn’t say why.
“You know, it’s been nearly a year since I’ve been to the Abbey,” Father Brown mused aloud. “I don’t believe much has changed.”
Mary decided she would at least satiate her own curiosity, while she had the chance. “Do you know about the subterranean maze?”
“There is an underground maze here?” Catherine said, her lovely eyes widening to their fullest extent.
Father Brown nodded. “Built by the fifth marquis, I believe.”
“But why would he build a maze underground?” Catherine replied.
Bobby chuckled. “Because he was mad as a sack of ferrets and had a bet that he could build the most fiendish maze.”
“It was modeled by a design by Figimelica,” Father Brown added, narrowing his eyes as he tried to recall the details. “Though, I don’t suppose that will mean anything to you.”
“He was the architect of the Villa Pisano Labyrinth in Stra.”
All eyes turned to Mary in surprise.
She swallowed, unused to this much direct attention. “It was reputed to be the most difficult maze in the world.”
“You are well-informed,” Catherine said with her first easy smile since arriving at the Abbey.
Mary tried to return the expression and managed a half-hearted attempt. “My mother says I spend too long with my nose in a book. I wanted to go to University, but she said, ‘that’s no preparation for life.’” She flushed, realizing she had shared too much.
“Depends on what sort of life,” Father Brown said. His smile was sweet as he studied Mary with a great deal of respect.
Bobby regarded her with an odd look on his face. Equal parts curious and confused.
She blinked at him. “I like puzzles. I’d like to see the maze, if I may.”
“Just make sure you don’t go alone,” Bobby replied. “We’ve already lost one guest in there.”
Catherine gasped. “Is that true?”
“Well, when I say ‘lost,’ I really mean—” He ran a finger across his neck in a comical gesture, which implied death.
“Surely not,” Father Brown said, disbelieving.
“Don’t stop just when it’s getting interesting!” Catherine protested.
Bobby smiled. He relished the opportunity to tell the story. He didn’t often get the opportunity. “Chap by the name of Peregrine Goodluck (unfortunately monikered, as transpires), wandered in during a house party. Everyone thought he’d left early without saying his goodbyes. Six months later, they found his skeleton. The servants thing his ghost’s still in there.” He glanced around at the three guests, adding with dramatic effect: “…trying to get out.”
Catherine gasped again, but Mary only frowned. This hadn’t come up in any of the research she had conducted on the Abbey. Though, she supposed it was not a story that was widely circulated. It would have brought scandal on the family name.
“Poor soul,” Father Brown offered with genuine sympathy.
“A car has arrived to take you to your lodgings, Miss Morland.” Mr. Logan startled them all by appearing in the doorway like the specter haunting the underground maze.
“Nonsense,” Bobby challenged. “I’m driving her there myself, in the Aston-Martin.”
Mary could only assume this meant the sleek, two-seater car that he had driven home. Mr. Logan looked ready to argue, but Bobby wouldn’t hear of it.
“Pay the driver, and send him home, Logan. This is not up for discussion.” With that Bobby stood up, straightened his shirt collar, and escorted Catherine from the room.
“It was lovely to meet you, Miss Bennet,” Catherine said as she walked past Mary. She bade farewell to the priest, who offered another word of gratitude for her service.
Mary might have corrected Catherine and insisted on a first name basis, but she just nodded her head with a tight smile as she watched them leave. Bobby and Catherine were already speaking in hushed tones as they exited the room. She hadn’t realized she was still staring after them until Father Brown cleared his throat.
“I wonder if you might guess why I was invited this evening, Miss Bennet.”
She glanced back at him in surprise and flushed a little at the twinkle of amusement in his gaze. “Surely not to perform a marriage rite on the spot,” she said, hoping he took it as a joke.
He did, and he had a ready laugh. He was a jolly sort of person. It soothed Mary’s troubled thoughts for the moment.
“I have been told of your little ‘arrangement,’” he continued. “And I believe I was invited for two reasons. The General respects my opinion as it relates to people. He claims that I have a keen sense of observation when it comes to others.”
“Wait a moment,” Mary said, suddenly recalling a bit of information she had read in a newspaper a year prior. “Didn’t you assist in a few criminal cases in the area? I hadn’t realized you were that Father Brown!”
He coughed and gave her a humble smile. “I am one and the same.”
“But you have been instrumental in solving over a dozen cases!”
“I may have been right about a few details here and there.”
She scoffed. “I would argue it is much more than a few. Did The General want you to investigate me?”
“Not investigate, my dear,” he said, patting her hand with a paternal air. “Merely observe.”
After such an arduous several days, Mary’s nerves were practically raw. Today had been especially trying, and she had no restraint left in her body. “And what have you observed so far, Sir? Am I a suitable bride for Robert?”
Father Brown’s smile was wide as it filled his entire face. “Time will tell.”
She didn’t know how to feel about such an evasive response. But she was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. “I have half a mind to leave tomorrow. I am not sure that I am…wanted here,” she confessed.
Father Brown adjusted his foot with a wince and leaned closer to her in the process. “If you suspect an attachment between Bobby and Miss Morland, I think you are mistaken.”
Mary had suspected this, but her thoughts weren’t soothed by Father Brown’s word alone. Not after witnessing Catherine and Bobby laughing heartily in his car, moments before he roared down the long driveway.
“And what was the second reason you were invited here?”
Father Brown cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “That is a personal matter between myself and the master of the house.”
Mary gave him a narrow look, but from the twinkle in his eyes, she guessed that the matter wasn’t anything nefarious.
Mr. Logan arrived and announced that the guest room was prepared for the priest. Two manservants appeared and assisted Father Brown to his feet. Mary, in the meantime, went in search of a telephone. She bumped into Ruby, who directed her to a small room tucked in the corner of the front hallway. She was glad for a moment of solitude.
The operator took a solid minute to respond. During that time, Mary was privy to the painstaking effort it took to get poor injured Father Brown up the stairs towards his room. She also saw Logan exchanging a harsh glance with Ruby. This seemed to be stereotypical behavior for the overbearing butler, but it was Ruby’s responding grin (prim, satisfied, and cat-like) that caught Mary’s attention. She gave the telephone operator the direction, and she waited for what felt like an eternity as the call was put through.
She heard Bobby’s car making its return journey. It wasn’t Mr. Logan who greeted him at the front door, however. It was his father, who looked mad as fire as he stalked past the room where Mary was still waiting for her call to go through. He hadn’t noticed her.
“Robert, whatever it is you’re planning, you can forget it,” The General hissed at his son. “You’ve only got yourself to blame. Who was it who gambled and drank away a fortune and then rendered himself unmarriagable to any woman of breeding?”
“How can I forget as you remind me so often?” Bobby replied in a dry tone.
A tense pause followed this retort. And then: “You will propose to the woman, or you will go down as the man that let his family go to ruin.”
“Anything for you, Father.”
Mary’s stomach sank. She didn’t realize, until that moment, that she had been clinging to a smidgen of hope. She had her own ulterior motives for accepting this ridiculous arrangement—namely the possible adventures that awaited her in the Abbey itself. But there had always been a secret wish in her heart of hearts that she might experience the kind of gothic romance she had read about. That she would lock eyes with the hero, and he with the heroine, and they would fall deeply, madly in love.
In reality, Bobby’s hand was being forced for the sake of restoring their family name. It was both humiliating and baffling. She was reeling from the whiplash of emotions, and so she didn’t hear her mother until Mrs. Bennet was practically shouting her name.
“Are you there, sweetheart? Mary, dear?”
“Sorry, Mum,” Mary said in a soft tone. “The line…crackled.”
—
“What on earth were you thinking showing up at our house tonight?” Bobby chided after taking a seat behind the wheel of the car. He and Catherine had just made their escape from the house, and it was the first opportunity to speak privately.
Catherine blushed. “I was only going to drop off a note. A letter that you could pass on—”
“That was very risky of you, darling. My father was on the brink of an apoplectic fit. Thank God for Father Brown, I suppose.”
“The poor man. I found him moments after the reckless driver had roared off into the distance.”
“Was it accidental, I wonder?” He mused. And then he let out a frustrated sigh. “You are changing the subject, Cathy.”
She raised her hands in mock surrender. “What else am I to do? I miss him so.”
“Don’t cry, dear. We will find a way to get you together again.”
“Promise?” She sniffed.
He nodded his head and gave her a shaky smile.
Catherine collected herself and regarded him with a familiar determination in her gaze. “Now, I want to talk about Mary Bennet.”
He rolled his eyes. “Must we?”
“We must. She seems like a lovely person, Bobby. And intelligent, too. You’d be nuts not to be fond of her.”
“That’s just it, Cathy. Do I deserve a sweet, smart woman like her?”
She laughed. “You try to play the ‘devilish rogue’ but I see right through you. You’re golden, Bobby. And you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”
He merely nodded in reply. He was feeling a shocking urge to cry, and that was not on his agenda of humiliation for the day.
And so, he drove home. Only to be berated by his father and strong-armed into proposing to the woman anyway. Bobby was in a frightful mess. He was so distracted that he couldn’t sleep.
He wandered the familiar, once-grand hallways of his home and discovered a light on in a disused portion of the house. His eyes wandered to a certain door nearby. He rushed towards it but was relieved to discover it still locked tight. Only then did he investigate the soft creaking noise from the nearby room.
He poked his head inside and paused, taking in the sight before him. Mary was in some sort of long nightgown with a high collar and had managed to get a fire going in the hearth. The room smelled dusty and faintly sweet—the odor of old books sitting untouched on the shelves. She had pulled her straight, dark hair into a braid which fell across one shoulder. And she was peering down at a book through a set of spectacles.
Bobby coughed, and Mary startled, dropping her book in alarm.
“Oh, it’s just you,” she said. Then, she flushed. “Sorry—it’s just—Mr. Logan…”
He smirked and took a cautious step closer, lowering his voice as he said, “He’s the real ghost around here.”
Her returning smile was a bit shaky. They stood staring at each other for a solid ten seconds before she gestured to a nearby chair. “Care to join me? It is your library after all.”
“My father’s,” he corrected, glancing at the shelves of books that surrounded them. “Never had much love of reading myself.” He caught the expression on her face—a deep scowl—and he laughed aloud. “I have disappointed you again, Miss Bennet.”
She struggled to return her face to a neutral expression and finally admitted defeat. “It’s just—books can open you up to a whole new world of experiences. Entire new worlds that haven’t been discovered yet.”
He was amused by the sparkle in her pale eyes. She wasn’t conventionally pretty (at least, she wasn’t the sort that turned heads on the street), but with the light flush on her cheeks, her hair in a casual braid, and the adoration in her gaze, she was…quite lovely. It sent a pang of guilt into the pit of his stomach. He focused, instead, on the title of the book that was still lying on the floor. “And what sort of experience does The Romance of the Forest provide?”
Her neck was pink as she snatched the book from the floor. “I was reading it for academic purposes. The writing is…quite good.”
“Academic purposes. Naturally,” he teased.
Mary opened her mouth to retort (feeling a small thrill when she realized this could be considered banter, and it was surprisingly fun), but a loud thump was heard overhead. She glanced up in surprise.
Bobby gave her a smile that was a bit too wide. “Old houses. Lots of things going ‘bump’ in the night.”
“I thought no one lived on this side of the house,” she said.
“No one does,” he confirmed. His countenance lightened with a genuine smile. “Perhaps we have mice.”
There was another loud thump and the unmistakable sound of footsteps.
Mary gave him a sardonic look. “That’s a large mouse.”
He sighed. She was far too intelligent to be rebuffed by a flimsy excuse. He decided on a different tactic. “Or maybe Northanger Abbey has other secrets. Like that one book where the man was hiding his wife in the attic.”
“You’ve read Jane Eyre?”
He smirked. “Required reading at University. I thought that Mr. Rothschild—”
“Rochester.”
“—was a bit of a brute.”
“He is the stereotypical romantic hero in most Gothic romances.”
He leaned his chin in his hand and regarded her with a small smile. “I think you are a closet romantic yourself, Mary. Are you holding out hope for a Mr. Rochester for yourself?”
This was no longer banter. Unless Mary was mistaken, Bobby Tilney was trying to flirt with her. She almost lost her nerve but managed to retort, “Not exactly. I certainly don’t want to align myself with a man who keeps dangerous secrets.”
