Chapter I
Mary Bennet did not like to witness people crying. She supposed that no one really did, not even when the circumstances required tears. But Kitty was sobbing wretchedly for no good reason. She was lying prostrate in bed with her hands over her face.
"Kitty, do stop, you are going to make yourself sick."
"Oh, Mary, I wish I really were laid up! Maybe then Papa would have some pity on me."
"I doubt he would feel any kinder towards you if you cried yourself senseless," Mary replied, in what some might have qualified as an unfeeling manner. But she only wanted for her sister to recover her wits. It was plain for anyone to see that Mr Bennet would gladly accept Timothy Clare as Kitty's husband. The foolish girl had read too much Ann Radcliffe and expected Reverend Clare's own nephew to be turned away, in which case, she would no doubt devise to elope with him, or threaten to do herself in. By the looks of it, Kitty was attempting the second course of action.
"You know very well Father is shaking hands with your betrothed, as we speak."
"I know nothing of the kind. Timothy told me that Papa was very upset when he found out about his intentions to marry me from Sir William. I don't know who told him! That nosy Maria Lucas, no doubt!"
Mary shook her head in reproof. "You were the one who appointed Maria as your confidante. You should know young girls ought not to share secrets." But she did not insist on the point a great deal.
Ever since Lydia, their youngest sister, had left for Newcastle with her disreputable husband, Officer George Wickham, Kitty had been feeling very lonely and adrift. She and Lydia had spent every waking moment together and had shared every confidence. Mary could not and would not occupy that vacancy. So Kitty had found a new sister in Maria Lucas, with some middling results, it seemed.
"Anyway," Mary said, "whatever Maria said to Sir William could hardly endanger Mr Clare's chances."
"How would you know?" Kitty demanded, tears streaming down her face. "You've never been asked."
Mary knew what her sister meant. She had never been asked for her hand in marriage, but that was hardly singular. One usually got asked once or twice in one's lifetime. More than twice would mean that the lady or the proposition itself was morally circumspect. As such, there was nothing shameful or strange about a young girl of twenty having never been offered marriage.
In fact, she found it very hard to imagine leaving home and family so young. Kitty, who was only eighteen, would be required to follow Timothy Clare to whatever parish he was assigned to. Mary wondered whether an obscure part of her sister was crying because she feared such a prospect.
Mary made up her mind to go downstairs and ask Mrs Hill for a pot of tea. There was no use talking to Kitty anymore. Perhaps convincing her to drink something hot might prove more successful. On her way down the stairs, she was accosted by her mother, who shushed her with a raised finger to her lips.
"The men are still talking," Mrs Bennet whispered happily. "I happened to walk by when the door was ajar. I couldn't help hearing...but Mr Clare has made no complaints about Kitty's dowry. Isn't that wonderful?"
Mary knew that was fortuitous indeed. Some suitors might have demanded a greater recompense for marrying into a family so closely connected to the Darcys of Pemberley.
"Perhaps you ought to tell Kitty that, before she drowns in her own tears," she remarked in that vexing manner that upset Mrs Bennet. She would have liked for all her daughters to have been good-humoured. Even Lizzy had become more amiable after marriage. But there was little hope that a kind and patient soul might take Mary off her hands.
"Have you made your sister cry again, Mary?"
"Me?" her daughter asked, feeling very much affronted. "I hope I occupy my time better than that, Mama."
But Mrs Bennet had already moved past her and was knocking gently on Kitty's door.
"Kitty, dear...oh, you must not make your face all puffy," she heard her mother say before the door closed behind her.
Feeling slightly cross, Mary continued her descent, still intent on finding Mrs Hill.
But alas, she was arrested once more on the landing when she heard her father walk out of his study abruptly, followed closely by Mr Clare into the parlour hall.
The men were shaking hands, just as Mary had foreseen, and Mr Clare was grinning from ear to ear. It seemed a little unfair, Mary mused. The bride was crying upstairs, but downstairs, the groom was blissfully unaware.
"Mary! I hope you have not adopted the habit of spying on your betters. There are enough silly girls under this roof."
Mary turned an unattractive shade of red. How terribly unjust! Her father had caught her standing on the landing and had assumed the worst! When all she had wanted was a cup of tea!
"Pardon me, Sir, I was certainly not spying," was all she could muster at that moment, her feelings too strong for anything cleverer. She never could summon a witty retort on command. Her father was already turning back to his study with the intention of waiting for Mrs Bennet and Kitty to assail him with questions.
Mary harrumphed. She would certainly not ask him anything. In moments such as these, she thought better of marriage. Leaving one's home and family might not be such a misfortune, after all. In fact, Kitty ought to be happy.
By evening, Mary's bad mood had been replaced with the humbling and rather distracting realization that very soon, she would be the only Miss Bennet left at Longbourn.
Her mother had been thoroughly occupied with Kitty's courtship for several months, but without that useful activity, what would Mrs Bennet do? Would she turn her sights on Mary? The very idea made her reach for her dog-eared copy of Fordyce's Sermons. The good man had dedicated an entire chapter to honouring one's mother and father and Mary suspected she would require its daily guidance in the near future.
At breakfast the next day, Kitty tittered happily about Timothy Clare's many talents, her tears quite forgotten, but even Mrs Bennet was listening with only half an ear.
"Yes, dear, what a fine young man, indeed..."
Mr Bennet's interruption was quite welcome by then. He cleared his throat and removed a letter from the pocket of his vest.
"Now, then, shall we hear from our beloved cousin, Mr Collins?"
Mrs Bennet's lips pursed unhappily. She looked as if she had swallowed a very bad egg. "The man has written again? Goodness, we seem to be getting a letter every month. Did he already hear about Kitty's match?"
