Chapter 17 #2
“I believe a cousin of my husband is curate in Kent, and has mentioned some lady with that name. Lady Catherine de Bourgh was it?”
“Yes, dear,” Mr. Bennet supplied, a note of amusement growing as he considered his cousin, “I believe he did mention her in his letter… several times in fact.”
“There, you see,” she smiled, “something in common already, for surely she must be your aunt?”
“She is.”
“My! A lady; I believe Mr. Collins claimed her father was an earl, and her husband had been a knight? Are such noble connections found in your parents?”
Mary’s face blanching at the direction of their mother’s questions, she gently cleared her throat, though Elizabeth knew such polite hints would go unnoticed. She would have to do something to help her sister.
“My father is an earl,” Colonel Fitzwilliam replied before Elizabeth could intervene; Mary’s gaze turning toward the nearby window as the conversation continued.
“What a fine thing. You must be in the regulars then? And a man such as yourself must have risen well?”
“I am a colonel in the regulars,” he answered, his tone and posture patient, though with each question asked of him Mary’s patience appeared to grow thin.
“Mamma,” Mary rushed before another query might be pressed, “though I fear this may be rude of me, I am certain the Colonel and the men with him are as exhausted as I. In truth, Richar… umm, Colonel Fitzwilliam, kept watch at our last stop and has had little sleep today; as much as I know him capable, after all this time and everything endured, a night of sound sleep in a comfortable bed must be needed.” Frowning, she observed him with kind eyes, “I should hate it if anything happened to him.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s hand again appearing to reach toward Mary’s, Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, the words of Mary and her calling the man by his first name echoing in her mind. She would have to speak to her.
“Then I must take my leave,” Colonel Fitzwilliam remarked, his eyes lingering on Mary before turning to her mother. “Darcy and Aldry are no doubt as exhausted as I. Though, if acceptable, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, I should wish to share a proper visit on the morrow?”
“Of course, we would be happy for you to come!” Mrs. Bennet answered quickly as she held her daughter’s hand, the assurances of her husband which followed genuine, though far less enthused.
His eyes moving toward Mary again, the Colonel said his goodbyes as he moved backward toward the door, the farewells of those around him unnoticed as he kept his eyes on Mary as long as he might.
A raised brow turned toward Darcy, again she knew her silent question could not be answered as he could offer no more than a familiar turn to his lips as he left with the others.
If only she might speak with him. To walk as they often did, or sit by a fire, discussing questions and problems, and when they could bear the serious nature of things no longer, turning their words to talk of family, friends, hopes, dreams, and anything else they desired.
After days apart, another series of long hours until they might speak would ache… and ache. As nothing else could.
∞∞∞
Mary having had a quiet night filled with sleep and solitude, Elizabeth determined enough time had passed to speak with her. Though Mary choosing to answer could well be another matter entirely, she reminded herself as she left the room she and Jane shared and stood before the neighboring door.
A soft knock, a quiet ‘come in,’ and Elizabeth, with her tissue wrapped gift in hand, entered the small space.
When had she last been in Mary’s room? she wondered as she observed her sister seated on her bed, the wall behind pinned with worn landscapes, country views of work and livestock, several vibrant fall leaves, and a mosaic made from painted rocks in the shape of a wide branched tree.
It was? Frugal. Enchanting. And yet, not quite the Mary she had expected.
A daring, adventuresome young lady would possess such a room, not the quotation memorizing, shy wisp of a girl her family had thought her.
Had all of the servants, farm hands, and other intimate friends of Mary not spoken up at the first worry for her safety, the two would be at odds, instead, it seemed the only thing out of place came from their family.
For it was clear their assumptions and Mary’s decision to behave accordingly had been poor ones.
“Is there something you wanted?” Mary questioned politely, her head tilted as she observed her sister unmoving in the doorway.
“Ah, I see you hope to serve as a statue in the middle of Meryton’s town square?
If you must practice it, let it at least be in my room rather than in my doorway. What if I want to use it?”
“I will try to keep such practicing out of doorways then; well, at least yours,” Elizabeth teased, her feet and voice finding purchase as she closed the door behind her. “Here, I have a present for you.”
Patting the bed, Mary answered as Elizabeth sat down, “But you all gave my gifts last night.”