She thought he would find it amusing. Instead, he stood up and was looking stoic as he insisted, “You should get your rest, Mary. I’m supposed to give you a thorough house tour tomorrow. Subterranean maze excluded, of course.”
She matched his posture and gave him a wry look. “Am I expected to find it myself?”
He managed a small smile. “I thought that was part of the fun.”
With that, he walked towards the door, and Mary followed, still carrying the book in her hands. “Tomorrow, then?” She asked.
He nodded his head, and with that, they parted ways. Bobby lingered by the locked door, however. He was certain he had heard a stifled shout from above. Thankfullly Mary hadn’t noticed. She was gone from view by the time a louder noise emitted from upstairs. A series of thumps, a loud creak, and then—a heavy thud on the ground.
Notes:
Mary knows out to flirt, even if it’s nerdy as hell. We love her for it. Thoughts so far?
Chapter 4: The maze
Summary:
“You are a strange mixture of blunt honesty and a fiercely romantic spirit, Mary.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Mary went to bed that night contemplating several things. For one, she rehearsed the unexpected meeting with Bobby in the library. Her conversations with him were simple enough, but there was an undercurrent she didn’t understand. The unspoken belief that this was unnatural and uncomfortable for both of them. Then, there was mutual surprise between Mary and Bobby that they were almost…getting along.
Still, the feeling remained that this wasn’t a real engagement as much as it was a flimsy excuse for two families to join together, against the wishes of the future bride and groom.
And for what? Despite the Bennets’ connection to Bingley’s (and by extension Darcy’s) family, their reputation was marred by the very public scandal involving 16-year-old Lydia and George Wickham. It was published in the local newspaper, and the story somehow made its way to London. It was humiliating for everyone, especially their mother (whose nerves would likely never recover from the embarrassment). From what she had overheard between Bobby and his father, the Tilneys weren’t in a much better situation.
It was like an analogy she had read somewhere—two sinking ships strapping themselves together.
The conversation with her mother on the phone had been uneventful, and Mary did her best to reassure Mrs. Bennet that everything was going according to plan. Secretly, she had plans of her own to call off this ridiculous betrothal and escort herself—well, not home, exactly. She felt suddenly bereft at the thought of returning to Longbourn. She missed her sister Kitty, but that wasn’t enough encouragement to deal with Mrs. Bennet’s impending wrath when she returned without “respectability or a ring on her finger.”
An unexpected and crushing sense of disappointment was hard to swallow as well. Mary didn’t know where it was coming from.
Instead, she focused on the house tour with Bobby in the morning and the possibility of discovering the secret entrance to the underground maze herself. She convinced herself that this would satisfy her curiosity once and for all. And then, she could leave in disgrace. She would free Bobby from the obligation to marry in order to “save the family name,” and she would find her adventures elsewhere. Perhaps she’d even accompany Lizzie on her upcoming trip to Spain, where her sister planned to write a piece on traditional dance and cuisine.
Mary tried to get herself ready for bed, but she was too distracted to fully relax. And then, she heard some sort of commotion outside. The phone rang. Footsteps ran back and forth in the hallway.
Despite this (and her aching desire to investigate), she managed to fall into a fitful, exhaustion-induced slumber.
And in the morning, she learned that someone had been murdered in the night. The young maid, Ruby Smith.
—
Father Brown kept his vigil by the front window in the West study. The authorities had arrived shortly before breakfast that morning and were making their rounds with the members of the household. His gaze fell on the small, unmistakably body-shaped form on the ground, which was covered in a white sheet.
“Why is it that whenever there’s something amiss, you aren’t far away?” Inspector Mallory demanded, upon seeing Father Brown.
Sergeant Goodfellow coughed and hid a smile behind his hand before asking the usual questions.
Did you hear anything in the night?
Did you happen to look out of your window after you were awakened? What time was that?
And at 5 minutes past midnight, did you happen to see or hear anything else?
Father Brown responded to each question and began to offer his own observations of the household.
But Mallory was not in the mood. “Let me stop you right there, Padre. I’ll ask you to keep the speculating and fabricating tied to your Sunday morning pulpit.”
Father Brown gave him a small smile, his double chin bobbing as he stifled a chuckle. “The church is also open on Saturdays for mass, Inspector. There is always a spot on my pew for you.”
The police inspector’s lips thinned into an unhappy line, and he just spun on his heel and left the room. He was a small man, but his brusque attitude was larger than life.
“Thank you, Father,” Sergeant Goodfellow said, exchanging a smirk with the priest. “Any other observations you care to share?”
“Only that the young maid appeared to be attached to General Tilney in some manner. A relationship that was, perhaps, unprofessional in nature?”
The sergeant’s eyebrows lifted in surprise as he scribbled this down. “Thank you, Sir. And was there—?”
“Goodfellow!” Mallory boomed from down the hall. “We’ve got other suspects to question.”
“Not suspects,” the sergeant muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “Certainly not you, Father.”
Father Brown gave the good-natured man another smile (his surname suited his personality), and they parted ways.
The authorities stayed long enough to question everyone in the house, including Mary, who was looking decidedly pale as she sipped tea beside Father Brown an hour later. The police had departed, as had Miss Ruby Smith's dead body. The General, Bobby, and Mr. Logan were nowhere to be found. The other staff looked harried and a bit panicked as they went about their expected duties. Mary felt guilty to have accepted a fresh tea tray from one of the maids. But it seemed they needed the routine as much as the guests at Northanger Abbey after such a trying morning. She was just contemplating the arduous thought of traveling home, but she had yet another roadblock to her plan.
“That Inspector Mallory fellow is rather…brusque,” Mary said, which was her nice way of saying he was pushy to the point of rudeness.
Father Brown hummed as he chewed on a chocolate biscuit. “He is a forthright sort of fellow.”
Mary hid her smirk behind her teacup. She wondered if that was the priest’s delicate way of agreeing without sounding unkind. “Any ideas who might have done this terrible thing?”
He sighed. “Nothing definite at present.” He tented his fingers together over his chest as he leaned back, his injured foot elevated on a nearby stool. “However, I have made it quite plain to the Inspector that I will not interfere with his case.”
The sparkle in his eyes told Mary otherwise. Still, she couldn’t suppress a sigh. She had been forbidden from leaving Northanger Abbey under any circumstances until the case was solved. As if she had any motive whatsoever for knocking off a perfectly nice maid.
“Perhaps a walk might do you some good, Miss Bennet,” Father Brown said in his soft, gentle tone. “Maybe in the direction of the above ground structure in the back garden?”
She blinked, unable to comprehend the hint he was giving her at first. “In the back garden, did you say? The building made of tan bricks?”
“The very same,” he said with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.
She had a funny moment where she pictured him on his pulpit, overlooking his flock of believers in the Catholic Church in town. Mary’s family was staunchly Church of England, but she was curious what sorts of homilies Father Brown gifted his congregation with each week. It left her considering the very real possibility of switching denominations, at least for one Sunday morning service or Saturday Mass.
“You know, I think a walk might be a splendid idea,” she said at last. If nothing else, she needed the distraction. She was basically trapped at the Abbey. The least she could do was explore every inch of it.
As Mary departed, Father Brown kept his gaze fixed on the front window. He was still technically an invalid (though he had put his weight on his injured ankle several times, against Mary’s capable advice), and so, he was forced to observe the comings and goings in the house from this single vantage point. He saw Mary’s figure appear in the foggy conservatory windows. She was looking for something. When she emerged from the cramped, neglected collection of plants, she was holding a ball of twine in one hand.
“What a clever young woman,” Father Brown said to himself. He watched, bemused, as she glanced around before approaching the structure he had told her about. She had somehow gotten her hands on a torch as well. She would need it to navigate the maze.
Just then, he heard raised voices. General Tilney was yelling at his son, who was retorting with just as much heat. It was apparent the two of them were so embroiled in their argument that they didn’t recognize the poor location for their shouting match. But Father Brown thanked his lucky stars that the two men chose this precise spot.
“What’s done is done,” General Tilney insisted. “Logan says—”
“And you always do as Logan says,” Bobby interrupted. “He seems to have more authority around here than your own son.”
“Well, do you have another plan? We both know the alternative.”
And so their argument continued, culminating in General Tilney all but threatening Bobby’s life if he didn’t “go through with the plan today.” It continued in this vein for a while—that was, until they heard a scream.
“Was that Mary?” Bobby didn’t think twice. He bolted off in the direction of the sound.
Father Brown grabbed a wooden cane from a nearby umbrella stand and hobbled out the side door. He arrived in time to see Mary seated on the steps of the brick structure, breathing heavily and pale-faced.
Bobby reached for her, but she recoiled, still spooked by what had happened to her. He sat back on his heels but didn’t leave her just yet.
“You were warned not to go in there alone,” General Tilney said in his booming voice. “You must have gotten lost.”
“I wasn’t lost,” Mary replied with surprising heat. “I followed a mathematical algorithm to the center. There’s a column depicting the Minotaur legend.”
“Spot on,” Bobby said softly. There was a look of admiration on his face.
Mary took no notice of this and continued. “As I was making my way back, I heard whistling.”
“Someone has been listening to too many ghost stories,” General Tilney said, shooting his son an accusatory glance.
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” she said in a stern voice.
He scoffed in reply. “Did you at least see this someone?”
Mary shook her head. “Only a hand.”
“Perhaps we should take a look,” Father Brown offered.
“Certainly not,” General Tilney said emphatically. “I will inform the police, and they can conduct a wild ghost chase if they’re so inclined.”
Bobby took a seat beside Mary on the steps. She saw the way he was glaring at nothing in particular, certainly not his own father. It looked like he was carrying a heavy weight on his slim shoulders.
“Tea is served on the lawn,” Mr. Logan said from behind the group of onlookers.
“Thank you,” General Tilney said, without any genuine warmth. “I am certain Miss Bennet will benefit from some refreshment.” He turned and stalked off in the same direction as his butler.
Father Brown gave Mary a sympathetic look before he hobbled along behind the other men.
Mary was left sitting there beside Bobby with a sick feeling in her stomach. “I didn’t imagine it,” she said softly.
“I know you didn’t.” There was a certain assurance in his voice that Mary found soothing. He believed her, and that was that. Furthermore, he added, “My father shouldn’t have made you feel like a child. That was unkind of him.”
“Thank you.” Mary stood up and began to follow the same path as Father Brown, but she was moving at a sedate pace. She wasn’t eager to engage in social niceties at the moment.
Well, neither was Bobby. He jumped to his feet and caught up with her in two long strides. “So, what’s an algo-thing when it’s at home?”
She gave him a sardonic look. She had the distinct impression he played down his own intelligence. “Mathematics. Mazes without loops are known as ‘simply connected’ or ‘perfect’ and are equivalent to a tree in graph theory.” She glanced at him and saw the frown on his face. “I’m boring you.”
“No, on the contrary,” he said, meeting her gaze and holding it. “I’m curious. You should…show me sometime.” He had stopped walking, and Mary followed his example. He swallowed. He remembered the promise he had made to his father, and to someone else very special in his life. It had to happen today, no matter how peculiar the timing was. “Would you like some refreshments, or can we take that house tour, like I promised?”
She chose the latter. Bobby was equal parts relieved and—oddly—nervous.
“Are you alright?” Mary asked. She had picked up on his unusual mood and was worried he was feeling the effects of the murder (which was understandable. She had been shaken, and she barely knew the woman who died).
He glanced at her only once as he led them up the main staircase of the Abbey. “Strange day,” was all he said.
She decided not to pry. But his mood was dampened as he led her through the main portions of the estate. The old-fashioned portrait gallery might have been more impressive if it had been better maintained. It was dusty, and the rugs beneath their feet were in worse shape than those on the main floor. She saw countless guest suites (so they did have space to offer to Catherine Morland—the General just didn’t want her here, for some unknown reason). Then, he hesitated before guiding her into a spacious, white-washed room at the back of the house.
“Your childhood nursery,” she said, glancing around at the neatly piled wooden blocks, the wooden rocking horse, and a long-abandoned crib in the corner.
“Rather dusty from lack of use.” He touched the horse, which bounced merrily on its springs.
Something colorful caught Mary’s attention, and she walked to a small doorway separating the main room from a smaller, more cluttered playroom. There, on the door jamb, she saw three names written at various intervals. The first was Henry, who she assumed was Bobby’s younger brother. But there was a third name she didn’t recognize.
