Chapter 6
Dearest Lizzy,
There is some rather exciting news floating around the neighborhood. I expect Mama will write and tell you about it, but I am hoping you will get my letter first, so that I can have the cachet of being the first you hear it from.
Netherfield has been let, and the new owner is a young man of large fortune.
He was spotted in a chaise and four looking at the place a week ago, but it is now a settled thing that he has taken ownership for the next year.
Mama is beside herself with excitement, not because she is looking forward to getting to know a new neighbor, but rather because she expects that he will likely fall in love with one of us and marry us.
While I am unwilling to place such expectations on a complete stranger, I do think it will be pleasant to have someone new in our confined little community, especially if he brings any family members with him.
No one knows much about the man other than that he seems to be fairly wealthy.
I have heard someone say that he is relatively young, but I am uncertain as to the veracity of that rumor.
…
That is all my news. We all miss you, though I am certain you and Papa are having a delightful time with the Gardiners. I look forward to the day you return home.
Love,
Jane
~~~~~
Mary sat in the front parlor with Jane as each of them worked on their sewing. Mary had recently had a new gown made, and she was adding some decorative stitching to the sleeves and the ribbon at the waist. She hoped to have it ready by the assembly a week from now.
Mama was visiting Mrs. Phillips, her sister who lived in Meryton, and Kitty and Lydia had gone with her, hoping to find some amusement in town. It was peaceful and quiet, and it unfortunately gave Mary space to think.
Her thoughts were confusing, to say the least.
It had been three weeks since Alan Goulding had returned from London, and she had seen him five times in addition to the meeting at his mother’s garden party.
Three of those times were at other parties in the neighborhood.
Since the Bennets and the Gouldings were the two wealthiest households in the neighborhood, they tended to be invited to many of the same entertainments.
The other two times she had seen him were here in this parlor.
He had accompanied his mother when she called on Mama, though Mary could not imagine why he would wish to do such a thing.
No other young man in the neighborhood ever did, not even John Lucas, whose mother was Mama’s best friend and whose sister was close friends with both Jane and Elizabeth.
Nevertheless, he had called here, and while his mother was busy chatting away with Mama and Jane, Alan had taken it in his head to sit next to Mary in an attempt to converse with her.
It made no sense. After the tongue-lashing she had given him at his mother’s party, why would he wish to seek her out and speak with her? He must know how much she hated him.
Except she didn’t hate him, not truly.
He had hurt her, yes. A great many times, in fact. But the reason his comments had hurt so much in the first place was because Alan Goulding had always held a special place in Mary’s heart.
He was very handsome and entirely too attractive, but that was not the only thing that drew her to him.
He had a way with people, an easy and friendly manner that Mary could never achieve.
She didn’t understand people the way he did.
Her words always came out stilted and forceful, frequently ending a conversation rather than prolonging it the way his words did.
Something within her felt drawn to him with an ineffable impression that he would complete her somehow, that he could fill in the gaps in her personality just as she could fill in the gaps in his by being the serious counterpoint to his occasionally frivolous outlook.
What confused her this morning was that she felt herself relenting, letting go of her hard feelings for the man.
She wanted to excuse his former behavior as youthful high spirits or the awkwardness of one’s younger years.
Perhaps, just as she had experienced a great deal of awkwardness during those transitional years, he had done so as well.
Perhaps, just perhaps, his awkwardness had been expressed as teasing.
She was reluctant to completely forgive him, however, simply because she did not wish to make herself open to pain from him again. She was certain that if he criticized her now, when she was fully formed and he was clearly grown up, she would never recover from it.
“Mary, are you well?”
It was only when Mary heard Jane’s query that she realized her hands were no longer moving, that they likely hadn’t moved in some time.
“I am well. Thank you for your concern.” Mary picked her sewing back up and resumed her work.
“You seem to have something on your mind,” said Jane gently. “I would be happy to listen if you wish to share.”
Mary paused in her work but quickly resumed it. “It is nothing,” she said, hoping Jane would let it go.
She didn’t. “Does it have to do with Mr. Goulding’s return?”
Mary just barely suppressed an audible groan. “What makes you say that?”
“Nothing much,” said Jane. “I have noticed that he seems to single you out, but you don’t seem to be particularly pleased with the attention.”
Mary was silent for a time. Her fingers continued to move as she gathered her thoughts. She was grateful that Jane gave her time to do so, since her attention, too, went back to her work.
“He has always singled me out in one way or another,” said Mary slowly.
“Although, in the past his attention was rather more hurtful than polite or kind. I do not know why he has been trying to talk to me since returning to Hertfordshire, since it is entirely unlike the young man I knew before he left. I suppose I am simply confused.”
“Have you ever heard anyone say that young boys will often tease a girl they like?” asked Jane.
“I have heard such things,” said Mary. “I always discounted the idea, however. It tends to be brought up in conversations between mothers when they seem to have nothing better to do than matchmake, even if the subjects of their conversation are far too young for such things. The idea itself also never made any sense. Why would a boy want to hurt a girl, either physically or emotionally, if he likes her?”
“I am not an expert, mind you, but I suspect that in such situations he is simply trying to get her attention,” said Jane.
“He probably isn’t thinking about what kind of attention he might get.
Young boys, and even young men, are not known for thinking about the consequences of their actions before acting.
If they were, they would never climb trees or gallop horses across uneven ground. ”
“I suppose you are correct,” said Mary, “but it doesn’t make the things he said any less hurtful.”
“Is he still saying unkind things?” asked Jane.
Mary shook her head. “No. Not since his return from London.”
“Perhaps, then, his experiences in London have helped him grow up a bit. Perhaps, he has learned to think of the consequences of his choices.”
“Perhaps,” said Mary. She pondered Jane’s words and combined them with her own experiences and observations. After a couple of minutes of silence, she said, “Are you implying that you think Alan likes me?”
“I have always thought he likes you,” said Jane. “Even when you were twelve and he was fifteen, and he pushed you into the mud. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised to find that he is old enough and mature enough to be very much in love with you.”
“That is not possible.” The words burst out of Mary’s mouth without her even thinking.
“And why isn’t it possible?” asked Jane.
“Because I am the plain one, the boring one, the pedantic one, and I have no redeeming features to make up for those weaknesses.”
Jane did not reply immediately, and the longer the silence between them lasted, the worse Mary felt.
“Men are odd creatures,” said Jane. “If beauty was all they were interested in, only one in ten ladies would ever get married. Despite what Mama says, it is impossible to predict what will attract a man, what will make him fall in love. As for Mr. Goulding, your looks obviously have little to do with it. He liked you when you were twelve, before acquiring any sort of womanly figure. He liked you when you were fifteen when you were still awkward with your new height and figure. It is clear he likes you now, when you are far more confident than I have ever seen you.”
“I noticed that you didn’t argue with my self-deprecations,” said Mary.
“I did not argue, because the argument would be pointless. You have a view of yourself that seems to be set in stone, no matter what anyone tells you. If you haven’t noticed, Mama is the only one of the family who still criticizes you, and even she does so rarely since you have been paying more attention to your appearance.
What matters is not how I see you, but how you see yourself.
If it helps, I have thought for some time that you have grown to be quite a lovely young lady, and I am pleased to call you Sister. ”
Mary smiled, though she still did not look up from her work. “Thank you, Jane. I couldn’t ask for a better sister than you.”