“I did not purchase this for your birthday.”
The gift set in Mary’s hands, Elizabeth observed her sister’s face move from confusion to a broad smile as she pulled on the pale blue gloves.
“Perfection,” Mary said as she turned her gloved hands backwards and forward.
“They will be the talk of the town…” her face falling, she shifted toward her tiny window, the colourful leaves outside dancing in the wind.
“I am sorry my perceived ruination is likely to be forced upon our whole family; that the stain of one is deemed the stain of all. I can understand the rancor I am to endure. I, being alone and away from family, have spent days in the company of single men–one in particular–and innocent or not, in our society that is not done. Yet, the unkindness I suspect you have and may still endure, that is beyond my comprehension. It is not just, let alone biblical, and I admit it angers me.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Elizabeth rushed, her heart breaking for her sister. “Those who spread gossip ought to ask forgiveness, not you.”
“What are they saying?” Mary asked, her head held high though her eyes moistened. “I need to prepare myself.”
Nodding, Elizabeth played with the edge of Mary’s bedding.
“It. It is not pretty. Though I can tell you that many have refused to engage in the gossip–Mrs. Hill, the rest of our staff, tenants, the men who work in the fields, your friend Mrs. Mason, even the Lucas’, and you know how difficult it is for Mrs. Lucas to ignore gossip.
Not to mention Mr. Darcy, Lord Lightcliffe, Mr. Aldry, and Mr. Peters.
Indeed, there are perhaps near as many who refuse as those who do. ”
Would that be enough to satisfy Mary? Elizabeth wondered, her hope for such an outcome fierce. How might she tell her sister what unthinkable things were being spoken against her?
A watery smile on her face, Mary looked Elizabeth in the eye, “I am grateful… Proud and pleased even. It does my heart good, and I will cherish it. But I still need to know. I must be allowed to break here, where we are unseen. Where I am safe.”
With a gulp, Elizabeth told the horrors of all people said; of deeds so out of character for any well-bred young lady, let alone one with a character such as Mary’s.
And, though Mary did shed tears, each supposition worse than the last, she continued to hold her head high as all of the gossip became known, her sniffing and the rubbing of her red-rimmed eyes the final signs of her pain.
Wrapping her sister in her arms, Elizabeth sought to convey her support for her, as well as her pride, for the once uncertain sister had become a strong woman, and though that strength would help see her through, the love of friends and family would be needed before the gossip came to an end.
∞∞∞
Early morning shifting to late, Darcy and the Colonel arrived at Longbourn as promised, the cold but clear weather permitting Mary’s suggestion of a walk to meet with approval.
Vast approval by their mother, in any case, for, having come to accept Mr. Darcy as, ‘not entirely displeasing,’ and with her great awe at his and the Colonel’s connections, there was much to give the suggestion merit.
“Yes. Yes. What an excellent idea!” she cried.
“It shall do wonders for your health, no doubt–though do wrap warm, Mary. I fear Kitty and Lydia have been looking a little peaked, and Jane as you know must tend to Lord Lightcliffe, so you four shall have to enjoy the fine day without them. A pity, I know, but that is the way.”
“But Mamma, there is nothing…” Kitty began, their mother cutting her off.
“Yes, there is nothing worth risking your health for. Enjoy this fine weather, gentlemen.”
“We shall, Ma’am,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a bow, his pleasing smile delighting their mother.
A ready eye kept on her sister as they put on their outer garb, Elizabeth determined that she would discover what she had not been able to ask. If it were love which seemed to bind Mary and the Colonel together? And if the two had a secret understanding?
Taking the proffered arm of Darcy, Elizabeth sought to fix her attention to him, though her gaze never long strayed from her sister. “You arrived half a day before any of us expected,” Elizabeth remarked as they took the road away from Meryton.
“I suspect we were all eager to return, our rest limited to what the horses required; though a brief deluge on the second day made us wonder if we would even arrive on time. Thankfully the majority of the roads were clear and dry.”
Moving to the side of the road as a farm wagon rolled past, Elizabeth’s gaze drifted from it to the Colonel and Mary who had advanced well ahead of them, though even that distance could not hide the pair’s easy appearance; the way in which he dipped his head, intent on whatever she said, or the way in which Mary inched closer than necessary.