“Arthur?” She said, touching the mark that was lower to the floor. It didn’t follow the path of the other two marks, which stopped at age 10 for both boys. She presumed this was around the time their mother had died. Perhaps she had been the one to maintain the tradition. Arthur’s mark stopped at age 4.
“Arthur was our little brother.”
Was. Mary’s heart sank. “Is he…?” The question hung in the air, and she regretted saying it at all.
Bobby nodded his head. “An infection. A fever of the brain, they called it. He was…very loved.”
Mary resisted the urge to place a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” It was all she could manage at the moment.
He moved to stand beside the rocking horse again, eager to change the subject. “And this is Copenhagen.”
“Favorite steed of the Duke of Wellington.”
He laughed. “Gosh, you really are a blue stocking.”
She met his gaze with an exasperated expression. “Much to the disdain of my old-fashioned mother. My father was the one who insisted his daughters would be scholarly. My sister Lizzie will probably be a famous journalist someday. I was the only one who inherited his love of books, however. And his poor eyesight.”
He hummed, amused at the thought of Mary in her spectacles from last night. “Your father celebrates your intelligence, while mine bemoans my lack of it.”
She wanted to argue with him, knowing that this wasn’t entirely true. Based on an overheard conversation, she gathered that Bobby hadn’t made the smartest choices in his life. Perhaps he had been unwise and reckless with his family’s money. But he wasn’t unintelligent. She just sighed and shook her head. “I think your father and my mother have a lot more in common than either of them would like to think.”
“At least we know the score,” he said, with a ghost of a smile.
He reached in his pocket, and he was stoic again, bordering on forlorn. Then, he retracted his hand. Mary didn’t know the significance of this—not until hours later. His eyes fell, instead, on his wristwatch. A different sort of look passed over his face. “Would you care for some fresh air?”
She smiled. This sounded like a capital idea, given the morning they had just endured. The house was stifling, and she had no desire to visit the underground maze again. Not alone, anyway.
In short order, she found herself bumping along the road in Bobby’s Aston-Martin. He was incredibly proud of his small, impractical sports vehicle, and she had no way of knowing the significance of the engine statistics he spouted off. Nor was she all that impressed with the supposed “purr” of the engine. The one thing she could appreciate was the rare sunshine as it beamed at them through the windows. She cranked the handle and breathed a sigh as the air wrapped around them inside the small car. He gave her a small smirk and then picked up speed. She only protested when one of her hairpins was dislodged and went flying.
Bobby, for his part, thought she looked blissfully disheveled with her dark hair falling out of its careful styling.
Mary had a fleeting concern, and she gazed at him while he deftly shifted gears. The engine hummed. She almost understood the appeal of a flashy car. Almost. “Did you know Ruby very well?”
He frowned. “I think I’ve only spoken to her a handful of times. Why do you ask?”
She opened her mouth and then closed it, thinking better of speaking her mind too freely.
“Do you think I had something to do with it?” He prompted.
Mary shrugged. She wasn’t the creative type, but she had a good sense about people. She had known Wickham was trouble from the start (though her sisters had been enamored with his charm and good looks). She disliked The General and Chester Logan. The atmosphere at Northanger Abbey was unpleasant, at best—except for those moments when she and Bobby could speak freely. And, of course, around the kindly Father Brown.
At last, she said, “I barely know you. But you don’t seem like the murderous type. Perhaps a bit…troubled. But not a killer.”
Bobby felt a rush of emotions at her words. Annoyance, resigned acceptance, and maybe even relief. Though it was unnecessary, he felt the need to add: “Up until two months ago, I was in London. I believe Ruby was hired some time last year.”
This brought her to a new line of questioning. “I happened to overhear something about…gambling debts?”
His jaw tightened. “I was reckless with my family’s money. I think I did it as a way to punish my father. Instead he took it out on…” He sighed. “Well, anyway. It hasn’t done me any good to make amends. He is determined to see this through.”
She frowned. “You know that my family doesn’t have wealth of our own.”
“But you have connections. Important ones.”
She turned her gaze to the road. The loveliness in front of them seemed suddenly dull. “Charles Bingley, you mean.”
“And Fitzwilliam Darcy, if the gossip can be trusted.”
This didn’t satisfy Mary’s concerns, however. “How did you—?”
“Not me. My father.” He scowled.
She had a sudden realization. “You don't have to propose to me, you know. There are other means of restoring your reputation. Having your hand forced in this way is a bit…unromantic. Bordering on cruel.”
He darted a glance at her. “You are a strange mixture of blunt honesty and a fiercely romantic spirit, Mary.”
It was her turn to scowl. “That is a problem for you, is it?”
He impulsively reached for her hand and held it. “No, I like it.” His mood sobered, and he released her. “But sometimes marriage is more about a common greater good than it is about love.”
“And what do I gain from marrying you?”
He laughed, but it was without humor. “Very little, I'm afraid.”
She wanted to protest this. But she was bothered by something else he said. “My parents married for love.”
“And are they blissfully happy?”
She sighed. “Not particularly.” Her father had hinted at his passionate love for their mother when she was younger. But as they had children and grew older, they only seemed to grow apart. He felt that they were never truly “well-matched.” Maybe that was why he hadn’t protested this ridiculous betrothal and even encouraged the journey.
She was annoyed that Bobby was partly right. Her oldest sister had married for love, but she supposed it didn't really count since Charles was insanely wealthy. That sort of money could buy happiness. Still, Jane managed to find that elusive “soul mate” that Mary only read about in books. While she had very little hope, Mary still wasn't willing to give up the possibility of finding that for herself, too. She would remain alone rather than agree to a marriage of convenience.
“Well, I'm not about to be proposed to for my family connections alone.”
“There are other reasons,” he said evasively. Then, he took a defensive tone. “Why on earth did you come here, then?”
It was a valid question. She wasn't entirely sure how to answer it. “Boredom?”
He laughed. “Or a subterranean maze?”
She smirked. “Perhaps.”
“Now who is using whom, Mary?”
She wasn't sure she liked the twist of guilt in her belly. He wasn't wrong. Though, she hadn't expected to feel so conflicted about her motives for coming to Northanger Abbey in the first place.
“You've certainly come at an eventful time. A murder among the staff and—other secrets.”
She gave him a curious look. They had pulled up to a small tavern that was decidedly off the beaten path.
“Can you be trusted with a new one, Mary?”
She had no clue what he meant—until a familiar face appeared in the doorway of the pub.
“You’re late,” Catherine Morland said, frowning at Bobby as he stepped out of the car. Then, her face fell into a look of uncertainty when she saw Mary emerging from the vehicle.
“It’s alright. She’s trustworthy,” Bobby said. He turned to Mary and added, “Aren’t you?”
“That depends on the nature of this secret,” Mary said, dumbfounded.
“It falls within your area of expertise. It's a romantic one.”
Mary glanced between Bobby and Catherine, who was looking as annoyed as Mary felt.
“Stop teasing her, Robert. Your brother is late, too.”
“Don't fret, darling. He'll be here.”
Notes:
<3
Chapter 5: Unromantic
Summary:
He frowned. “Sometimes, I wish you weren’t so damn perceptive.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Mary expected to be ushered inside to a corner table, but instead, they walked straight through the establishment to a seating area in the back. It was surprisingly picturesque with a small pond and ducks lazily drifting across the water. While Bobby slipped inside to fetch some drinks for the ladies and a bite to eat, Mary found herself alone with Catherine Morland.
Catherine was incapable of both sitting still and enduring extended periods of silence. “This murder business is all a bit ghastly.”
Mary could only give her a sardonic look in reply.
“I mean, murder is always grisly. It’s just that—in the house and everything. Being pushed out of a top floor window? How horrible!”
“Did you know Ruby?” Mary found herself asking. It was her incurable curiosity.
“Oh, I only met her once or twice. I used to be a bit of a regular at the house, you could say. And then The General took a…dislike to me, and I was practically banned from the place.”
Mary offered a muttered apology. She didn’t know what else to say in response.
It was perfectly fine, since Catherine was eager to fill the gaps on her own. “I don’t suppose Bobby has told you anything.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Well, of course he hasn’t. He is such a bother sometimes,” she let out a long-suffering sigh.
The feeling Mary sensed from her was like a sister bemoaning her brother’s misbehavior. She was strangely…relieved.
”But he has been very helpful in getting my letters to the man I love,” Catherine added.
Mary watched the other woman for a moment before the truth sank in, as did a reminder of what she had said to Bobby moments prior. “To Bobby’s brother, Henry?”
Catherine’s face lit up in a brilliant smile. She really was beautiful. “Yes. Only, The General is set against us. He banned me from the Abbey when he discovered our engagement, and he refused to pass on any letters to Henry while he is serving in the Royal Air Force. It’s been a nightmare.”
“Why would he possibly disapprove of you?”
Catherine blushed prettily. “Well, I…I don’t have any wealth, status, or connections. In The General’s eyes, that is a capital offense.”
Mary grunted. “I can’t say that these supposed ‘connections’ of mine have done me any good.”
The other woman frowned in confusion. “Then, he hasn’t asked you yet?”
It was Mary’s turn to blush scarlet. “I don’t know why he would. In fact, I can’t imagine what The General was thinking all those years ago.”
“Oh, but I think it’s terribly romantic!” Catherine declared. “He must have seen such promise in you when you were young. It’s like some story from a book. Two strangers, thrown together in a strange way, only to feel drawn to one another on such a short acquaintance.”
Mary’s pulse quickened. Despite her better judgment, she felt a painful sting of hope in her chest. “Did Bobby say something to you?”
Catherine dropped her gaze. “I shouldn’t have spoken about it. Not when he has so much riding on this betrothal. So many others to consider—”
“Libations and food, madames,” Bobby said with a flourish as he arrived with a tray. He glanced between the two women. “Something the matter?”
“We were just discussing this awful murder business,” Catherine said evasively.
“Awful, isn’t it? And Ruby was so young,” Bobby said as he gave a glass of white wine to Catherine and a half pint of stout to Mary. Funny, she didn’t remember telling him what she liked to drink. He knew it, all the same.
“Do you think someone at the house is responsible?” Catherine asked as she helped herself to a chip.
“My father has a wild notion in his head. But he’s wrong,” he insisted. In fact, he looked downright furious.
Just then, a set of footsteps were heard. Catherine jumped up with a cry, nearly knocking the table over in the process. In moments, she was rushing forward to embrace a man in a blue uniform. Mary understood why they had chosen this lovely but secluded little place. There wasn’t another soul around to see this intimate reunion. No one aside from the proprietor, who didn’t seem to care.
“Is your brother back for good?” Mary asked Bobby while politely averting her gaze from the couple.
“He’s on temporary leave. Small injury during flight training,” he explained, gesturing vaguely towards his brother, who had one arm in a sling. It didn’t stop Henry from putting his good arm around Catherine and lifting her off of the ground in the midst of their tender kiss.
She saw something in his eyes as he glanced at the couple. Yearning, perhaps. It left Mary feeling bereft and confused—and a bit too forthright with her words, as usual. “Bobby, are you really going to go through with this betrothal?”
He blinked at her in surprise. “Gosh, you don’t hold much back, do you?”
“I think I deserve to know the truth. I can’t understand why your father made this arrangement in the first place, when I was just a baby. My family didn’t have the same connections then, and it’s only due to recent events that we have any association with the Bingleys and the Darcys.”
He gave her a wry smile. His hazel eyes sparkled as he leaned forward. “I think it’s the only choice my father made with no ulterior motives, other than to find a suitable future bride for his son. He liked your spunk as a little kid.”
“Spunk,” she repeated with a slight frown. She wasn’t sure she was flattered.
Bobby shrugged. “I think he imagined a house full of eligible daughters would pay off in the long run. And he was right.”
“There’s something you’re still not telling me,” she protested. She barely knew the man, but there was a distinct feeling that he was holding back.
He frowned. “Sometimes, I wish you weren’t so damn perceptive.”
Mary’s gaze wandered back to Henry and Catherine, who were talking quietly to each other as if no one else in the world existed. “It has something to do with your brother and his fiancée?”
Bobby sighed. “Partly. It’s…an agreement I made of my own. If I agree to marry the bride of my father’s choosing, then he will stop withholding support and agree to Henry's marriage. They barely have enough money between the two of them, you see.”
