Chapter 7
Mary sat upstairs in her bedchamber, poring over her well-worn Bible.
She might have been more comfortable in the family sitting room downstairs, but she wanted complete privacy for her study.
If her plan should be discovered—even suspected—by Kitty, all would be lost. Kitty would likely ridicule her, perhaps in front of Mr. Yarby and his sister!
She could never bear that sort of humiliation.
No—best to keep her strategy to win the rector’s heart a closely held secret.
Mary searched for a passage that Mr. Yarby might reasonably believe confounded her.
But there was a problem: she had shamefully displayed her knowledge of the good book during the rector’s visit after the funeral.
She had glowed with pride when he praised her after their discussion of Proverbs.
Now, she wished she had kept silent and not exhibited so.
She thought about the rector’s most recent sermon; perhaps there was something in that for her to question. But no—it was a simple, well-presented homily and left nothing for her to grasp as confusing or in need of explanation.
She sighed and leafed through the book of John when her eyes fell on verse seven: “If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.”
This has possibilities, she mused. Mary carefully put her bookmark in the page and closed the Bible. The more she thought about it, the better it seemed. But when should she go to see Mr. Yarby? The timing must be just right.
A knock at her bedroom door interrupted her thoughts.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Sarah, the underhousemaid, poked her head in. “Beggin’ your pardon, miss, but Mrs. Withers is downstairs and asked to see you.”
“Tell her I shall be down directly.” After Sarah left, Mary checked herself in the mirror, wishing she had put on a nicer dress—even if she was still wearing black.
But her hair was the same flattering style Mrs. Withers had done before, so Mary thought she did not appear too plain. She proceeded downstairs.
“Mrs. Withers, what a nice surprise,” Mary said as she reached the entry hall where her friend waited.
“Good morning, Miss Bennet. I hope my unexpected visit is no inconvenience.”
“No, I was just in my room reading the Bible.” Mary attempted not to sound excessively pious. It would not hurt for Mrs. Withers to mention that fact to her brother, surely.
“Well, I was just going to walk into Meryton to examine samples of fabric and paper for the parsonage upgrades your father is kindly paying for, and I thought, perhaps, if you were not too busy, you might accompany me. Your opinion would be most helpful. But if you would rather study…”
Mary felt a jolt of happiness. “Oh—no, I would love to go! Let me collect my shawl and reticule. Perhaps we could stop at the bookshop as well? There is a new book of sermons by Charles Simeon of Trinity Church in Cambridge that might be available.”
“I am certain we could find time. Excellent!”
“Oh, good morning, Mrs. Withers. I thought I heard your voice.”
The two ladies turned to see Mr. Bennet standing in the door of his book room.
“Are you come for a visit regarding the renovations? Mary, go to the kitchen and order us tea; there’s a good girl.”
Mary stood stock still, unable to devise a reply. Once again, she watched as Mrs. Withers smoothly took charge of the conversation.
“In truth, I am come to beg your daughter’s assistance, Mr. Bennet. She has agreed to accompany me to Meryton to choose fabric and wall paper for the parsonage. We were just about to depart.”
Mary glimpsed a perplexed expression on her father’s face as he blinked once or twice. “Mary?” he asked. “I am sorry; did you say you wish her opinion?”
“Indeed, I do! I look forward to both her thoughts and lively conversation on our walk.”
“Lively conversation, you say? Mary?” Mr. Bennet asked. “I am all astonishment.”
Mary felt her face burn. Of course her father was surprised at the invitation; how often did anyone ask her anywhere? To her surprise, Mrs. Withers pulled her arm and tucked it possessively into her own. Mary caught a firm gaze in her friend’s eyes as she stared at Mr. Bennet.
Humiliated, Mary lowered her eyes and mumbled, “If it is all right with you, Papa.”
Mr. Bennet replied in a kinder voice. “Of course it is, my dear girl, perfectly fine. How lovely that Mrs. Withers has sought you out. Do enjoy yourselves, ladies.” He turned and went into the study, shutting the door behind him.
