Chapter 16
As the assembly was only a few weeks away, Mrs. Hill was soon hard at work, cleaning, repairing, taking in and letting out, doing all she could to ensure that the Longbourn outfits were fit to be seen alongside the metropolitan fashions which were sure to be worn by Mr. Bingley’s female guests.
One evening, as she came into her bedroom, Mary found Mrs. Hill examining the new dress she had bought for the last ball, brushing down its neat bodice and shaking out its cream-and-gold skirts.
“Shall you wear it, do you think? This would be very much the right occasion to show it off again.”
“It didn’t bring me much luck on its last outing.”
Mrs. Hill put down the dress and sat on the bed.
“I saw Mr. Sparrow in Meryton last week. He told me John is gone off, headed for London to become a doctor. He stopped me in the street as pleased as anything. He’s sure the boy will end up with a practice in town, appointments at a guinea a time, and his own carriage waiting at the door.”
Mary walked to the window. She did not want Mrs. Hill to see the regret she suspected must be only too plainly written on her face. There was no chance now of apologising for her behaviour. She would never be able to make amends for the way she had treated him.
“What I mean by telling you,” continued Mrs. Hill, “is that you don’t need to fret about seeing him again at the assembly.” She picked up the dress and placed it carefully on a hanger. “He is a sweet-tempered lad, but not right for you.”
“He was kind and generous and seemed to enjoy my company. That was pleasure enough for me.”
“Your parents would never have stood for it.”
Mary considered this. Her father, she thought, with his contrary spirit, might have enjoyed watching such an unlikely connection unfold, relishing the opportunities it offered to exercise his wit at the expense of all concerned.
Her mother, however, would never have appreciated the joke.
She would have opposed it with all the considerable reserves of outrage at her command; and hers would have been the last word on the matter, at least until young Mr. Sparrow, the oculist’s assistant, had transformed himself into Dr. Sparrow the wealthy physician.
“Perhaps I was simply unfortunate in my timing. If Mr. Sparrow had been already in possession of that carriage you mentioned, then things might have been very different.”
Mrs. Hill shrugged.
“That’s the way of the world, I’m afraid.”
“All we did was dance together. I didn’t want to marry him, you know.
How could I, when I hardly know him? I merely liked talking to him.
No-one has ever sought me out before or listened with interest to anything I say.
He noticed me and made me laugh; and for that, he earned the contempt of everyone around me.
And I was so swayed by their prejudice that I crumpled up and ran away.
That was a fine return for his kindness. ”
“Well, what’s done is done.”
Mrs. Hill stood up; she had work to do and they could hear Lydia’s impatient voice in the hall.
“Far worse things have happened, and men and women have lived to tell the tale. But I hope you’ll go to the assembly, and not stay at home brooding over what can’t be altered. And I think you should wear the new dress. It suits you, and it’s wasted hanging in the wardrobe.”
Over the next few days, Mary’s thoughts blew this way and that, uncertain whether she would follow Mrs. Hill’s advice or not.
Sometimes, she quailed at the prospect of another ball, having experienced at first hand the dangers and humiliations that lay in wait for the unwary.
But another part of her bridled at the idea of hiding herself away.
She suspected if she did not go, it would become easier to refuse the next time and the next, until she turned herself into a complete recluse.
No, however reluctant she was, she must go.
But although she eventually persuaded herself it was right to attend, nothing could convince Mary to wear the gold-and-cream gown.
Its delicate prettiness did not suit her mood.
Instead, ignoring Mrs. Hill’s pleas, she put on a plain dress and twisted her hair into an unbecoming knot at the back of her head.
When she glanced in the mirror, she saw a colourless figure, her face pale, her clothes drab.
There was nothing about her to attract anyone’s attention; even to herself she seemed almost invisible.
For a few moments, she looked at her reflection without expression.
Then she slipped her spectacles into a little bag. There was no reason not to take them.
She said little on the journey into Meryton, but her mother and sisters more than made up for her silence.
Kitty and Lydia, determined not to sit out a single dance, were already arguing about whom they should dance with, and in what order.
Mrs. Bennet was vocal in her eagerness to set eyes at last upon Mr. Bingley, and declared herself almost as keen to meet the rest of his party, for who knew if it might not contain another eligible young man?
Jane and Elizabeth refused to speculate about what the ball might promise, but Mary thought she caught even in them a sense of excitement.
Only she felt nothing at all as the carriage pulled into the village.