She had felt a small thrill at Catherine’s suggestion that Bobby was feeling “drawn” to Mary, but the sensation evaporated like smoke. This was still an advantageous match for him. “And the other part?”
He sighed, and his shoulders looked weighed down again. “I can’t explain it right now. Certainly not here. But I need your help, Mary.”
Her heart went out to him. Truly, it did. Maybe she even felt attracted to him, in a way. It didn’t change the fact that she was still holding out hope for love in the near future. She wanted to be asked by a man who wanted Mary for Mary—not just her family connections and what they could do for his reputation. Not even to help out a brother and his fiancée who were ostracized by The General.
Henry and Catherine returned to the table at last, which put an end to an uncomfortable conversation. Mary did her best to enjoy herself (with the help of a second stout), and she discovered Henry to be kind and good-natured, much like Catherine. The two of them were well-suited, even if Catherine led the conversation for her quieter, more reserved gentleman. Henry and Bobby had a playful banter and teased each other often. They were obviously close, in addition to looking a great deal like each other. Henry was a bit taller with darker hair, and his eyes didn’t have the same changeable color as Bobby’s. Mary envied their bond, and it gave her a sudden pang of homesickness for her sister, Kitty.
Conversation was easy, especially when the subject shifted from the “grisly murder” to Henry and Bobby’s shared childhood. She learned that the two men had gotten into plenty of mischief, with Bobby as the ring-leader. Arthur came up once or twice, but only in passing. Each time, it left Bobby looking forlorn, though he managed to conceal it with a well-timed joke.
The focus shifted to Mary, and she was happy to answer questions about herself, for once. She kept them amused with anecdotes about growing up with four sisters.
“I think I have you bested with ten siblings,” Catherine said, much to the bafflement and delight of Mary.
They spent a pleasant hour exchanging stories. Mary basked in the glow of being included in this intimate gathering. She almost allowed herself to imagine Catherine becoming a dear friend and confidant, with Bobby by her side as her partner. She was sobered by witnessing the tender touches exchanged between the young couple. It left her wondering if she could hope for a similar relationship for herself. One that wasn’t stifled by obligation.
Finally, it was the proprietor of the small pub that put an end to the gathering. He stated that a car was waiting out front for Henry. Bobby’s brother had an appointment with a local doctor to check on his injury. Catherine was bereft, and the young couple spent a long time exchanging farewells. It was Bobby’s turn next, which left the two women alone again, for the moment.
“Once you chip away at him, Bobby really is a good egg,” Catherine said. “Not to mention devilishly handsome.”
Mary flushed but shook her head. “I don’t know that I can…”
“Please, don’t misunderstand me,” she insisted, taking Mary’s hand and squeezing it. “I’m putting no pressure on you. Things are complicated enough as it is, what with the murder and everything. All things considered, Henry and I could carve out a slice of happiness on our own. I’m a curate’s daughter. I know what it is to go without certain necessities.” She sighed as her gaze wandered to the two men, and her expression softened with a look of sadness. “But what I’m trying to say…is that you could do worse. Bobby would be very lucky to have you.”
Mary thanked the other woman, since she had no idea what to say in response. She watched as Henry stepped into a waiting car. There was some back and forth with the driver before Henry stuck his head out of the window to offer Catherine a ride to the train station.
Mary was, once again, alone with Bobby. Their return journey was quiet. Bobby apologized that his radio was “on the fritz,” and so they just listened to the purr of the engine. It was almost soothing. The air between them was a bit more relaxed, as long as Mary kept her mind on unrelated subjects. Her thoughts wandered back to the subterranean maze at the Abbey. Just who had been responsible for scaring her out of her wits? Was it a member of staff? Perhaps the sort of person that might commit a murder of a seemingly innocent young woman?
She was startled from this quiet reverie when Bobby turned the wheel and pulled off to the side of the road. They were still several minutes away from Northanger Abbey.
“Anything the matter?” Mary asked, peering at the dashboard in the vehicle, as if she could decipher some unknown issue (while having very little know-how about motor cars).
He struggled to reach into his pocket and was holding something small in his hand. “It's a strange time. The murder, the investigation…but maybe that makes it the perfect time. And there are other pressing things to consider.”
Mary was unsure what he intended, until he opened the little box. She found herself peering down at a heavily jeweled ring. She was dumbfounded. She knew now that he had intended to ask her while they toured the house hours ago. This was not the most ideal timing, for sure.
“I think we could make a go of it,” he continued. “At the very least, we could give my family an heir. And then, we could do our own things, if you catch my drift.”
She was without words. Up until that moment, she had felt a sort of reluctant connection building between them. She had never put much hope into an actual match being made. But now, he was basically agreeing to this arrangement on the understanding that once she gave him an heir, they could “do their own things.” Suddenly, this adventure, this chance to escape the stifling atmosphere of her own home, had turned into a true nightmare: her chaperone sent packing, a murder in the middle of the night, nearly assaulted in an underground maze, and now a marriage proposal that was so unromantic, it bordered on cruel.
“You can think about it, if you need to,” he said, looking about as uncomfortable as she felt.
Mary just took the box from his outstretched hand. It was the expected thing, after all. What would she get out of this arrangement, she wondered? There were moments when she thought she might gain companionship or at least a begrudging partnership with someone. But whether he intended it or not, his words had the notes of a proposition.
He sent the car back onto the road, and they drove in complete silence.
They arrived back at the house and discovered an unfamiliar black car in the driveway. The type of vehicle used by the police.
Bobby hardly had his own car parked before he was bolting out of it. He raced towards the front door, where someone was being escorted out.
”Stop!” Bobby cried, partially blocking the path as Sergeant Goodfellow escorted The General through the front door. “I did it,” he shouted. “I murdered Miss Smith!”
Inspector Mallory, who had just been jotting something down in his notepad, glanced up with a sharp, unhappy look. “You want to confess, too?” He gave the young man a wry smile. “Get in line, lad.” He barked at Goodfellow to read Bobby his rights and put him in the car alongside his father.
Mary wanted to voice her own protest to this arrangement, but Bobby caught hold of her arm and spoke softly to her, once his father was seated in the back of the police vehicle. “It’ll be alright. But please call Catherine and tell her to join you at the Abbey. I don’t want you staying here alone.”
“I’ll stay as well,” Father Brown said from the doorway. He was out of breath and leaning heavily on a walking stick. Clearly he had tried to catch up with the commotion and only just made it to the front entrance.
Bobby gave the curate a grateful glance. Then, he leaned forward and kissed Mary on the cheek before following Inspector Mallory’s authoritative shout to “get a move on.”
She watched as the car took Bobby and The General through the front gates of the Abbey. It was a strange feeling, like the only thing anchoring her to this place had gone. Still, the place on her cheek burned from the feeling of Bobby’s lips only moments ago.
“Best come inside for a nice cup of tea,” Father Brown said softly.
She turned and gave him a shaky smile. “I suspect you will want to rest that ankle, too. I wonder if you have been a good patient while I was away.”
Father Brown’s wry smirk was enough to convince her he hadn’t. He was the one to convince Mary to follow through with Bobby’s suggestion, however. And in short order, Catherine appeared at the Abbey, much to the dislike of the head butler, Mr. Chester Logan.
Notes:
Well, if that wasn’t the most awkward proposal in the world…
Chapter 6: Intervened
Summary:
“You have your work cut out for you,” Cathy teased. “You will have to train your future husband to be more tidy.”
Mary flushed when she caught the other woman’s pointed glance.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Dinner was a quiet and uncomfortable affair. While Catherine was keen to discuss the upheaval at the Abbey after the murder, Father Brown insinuated (by cleverly changing the subject) that this was not the time or place to discuss such things. Mary was the first to pick up on his subtleties, and she did her best to direct Catherine’s attention to other subjects. The lovely Miss Morland was an avid reader (a fact that surprised Mary, she was ashamed to admit, having made the false assumption that Catherine was simply a pretty face with very little substance).
“I adore those truly gothic tales of romance, where the heroine is sent to some faraway place where she has to contend with secrets and a mean-spirited host,” Catherine was saying as they finished their final uninspired course of the evening’s meal. “Do you feel like your life has resembled such a tale, Mary?”
Mary hesitated to admit that she had likened herself to such a heroine on a few occasions. Though, it was difficult to focus solely on herself when so much was happening around her at the Abbey. She fretted over Bobby’s absence, and she worried that there was some truth to his confession. After a long moment of silence, she realized that the other woman was still waiting for a reply.
“I don’t know that this place is quite ‘gothic’ enough, Catherine,” Mary said at last.
“It’s Cathy, please,” she insisted with a small smile.
“And what of the subterranean maze?” Father Brown prompted, around a mouthful of surprisingly dry scalloped potatoes.
“To say nothing of the sizable library upstairs with its ‘overstuffed’ chairs around the fire,” Cathy added with a smirk.
Mary smiled. “I must concede to these facts. But as for any secrets…”
Father Brown’s gaze held a warning. Mary felt, rather than saw, Chester Logan’s imposing and ever-present figure in the doorway.
She cleared her throat and said, a bit too loudly, “I doubt the place has any, to be honest.”
Cathy was visibly disappointed.
Father Brown confessed that he was exhausted from the afternoon’s events. As he stood, Mary caught the way he almost forgot to limp on his injured ankle. She had a sneaking suspicion that the busy-body priest’s injury wasn’t as serious as he led the household to believe. Perhaps he was just as curious as Mary to get to the bottom of things.
She was determined to find some answers, one way or another. She briefly considered venturing into the subterranean maze again, but she shivered at the prospect of enduring the cold, wet conditions outdoors. It would only make the dankness of the maze more profound, not to mention the terrifying prospect of encountering another specter (or, more likely, a flesh-and-blood person who might mean her harm). Not even Cathy’s ever-cheerful companionship was enough impetus to venture into the darkness.
They would have to keep their adventures contained within the walls of Northanger Abbey. She knew she couldn’t do this next bit alone.
“I need your help with something,” Mary whispered as the two women ascended the central staircase.
Cathy’s eyes lit up. “Is there some mischief to be had tonight?”
Mary smiled. She enjoyed Cathy’s ready attitude. “First, I will need to make a pest of myself to the staff.”
The other woman beamed. “Now, that is an easy task in this place. A certain someone sees every request as an imposition.” She nodded her chin in a vague direction behind them, where Mr. Logan was sure to be following them.
Mary spun around on the spot and faced the imposing butler. “I wish for Miss Morland’s room to be next to mine,” she said, without preamble.
Mr. Logan’s slightly protruding pale blue eyes narrowed slightly. “We have already prepared her a room in the opposite wing.”
“Well, I would like her company this evening, and that is not convenient for us. Besides, I have withstood a great deal of discomfort and inconvenience since my arrival.”
His jaw tightened, but he just nodded his head. “It will be done, Miss Bennet.”
Mary retreated to her room and waited, while the staff was heard bustling about. Cathy was polite and gracious to the two ladies who assisted in moving her singular suitcase to the new accommodation. Once this was done, she knocked on Mary’s door. She was about to speak, but she froze when she saw that Mr. Logan was standing on the opposite side of the corridor.
“That will be all, Mr. Logan,” she said in an imperious tone.
He departed, reluctantly, and Cathy and Mary quickly retreated into her room.
“What is the matter with that man?” Mary hissed.
“He’s a terror.”
“Why on earth does The General put up with him?”
Cathy shrugged. “He’s efficient, even if he’s a bit of a bear. And besides, he’s quite good with…the family.”
Mary was intrigued by the evasive look on Cathy’s face. But she had more pressing issues. “How good are you at play-acting?”
The other woman blinked. “Fair, I suppose. The General had no idea I was terrified of him until he sent me packing.”
“Good. I need you to order a tea tray and sort of…pretend that I’m still here.” Mary was already walking towards the door that connected their shared bathroom, but Cathy stopped her.
“If anyone is going to sneak around the Abbey tonight, it will have to be me,” she insisted. “I may not know anything about the maze, since you’re far cleverer than I am, but I know every corner of this house. I know how to navigate without being seen.”
Mary had a sudden vision of Catherine sneaking through the hallways to enjoy a private tryst with her beloved Henry. The idea was both humorous and thrilling. She had to admit that Cathy knew much more about the Abbey than Mary, since she had only been there a matter of days. She sighed and decided there was nothing to do but send her new friend on a very important mission.
