Chapter 6
The rest of January was different from any other month in Mary’s life.
She and her two new friends established a sewing circle.
Miss Lucas called it The Mary Circle. Three times a week, they would get together and work on whatever little projects they had while they chatted about anything and everything.
Mary had become better at getting along with her neighbors over the last two years, but she had never felt so included, so much like she belonged, as she did in those weeks, not even among her own family.
She still did not feel as though she had much in common with either young lady.
Miss King was obsessed with novels and Miss Lucas, like Kitty, was obsessed with fashion.
However, Mary found that it did not matter overmuch.
Each of them shared what they knew and what they did with the others, and they each listened to the others’ enthusiasm even if they did not share it.
Mary did not share all her hobbies. She still kept her archery and her rambles in the woods secret, though she did talk about her gardening and her botany.
She was surprised to find that Miss Lucas was quite interested in the garden she had planned for the spring, until she realized that Miss Lucas was mainly interested in her attempts to grow strawberries, which she adored.
In short, those three weeks were a time of peace and relative happiness for Mary.
At the beginning of February, it was quickly confirmed that the new resident of Netherfield had arrived. He was a single gentleman. He had brought no friends or family with him, but he did not seem to be unsociable.
A few days after his arrival, when The Mary Circle next met, Miss Lucas shared what news she had gathered from her parents.
“Papa visited him the very day after his arrival, you know,” she said.
“He couldn’t give me much of a description, though.
You know how men can never seem to tell whether another man is handsome or not.
All he said was that he seemed to be a perfectly friendly gentleman, though he would not say what brought him here. ”
“Did your father at least say whether he was tall or stout?” asked Miss King. “He must have said something about his looks.”
“Well, I think he mentioned light brown hair and average height,” said Miss Lucas. “I am fairly certain that is all he said on that subject. However, Mama had even more interesting news just this morning.”
“And what is that?” asked Mary. She wasn’t overly fond of gossip, but one simply couldn’t help being curious about a new arrival.
“Apparently, he has spent the last two evenings in The Three Barrels,” said Miss Lucas.
“The Three Barrels?” asked Miss King. “That can’t be right. Gentlemen never go in there. It’s mostly farmers and laborers.”
“I am certain that is what Mama said,” replied Miss Lucas. “Apparently, he drank beer and cheap gin just like everyone else, and he played cards with anyone who was willing.”
“That seems rather unfair,” said Mary. “He must have been playing much higher than the patrons of such an establishment would be used to.”
“Not at all,” said Miss Lucas. “That is the strangest thing of all. He was playing for farthings and pennies. Nothing greater than that.”
“He must not be a true gentleman,” said Mary. “No man with any experience with the comforts of wealth would be willing to do such things.”
“I suppose it is possible Mama heard wrong,” said Miss Lucas. “I thought her source was pretty good, though. She heard it from the butcher’s wife who had it directly from the wife of the proprietor of The Three Barrels.”
“That does seem likely to be legitimate,” said Miss King.
Against her will, Mary’s curiosity was greatly raised about this new gentleman. What kind of man would go to the expense of leasing such a large property as Netherfield and then spend all his time in the cheapest pub in the area?
She hoped very much to meet such a man, or at least to learn why he would behave so oddly.
~~~~~
It was two weeks before Mary met Mr. Porter, the mysterious gentleman from Netherfield.
In that time, she heard very little more than what she already knew.
He did join the local gentlemen at the Red Lion a few nights, but mostly he either kept to himself, or he joined the lower classes at the Three Barrels.
No one knew how he spent his days, though there was much speculation. Some assumed that he must be entertaining himself with some out-of-season hunting, but Mary was fairly certain he was not. She had heard no gunshots coming from the forest between Longbourn and Netherfield.
There was so little actual information and so much speculation that the stories grew wilder and wilder.
At one point, Miss King insisted he must be a secret novelist who was here to hide away while he wrote his next novel.
She was so convinced this must be the case, that she even attempted to guess which novelist he might be.
The only reasonable explanation Mary could come up with was that he didn’t particularly like society, so he was escaping it for a time. She guessed that he probably spent his days riding and reading.
