Those matters were all far too remote from Mary’s own life, better to just treat them as a passing story and leave it at that.
It was now January 4th, and while everyone else was still celebrating the new year, she needed to keep pushing to overtake Mr. Bingley’s income. Tomorrow should have been the day to deliver goods to the army, but word had come that the delivery would be pushed back to the 10th instead.
With the holidays in the way, adjusting the schedule earlier or later was only to be expected, and Mary was happy to accommodate whenever advance notice was given.
On the way back, passing through Meryton, the carpenter’s shop still hadn’t opened, so the molds she’d ordered would have to wait a little longer. But little Millie, the tailor’s daughter, spotted the carriage and quickly waved it down.
“Mary, I’ve finished another 500 drawstring linen pouches you wanted, want to take them now?” Millie Miller was the tailor’s youngest daughter, only thirteen this year.
“That fast? Did your father not mind?” Making soap pouches wasn’t exactly skilled work, so it made sense if Mr. Miller wasn’t thrilled about it.
“As long as I can earn money to help out the family, why would he mind! Let me tell you a secret, my mother and my sister have been helping me too!” Otherwise, there was no way she could have made this many on her own.
“All right, go bring them out.” At half a penny per pouch, 500 came to 1 pound 10 pence. Mary spent twenty minutes checking the quality, and once satisfied there were no issues, paid up.
“Mary, come back again in a few days, I’ll have plenty more ready by then!” Receiving twenty shillings and ten pence in coin, little Millie’s eyes crinkled into a happy smile.
“As long as your pouches keep turning out this well, I’ll definitely be a regular.” Working with a thirteen-year-old girl had, at first, been something of an accident. “See you next time, Millie.”
“See you, Mary—”
Sitting in the carriage, Mary thought back to the day little Millie had nearly been swindled by a stranger, still a rather unsettling memory. And that had happened right here in Meryton, not even in London.
If it had happened in London, even if she’d witnessed it, she wouldn’t have gotten involved. Who knew what sort of people might be behind such a scam, and whether stepping in would only bring trouble onto herself!
But here in Meryton, all it had taken was raising her voice, and help had come running.
Perhaps that counted as a good deed done, Mary smiled, running her hand over the strung-together pouches. The Millers’ craftsmanship really was quite good, the stitching fine and even, the drawstrings smooth. There wasn’t much skill required in itself, but it did take a steady, patient hand to do it well.
For now, the soap pouches were entirely little Millie’s job. Once volume grew larger, Mary would put out a call in Meryton, anyone could take home a sample and make some at home, and as long as the finished pieces met quality standards when turned in, she’d accept them.
That was a matter for later, once sales picked up further.
Back in Longbourn, Mary soon caught sight of her own house. The new gate stood open, and through the gaps in the fence, she could make out a carriage inside.
And not just one, either!
Steward William hadn’t lied to her, the man really had come back, and, sure enough, had brought her carriage back with him!
“It’s been a while, is this the one I commissioned?” The exterior looked a little different from what she’d pictured. Mary got down from her own carriage and walked a full circle around the rather unremarkable-looking one first.
The whole thing didn’t look new at all, but up close there was still a faint smell of varnish, had it been deliberately aged?
“You wanted it plain on the outside, but large enough to seat people and carry a bit of cargo too.” Hearing her voice, Octavius finally opened his eyes and got down from his own carriage. “The basic requirements are all met. If anyone asks, just tell them you bought it secondhand.”
The man pointed to the axles and the wheel hubs: “None of that’s been touched, it looks freshly replaced, so no one will question the carriage’s worth. Try sitting inside, if anything’s not right, it can still be adjusted.”
Mary climbed in, and the moment she did, she realized the materials used inside were on par with the luxurious carriage parked beside it. Different in style, certainly, but nothing here had come cheap.
“Anything that needs changing?” Octavius, noticing she’d gone quiet inside for a while, leaned in himself to check.
And there he found Mary sitting in her seat, bouncing up and down, testing the comfort of the cushion.
