###
Morning, noon and afternoon were all filled with news of Netherfield Park. Wherever Mary went, she could not escape its looming presence. Her younger sisters talked about it incessantly and the servants were coming up wild reports about the new inhabitant. Some said he was French and spoke not a word of English. Others claimed he already had a wife and three children, a rumor which upset her mother very much. She was arguing with her father about going to meet the young man.
"For we can't be acquainted with him if you are not and you know that very well!"
The only time they did not mention Netherfield Park was when Mrs. Bennet informed Mr. Bennet that Mr. Philips had hired a new clerk.
"Yes, my sister tells me he is young and becoming, but I should not think of him yet. Not until my girls have all been introduced to Mr. Bingley."
Mary dreaded the prospect of meeting this new, mysterious addition to the neighbourhood. None of her outings in society thus far had given her any pleasure, mainly because she was never asked to dance and the young men present at such gatherings rarely even looked her way. She would never admit it to Lydia or Kitty, but she did feel the slight of their neglect. Of course, she hid it very well behind her books and her playing. She liked the piano and she was very fond of reading, but she would have liked a bit of dancing too. Not too much, because she tired easily and she did not enjoy some of the ribald tunes they played at Meryton Hall, but just enough to make her feel less inferior to her sisters.
She possessed no beauty like Jane, the eldest sister, and her remarks were never as witty as Lizzy's, the second eldest. She wasn't sweet and lively like Kitty, nor bold and spirited like Lydia. She was a great deal more intelligent, she thought, and she observed her prayers more constantly, but hardly anyone praised her for that. She might have been a proper young lady and a good Christian, but young men and women alike cared little for such things.
Hence, Mary acted as if society, balls and dancing were terrible afflictions. For they really were a burden to her. And no doubt, Mr. Bingley would also hold a ball, and she would be obliged to go and spend the evening in a chair, by the piano. Then, she would sulk in bed while her sisters talked about their exciting conquests.
With that in mind, she tried to put Netherfield Park out of her mind and practice her playing. For there was nothing else to do.
###
"It's settled, my dears! Mr. Bingley will attend the Meryton Assembly! Oh, what a joyous thing for our girls! And how good of you to have met with him, Mr. Bennet. Now we may speak to him at leisure."
Mary looked up from her book in concern. Oh, no. She had rather hoped her father would remain stubborn and not call on Mr. Bingley.
Now we needs must talk to him, she thought anxiously.
She frowned at Lydia and Kitty who were already sprinting about the room, talking about the dresses they would wear and how best to attract Mr. Bingley.
Why can't I be cheerful and agreeable like them?
Already she could feel her mouth drooping in a sulk. But envy was a sin Mary could not afford to entertain for long. She admonished herself for her ill thinking.
I must be brave. It will be over soon.
She was turning nineteen in the spring. Soon, her mother and the other ladies of the neighbourhood would give up on her marriage prospects. She would be donned an old maid, but it would be a deal more comforting to be left to her own devices. If only the moment would come sooner.
"Mary, do not look so stern, child!" her mother warned. "You'll wrinkle your forehead."
She did not insist for long. She was more preoccupied with Jane and Lydia and whether to ride to town for a new set of ribbons.
On the day of the assembly, Mary felt the usual distress that a social outing inflicted upon her nerves. Her yellow muslin did not look attractive on her figure and her face was too red. Her spectacles were perched awkwardly on her nose and she could not get her lackadaisical locks to stay curled.
She mentioned none of it to her sisters.
"You sit so much in front of the mirror, I wonder you don't sprout roots," Mary teased Lydia and Kitty, although she could not help but look on their apparel with admiration.
Jane, however, was the most beautiful of them all. Mary watched her move through the throngs of people when they arrived at Meryton Hall. She had never seen someone walk so gracefully. She watched her sisters for a while as she toured about the room with her mother and Mrs. Philips. Kitty and Lydia had already found partners for the next dance. Jane and Elizabeth were speaking to Charlotte Lucas, but a few gentlemen were milling about, waiting to ask them to dance.