The deep winter was not a particularly sociable time in Hertfordshire.
The weather was unpredictable, and the roads were sometimes unsafe for carriages.
Despite the risk, however, Sir William could not tolerate too much time to pass without throwing a party.
Thus, a card party was held at Lucas Lodge in the middle of February.
His two drawing rooms and the parlor were all filled with tables where cards could be played, and every adult in the neighborhood of a certain station was invited. Fortunately, the weather was kind to them, and most of those invited were able to attend.
Mary quite liked such parties. Though she was not particularly pleased with balls and soirees, where the primary entertainment involved interacting with others, a card party provided a medium and a ready subject that made such interaction far easier.
She was rather fond of whist and had become quite good at it.
The focus she had learned while attempting to force her mind to hold onto knowledge it did not want came very much in handy in such a game.
In fact, she had become just as good a player as the most experienced older members of her society.
Mary was pleased and a little nervous to be paired up with the mysterious gentleman staying at Netherfield for her first game.
Mr. Porter seemed to be as average as a gentleman can be.
He was dressed well in clothing that was as fine as any she had seen, but it was not overly flashy.
His face didn’t have any outstanding features, though it was a little broader than might be considered handsome.
His eyes were a bold blue, and his hair was a light brown.
She guessed he was in his early thirties. His hair seemed to be receding slightly, though it was not enough that he would try to cover it up with ridiculous hairstyles as she had seen other gentlemen do.
Other than a general greeting and a vague acknowledgment that they would be partners, he didn’t seem to pay Mary much attention. Throughout the entire game, his attention was solely on the cards and the gameplay.
Mary was quite used to this treatment from gentlemen, so it did not disturb her. Rather, she found it to be relaxing. Between the two of them, they won the game quite soundly.
When it was all over, Mr. Porter bowed to her and said, “I thank you for a most excellent game, Miss Bennet. I haven’t had such a good partner in quite some time. I do hope to repeat the experience at least once before I leave the neighborhood.”
“Of course, sir,” she replied. “I look forward to it.”
His compliment had been nothing more than a comment on her ability to play whist. There was no romance or attraction to it whatsoever.
Even so, Mary felt a very familiar feeling settle in her belly.
It was something she had not experienced in two years, but she knew it immediately.
She liked him. She was attracted to him.
She cursed herself, attempting to chase the feeling away by abusing herself soundly.
She reminded herself of all the times she had been passed over, ignored, and snubbed.
She reminded herself of all the letters she had burned over the years.
She succeeded in hurting herself abominably, but she did not succeed in removing the sensation from her belly that felt as though she had eaten too much jelly.
As this storm of emotion was playing out with Mary’s mind and heart, she kept her face as placid as always. After all, it would have been rude and very much frowned upon for her to storm from the room simply because a gentleman paid her a simple compliment.
Mary’s next game of whist did not go quite so well.
She was paired with Jacob Lucas. He was notoriously flighty, unable to focus on any one thing for long, and Mary knew for certain he didn’t even like whist. Between his nature and Mary’s perturbed mind and distracted attention they did as poorly as she and Mr. Porter had done well in the previous game.
When the game was finally over, Mary went out into the hallway. Since there was no fire there, it was much colder than in the heated rooms. That being the case it was deserted save for the occasional person moving from one room to another.
Mary braved the cold and paced up and down the quiet space attempting and failing to excise her attraction to Mr. Porter.
She knew it was foolish. She also knew that the only reason she felt this way was because he had shown her a tiny bit of attention.
Her love-starved heart had seized on it and longed for more, creating this sensation.
But no matter how she castigated herself or rationalized it away, the feeling would not leave.
Eventually, she resolved to do what she had always done before.
She would ignore it until she was at home.
Then, she would pour out her feelings onto paper and burn them, hoping that her heart would get the message that they were unwelcome.
With this resolution, Mary joined some casual games, deliberately avoiding the room where Mr. Porter was still playing whist. She passed the rest of the evening without seeing him again except when he took his leave at the end of the night.