"No, I'm afraid it's much worse than that," Mr Bennet assessed dryly. "He writes to share the happy news and to congratulate himself on the occasion of Mrs Collins being with child. He is to be a father."
Mrs Bennet dropped her tea spoon dramatically. "With child? Charlotte is – Oh, Mr Bennet! That is dreadful!"
It must have seemed dreadful, Mary imagined, since not a single one of her married sisters was yet with child and Mrs Bennet dearly disliked to be outdone by Charlotte Lucas.
Mr Bennet meticulously wiped the rim of his spectacles with the back of his handkerchief. Mary knew he was preparing to cast some aspersions on his wife. "My dear, I have never known you to be so blasphemous. Why, every birth is a blessing."
"How can you say so, Mr Bennet, when that child is going to inherit Longbourn and turn us all out before our time?"
"Indeed, I expect his first decree as a suckling babe will be to demand our immediate departure," he teased, perching his glasses atop his nose.
"You trifle about your family, Sir, as you always do! But what if Mrs Collins gets it in her head that the rectory is too small for a large family? What then?"
Mr Bennet gave the matter some thought. "Mr Collins would not leave his congregation, nor suffer the loss of Lady Catherine de Bourgh's company."
"That man is far shrewder than you give him credit for. Watch and see if he does not try to seat himself at Longbourn while your chair is still warm!"
"Mama, how morbid," Mary protested. She had heard enough on the matter to turn her stomach. "Mr Collins would never act so unchristian."
She never liked talks of money and property. She did not understand half of it, and she was too proud to say so, hence she avoided the subject as a rule. The dreaded entailment of the Bennet fortune was a punishing ordeal for her nerves.
"You ought to be far more concerned, Mary, seeing as when Mr Collins decides to opportune himself on us, you, your father and I –"
"But my dear, Mary is being taken from us as well," Mr Bennet remarked humorously.
Both she and her mother turned their heads sharply towards the pater familias.
"Mr Collins requests the presence of one of his dear cousins to tend to Mrs Collins in her hour of need."
Mrs Bennet blinked slowly, as if the words were to be deciphered through a thick layer of gauze.
"He requests? What on Earth does he have need for one of my daughters?"
"He writes that only a family relation can offer his wife comfort in the future months."
"Well, then why can't Maria Lucas go?"
"Oh, no, Maria can't possibly go!" Kitty intervened in the conversation for the first time since she had stopped singing praises to her betrothed. "She is waiting to hear from Jonathan King! He is going to propose to her very soon. In fact, she is hoping Mr Clare's gesture will have given him courage."
Mary knew dimly of Jonathan King. He was Miss Mary King's cousin, and she was an heiress of some consequence. She supposed the match was considered very favourably by the Lucases.
"Lady Lucas said nothing to me about Charlotte when she called upon us last week. I suppose she expects us to comply with their demands, whatever they are," Mrs Bennet lamented, although her eyes had already taken on a rather speculative gleam.
"We may politely refuse them on some sensible grounds," Mr Bennet offered, putting the letter way.
"Yes, Father, I would like that very much," Mary agreed, feeling quite put upon by the entire scheme. She had never been very close to Charlotte Lucas, nor was she talented in matters of housekeeping. The daughter of a gentleman, particularly one that was well-read, needn't be.
"Refuse?" Mrs Bennet echoed, quickly changing tack. "And let Lady Lucas have the satisfaction of our humiliation? No, indeed! We can ill afford to upset our cousin, and it might be a good opportunity, after all. Why, perhaps Mr Collins has sensed how very unjust the entailment is on you girls and he's invited one of you in the hope of finding you a husband."
Mary was, as always, overwhelmed by her mother's capricious moods. Mrs Bennet could so quickly go from strong refusal to complete accord that it made quite hard keeping up with her.
"But I don't wish to go, Mama. I am not suited for the task and I shall only stand in Mrs Collins' way."
"Don't be silly, Mary! You won't be standing in anyone's way. Mrs Collins should be grateful to receive the attentions of Mr Darcy's sister-in-law."
"Papa, tell her I don't wish to go –"
"If your mother decides you must, the matter is already settled," Mr Bennet replied calmly. "Now, Mrs Hill, have Mr Hill bring me the paper..."
It was now Mary's turn to lie prostrate in bed. Except, of course, she was not going to cry over such a ridiculous matter. Her mother would change her mind in the coming days. One never knew the mysterious workings of Mrs Bennet's mind. In any case, she could not possibly be expected to leave for Kent. She was certain it was more christian of her to stay put.
Mary stole a glance at the opposite bed, where Kitty was happily reading over Timothy Clare's letters. She almost envied her sister, not for her timely marriage, but for the fact that she would stay at Longbourn until the wedding, whereas Mary might be gone in a fortnight for all she knew.
How fickle and contrary fate could be! Only a day before, she had been contemplating her circumstances quite soberly, and now she was set upon by all sorts of arbitrary forces.
Not even silent prayer could distract her mind from the trials of her future displacement. She could hardly ask the Heavenly Father for Mrs Collins not to be with child, or for Mr Collins not to have written that letter. All she could do was ask that her mother might be persuaded against such an imprudent course of action. Yet somehow, she doubted that even God and all his archangels could set Mrs Bennet right.
"Oh, don't sulk, Mary. Here, you may read one of Timothy's letters," Kitty offered in a sisterly fashion.
Mary felt very punished, indeed.
A/N: Hello, I've been reading P&P fanfiction intermittently and finally decided to post my own story about my favourite character, Mary Bennet. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! (and please be kind, it's my first attempt)