Her humiliation only somewhat eased, Mary muttered to her friend that she would get her things and then they could leave for the village.
***
As they strolled towards Meryton, the two ladies chatted about nothing of consequence for a time. Then, Mrs. Withers stopped and put her hand on Mary’s arm.
“Pray forgive my impertinence, Miss Bennet—and you need not reply if it is too painful—but how are you faring? Over the loss of your mother, I mean.”
Mary took a deep breath before answering.
“As well as can be expected, I suppose. In some ways, it still does not seem firmly fixed into my mind that she is gone.
I keep expecting to hear her voice down the hall, or I look into her bedroom as I walk past and feel surprised not to see her lying there with one of her headaches.
“I miss her; yet, I must confess I am confused about my feelings. I have spent many hours since her passing trying to recall a specific kindness she ever showed me, or a compliment, or an encouraging word. Perhaps when I was very young, she might have thought me a delight—that is, after I returned from my foster mother—weaned and walking.” Mary lifted a somber face to her new friend.
“But for the life of me, I cannot recall any affection from Mama. From Jane and Lizzy, yes—they played with me for a time. But never Mama. Please do not think me disrespectful when I say that her criticisms come foremost to my mind when I think of my mother—criticism of my singing, my technique at the pianoforte, my plain looks. I wonder whether my very presence annoyed her. So, now that she is gone, I find myself grieving not the actual loss of Mama but the death of hope that I should ever find favor with her.”
“I am so sorry to hear it, Miss Bennet. I hope—no, I know with time, your pain will ease. And your father—how is he?” The two began to walk again.
“As you saw, he keeps to his study much of the time. Of course, he did so before Mama’s death too. But I have noticed he has begun to take long walks in the afternoon, which he never did before. I have offered to accompany him, but he says he prefers the solitude.”
“I see. And…where does he go on these rambles?”
“Through the wild area of our park—not far from the place we walked the first day we met. And from there along the fields of our tenants, I suppose.”
“Your mother’s death has left a great void for him, I am sure.”
“Yes, but for me as well, it turns out,” Mary said soberly.
“As the eldest at home now, Papa has asked me to assume many of my mother’s duties.
It is now I who consult with Hill on the day’s menu and I who must remind our maid to again dust the parlor after a first, careless attempt.
And soon it will be time for me to supervise the making of jams and preserves from the fruit of our orchards.
I am learning there was much Mama did of which I was blissfully unaware with my nose stuck in a book. ”
“I am sure your father must be grateful and proud of you for helping.”
Mary gave a short laugh. “If he is, he keeps his opinion to himself for the most part—unless he does not like the dinner I ordered. I most definitely hear from him if that is the case.”
The two walked on mostly in silence until they reached Meryton, where they began their quest for supplies. Mary was flattered that Mrs. Withers asked for her opinion on all the paper and fabric samples, even as she noted the way her friend cleverly promoted patterns clearly to her own taste.
“The rug I have chosen is in medium blue and cream tones, so I believe this fabric will go perfectly with that for the chairs, don’t you agree, Mary?”
Mary gave a short gasp; Mrs. Withers had addressed her by her first name! She had not dreamt that their newfound friendship would presume such a step of intimacy.
As if knowing her thoughts, Mrs. Withers turned a kind face to Mary.
“I hope you will forgive me for using your Christian name so early in our acquaintance. But I truly feel we are kindred spirits, and our friendship is such that I should like to use first names between us. Unless that is not acceptable to you—you need only tell me. I shall not take offense.”
Mary swallowed and firmly nodded. “No. I…I would very much like such familiarity.” She smiled. “Indeed, I count you as a dear friend now…Amelia.”
Amelia gave a satisfied nod and reached over to pick up two more paper samples. “Very good. Now…which of these do you prefer? I think the one with the birds most attractive, don’t you?”
Mary, feeling a warm glow of happiness inside, nodded in agreement.