“I need evidence,” Mary explained. “Anything you can find—letters, diaries, anything that could connect The General with Ruby Smith. Anything that would absolve Bobby. And there’s something else.”
Cathy gave her a curious look. There was a bit of caution in her gaze once more.
Mary sighed. “There’s an important piece of information that you need to share with me. There is a secret being kept in the Abbey.”
Cathy’s face fell into a look of resignation. “It would mean breaking a solemn promise.” It was her turn to sigh. “I’m sure you will figure it out on your own, if I bring you enough pieces of the puzzle. You’re clever enough.”
This frustrated Mary, but despite knowing the other woman for such a short period of time, she recognized Cathy’s unending loyalty. Perhaps allowing Mary to figure it out for herself was a way of absolving Cathy’s guilt for breaking whatever promise she had made to the family. And so, she relented for the moment. There would be time for more interrogation later.
For now, time was of the essence.
Cathy slipped into her own room while Mary tugged on the bell. She was relieved that Mr. Logan wasn’t the one to answer her summons. Though, this meant that he was wandering around the Abbey. She only hoped Cathy’s claims were true and that she could move through the place unnoticed. Mary made a big show of talking to “Cathy” who was just inside her room (but concealed from view), and she ordered a tray for “the two of them to share privately.”
The maid said nothing of it. Mary was left to wait and fret. She occasionally laughed aloud or talked, when she heard passing footsteps (some heavier than others—which she assumed were Mr. Logan’s). She felt ridiculous, but it was important to convince the staff that Cathy was still in Mary’s room and not lurking through private bedrooms in search of evidence. She was so stir crazy that she found herself opening and closing the small ring box from Bobby. She tried the ring, which was only slightly too large for her finger. It was a lovely piece.
Once, she heard those same heavy footsteps again, moving with sudden determination and growing closer—and then, she heard Father Brown’s voice.
“Mr. Logan, I hate to be a bother,” he said in his soft but commanding tone. “I have a fresh ache in my leg. Would you kindly send some fresh firewood to the study?”
Mary thought very little of this, until she heard unmistakable sounds of Cathy entering the room next door. Perhaps Logan was on the brink of discovering her movements, and Father Brown somehow intervened at the precise moment necessary. Mary smiled, knowing that this was probably close to the truth. Moments later, there was a soft knock on their shared door. Cathy appeared, looking flushed and out of breath.
She held up a bundle of letters, a leather-bound journal, and—strangest of all—a small coin purse.
Mary thanked Cathy, who tucked into the tepid tea and cakes with gusto. She explained several close calls she had with the staff, namely Mr. Logan who seemed to be hot on her trail several times.
Soon enough, Mary had spread the letters on the rug by their feet, noting that Bobby had tied the letters together with no semblance of order.
“You have your work cut out for you,” Cathy teased. “You will have to train your future husband to be more tidy.”
Mary flushed when she caught the other woman’s pointed glance. She forgot that she was still wearing the ring. Mary ignored this for the moment and turned her attention to the letters.
It was a bit of a jumbled mess, and it took a long time sorting through the gathered items to find connections.
There were a few strongly-worded notes from The General, chastising his son’s irresponsibility with the family money and all but demanding he return home. There were two telling pieces of information. Several times, The General referred to “our dear one” or “the one we love.” She had assumed, at first, that he was talking about his son Henry, with whom he had a strained relationship owing to some incident between himself at Cathy. But it made no sense not to call Henry by his name.
Then, there was a letter between Bobby and Henry.
I’m worried about him. A is healthy enough, but Logan hardly lets him breathe fresh air. He’s far too stern with him, but Father insists that “it’s what’s best for him.” Logan oversteps his position. He’s certainly paid enough—nearly twice what any normal butler makes in similar households. Am I wrong to worry? Do I have any right to, given my many indiscretions with money? I’m afraid I’ve ruined things for you, too. I seem to be an expert in self-sabotage. This respectable Miss Bennet should have nothing to do with me. After her father wrote in raptures about her intelligence, what in the world would she see in a dullard like myself?
Mary felt the urge to bite back a sudden smile. It was strange to read about herself in this fashion. Furthermore, she had several choice words she wished to exchange with her own father. Had he been corresponding with Bobby in secret? As a means of preparing the way for her arrival and eventual betrothal? It was far too secretive for her taste.
Still, she tucked this bit of information away for the moment, because she was intrigued by what was inside the small coin purse.
“I don’t know why I grabbed it,” Cathy admitted. “I found myself in Ruby’s room, and it just sort of…fell into my hands.”
Among the minuscule collection of coins, Mary lifted a small newspaper clipping and unfurled it. At first, she thought the industrious young woman was trying to clip a coupon for a local dressmaker’s, but the real evidence was the gossip column on the back, dated 2 years prior. It mentioned a “prominent former military man” who had been seen stepping out with an exotic dancer. No names were mentioned, but “exotic dancer” was underlined in a reddish eyebrow pencil. The same shade as Ruby’s hair.
“Cathy,” Mary said, glancing up at the other woman, who was unable to meet her gaze. “I have several questions for you.”
She merely nodded. “I’ll tell you what I can. But you must promise not to judge myself, or the family, too harshly.”
—
Bobby chewed on his nails. It was a habit he thought he had broken years ago at University. He couldn’t help himself. It was a response to stress, and he was never more stressed than at that moment, pacing back and forth in a prison cell. Spending a night in jail wasn’t exactly ideal. He barely slept a wink.
He had already been questioned for countless hours the night prior. His statement had been written down and was presently being reviewed by that ill-tempered Inspector Mallory. His father had gone through the same process. It was up to the inspector to decide which confession was the truth.
There was commotion down the noisy corridor, and soon, he was confronted with the sight of his own father being escorted out. He ran to the bars of his cell, but The General only gave him a stern shake of his head.
“That’s enough for now, General Tilney,” Inspector Mallory said in a pointed fashion, glancing at Bobby before addressing the patriarch again. “You can go home.”
The General paused only once at Bobby’s cell. He had no words of comfort to offer, of course. He simply held his son’s gaze and said, “Don’t disappoint us again.”
Bobby visibly deflated. He had spent countless years seeking his stern father’s approval, to little avail. His impulsive actions with the family money was a way of lashing out. And it had backfired miserably. Instead of punishing only himself, The General saw fit to treat his sons with equal disdain. It had wrecked Henry and Catherine’s chances at marriage, for the time being.
Bobby’s confession was borne of another impulse—another sad attempt at earning his father’s reluctant affection by throwing suspicion on himself and away from The General. He had hoped against hope that his own father would attest to their joint innocence and that this entire affair could be laid to rest. Or that if blame needed to rest anywhere, the General would make the ultimate sacrifice to save his sons and his family’s reputation. To save someone else they all loved dearly.
“You will sign your statement,” the General said. “Because it is the truth.”
“There has to be another way, Father,” Bobby protested. “We could tell them—”
“That is enough,” he hissed.
“Yes, I quite agree,” Inspector Mallory insisted, turning to Sergeant Goodfellow, who had just entered through the nearby door. “Order a car for The General, Sergeant.”
“Sir, a car from The Abbey has just arrived.”
“Well, that’s good news for you, General.”
The Sergeant looked uncomfortable as he cleared his throat. “It didn’t arrive for the General, Sir. It came with Father Brown.”
Inspector Mallory scowled. He barked orders, and The General was escorted out of the holding cells. Bobby heard raised voices in the lobby. There was some argument as to whether The General should be permitted to leave. He craned his neck to try and peer through the tiny window on the holding cell door, but he couldn’t make out anything through the foggy glass.
Then, he was startled when Sergeant Goodfellow returned. He wasn’t alone.
“What on earth are you doing here?” He said in a rather brusque greeting.
Mary waited until the Sergeant had let her into Bobby’s cell before she turned to him with a scolding expression. “Father Brown is just here to keep the Inspector distracted. I’m here to talk to you.”
He had difficulty meeting her direct gaze. He was secretly relieved to see her, but it was tinged with a great deal of embarassment and shame. He had welcomed this poor woman into his home, all while things were descending further into chaos. He deflected. “About what? I have nothing to say.”
“Well, first, it’s about this ridiculous confession of yours. I know for a fact your father won’t lift a finger to stop you, now that he’s been mostly cleared.”
“Mostly?” He blinked at her. He was equally annoyed and amused by her persistence. “Have you been doing your own investigating, you clever clogs?”
She didn’t try to deny it. She just held his gaze with that piercing directness that he was growing accustomed to. “I think it’s time you told me about Arthur.”
Notes:
The plot thickens! Poor Bobby, still looking for approval from his father. He’s not worth your time or energy, babes. Now, Mary, on the other hand…conveniently “forgot” she was wearing the ring. Hmm.
Chapter 7: Trusted
Summary:
She had come here seeking adventure, seeking change in her dull and predictable life. Now all she wanted was the comforts (and complacency) of home.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Padre, I can handle this case quite well on my own. I don’t need you rushing in to interfere.” He lifted the items in his hand—a leather-bound journal, several letters, and a newspaper clipping. “And I don’t need some nosy young woman shoving evidence in my face when I had no way of knowing—and where is she, by the way?” He glanced around in a harried manner.
“Calm yourself, Inspector,” Father Brown said with a gentle smile. His words and demeanor had the opposite effect (as he knew it would), but he was keen to keep the inspector’s attention on himself.
Mallory’s face went red. “Calm myself? You’ve told me that the man I’ve just cleared of any involvement has concealed the fact that he knew this Ruby Smith woman.”
“I believe her stage name was Ruby Jewel.”
Mallory’s lips thinned into an unhappy line. “Whatever the case may be…I’ve just sent The General home along with Sergeant Goodfellow. And now, you tell me he had a motive for killing this former exotic dancer?”
“He may have had a motive, albeit a weak one. But The General wasn’t the only one who was under Miss Smith’s thumb. I’ve done a little digging myself—”
“Of course you bloody well have,” interjected Mallory.
“And I think you should take a look at Mr. Chester Logan’s financial statements.”
“She was blackmailing the butler, too?”
Father Brown nodded. “Or perhaps she tried to.”
Mallory’s ruddy face had paled slightly. But his ire was only kicked into high gear once more when he saw Mary stepping through the holding cell door. “I didn’t authorize any visits, Miss Bennet.”
She was looking a bit pale and unhappy herself, but it didn’t diminish her determination. “I think it’s high time you released him. Bobby is hardly your prime suspect with such a flimsy confession.”
“I will make the decisions around here about my own prisoners, thank you very much!”
Mary just shook her head. Father Brown noted a look of defeat on her face. “Whatever the case may be…I am going home.”
There was a brief back and forth between the Inspector and Father Brown, but the curate won out in the end. There was no reason for Mary to remain, as she wasn’t even a person of interest in the case.
“I would very much like it if you could join us for a meeting at the Abbey, Inspector,” Father Brown said, as Mary waited for him by the door. They had arrived there in Bobby’s own car, after all. She didn’t appear anxious to linger a moment longer.
Mallory’s lips thinned once more as he stormed towards his office. “Just as soon as I process these damned release papers.” He was heard muttering several choice words just before he slammed his door.
“Excitable man,” Father Brown said in a mild tone as he followed Mary out the door.
She might have noted the lack of a limp from the curate, or the way he walked with complete confidence in his stride (there was very little evidence of an injury at all), but she was too distracted.
“I take it your talk with Bobby didn’t go as you’d hoped?”
She was brought out of a brief reverie and realized they were simply sitting in Bobby’s sports car while the engine idled. She sighed and put the car in gear (wincing when it complained, since she hadn’t done things in the exact right sequence).
“I don’t know that I hoped for anything.”
Father Brown offered a sympathetic hum in reply.
She felt emboldened to continue. “No one wants to hear that they were proposed to out of necessity.” She swallowed. “It’s silly of me. I came into this entire adventure knowing that it was an arrangement. And then…”
He said nothing but stole a glance at her profile. She was fighting back tears. “Will you remain until the case is finished?”
She shook her head. “I just want to go home. Mother will be furious, but—I can’t stand this any longer. Nothing has turned out how I had hoped from the start, including this ghastly murder business.”
His hum was more contemplative. “I have a feeling it will be wrapped up soon. Won’t you stay a little longer?”