"Mary, will you sit down with your aunt? I must go speak with your sisters immediately. Mr. Bingley is to arrive at any moment."
Mrs. Philips asked Mary a few kind questions about her reading.
"And what have you brought this evening, dear?"
"Oh, The Pilgrim's Progress, Aunt. I haven't read it in two years. I believe the symbols will become clearer now."
"Indeed?"
"Yes, Tacitus encouraged reading histories twice of thrice for better understanding. I think he's right." Mary always felt she had to impress her aunt, for Mrs. Philips lived in the town and she was a lady of good society. But the good lady was more indulgent than impressed.
The conversation went on tepidly enough, until Mrs. Philips complained that they were sitting too far from the tea tables.
"I will fetch you a cup if you'd like," Mary offered, almost relishing the small exercise.
"Oh, I couldn't trouble you, my dear."
"It is no trouble." Meryton Hall was well-provisioned with servants, but it was not a private ball, and so it lacked some luxuries and expenses. But Mary would enjoy spying on the couples on the dance floor.
She had an easy enough task, and she accomplished it swiftly once she arrived at the tea table. But when she turned, with the saucer and tea cup in her hand, she ran straight into a tall figure.
"Ah!"
It was a good thing the tea was not hot. She spilled half the content on herself and a few drops landed on the gentleman before her.
He was a young man of a freckled complexion and deep-set eyebrows, but quite handsome in his own way. Mary tried to hide her fluster.
"I do apologize," she began, more sternly than she would've liked. She quite loathed her clumsiness.
Mary looked down at her dress. There was a large brown stain running from her waist to the hem. Well, that is quite spoiled.
"There is nothing to apologize for, Miss," he spoke amiably, removing his handkerchief to dab at his waistcoat. "Although I am afraid I've partly ruined your dress."
Mary flushed with discomfort. He offered his handkerchief for her use, but she waved it off with increasing embarrassment. She could see his eyes roaming over her figure with amusement. If there was anything she liked less, it was laughter at her expense.
"Yes, well, I'm glad your attire has not been sullied. If you'll excuse me," she muttered.
"Of course, but your cup is empty."
"Yes?"
"What will you do with an empty cup?"
"I..." she scrambled for something to say, but the only thing that came to mind was her aunt Philips. "My aunt is waiting for me." Oh, lord, I must sound like a fool.
"Very well, but let me refill the cup for you, lest there be another accident."
"I can do it very well on my own, thank you," she replied politely, although on the inside, she was seething and shivering. This was her first conversation with a young man in a very long time, and yet he found her droll and silly. How awful.
Before she could walk away, he had already removed the cup from her fingers. Mary blinked.
"Give it back, please."
"Here." He brought forth a fresh cup, full to the brim.
"Now, you must make an effort not to let this one go to waste."
"I think I can manage," was her small retort.
"Oh, Mary! There you are! Come quickly, Mr. Bingley has arrived!"
Mary saw her mother rushing to her side from the corner of her eye. She only had moments to realize the second cup was also in danger of being spilled.
No, please no!
It was a stroke of luck that the young man leaned forward and took hold of her arm to steady her, as Mrs. Bennet stormed into her line of vision.
She swayed a little on her feet, but found her balance quickly thanks to his presence. The tea sloshed in the cup, but was safely within bounds.
"Mary, do be quick - what on earth has happened to your dress?"
"I'm afraid that is my fault," the young man intervened. "I was not paying attention where I was going and..."
"No, I should have been more careful," Mary interrupted him eagerly. She almost hated how quickly she had come to his defense.
"Well, either way, you cannot be seen in front of Mr. Bingley like this. Oh, I do wish you were minding your step, for my sake at least. But you had better return to your aunt Philips." Mrs. Bennet nodded to the young man, but did not stay to make introductions. Mr. Bingley had already crossed a good half of the room and her girls were waiting to be introduced.
