Chapter 92 #3
Describing the misfortunes of others had quite restored Miss Bingley’s self-assurance, and she poured herself more tea with all the calmness in the world.
Mr. Ryder, she continued, had attended the wedding, as had Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, although Lady Catherine had not lowered herself by doing so.
She had been compelled to accept the fact of her daughter’s choice, but had resolved never to forgive her for it; and whilst Miss de Bourgh was exchanging her vows, her mother was consulting lawyers, determined to extract via the law the revenge she had not been able to elicit by any other means.
By the time the new husband and wife were on board the boat to Calais, Lady Catherine had decided exactly what was to be done.
The properties bequeathed to Miss de Bourgh by the terms of her father’s will could not be withheld from her, except by ingenious legal challenges, which were certain to be protracted and whose outcome must be unknown.
But Lady Catherine’s own money remained hers to dispose of as she wished; and she was absolutely determined it should not be bestowed upon such a wicked, ungrateful child as her daughter had revealed herself to be.
“So,” concluded Miss Bingley, “to everyone’s surprise, including his own, she made Mr. Ryder her heir.
Mr. Darcy and his family she considered wealthy enough already; and I think she had a particular disinclination to add to the riches your sister already enjoys.
There being no other near relation, Mr. Ryder was the lucky man.
He will not be as wealthy as Mr. Darcy. But he will certainly be what is called ‘comfortable.’ Whoever marries him will be assured of a very agreeable situation. ”
For a moment, Mary sat stupefied. It was some time before she spoke.
“I am surprised no word of this story has yet found its way to Gracechurch Street. But I do not see why you think it should affect my feelings for Mr. Ryder. If I did not encourage his advances before I was aware of his good fortune, you cannot think I would change my mind when I was told of it.”
Miss Bingley smiled her little smile.
“I think it is entirely to Mr. Ryder’s credit that he did not mention it to me himself,” continued Mary. “A more foolish man—certainly a less honourable one—might have thought it would make a difference. And with some women, it might well do so.”
“That is a strike at me, I imagine,” said Miss Bingley, “but I do not feel it. I cannot be lectured by a Bennet on the relationship between love and money and be hurt by it. It is impossible for me to take your protestations at face value when I consider your sisters’ histories, or what your mother would be likely to advise, were you to confide in her. ”
Mary picked up her cup and drank what remained of her tea. She did not hurry as she stood up, plucked her coat from the hook on the wall, and began to put it on.
“You have insulted me and my family in every possible way,” she said quietly. “There is really nothing more to be said between us.”
Now Miss Bingley rose, pushing her chair to the wall with such force that it scraped along the floor.
“Can you promise me you will not marry Mr. Ryder? That your refusal was not mere strategy on your part?”
“I make no promise, I give you no undertaking. I owe you nothing at all.”
“But I know you don’t want him—it’s the friend for whom you have such a tendresse, isn’t it, the boring lawyer? Does he know how you feel? Perhaps someone should enlighten him?”
The venom in Miss Bingley’s voice was unmistakeable, but Mary was surprised to discover herself unaffected by it. With an evenness she did not think she possessed, Mary was quite calm as she tied the ribbons under her hat.
“For a long time, I was frightened of you, just as you intended me to be. But your power over me is finished now. I see you for what you are—a bitter, angry spirit, so eaten up with unhappiness that you can do nothing but make others as miserable as yourself. If I was a better woman, I should pity you. Instead I am merely grateful that you cannot touch me anymore because I will not allow it.”
Mary straightened her hair and picked up her things with as much equanimity as if she had been bidding Miss Bingley a polite farewell.
“If you wish to make trouble, you will do so, whatever I say. But I will not live in fear of it and am therefore quite prepared to tell you what you seem so desperate to know. Yes, I do love Mr. Hayward. He is the only man who I think would ever make me happy. No, I have no wish to marry Mr. Ryder. That is the truth. You may do with it what you will.”
She turned and left the room, closing the door quietly after herself, and walking down the stairs, head held high.
It was only when she reached the street that she trembled a little with shock.
But she mastered herself; she was not ashamed of how she had conducted herself or of what she had said.
She did not look up once at the great bay window of the pastry shop, behind which she knew Miss Bingley still sat, but walked steadily into Leadenhall Market, heading towards Gracechurch Street and home.