Mary again shook her head. She sent the engine roaring down the road and deftly navigated a sharp turn before they approached the gates of Northanger Abbey. As they came to a stop beneath the imposing edifice, she felt a sudden sinking disappointment. She had come here seeking adventure, seeking change in her dull and predictable life. Now all she wanted was the comforts (and complacency) of home.
Father Brown reached over and squeezed Mary’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. She felt close to tears again and offered him a muttered word of gratitude.
The moment they entered, the Abbey was once more bustling with activity. The General was fuming, audibly protesting Cathy’s presence in the home while Sergeant Goodfellow made futile attempts to diffuse the situation. Mary quietly took hold of Cathy’s hand and guided her upstairs. This calmed The General only briefly, until he heard that Father Brown had arranged some sort of meeting at the house. The Inspector and Bobby would be there soon enough. Everyone, including Mr. Logan, was expected to attend.
Mary was one notable exception, however.
“Are you going to say goodbye to him, at least?” Cathy asked. She watched Mary as she packed her suitcase.
“There isn’t a point, really. I was just a means to an end. A way of protecting his brother and paving the way for you and Henry. But he’s going to stand up to his father. At least, I hope he will.”
Cathy frowned. “Things will be different once this case is closed, don’t you think?”
Mary sighed. “Things are complex enough. I’ll only be in the way here.”
She stood up and clasped Mary’s hand briefly. Her thumb brushed across the ring that Mary was still wearing. Cathy had plenty of things she wanted to say, but her new friend was stubbornly resolved to leave. “I can’t change your mind. But I hope you’ll at least come visit.”
Mary pulled the other woman into an impulsive embrace. Soon enough, a bell was heard below. They were being summoned to the study for this meeting Father Brown had put together. Mary once more declined. She could just as easily slip out of the house if she needed to. But first, she had something she needed to do.
She quietly slipped into Bobby’s room first. And then, as she walked towards the servants’ stairs, she paused by a familiar door. When she tried the handle, it was unlocked.
—
“Where is Mary?” Bobby had seated himself near Cathy, who was perched in the window seat of the study.
“I suspect she’s gone,” Cathy informed him.
He glanced out the window. “On foot?”
“Knowing Mary, I wouldn’t put it past her.”
He sighed. “I just…I just wish things could have been different.”
She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Maybe if you give her time, she might come around.”
He scoffed. “She won’t want to marry into this mess.”
Cathy bit back a smile. Bobby had been protesting this entire arrangement from the beginning. “You sound a little disappointed.”
“It’s a little unfair, you know. Just as I was beginning to like her…this whole murder business. The secret of my brother. It’s too much to ask of anyone.”
She just hummed sadly. She kept her own observations to herself, that if anyone could handle it, Mary Bennet was the woman. And that if the two of them would just admit that they were attracted to each other, things would be much simpler.
Soon enough, Chester Logan was brought into the room (despite his visible protests at being included in this unexpected meeting. He had things to take care of, after all, being such an important member of the household staff).
“Well, it’s most irregular, Padre,” Inspector Mallory said from the corner of the room. “But let’s get this over with.”
“Very good,” Father Brown said as he stood in front of the hearth to address the gathering.
Though she had only known Mary a matter of days, Cathy felt bereft without her capable presence. Mr. Logan was near the door, where he could be called upon if needed for any domestic tasks around the house. The General sat opposite his son in a large, imposing chair. The scowl on the older man’s face was severe.
“I felt this was a more equitable place to discuss the case,” Father Brown began as he paced back and forth in his long, black garb. Cathy saw no signs of his injury as he took confident strides across the carpet. If he had any lingering pain, it wasn’t evident. She wondered, with a sudden rush of amusement, if he had exaggerated the extent of his injury, simply to remain close to the mystery until it was solved.
Inspector Mallory muttered something, but Father Brown ignored this.
“What’s with all the theatrics?” The General protested, in an equally foul temper as The Inspector. “I thought the true confession had already been made.”
Father Brown gave the man a considering gaze. “If your son had any motive to kill Miss Ruby Smith, I was unable to find it. As, I’m sure, Inspector Mallory can reluctantly agree.”
The police inspector’s face went red again as he pretended to examine his own notes.
Father Brown continued: “Even if her death was accidental, it doesn’t explain what she was doing in the attic in the first place.”
“I was wondering the same thing,” Bobby muttered.
The General grunted in reluctant agreement.
“Don’t think either of you will get off scot-free,” the Inspector interjected, jabbing his finger towards Bobby and his father. “There’s still the matter of your false confessions. Not to mention ‘waste of police time and resources.’ What on earth were you thinking?”
“We were trying to protect—”
“You keep quiet!” The General hissed, stopping Bobby before he could finish.
Father Brown gave the gathered group a gentle smile. “They were trying to protect Bobby and Henry’s younger brother, Arthur.”
The General let out a sound that was difficult to interpret. It was equal parts rage and frustration. Perhaps resignation as well. “Now you’ve done it,” he said, glaring at his son. “Henry's ridiculous woman almost ruined it for us a year ago,” he added, sending a sharp look towards Cathy. “And now you’ve sealed Arthur's fate.”
“You leave Cathy out of this,” Bobby cried. “She and Henry only wanted what was best for Arthur. Not for him to be cooped up in this damn house like a lunatic in the attic—”
Inspector Mallor stood to his feet. “Now, hold on just a damn minute. What in the hell is going on?”
Bobby’s anger deflated. He leaned his chin in his curled fist on a side table. He ignored his father’s pointed glance and decided to confess the full truth, for once. “Arthur had a fever when he was a child, and he never recovered his faculties. He’s permanently stuck in a childlike state, though he’s only a few years younger than myself.”
The General suddenly stood and faced the fireplace, incapable of meeting anyone’s gaze as he picked up the story in a raspy tone. “My late wife made me promise never to put the boy in one of those terrible places. We—we went there, once. You can’t imagine the conditions those poor children face. The stench…the starvation…the mistreatment.” His voice shook, almost breaking. “We couldn’t face it. And so, we used his illness to our advantage. We told everyone he had died. We did it to protect him.”
Father Brown hummed. “So, our dear Mary didn’t imagine the ‘ghost’ in the maze.”
Bobby let out a shaky laugh. “Arthur likes to play pranks. But he’s harmless. He would never hurt anyone.”
“Yet, you and your father confessed to the murder?” The Inspector prompted.
Bobby frowned. “I suppose my father did it to protect Arthur. I don’t believe he could hurt anyone, but I, stupidly, confessed in an attempt to protect my father.”
Mr. Logan cleared his throat.
“Chester, you are not to say a word,” The General said in a sharp tone.
“On the contrary, Sir,” The Inspector said just as sharply. “I think the man has a right to say what’s on his mind.”
Mr. Logan stood to his full, impressive height. “One of my many roles here at the Abbey is the care and protection of Arthur. I just happened to be there the night of Miss Smith’s death.”
“You chose a funny time to reveal this piece of information, Sir,” Mallory retorted.
“I am paid to keep quiet.”
“And handsomely,” Bobby muttered.
Logan ignored this. “I had noticed Miss Jewel lurking around, putting her nose where it didn’t belong. She had somehow discovered Arthur’s room. I suppose she startled him, because—well, by the time I got there, she had already been pushed out the window.”
The Inspector glanced from Chester Logan to Bobby to The General. The expressions were varying degrees of guilty, ashamed, and worried. “This should have been disclosed immediately, gentleman.”
“I would rather lock my son away for the rest of his life than have him sent to some horrid hospital.”
“How is that any different than his life for the last 15 years, Father?” Bobby protested. “You were willing to exchange one son’s life for another. You were prepared to let my confession be accepted as the truth.”
“A rather flimsy confession, all things considered,” Mallory muttered.
Bobby ignored this. “Father, I still don’t believe Arthur did this. There has to be another explanation. Even if it was an accident…we should face whatever is to come.”
The General was immediately outraged. He refused, to which Bobby argued they should do what was right.
Father Brown coughed, and this soft sound was strangely commanding of the space he occupied. It was what made him an excellent orator on the pulpit. “Or, perhaps, there is another explanation.”
“Oh, dear Lord,” Mallory said. Then, he muttered a soft apology to the priest for taking the Heavenly Father’s name in vain.
Cathy bit back a smirk. Behind all of his bluster and apoplectic fits, Inspector Mallory concealed his genuine respect for the curate.
“We have not put enough attention on Miss Ruby herself. Who was she? And who did she know?” His gaze flickered to Cathy. “Thanks to the efforts of Miss Morland and Miss Bennet, we know that The General was acquainted with Miss Smith.”
The General’s neck went ruddy with a mix of rage and indignation. “I refuse to dignify that with a remark.”
“It’s simple enough to verify. We found papers in Miss Smith’s room that used the name Ruby Jewel. There’s no shame in frequenting a dance hall, General. But hiring the young woman to look after your house is more than suspicious.”
The General sighed. “The girl needed work. Respectable work. She’d been in trouble before, and the stupid fool that I was…I took pity on her. But I had no notion she would try to use our connection to further herself.”
“Blackmail?” Inspector Mallory asked.
The General merely nodded his head. “She was trying to bleed me for more money. More than I had to give, thanks to my irresponsible son.” He gave Bobby another sharp glance.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bobby said.
Inspector Mallory let out a long-suffering sigh. “Then, it was The General who pushed her out of the second story window?”
“Not quite,” Father Brown said softly. “The General wasn’t the only man she was blackmailing. Was it, Mr. Logan?”
Chester shifted uncomfortably, but he maintained his composure. “I never met the woman before she was hired here last year.”
Father Brown hummed. “If that was true, why did you refer to her by her stage name, Ruby Jewel?”
Mr. Logan’s expression shifted, and the stoic mask he usually wore was beginning to slip. “So, I saw her perform once or twice. That isn’t a crime.”
“You have been in trouble with the law yourself, haven’t you?”
The man shifted his weight again. The tips of his prominent ears were turning pink.
“Chester? Is this true?” The General demanded.
“Some…trouble in my youth. Nothing more.”
“In point of fact,” Father Brown clarified. “It was a connection to Miss Ruby Jewel’s former employer. A brothel owner of some repute. She threatened with exposure unless you paid her handsomely. She threatened you with losing your lucrative position here caring for Arthur and the Abbey.”
At Chester’s stony silence, Bobby stood to his feet. “And so you pushed her out of the window?”
“It was—an accident.”
“And you have the audacity to stand there and shift blame to my brother, who wouldn’t hurt a soul? Who considered you his dearest friend?” Bobby’s hands were curled into fists. He looked prepared to launch himself at the much larger man. Cathy walked forward and put a hand on his shoulder, effectively stopping him from making a fool of himself.
The General was fuming as well. Whatever his flaws in raising his own children, he loved his youngest with a fierce, unyielding protectiveness. He looked prepared to fight Mr. Logan himself.
Inspector Mallory snapped his notebook shut, which almost echoed in the tense silence that had fallen in the room. “Well, then. I think we’ll finally bring the right man down to the station for questioning.” He replaced his hat, tipped it ever so slightly at the priest, and simply said, “Padre.”
It was his quiet way of thanking Father Brown without admitting his interference was a necessary one.
He then called for Sergeant Goodfellow, who arrived to escort Mr. Chester Logan to the vehicle. The room was quiet and tense. Father Brown had the good grace to thank his kind hosts and depart.
Bobby spun around and faced his father. “There are going to be some changes around here, whether you like them or not.”
“Careful how you speak to me, boy. I’m still your father.”
“In name only,” he retorted. “But in affection and sympathy, I’m no better than Chester Logan. Someone you could order around how you pleased.”
The General had no response to this, for the moment.
Bobby knew his temper was too fired up to speak rationally, and so he told his father they would speak again soon. In the meantime, he stormed out of the room, with Cathy close on his heels. She wasn’t too keen to stay in The General’s presence.
“Chin up, old boy. It’s all over now,” she called out to Bobby as they ascended the stairs.
He shook his head. They had all been betrayed by a loyal member of staff, but there were other things left to deal with. “You should go back to the pub tonight, Cathy. I don’t expect you will want to stay here.”
She gripped his arm and pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you, Bobby. And I’m desperately sorry about everything.”
