Chapter 27
Three weeks later, all the awkward moments of the birthday party were nearly forgotten, and things were back to normal. Amelia and her brothers had been invited to family dinner at Longbourn House four times since then, and the evenings had passed quite pleasantly for all.
Mary was walking towards the parsonage in hopes of another Bible study session with Mr. Yarby.
It was an unusually sunny and warm day for February—a bit of a false spring—and Mary was in a happy mood as she walked along the lane.
She had decided on this visit to ask Mr. Yarby whether they could discuss some of the women of the New Testament.
Her plan was to then steer the topic from their love of the Lord to a discussion of love in general.
She felt it was past time for him to declare himself, and she was quite certain he only needed the right prompt to feel able to speak his own heart’s feelings.
After all, had he not comforted her tenderly when she was distraught after her father was shot?
They had nearly kissed, after all—at least, Mary believed that was his intention.
Would he have acted so if he did not care?
Mary was certain he only needed the proper encouragement to declare himself.
As she approached the front door of the parsonage, she saw the rectory maid, Ellen, scrubbing the front steps. The girl looked up from her work.
“Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Bennet. This weather is so fine, I decided it was a good time to scrub the winter’s mud and muck off the stone steps.
Have you come to pay a visit? Everyone is sittin’ outside in the back, enjoyin’ some cake and homemade wine in this lovely sunshine.
Please go on through.” She gestured for Mary to step over her work.
“Oh, Ellen, I should hate to place my dirty boots right over your nice, clean steps and add to your work. I shall walk around; I know the way.”
“Thank you kindly, miss.” Ellen smiled and returned to her work.
As she walked around the side of the parsonage, Mary tried to think of a way she could get Mr. Yarby away from his sister and brother so they could have a private meeting.
I would much rather be with him alone than just have this turn into a social call.
Mary could hear laughter as she approached the back of the house, then familiar voices. She knew she should not eavesdrop, but an odd feeling made her slow her steps, and then hesitate a moment to listen to the conversation.
“It is quite pathetic, actually, feigning such an interest in the Bible just to get close to you, Robert,” Mary heard Amelia say. “Even if she has not done so of late.”
“Now, now—don’t be too hard on the poor girl, Amelia,” Phillip replied.
“She is only seeking what all young women want—a husband. Although personally, I must question her choice. After all, I believe we can agree I am far more handsome than Robert.” There was loud laughter at this.
“But at least he is respectable,” he concluded.
“She may see it as an advantageous match, I suppose,” Robert replied. “But I swear to you both I have given her no reason to think I see her as anything other than the daughter of my employer.”
“I absolutely agree,” said Amelia. “And I am proud that you have not been unguarded or careless in your behavior towards her at all. No one could call you out for toying with her affections; you have not compromised her one whit. Just take care you continue in such a manner. Otherwise, it could give rise to hopes and expectations that have no basis in reality and would just…complicate things. Well…perhaps she will give up this folly soon. You, of course, should pursue your choice of bride. When will you declare yourself to her, by the way? This constant mooning over her in private will not do!” she teased.
“I shall, but I must be certain of the lady’s own affections,” Mr. Yarby said seriously.
Amelia laughed. “Oh, there is little doubt of her feelings, I am confident.”
“Then there is her father to consider.”
“I can’t imagine there would be any objection on that score,” said Phillip. “Do not wait too long, little brother. That will clear the way for me, as well.”
Mary clasped both hands over her mouth to keep the moan that seemed to rise from deep within her from escaping.
Her entire body began to tremble, and she was barely aware of her own steps as she carefully backed away.
Hardly able to breathe, she turned and began to hurry away, stumbling out of the side garden, and only nodding in reply when Ellen called, “Oh, are you not staying then, miss?”
Once she was safely alone in the lane, Mary broke into a full run and did not stop until she reached the little wilderness area towards the back of Longbourn.
There she collapsed to the ground by a stone bench near a tall cedar tree and sobbed out her agony and humiliation until her tears were spent.
They despise me! They think me a fool! Why did I ever imagine a new dress or hairstyle would change anything?
I am and always will be poor, pathetic Mary—the useless, plain daughter who will never find love or a husband.
Oh, my heavens, how can I ever face them again?
I thought Amelia was my friend, but she was laughing at me too.
And in a few months, she will marry Papa and move into Longbourn?
She does not care for me at all; she only pities me.
And to know she is thinking that each time she looks at me? I could not bear it!
After a half hour of weeping, Mary got off the ground, pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, wiped her face, and blew her nose. Then she sat on the bench to think.
My only hope for happiness is for them to go. I must come up with a way to make Papa give her up and take the living from Mr. Yarby too. They must be made to leave Longbourn—somehow.
As she sat, the small kernel of an idea began to form in her mind. It seemed a good possibility; however, it involved an act that Mary abhorred above all things: lying.