“Sorry, go ahead.” Who would have guessed, Mary had this adorable side to her too. She looked a little startled, and hoped that whatever she’d just been doing hadn’t left the wrong impression.
Octavius had fallen asleep on the way to Longbourn after finishing up his business, and had only just woken up moments ago. Perhaps because he’d only just come to, his reactions weren’t as sharp as usual, which was how he’d ended up walking right in on a scene that might, in Mary’s mind, have felt a little embarrassing.
Was Mary embarrassed, though? Not particularly.
There’d been a small jolt of surprise, but nothing lingered after that. She’d simply been testing out the carriage she’d paid so dearly for, what was wrong with that?
“Tavi, come up here too.” When it came to sensitivity toward comfort, her husband was surely far more discerning than she was. So inviting him to join her seemed only reasonable.
Octavius clearly noticed the surprise on her face, but chose to act as if he’d seen nothing, formally climbing aboard.
This was the first time anyone had called him “Tavi” out in the open, he wasn’t quite used to it himself, let alone anyone else hearing it. Still, why exactly had Mary called him over?
“Sit here, if you find nothing wrong with it either, then there’s no need to change the seat.” Mary glanced at the spot beside her. “Would just sitting here make it hard to really tell, though? Let’s take it for a short ride, I’ll only take up a few minutes of your time.” Just a loop around Longbourn, nothing far.
“William, take us for a drive.” Octavius sat down beside her and called out to the steward waiting outside the carriage.
Before long, the carriage turned and started off.
“What do you think? Is the comfort acceptable?” It had been about two minutes now, Mary was eager to hear his verdict.
“Mary, be patient, we’ve only just set off.” This stretch of road was already smooth to begin with, what could really be told from it? Octavius met those bright dark eyes, beyond wanting the answer, she seemed just a touch nervous as well.
Was it because it was just the two of them in the carriage that she felt a little uneasy? That was understandable enough, given it had been nearly a month since they’d last seen each other.
“All right, then tell me honestly, how much did this carriage actually cost?” Even though the exterior materials were as ordinary as could be, making it look convincingly aged like this couldn’t have been simple work, surely? And the interior was clearly where most of the money had gone.
“Don’t try to fool me, I may not recognize this wood, but with a grain this beautiful, it can’t have been cheap!” Mary pointed to the interior paneling, compared to the common oak seen everywhere on the outside, this dark wood clearly wasn’t ordinary at all, it could practically hold its own against the man sitting beside her.
“It’s imported ebony, leftover stock from previous years, not worth much at all. Look, it’s only used in a few spots for the interior trim, so altogether it doesn’t add up to much.” Octavius pointed out every place the ebony appeared, indeed, not very much.
Just a few carved accents, a few inlays, and most of it obscured by the even rarer yew wood, invisible to the eye.
“Just pay the remaining 100 pounds as agreed. William already checked with the craftsmen, they used exactly the materials that amount covers, no discount given.” Whatever extra he’d thrown in on top didn’t count.
“That’s how it should be. By the way, have you gotten a proper feel for it now?” The carriage was already heading back.
“Quite good, comfortable enough for me, no changes needed. Of course, it’s your carriage, so it’s your call in the end.” She was the one paying for it, after all.
“Then no changes it is, send me the bill, and I’ll pay it.” Everything she’d wanted was already there, Mary really couldn’t find a single fault with it. Was she supposed to complain the ebony trim was too extravagant and have it stripped out? She wasn’t that foolish!
“I’ll have William bring it to you shortly. Oh, and didn’t you mention wanting to buy soap-making tools before? I had some free time recently, so I made a trip to Smithfield Market and picked up a set similar to what you’re already using.”
“So it was you who bought that set! How much was it? I’ll pay for that too.” It felt almost like getting back something she’d lost, though she still fully intended to settle up.