He returned the embrace but was glad for the solitude that greeted him in his own room. Despite the urge to collapse on the bed in a senseless heap, he found himself staring down at a rather depressing sight. There, in the center of his bed, was the open ring box—the gemstones glittering in the afternoon light filtering through the curtains. After the crushing blow of today’s revelations, this one felt the heaviest. He snapped it shut and realized the person he most wanted to see at that moment was his favorite brother.
He ascended the stairs and was confronted with the sight of the empty library. This, too, made him sad. Something else glittered in the sunlight, and he was startled to realize Mary had left her glasses. He picked them up without knowing why. Still, he moved down the hall as if he was in a trance and made his way up the final flight of stairs towards the attic.
It wasn’t until he was near the top that he heard voices on the other side of the door. A male and a female. Furthermore, the door (which was usually locked tight) was ajar, with the key hanging from the knob.
“And this one is Copenhagen.”
“Is it? I can barely make out the writing without my glasses. How clever you are, Arthur.”
Bobby felt a sudden elation. He stepped into the room and gazed at the two figures seated on the floor. “Looking for these?” He said, holding the spectacles out to Mary.
She smiled up at him.
Notes:
I hope the end result was convincing enough! I actually pulled the final reveal straight from the episode, where Chester is the true villain. And now, we will enjoy some lovely fluff for our main couple in the coming chapter(s). :)
Chapter 8: Long holiday
Summary:
“Are you ready for your next surprise?” He took her hand and led her away from the gathered group.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Mary perched her heavy-rimmed glasses on her nose and examined the massive diorama in front of her. It depicted The Battle of Waterloo.
“Glasses are for drinking,” Arthur said with a frown as he reached out and tapped one of the lenses.
Mary laughed and removed them, passing them into Arthur’s gentle care. “These help me see. My eyes don’t always know how to read small letters.”
Arthur lifted them to his own eyes and away, repeating this movement several times. He chuckled at the way it distorted his vision. Mary observed the younger man. He had a childlike manner and often repeated himself when asking questions, especially if he didn’t understand (or didn’t like) the response. He looked nothing like his brothers and likely favored their late mother, who had delicate features and large, dark brown eyes. But when he smiled, he looked just like Bobby. Boyish and cheeky with plenty of mischief.
She glanced up and realized Bobby had been watching her closely for some time. She gave him a tentative smile. He had an air about him of anticipation—or perhaps impatience, since there was a great deal he wanted to tell her that was impossible at the moment.
“Is Mary your friend, too?” Arthur said, peering up at his brother with visible adoration.
Bobby’s smile was a bit more relaxed. “Yes. I hope we can be good friends.”
“Like Logan?”
He frowned. “No, not at all like Logan.”
“Is he going away? I saw him getting into that car with that police inspector man downstairs.”
Bobby wanted to gently chastise his brother, knowing that this meant Arthur had been lurking around the house when he wasn’t supposed to, listening in at the key holes. But he couldn’t possibly be annoyed with his youngest brother. Not really. “Well, you see Arthur, Logan is…he’s, er…”
“Logan is going away on a long holiday,” Mary interjected, when Bobby was lost for an explanation. “He won’t be coming back.”
“A long, long holiday, then.” Arthur looked saddened as he processed this. “Sometimes I didn’t like him as much as I like Bobby and Henry. I don’t think I like him as much as I like Mary.”
“That’s very sweet, Arthur,” Mary said, flushed and pleased by the young man’s ready affection. She leaned forward as if they were exchanging a secret. “I like you, too.”
Arthur’s grin was like sunshine. “Do you like Mary?” He asked his brother.
Bobby gave her a furtive glance. “I do. Very much. If…that’s okay.”
She met his gaze and held it. Something unspoken passed between them, perhaps just a snippet of what they really wanted to say to each other. Her expression turned coy as she replied, “Maybe.”
Arthur found this intensely funny. Everyone’s mood shifted when they heard the dinner bell down below. Arthur thought his time with his new friend and favorite brother was at an end. Quietly, Mary and Bobby dreaded the impending meal with an unhappy General.
Bobby offered to watch Arthur so that Mary could eat her dinner in peace. With Logan gone a few hours prior, they hadn't any time to find a replacement, and he certainly wasn’t about to leave his brother alone.
But she had a different idea. “What would you think about eating downstairs? All of us?”
Arthur’s eyes widened. “At the big table? Won’t Father be angry?”
Bobby shrugged. “He might. But you let me deal with that.”
“Good. It’s decided, then.” She stood up, and Arthur joined her. He was surprisingly tall and thin. She wondered if he used this to his advantage, sneaking through the tight corridors of the subterranean maze. She made a mental note to ask him for a grand tour soon.
For the moment, she just took Arthur’s hand and led him out of the room, with Bobby close behind them. She caught the way Bobby turned his head away to hide the tears falling down his face. The younger man was visibly nervous, biting at the thumbnail on one hand as they moved through the hallways. A passing maid saw the group and gasped, dropping an entire load of fresh linens on the floor. Arthur was very concerned about this, thinking he had scared the young woman. He was persistent in his attempts to help the maid pick everything up.
Mary watched him with a sudden sting of tears in her own eyes. How anyone (namely The General) could have suspected Arthur capable of murder, accidental or otherwise, was beyond her comprehension. He had such a kind and gentle heart. Arthur bounced ahead of them as they descended to the next floor down. His happy cries echoed in the main hall.
While he busied himself examining the vase of fresh flowers by the front door (and rearranging them with intense precision), Bobby quietly pulled Mary aside. “Thank you for staying,” he said.
“Well, I didn’t do it only for you,” she retorted, but he was sure he caught a slight smirk at the edge of her lips.
Arthur made his way confidently to the dining room. However, they were given a brusque greeting by The General, who was surprised to see his youngest son bouncing into the room like a large, juvenile elephant.
It took some convincing, but after a while, their father reluctantly allowed Arthur to join them for dinner. Mary felt sorry for the young man who was constantly under his father’s critical eye. It didn’t matter how much Bobby stood in defense of his brother, The General found fault with everything the youngest Tilney son did.
Arthur ate with his hands, which was a capital offense in The General’s eyes. Then, he didn’t know how to hold his silverware properly. And finally, he couldn’t sit still or stop talking in the midst of his excitement. Mary did her best to keep Arthur distracted by asking him to name off facts about The Battle of Waterloo. This didn’t last long before Arthur was once more jumping out of his seat to examine a large grandfather clock in the corner. He had lots of questions about it. Instead of criticising his curiosity, Mary fostered it. She joined him at the clock (ignoring The General’s mutters of disapproval) and talked him through the various parts that she remembered from her perusal of a book about horologists.
Eventually, when The General had raised his voice another time at Arthur (causing the young man to jump in surprise and alarm), Bobby had had enough.
“If you don’t wish to eat with him, then you can leave.”
The General was stunned for a moment before he went on the defensive. “If my son can’t sit still, then he is not welcome at the table. He must learn proper manners first.”
“And when have any of us taken the time to teach him?”
Their father had the good grace to look shame-faced at this retort. For all his flaws, Mary knew that deep down, The General loved his children. Even if he was totally inept at showing it.
Mary felt it was unkind to speak about Arthur as if he wasn’t there (though it wasn’t her place to say anything), and so she guided him out of the room. Bobby noticed this and gave her a forlorn, apologetic look. She waved this off and was soon dragged away by Arthur, who had spied another large clock in the parlor.
It wasn’t until nearly an hour later that Bobby bumped into Mary. She was by herself, and he was worried for a moment until he heard Arthur counting loudly from the next room. Without a word, she darted down the hallway and ducked into the nearest guest room. She was startled to realize Bobby had followed her. He gestured quietly towards a nearby closet, and the two of them slipped inside. Mary settled herself on the floor and coughed in the musty, stale air. This part of the estate was rather neglected from lack of use.
“I hope you don’t mind that I stole your hiding place,” Bobby whispered beside her in the darkness.
She smiled to herself. “It’s just as well. This gives us a moment to talk alone.”
He breathed out a sigh. “I’m desperately sorry for how my father has behaved.”
“It’s not your fault. And I think it’s high time you stop trying to apologize for his actions. You’ve more than paid for your own sins without having to bear the burden of someone else’s.”
She could just make out his profile in the dimness, and he was gazing at her intently.
“I sometimes wonder if you’re real. The way you talk sometimes…it’s as though you’ve lived hundreds of lives.”
She chuckled. “It’s a terrible habit of mine to be fiercely observant, without actually engaging in real life. I rarely, if ever, take my own advice.”
“I fear your time at the Abbey this week has been a bit too real. A murder case, an arranged marriage, a secret engagement between my brother and a penniless young woman…”
”Not to mention the worst proposal known to man,” she added.
His wince was almost audible. “No, that was not my finest moment.”
There was a smile in her voice as she said, “Well, I don’t think I’ll ever let you forget it.”
The silence that followed was tense, but not uncomfortable. She heard shuffling and realized Bobby had turned his body to face hers in the gloomy closet.
“Would you allow me to make it up to you?”
She scoffed. “If you are going to propose to me right this moment, I’ll march out of this house and never—”
“No, Mary. I intend to court you like any hopeful lover should. Like you truly deserve.”
She was glad of the darkness to hide just how thoroughly she was blushing. No one had ever spoken to her like this before. In plain fact, no one had ever shown any interest at all. This was uncharted territory for Mary Bennet. She had no idea what to say other than: “I would like that.”
He hummed, and his breath ghosted across her cheek. Had he moved closer in the midst of their conversation? Her heart thrummed away in her chest. No, she was entirely out of her depth. She wasn’t sure how to respond to the warmth of his proximity as his crossed knees pressed against the side of her leg.
The decision was made for them both as the closet door swung open.
“Ha! Got you!” Arthur cried in triumph.
—
Days passed, and the newspaper headlines stirred up fresh drama for their small hamlet—and fresh anger from the Tilney family, and those who loved them.
The Butler Did It - Murder at Northanger Abbey
Tilney Family Secrets Revealed in Wake of Murder
Lunatic Son Presumed Dead Kept in Attic of House
Father Brown Assists with Murder Case
A Son Reflects - Interview with Henry Tilney
The General was furious about Arthur being referred to as “a lunatic,” but he was even more enraged that Henry had consented to an interview without consulting either Bobby or their father. Bobby, for his part, saw no harm in it. Henry was an eloquent speaker, and he humanized Arthur (and the General) in a way that put the attention back onto Chester Logan and his vicious murder of misguided, greedy Ruby Jewel.
In the wake of the interest around Northanger Abbey, The General was encouraged to go on “a long holiday.”
Mary, for her part, was elated when Kitty consented to make the long journey to Gloucestershire and make the Abbey feel a little less like a prison, as the family wasn’t able to come and go as they pleased. Not until the fervor of the journalists died down.
It wasn’t as though Mary was having a terrible time at the Abbey, of course. Arthur kept Bobby and Mary (and the remaining staff) on their toes. Father Brown was a regular visitor, and he proved to be just as kind-hearted and gracious towards Arthur as he was with everyone. Arthur took an immediate liking to the priest, and the two of them often went for walks. He taught Arthur how to ride his bicycle, and this was a delight for everyone to witness. Mary was shown every inch of the subterranean maze and was thrilled at the knowledge that the Abbey had its own secret passageways. Several times, she scared Bobby out of his wits by unexpectedly popping out of various rooms.
Kitty was able to witness the growing affection between Mary and Bobby. Their courtship, as it was, had reached a bit of a stalemate since it was next to impossible to leave the Abbey without being hounded or followed by persistent journalists. The only reason they hadn’t been hounded by Mrs. Bennet was because Kitty kept her satisfied with updates about the couple.
But Kitty, who had recently become connected to an unexpected mutual friend, also had a plan of her own.
“You lured us out of the house in our best outfits, all so we could…attend church on a Tuesday evening?” Bobby said as he gazed up at the stone edifice in front of them. They had driven a good distance to the neighboring village.
Kitty rolled her eyes. “Yes, and we will be late if you don’t hurry!” She nudged Bobby and Kitty towards the main doors.
The two of them exchanged a glance but complied with Kitty’s quiet demands. Soon enough, they were ushered inside and seated in a pew. There was a sizable group of individuals—a lively group of youths, couples with young children, and an older pair at the very front. They saw men in uniform as well. But at the front, standing to one side of the curate, was Henry Tilney.
