Since I am currently wrestling with two rather long fics, I have decided to finally post this just to have something new up. This was written almost two years ago as an exercise in writing in the style of Jane Austen; poorly. It gets a little over the top. It was published in the fall of 2011 in the anthology "Bad Austen".
Meekness and Misery
or
The sad love affair of Mary Bennet
Mary Bennet gazed into the reflecting mirror; her thin, wispy hair having been tortured into a pile wan curls on her head. The effect led her to one conclusion; not only was she not a Greek goddess; she was, in what was whispered behind fans in various assemblies around the neighborhood, 'not the equal in beauty to any of her sisters'. She had heard it all her life, and had decided that a quickness of wit, and other womanly accomplishments were her gifts and highly prized by society. At least that's what she told herself.
With Lizzie's unfathomable declination of Mr. Collins' proposal, Mary finally saw her chance to capture Mr. Collins' attention. After dinner tonight she would delight Mr. Collins with several turns at the piano and flatter him by asking him to read aloud for the benefit of her mind. She didn't feel her mind needed much more cultivation; but a man as learned as Mr. Collins would appreciate a woman listening intently and whose mind was focused more on the improvement of manners in a civilized society instead of the latest fashion in bonnets.
Mary felt the satisfaction of marrying first; finally being treated as the heroine she was; when she; plain, insignificant, overlooked Mary Bennet saved Longbourn from being entailed away. Oh, she could see the envious and grateful looks of her sisters as she marched down the aisle, on her way to becoming Mrs. Collins. How they would fawn over her for saving them from destitution. How her mother would dote over her. Then she would become her mother's favorite instead of that vapid Lydia.
She rose from her dressing table and picked up a half finished floral pillow cover to use as a substitute bouquet. Head held high, her bedroom became a church, the window seat, a pew. There was Jane; beautiful, ethereal Jane. The look of gratitude on her sister's face made up for all the dances Jane was asked for that Mary was not. She acknowledged her sister with a nod of her head. And there, sitting next to Jane was Elizabeth. Yes, that's right Elizabeth, you turned him down, now watch me marry the only man who may ever propose to you. Elizabeth was looking down, holding her handkerchief to her eyes. Was she crying? Or was she laughing? Poor Lizzie, this could have been her wedding day; and now she regrets her decision. Madness will be her lifelong companion. She pitied her and glanced at her with worry.
In Kitty's eyes she saw resignation. Poor Kitty, perhaps she thought Mr. Collins would fall to her lot. She smiled a condescending smile at Kitty, as if to say, 'don't worry dear, your time will come.' Lydia looked at her with glee; perhaps she knew that now that the marriage floodgates had been opened, her turn at the altar would come soon. She smiled at her simple sister; after all, she wasn't a horrid person, just flighty. She could hear her mother weeping with joy.
Mary's reverie was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door. She threw the embroidery back to its workspace and found it to be just the maid announcing supper. Her heart quickened at the thought of the proximity she would soon have to her beloved Mr. Collins; but she managed a dignified walk down the stairs to her appointed seat at the table. She sat down with an interior excitement that no one the table suspected or acknowledged. She looked around and noticed with horror that only the family was there for dinner; where was her Mr. Collins?
The tenseness at the table was disturbed by Mrs. Bennet's occasional exclamations of, "Charlotte Lucas!" "Charlotte Lucas!" Mr. Bennet did not even try to calm or comfort her. Mary was confounded by her mother's behavior until Kitty whispered to her that Mr. Collins had become engaged to Charlotte Lucas that afternoon and was dining at Lucas Lodge that evening. Alas, she did not whisper softly enough and that set Mrs. Bennet off on another round of exclamations and up to her room with a headache. Mr. Bennet continued to enjoy his dinner and his daughters managed to uphold a pleasant if not exactly lively conversation.
Mary was lost in the indignity of it all. How could they just go on? Did they not know she had just lost the love of her life? The outrage! The stunning outrage! Just a few moments ago she was on her way to becoming Mrs. Collins and now she was back to being ignored; certainly no one at the supper table had noticed her agitation. No one at the supper table noticed her at all.