The Colonel
Mary Bennet marched from her mother's bedchamber in the highest dudgeon of her life!
She had no idea whether to be mortified or proud of herself, but at least she had finally DONE something.
Right or wrong, at least she had made the attempt.
While she was certainly feeling a great deal of mortification, her primary emotion was overwhelming, blistering rage.
The Bennet ladies' marital prospects had essentially dwindled from slim to none.
Their comparative poverty and lack of decorum had combined with the paucity of eligible gentlemen to produce a desperate situation.
With Lydia's shame, little chance remained that any of them would ever marry—and her father would not live forever.
As she marched from the room in a most unladylike manner, Mary’s chief concern was whether she should put a good-sized nick in the doorframe with her bucket as a reminder for her mother not to stoke her ire again.
She readily admitted such thoughts were beneath her, but that did not prevent their occurrence.
Upon leaving, she saw Elizabeth staring in wonder.
She recollected that Kitty had also peeped in momentarily—as had Mrs Hill.
The story of the morning's events would circulate through Meryton by afternoon, but since the reality was scarcely worse than Mrs Bennet’s usual conduct, little harm would ensue.
Mrs Bennet was still sputtering and cursing—but at least she had left her bed.
In her highly distracted state, Mary did not notice anyone else who might have come to witness the spectacle, though she probably should have. It came as the biggest shock of her life when she smashed into a brick wall, paradoxically placed in the middle of the corridor, wearing a red coat.
“OOF!” was all she managed to get out before she found herself tumbling backwards.
She did not make it very far, as the unknown soldier reacted quickly enough to grab her arms before she fell.
He was even kind enough to take charge of the bucket, once he had pulled her back to her feet and released her arms.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Mary snapped rather stridently once she was back on her feet.
She did not feel especially bad about her tone, since he was a man she had never laid eyes on in her life, and he was wandering around two floors above where he belonged with no obvious purpose.
“My pardon, madam. That was entirely my fault. I hope you are uninjured,” he said with a lopsided grin.
Mary had to admit that he was making the best of the awkward situation, though since he was the one who created it in the first place, he probably only deserved half-credit at best.
“No harm done, sir,” she mumbled. “Perhaps, you could answer my question?”
By then, she noticed Elizabeth had walked out of her mother’s bedchamber, very sensibly closing the door on their mother in the process (much to Mary’s relief), and hopefully before Mrs Bennet saw a new man in the house and smelled fresh meat.
Now that she knew it was just her and Elizabeth with the unknown soldier, she looked at him expectantly and just waited for him to answer.
“I am curious myself, colonel,” Elizabeth said, much to Mary’s confusion since she could not tell one uniform from another and doubted her sister could either.
The man bowed, “My pardon, Miss Elizabeth. Perhaps I should explain.”
“That seems sensible,” Mary said, still peeved at having a stranger witness her outrage.
“In my profession, there are two types of men. When the first observes his comrades heading into battle, he sits back to wait and see what happens or perhaps actively avoids his duty. I am the other sort—the kind that joins the fray automatically.”
“And you thought this a battle,” Elizabeth asked, surprisingly good humouredly in Mary’s opinion.
“There are few other things that cause ladies to carry full buckets through their homes. I do apologize for going where I was not asked, though,” he said insouciantly, not looking all that repentant as far as Mary was concerned.
“Never mind, no harm done. I suppose I should introduce you.”
“I would be honoured.”
Elizabeth laughed lightly. “Mary, allow me to present Colonel Fitzwilliam. He is the second son of the Earl of Matlock, and coincidentally, Mr Darcy’s cousin. I met him in Hunsford at Easter. Colonel, my next younger sister, Miss Mary Bennet.”
“A pleasure, Miss Mary,” the colonel said with a gallant bow.
“Likewise, Colonel,” she said, looking like she was coming down from her rage.
“Perhaps, we should continue in the parlour?” Elizabeth suggested.
“It would be my privilege,” the colonel replied, then rather superfluously offered his arm to Mary to escort her back downstairs. She had no idea whether he was simply being gallant or he thought she was exhausted from carrying the bucket… or perhaps mad.
She looked at his extended arm rather confusedly but finally sighed and took it.
As they started for the stairs, Kitty came out of her room, and Elizabeth performed the introductions again.
The all spoke nearly in whispers, since they were still not so very far from Mrs Bennet’s chambers.
To be honest, Mary was surprised her mother had not come out of her room breathing fire at the indignities she had suffered.
In fact, that seemed inevitable, but Mary was not overly worried.
Due primarily to the indolence of her father and the lack of sense of her mother, the nearly worst-case scenario had already occurred.
According to her Aunt Philips, Mr Wickham had left debts all over town and trifled with an astonishing number of young women of all stripes.
She was certainly no longer afraid of her mother.
Their progress was once again arrested when Mrs Hill returned looking pensive. Mary was starting to feel the inevitable comedown after her rage burned itself out, but she was still in no mood to relent.
“Miss Mary,” the housekeeper asked. “How should we proceed?”
Feeling slightly disoriented, so she looked to her sister who always seemed to carry more authority with a questioning look.
“This is your show, Mary,” Elizabeth said quietly, “and I, for one, think it is going better than expected. I suggest you go on as you have begun, but I will support any decision you make, as, will Kitty, I presume.”
A glance at Kitty showed she probably agreed but would not say, so Mary took her sister’s advice.
“I am serious, Mrs Hill. Leave towels and cleaning supplies outside the room on my authority. When our father returns, he is welcome to take me to task if he wishes. Tell every servant they are not to enter the room until they get permission from myself or my father.”
Elizabeth chuckled grimly. “You cannot think he will have a sudden burst of parental authority?”
Mary just shrugged, wondering why in the world they were talking so openly in front of the colonel.
She ruefully reflected that, for once, it did not really matter.