The group was asked to rise as the organist played a soft medley. Then, Catherine Morland walked through the doors, festooned in a simple gown of white. But the most beautiful thing to behold was the smile exchanged between herself and her intended, who waited patiently near the altar. Bobby was fighting back tears as Henry and Cathy were wed and exchanged their first kiss as man and wife.
The reception that followed was on the rear lawn of the church overlooking a lovely garden. While Bobby congratulated his brother, Cathy pulled Mary aside.
“I am so glad you could make it,” she said, embracing her.
Mary laughed. “We didn’t have much choice. It felt like an ambush!”
Cathy gave her a sheepish smile. “Henry wrote to Bobby about the ceremony a week ago, but I imagine it got lost somewhere among the throng of journalists.”
“Did you and my sister cook up this little scheme?”
“We thought it was a bit of fun.”
Mary smiled in return. Her expression sobered when she noted one particular absence. “I'm terribly sorry The General didn't attend. Does he still disapprove?”
“Bobby talked some sense into their stubborn father. I confess, the celebration is brighter without him here.”
Mary laughed in agreement. She knew now why she had formed such an immediate connection with Cathy, since she and Kitty shared so much in common. She glanced across the group and saw her younger sister in deep discussion with a middle-aged gentleman. He pulled a pocket watch from his vest and held it out to her. The pair were so lost in their own conversation that they missed Cathy’s warm greeting as she made her way through the gathered friends and family members. Naturally, one of her many siblings took precedence. But Mary couldn’t stop watching Kitty and this stranger. They were mismatched in looks and age, and yet…
Mary didn’t realize Bobby had come to stand beside her, and she jumped slightly. “What a surprise this day has been!” She said, linking her arm with his quite easily. She had been making conceited efforts to be a bit more demonstrative towards him.
He didn’t seem to mind as he placed his hand over hers. “It seems your sister and my new sister-in-law aren’t finished, either,” he said, smiling warmly at her. “Are you ready for your next surprise?” He took her hand and led her away from the gathered group.
She was next confronted with a flashy sports car. It wasn’t as nice as Bobby’s light blue Aston-Martin, but it was still just as small and impractical. He opened the passenger door for her, and in short order, they were bouncing down the country lane towards a small line of shops. One of them was a bookstore. Mary was delighted, and they spent a long time sifting through dusty tomes. Well, it was mostly Mary who sifted. Bobby just found himself watching her intently, and occasionally helping her read the titles (since she had forgotten her glasses at home).
She knew he had helped to plan this particular surprise. Hadn’t he promised to woo Mary?
She blushed under his gaze, and she decided to turn the surprise right back around. She purchased two novels (an older edition of a beloved favorite and a newly published story) and followed him to the car. Only, this time, she held her hand out to him.
“Keys, please,” she said.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise.
I’m ready for my driving lesson.”
He laughed. “Father Brown told me you were a whiz at driving my own car.”
“Oh, I’m certain I ground a few gears and mistreated it terribly. But I’d like to be better at it.”
Bobby wanted to wrap her in his arms and kiss her senseless. He wasn’t sure if she would be open to such a thing yet. He tamped down this impulse, for the moment, and watched as Mary started the car. He gave her a few pointers, and she was adorably flustered when she messed up the timing shifting to a higher gear. He had to rescue the poor stalled engine only once, but she was a quick learner. Soon enough, they were flying down the country lanes as smoothly as if Bobby was driving the car himself.
There was a close call as they rounded a sharp bend in the road. A large tractor was rumbling down the road directly for them. She turned the wheel sharply, sending the sleek car into a ditch in the nick of time. Mary and Bobby sat there for a moment in stunned silence while the tractor puttered along its way. The farmer gave the pair of them an exasperated glance but nothing more.
Mary let out a relieved laugh and turned to Bobby. He startled her by leaning forward and kissing her. She froze at the feeling of his lips against her own. She was a little embarrassed to admit this was her first kiss.
Bobby misinterpreted her immobility as dislike and apologized. He turned away, his neck ruddy with embarrassment as words poured out of him. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. You have great instincts. And you’re wonderful with Arthur. You are far too intelligent for me, but I like the way your mind works.” He snapped his mouth shut to keep from rambling on in this ridiculous fashion.
Mary’s smile was almost painful in its intensity. She decided to follow those instincts and gripped his shirt. She tugged until he was moving towards her again, capturing her lips in another kiss. Mary felt a thrill as he put his arm around her, tugging her as close as the car would allow. Bobby, for his part, was flattered beyond belief that she was letting him. In this, too, she was a quick learner. Her fingers ran through the ends of his hair, down his neck, and across his chest.
He sat back, breathless. “Mary, if I asked you again, for real this time, would you—?”
“Yes.” She bravely rested her hand on his cheek.
He laughed and pulled her in for another kiss.
They heard a loud honk behind them. A lorry was trying to pass them on the road and had been waiting impatiently for the young couple to disengage. Mary was flustered once more, but Bobby helped her to get the car in motion again.
Once they returned the sports car to the generous airman, they retrieved Kitty and made the long journey home to the Abbey. Kitty, watching the pair from the backseat, was certain Bobby reached over and rested his hand on Mary’s knee once during the drive. The pink on her sister’s cheeks told her everything she needed to know. She would have to call Cathy (and Mrs. Bennet) before the engagement announcement was published in the paper.
Notes:
Sweetness overload! I'm thinking there will be one more chapter to wrap things up. ❤️
Also, if the plot seems familiar (a friendly game of hide and seek that turns almost amorous), I wrote a similar scene in my other version of this Father Brown episode entitled "How Very Victorian." I drew inspiration from myself. 🤔
Chapter 9: Refused to let go
Summary:
In only a year, much had changed for Mary Bennet.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Several more days passed, during which time Kitty had one more surprise up her sleeve. One afternoon, when the gates of the Abbey were blissfully vacant (the persistent journalists had finally moved on to other subjects), an unfamiliar car puttered up the driveway. Kitty welcomed the man inside and helped him to carry a few boxes into the nearby study.
Mary and Bobby were presently engaged with Arthur in a game of cards, in which the youngest member was proving to be an excellent player. Mary was learning that while Arthur was childlike in some aspects of his character, he had a ready mind that absorbed new information like a sponge.
“Who is that?” Arthur said, when he saw the stranger beside Kitty. He had a natural distrust of strangers (a response, no doubt, to his unsociable upbringing).
Mary, however, recognized this man from Cathy's wedding.
“This is my friend, Mr. Hallewell. He has a surprise for you.” She brought him to the table, where he began to open his boxes.
Arthur took a few hesitant steps forward and peered at the contents. “Clocks,” he said, his eyes bright with curiosity.
“Mr. Hallewell is a horologist,” Kitty said with pride in her voice. “A renowned one.”
“You may all call me Frank,” he said. He frowned at Kitty, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. “And that was years ago. Now, I just repair people's heirlooms.”
Arthur sat beside the older man and watched with rapt attention as the horologist disassembled a pocket watch. Arthur was intensely amused by Frank's spectacles which had large magnifying lenses of varying degrees attached to one side. The two of them were lost in cogs and gears and screws while the others watched with warm appreciation. Bobby sent a quiet word of thanks towards Kitty.
But Mary noticed that Kitty's attention was often on the older gentleman. He had dark brown hair that was peppered with gray, but the lack of deep wrinkles on his face suggested he was probably in his mid-to-late-40s. It was a gap of ten years or more. Clearly this didn't matter to her sister, whose eyes followed Frank's movements with intrigue. It was impossible to ignore his supreme patience with Arthur, who was asking several questions a second without waiting to hear the answer. Or the way Frank's eyes turned to Kitty when she was speaking to the younger man in her good-natured tone.
Mary took Bobby's hand and guided him out of the room. He went willingly. She grabbed their coats, a torch, and her walking shoes. After helping her into her coat, they strolled through the rear door towards the subterranean maze.
“I expect my mother will be unhappy about the match,” she said, mostly to herself.
“Beg pardon?” He said. Then, he absorbed her words. “What, you mean Kitty and that clockmaker?”
“Why not? More unexpected matches have happened before.”
He rolled his eyes. “I've said that you are far too good for me, and I meant it.”
She waited until they were safely ensconced in the dark entrance to the maze, and then she turned and pulled him into a sudden kiss. “And I've tried to tell you many times that you are kind-hearted, loyal, and clever in your own right.”
He smiled when she kissed him again. “I think this arrangement was the best decision my father ever made in his life.”
She grinned. “That brings me to another subject. Will we live here at the Abbey?”
He sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist while he replied. “I have been giving it a great deal of thought. My father was surprisingly upbeat in his last letter. It seems the bigger city agrees with him. He and my uncle are thick as thieves—equally matched in ill-temper and lack of humor. But he is always asking after Arthur. He cares, in his own way. And I don't want to take Arthur away from his home.”
“Will he ever be able to live independently, do you think?”
He frowned. “I'm unsure.”
“He could surprise you.”
“He already has. And so have you.”
She put her arms around his shoulders and pulled him impossible closer. “If you're worried about me, I could easily make this place my home. I would get to visit Cathy and Henry. Not to mention the maze and the secrets of the Abbey. And besides, it's more than likely Kitty will find a reason to live here, too.”
Bobby kissed her. “I am a lucky man. And I love you.”
She rested her cheek against his in a tender embrace. “I love you, too. Against all odds.”
He squeezed her hip and she yelped in amusement at the ticklish spot he had found. She suddenly darted off, disappearing behind the next bend in the narrow maze. He followed after her as best he could. And when he found her, he refused to let her go.
~ EPILOGUE ~
In only a year, much had changed for Mary Bennet. She was now Mrs. Robert Tilney and happily ensconced at Northanger Abbey. Kitty lived half a mile away above Frank Hallewell’s clockmaker shop, much to the distaste of their mother.
“The scandal, my dear! You're not even married yet. And he's almost twice your age.”
Kitty always ignored the first part. “He's 11 years my senior, mother. Isn't that how much is between you and Father?”
Still, she eased their mother's worries by marrying Frank a month later.
Northanger Abbey was large enough to host any number of the Bennet sisters and their respective families. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet practically had a wing of their own. Arthur was a favorite uncle among the children, especially Darcy and Lizzie's firstborn son, William. Cathy and Henry were also regular visitors, and the halls of the Abbey, which used to be dusty and disused, were now full of life. Arthur’s attic abode was changed into a lovely playroom for the many children who visited. His old nursery was now a bedroom fit for a healthy young man with adult hobbies of his own (though, he still loved his Battle of Waterloo model).
And soon enough, Mary and Bobby needed to make one more change to the Abbey. A small, perfectly furnished nursery for their soon-to-be first child.
Father Brown, who practically lived at the Abbey for the amount of times he “happened to be riding by” on his bike, was a welcome addition to the family. He didn't need to fake any injuries to stay with them as long as he wished.
“So, Father. Any hopes of converting this ridiculous brood to your side of the religious table?” Mr. Bennet plopped down in the chair beside the priest and gave the other man a warm smile.
This was a running joke between the two men, since the Bennets were traditionally Church of England.
“I would never dream of pulling anyone away from their own faith or denomination.”
Mr. Bennet laughed. “You just don't want our rowdy crew causing a ruckus in your cathedral is more like it.”
“Just so,” Father Brown said with a mild smirk.
They launched into a heated, but dignified, discussion about the differences in their respective churches. Secretly, the two of them adored this kind of banter. Father Brown fit into their chaotic family as if he'd always been there.
Bobby moved to stand beside his wife, and he bent down to kiss her.
“What was that for?” she said with a laugh.
“Nothing, dear.” He just smiled at her, looking happier than he had felt in a long time. Possibly ever. His hand rested on her prominent belly, where a faint kick was felt against his palm.
“Uncle Bobby!” A young voice cried from the hallway. “We can't find Uncle Art anywhere.”
Bobby smirked and followed the summons of his many nieces and nephews, inherited through his marriage to a woman with four sisters. Not to mention Cathy and Henry's sweet little girl. He could hear a faint chuckle behind a certain portrait. Arthur was up to his old tricks again.
Bobby led the brood of kiddies down the hall. It was time to show them how to get lost inside Northanger Abbey’s secret passageways.
Notes:
That's the end! I had a blast writing this. I needed a diversion from some real life stuff and this was the perfect distraction. Thank you for coming along with me on this journey! ❤️
thebitterbeast on Chapter 1 Tue 07 Oct 2025 11:39AM UTC
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