Mary could not believe her luck. She had been spared from meeting Mr. Bingley and being yet again ignored. All because of spilled tea. A small smile played at her lips.
"I daresay you are more pleased about your spoiled dress than a young lady ought to be."
Mary's expression quickly turned serious. "Oh, no, Sir, I am...very much distraught."
The young man had let go of her arm, but he was still smiling. "Yes, I can see. Well, I am glad to have done you a favour."
Mary's tongue seemed tied-up in her mouth. She wanted to thank him, but she also wanted to correct him. She only curtseyed awkwardly and turned around, cup of tea still in her hand.
Her cheeks were aflame by the time she reached her aunt.
"Well, that took you long enough, my dear. Oh, good heavens, what happened to your dress?"
###
Mary watched Jane dance with Mr. Bingley. He was tall, well-built and a good dancer, to boot. Jane smiled constantly. Together, they made a handsome pair. Her mother and Aunt Philips remarked that his eyes never left Jane. A match was a certain thing by now. Mrs. Bennet could already picture them at the altar. In any case, he could like no one better at the assembly. Mary was cautiously excited at the prospect. What if her sister truly married such a fine gentleman? That would mean elevation for the entire family. Maybe she could go and live with Jane at her beautiful new house, and she wouldn't be a burden for her family, like most spinsters were.
You're thinking too far ahead. What if it comes to nothing?
The world was such a cruel place to young women, after all.
Well, tonight, luck had been on her side. Thanks to her previous accident, she was spared the most taxing interactions. Of course, this also meant she could not move freely about the room, but she never did much of that anyway and whatever kept her from further distress was a good thing.
She looked down at her Pilgrim's Progress. So far, the symbols had not become any clearer on the third read. But she was determined to conquer them eventually. Still, there was too much chatter around her.
Why are they being so loud? I can barely hear myself think.
And then she realized why.
"...and you lose nothing by not striking the fancy of that man!"
"Mamma, do be quiet, please!"
Mrs. Bennet looked as if she had swallowed a bitter cup of wine. She looked over Lizzy's shoulder to the other end of the room. Mary soon found the object of her disdain.
"Mr. Darcy thinks himself to good for your company, well!"
Mary gave a start. No one had ever dared to think so about her sister.
"What's happened?" she asked, curious in spite of her better judgement.
"Oh, please don't encourage her, Mary," Lizzy begged.
"I'll tell you what happened -" Mrs. Bennet began like a fury, but she was luckily subsided by Aunt Philips.
"Oh, here comes Mr. Philips. And that is the new clerk with him, I believe."
Mary blanched a little when she recognized the familiar freckled face. It can't be. But it is. Oh, this is simply awful!
She busied herself with arranging the book in her lap before she rose to make his acquaintance. Then she sat back down when she remembered her dress.
"This is my sister-in-law, Mrs. Bennet and these are my two nieces, Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Miss Mary Bennet," Mr. Philips was saying. "I would like to introduce Mr. Matthew Stephens, my newest employee."
If he is a gentleman, he will say nothing, she prayed.
"I am delighted to make your acquaintance." Mr. Stephens behaved perfectly normal. In fact, he acted as if he had never met her. But she could swear she saw a queer glint in his eye when he shook her hand. It was almost like a wink.
Mrs. Bennet's temper had vanished by miracle. Confronted with the prospect of a fresh young man, she began enumerating her daughters and their various attributes.
"...Mary is a prodigious reader and very learned for her age. She plays the piano very well and has an extensive knowledge of music," she mentioned with a rehearsed air when she reached her middle child.
"Indeed? Extensive knowledge?" he asked.
Mary was already racking her mind for an interesting or pertinent remark, something clever that would do well for a law clerk, but it was as if her mind had gone blank.
"I - I am fond of Henry Purcell. His odes are very...harmonious."
