Quotes by Jennifer Paynter

I did not have an opportunity to speak privately with Peter until just as he was leaving, when he handed me one of the Burns song-sheets and (with a most earnest look) told me to read it before I went to bed.The song was My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose, but it was not until was up in my bedchamber that I saw he had written on the inside page: My mother would be honoured if you visited her after church tomorrow.

But look behind you, Mary. She nodded towards the dais. One of the musicians seems to be trying to attract your attention.It was Peter. He was standing on the dais smiling across at me. My delight at seeing him was such that I could not disguise it - did not try to disguise it.

I saw that he was looking anxious.I thought you werent coming. As he spoke, he grasped my hand. And if the sight of him had not quite restored the magic, the touch of him most certainly did. Youre not wishing yourself some place else, Mary?

Blessed with the love of a good man, I felt equal to anything - even the prospect of living out my days in the Antipodes.

When people fall in love, they are apt to go a little mad.

Shortly after you left the room, Bushell came over and spoke to your father. I was not near enough to hear what he said, but Maria Lucas told me afterwards that he had been - (she smiled) amazingly impertinent.Peter actually spoke to Papa?He did. According to Maria, he had the impudence to criticise Mr Bennet for his treatment of you. I must say it gives me the most favourable idea of his character.

In suiting the action to the words, however, I perceived that the stars were all wrong.That was my undoing. I had looked up unthinkingly, anticipating the familiar, and, finding it gone, began to cry like a baby. Whereupon Peter stopped the gig and took me in his arms, kissing me so that my face was soon sore both from kissing and crying.

I found I could listen without envy to Lettys singing, and afterwards when the applause came, I did not mind that Mrs Knowles was heaping praises upon her. Peters hands were on my chair, and when I leaned back I could feel them against my shoulders.

Peter was now standing very close - as if he wanted to comfort me - as if he knew how hurt I felt that Mrs Knowles had not asked me to play or to sing. And I did feel comforted. It was as if a tide of warmth was carrying me out of myself, inclining me to trust him and to conduct myself well.

This made my father laugh. Mary made a cake, did she? Well, well. Better that than she should make a cake for herself, I suppose.Peter then burst out: Why must you always be making a game of Mary? Tis not fair; tis not sporting.

Hello, Mary.It was like hearing a note of divine calm after a dissonant passage of music. My confusion died away.

After a moment, he added more seriously: I dont get as angry as mfather used to about things. Or maybe I, just better at hiding mfeelings.I fear Im not very good at hiding my feelings.He covered my hand with his own. Thats what I like about you. I liked it from the first. Youre so different from the others.

I had not the least idea of a gamekeepers occupation being so dangerous - there had never been such a person employed on the Longbourn estate - and just as I had spent half the previous night wondering about Peter, I spent half the next one worrying about him.

At that moment a solitary violin struck up. But the music was not dance music; it was more like a song - a solemn, sweet song. (I know now that it was Beethovens Romance in F.) I listened, and suddenly it was as if the fog that surrounded me had been penetrated, as if I were being spoken to.

I knew it was Peter playing. I fancied he was trying to tell me something - an absurd idea, but it persisted - I may not be able to spell, but just you listen to this.