Chapter Thirteen #2
On my walk back past the library to meet Kitty, I noticed the door was ajar.
Mr. Bennet had given me no rules regarding keeping it shut after I used the space, but I knew it was usually always closed and had to assume that was how he preferred it.
Before I could pull the door flush against the frame, I heard the soft rustling of skirts inside and wondered perhaps if Kitty had not yet headed downstairs.
It wasn’t Kitty inside. Instead, I found Mary curled up on the floor, her back against the side of the desk. She rubbed her eyes furiously when she saw me, hiding her face against her knees.
“Go away,” she ordered.
I almost obeyed, knowing I was a guest in her house, but I didn’t want to leave her while she was upset. Besides, her words had a touch of petulance to them, akin to how one sibling might try to get rid of another. The familiarity encouraged me to take a seat on the floor beside her.
“Are you all right?” I asked, tentatively hoping it was nothing I’d done that had left her like this.
Mary sniffled for a moment, contemplating, before she gave me an answer.
“This house used to be quiet,” she whispered.
“It was noisy all my life, and then Lydia left, then Lizzy and Jane. Kitty started to spend most of her time visiting anyone else. It was just me left, and there was no one to play chess with, but it was quiet.” She spoke wistfully, like the memories were fond ones, before her smile fell.
“Now everyone is back and Lydia’s sharing a room that was always just mine because you’re here and… and Father might die.”
I was starting to understand. It was easy to see how the descending of family, and uninvited sisters-in-law, could be overwhelming.
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling guilty. “I never meant to impose. Truly, Mary, if you would prefer it, I can leave.”
“No.” Mary sighed. “Elizabeth wants you here. So does Kitty. And with Father bedridden, you’re the only person who can put up any kind of defence in chess.”
It was a weak attempt at humour, but I made sure to grin widely enough that she’d know I found it amusing.
Mary turned to look at me, weighing something up before she spoke.
I assumed there was something she wanted to add to her soul-bearing monologue, so I tried my best to look open and willing to listen.
No part of Mary’s demeanour made me think I had to be guarded with my own, so I was entirely unprepared to mask my reaction when she challenged me.
“What are you doing with Kitty?”
The correct response would have been one of immediate confusion, with no frame of reference or context.
Surprise had me instead show my true fear.
I recoiled, any verbal response sticking in my throat.
There was no clue to Mary’s judgement on the matter in her voice, only simple interest, but I imagined the worst regardless.
If she told her parents, told anyone, our lives would fall apart.
It had the potential to hurt Mary, too, of course.
As an unmarried woman, she had to know the opinions suitors had of her family name mattered.
A lady having an immoral, disturbed sister would be a consideration weighed up before a proposal was offered, and that was how people would see Kitty, see us both.
Only Mary had shown no interest in marriage the entire time I’d been at Longbourn, so perhaps the risk to her own reputation was a moot point to her.
Far too late to be natural, I slipped on a mask of confusion.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Mary’s own casual demeanour wasn’t an act, and I knew it could stand far longer than mine could. Dropping the pretence, I instead chose to bargain.
“You cannot tell a soul,” I pleaded. “For Kitty’s sake, please. It is all my fault. I was the one who… It was me.”
I couldn’t bring myself to say I’d seduced Kitty against her will, but the sentiment was still, I hoped, evident. It was the only way to keep at least one of us safe, and I would always save Kitty before I saved myself.
“It looked mutual,” Mary said, sceptical.
I wanted to ask her what she’d seen and when, but I didn’t dare. I didn’t want to hear how she would describe it.
“Please, Mary.”
I didn’t know what else to do. If there was no convincing her she’d misunderstood, we were at the mercy of her next action. She could ruin our lives. I felt the weight of my ribs on my lungs, slowly compressing them.
“It doesn’t matter to me what you do,” Mary said eventually. “As long as you are not truly doing something Kitty doesn’t want. You cannot be worse for her than Wickham is for Lydia.”
I blinked at her, my words lost to shock. Perhaps she had indeed misunderstood, or I was misunderstanding her. It seemed impossible that she could be so accepting despite knowing the truth. But Elizabeth had been the same way, and had said nothing against Kitty and me since.
“Lizzy is happy. Jane is happy. Lydia thinks she is happy,” Mary said. “Should Kitty not get that chance, too, even if it is this she wants?”
I managed a nod.
“You will say nothing?” I whispered.
Mary shrugged. “Who would I tell?”
Still too stunned to say more, I seized on to some rogue scrap of courage and reached out to squeeze Mary’s hand.
When I left the library at speed, it was half to flee Mary and half in pursuit of Kitty, whom I’d left waiting for far too long.
At some point I needed to tell her just how many of her sisters knew exactly what was going on between us, but for now I wanted to walk a circuit of the garden in blissful ignorance of the rest of the world.