Oh, if only the ground could swallow me! Henry Purcell and odes, of all things! she thought with a wince.
"I cannot disagree with that," Mr. Stephens replied cordially. But Mary had no doubt he thought her an even bigger fool than before. It was hard to say something brilliant and smart at the drop of a hat.
Luckily, Mrs. Bennet went on with her next offspring.
"My youngest, Kitty and Lydia are the most becoming girls of their age. Why, I believe you may find them right behind you. They are dancing with the Lucas boys..."
Mr. Stephens looked to where Mrs. Bennet pointed and praised their comeliness with as much enthusiasm as their mother could wish for. It was clear that he did not mind the inventory and furthermore, he played his part well. In no time, Kitty disengaged herself from her partner and joined their party.
Mr. Stephens, again, knew what young men were expected to do. He asked her sister to dance and Kitty happily agreed.
Well, that's that, Mary sighed with relief. But a small part of her felt disappointed as she watched his receding figure. She knew it was good manners to ask one of her sisters to dance, but she almost wished -
No, don't be silly.
She went back to her Pilgrim's Progress, but from time to time, she raised her head and watched him from across the room. He talked a great deal while he danced. She wondered what he might be saying. Lydia was his next partner, and then he danced with Charlotte Lucas. She lost track after that, but no doubt, there was no shortage of young women for him to ask.
The evening came to a close sooner than she had expected. Usually, time went by slowly, but tonight, it had seemed more like a gallop. She had no intimate friend in whom to confide, but if she had, she might've told her about the "adventures" at Meryton Hall. For it had been a rather eventful evening. Mary could not remember the last time so many things had happened to her. Well, not so many. Still, she was almost reluctant to rise from her chair.
Perhaps it was these pleasant thoughts that made her reactions slack. For when, in the hallway, she joined her father and was delivered her coat, she almost didn't see Mr. Stephens approach her.
He exchanged a few words with Mr. Bennet, before paying his goodbyes. And then he bid his adieus from her too.
"I shall be seeing your family a great deal, I believe, since I am working so closely with your uncle. I am looking forward to furthering our acquaintance."
Mary could not remember what reply she made - something polite, no doubt - because in the next moment, he said,
"I would have asked you to dance, but I'm afraid I denied myself the chance from the beginning." His eyes travelled to the stain on her dress.
Mary suddenly understood, but she found it hard to believe he meant it. Would he have really asked me? Or is he simply being decorous?
"Thank you, but I am not fond of dancing," she spoke quickly, afraid she might swallow her tongue again. The remark was so familiar, it was almost a reflex. Better to reject the sport entirely rather than be rejected later.
"Oh. Well then, the tea was not spilled in vain." He smiled with some mischief, and this time, she had to admit that it became him very well.
But his eyes moved away from her and he was already paying his attention to the rest of her sisters who had arrived behind her.
###
That night, she had to listen to Kitty and Lydia's interminable list of conquests, as usual. But she could not pay attention for too long, because her thoughts drifted to Mr. Stephens. She felt very foolish for letting her mind wander. But she found a good excuse to assuage her conscience. It's only for tonight. Tomorrow, I'll wake up and he will be as far away from my mind as Mr. Bingley.
She was allowed to dream from time to time. Maybe he had meant what he had said, maybe not. If it was all in vain - and she was almost certain it was - she wished he would marry into some family from town. It would be hard to bear him as a brother-in-law.
Oh, she really didn't like her habit of thinking so far into the future. But he was right. Mr. Philips' clerks were all fixtures in the Philips household. No doubt, there would be more meetings between them. If he really did marry Kitty or Lydia, she would not mind it one bit and she would be a good sister and be happy for the bride.
Yes. It's nonsense to think otherwise.
With that, she put Matthew Stephens out of her mind.
A/N: I've always wanted to write a Mary Bennet fanfic, and I know this has been done before, but I wanted to give it a try. Hope you liked it!