“Secondhand tools don’t cost much. All right, I negotiated the price down, it still came to 45 pounds.” He’d fully intended to pay for a new set on her behalf, and yet even buying a used one back, Mary still insisted on paying him.
Octavius had never wished so badly to actually spend money on something, and yet his wife simply refused to give him the chance.
Along with the remaining 100 pounds owed on the carriage, Mary paid it all using her converted bills of exchange. The earlier bills had come in odd, uneven amounts, so she’d had Mr. Hunter, her broker at Mark Lane, exchange them into a set of neater notes, tens, fifties, hundreds, and two-hundreds.
Now those came in handy: one 100-pound note, four 10-pound notes, and five 1-pound banknotes, exactly 145 pounds!
Bill settled and put away, the carriage now belonged entirely to her.
Mary had it pulled inside carefully, mindful not to bump or scratch it, this had cost her 130 pounds to have custom-made, after all. She’d be using it for a long time to come.
“Sorry, I got so caught up with my own business, I forgot to even greet you properly. Belated as it is, happy new year.” And, of course, thank you for having William deliver the land deed.
“Happy new year to you too. As for the deed, that was just a small thing.” If the land around the Richman estate had been better quality, the deed might have covered an even larger area. Unfortunately, the good land was already taken.
In fact, Mary needn’t have worried about land at all, Octavius held plenty of land under his own name, more than enough for her to use freely in the future, should she ever wish to. But he suspected that once she learned his true identity, she’d be quick to draw a firm line between them.
Just look at how things stood now, a carriage, a set of tools, everything accounted for down to the last penny. Even the land deed he’d sent had been repaid in full with more than enough gold coin.
Once the truth came out, even if she didn’t seek a divorce, this woman probably wouldn’t be willing to leave Longbourn and go with him anywhere else.
Whew, Octavius finally walked into the entrance hall, still without any idea how to handle this. He hadn’t said anything at first because it hadn’t seemed necessary. Now that he wanted to say it, he had no idea how to actually put it into words.
This was proving far harder than disguising himself as a bread thief, or posing as a shipwright looking for work!
Small matter or not, Mary wasn’t about to argue the point with him. Either way, she’d paid for it, those twelve acres of land now belonged to the Richman name.
“All right, go rest up then, I’ll go check on the workroom.” She wanted to see how much practice Betsy and Molly had lost while away, and figure out where to put the two sets of tools, one large, one small!
Perhaps it was simply because they hadn’t seen each other in a while, but Octavius felt that Mary seemed unusually cheerful today.
Was it because the carriage had finally arrived, or something else?
Standing before the mirror in the guest room, he caught sight of his own face. It seemed, somehow, that he too looked rather pleased. Was it because he’d come to Longbourn, because he’d seen Mary again?
Probably, at least in part, otherwise, he wouldn’t have rushed straight here the moment his business was finished, not even noticing he’d fallen asleep along the way. Compared to Brighton, compared to sitting alone in that vast, empty house, Octavius found he much preferred this smaller place, and this smaller room too.
“Sir, Henderson mentioned that when ma’am was coming back from London today, she heard a newsboy hawking papers. What he was calling out was about you.” Steward William, having caught up briefly on the situation, came to report.
“I know.” Just as he’d been trying to figure out how to bring things up, Mary had already heard news about him. He had no idea what kind of man she’d imagine him to be from that.
“That’s not necessarily true at all.” In the workroom, Mary was pushing back against something Molly had said. “You both make fair points, but I still don’t think it’s as simple as all that.”
“Setting aside the Duke of Cambridge’s character and reputation for a moment, nearly everything we hear about him is negative. Is that really normal, though? Don’t forget, his mother was the King’s second wife, and she passed away quite early on.”
“Even ordinary families like ours have squabbles between siblings sometimes, why would it be any different for a prince?” Mary left it there. “All right, enough of that, let’s focus on our soap, and let the princes worry about their own troubles.”
The conversation in the workroom had already drifted well past the original topic, and yet the man standing not far outside the door remained fixed on that one, simplest truth.