A/N: A lot of very good comments and questions on this story so thanks and keep them coming. It seems to have touched a nerve or two. The bigest questions amount to: Why is Elizabeth acting so crazy? Where the heck is Mary and why is she acting so crazy? Elizabeth's plan sucks, what was she thinking? Why is she afraid of Darcy? What happens with the next bunch of babies? How is she doing to live? Why is she afraid of Rosings? Doesn't she know she's next to the great estate? Why didn't she visit Charlotte? Wow, these guys are major OOC!

This story is mostly about people reacting to stress, and people don't always act rationally. Not everything they do will make sense… in fact, hardly any of it does. Elizabeth is a bit paranoid. She knows perfectly wells she's near Rosings, but doesn't want to meet anyone she knows. Mary is a bit frightened and distrustful. Darcy's off the charts internally and externally. Who knows what's up with Jane? It's all in the mix and I hope to make some of it clear with more chapters.

They can't do that. How can they possibly live? They have no money!
I'm not an expert on the details, but I've done enough reading about Georgian economics, to think it was doable for the sisters, but this isn't a story about Georgian economics so I may cover it in notes somewhere else, but probably won't put it in the story directly.


"I beg your pardon Miss. Is there aught I might do to assist you?"

The young lady in question looked up at a boy of around fourteen years with a look of incomprehension on her face. She stared at the boy for quite some time, until he started to fidget. He began to wonder if he had acted inappropriately. She was clearly a gentlewoman, and probably not used to being addressed by such as him, particularly in a situation such as this. The boy at length decided he must have given offense.

"Your pardon ma'am. I'll not disturb you further."

With that, he flicked the reins on the old mule hitched to the cart and started back up the road. He was tired and still had work to do.

He went perhaps a half-dozen yards when he heard the lady say, "Wait, please."

Stopping the mule, he looked back to see what she desired; still a bit nervous. He had never talked to a gentlewoman before and was not sure now had been a good time to start. He waited to see what she would say.

"I thank you for your assistance, and apologize for my incivility. I'm having a difficult time. What brings you this way at this time?"

"I'm afraid I had a wheel come off the cart. It took me some time and assistance from a passerby to get it moving again. Now I'm quite late and my mother will be worried."

"I thank you for your concern, and appreciate your stopping. I will be fine, so please return to your mother."

The boy looked at her in disbelief, wondering if he could step out of his place. The young lady was clearly not all right. She was missing her coat, shivering, and not at all prepared for a journey of any length, particularly however far it was to the nearest estate. His mother would have his hide if he left her here in on this cold November evening, no matter how late he was, so he set about doing the right thing.

"May I assist you home my lady. Truly, you do not seem prepared for this road. I have a blanket here and you could sit in the back of the cart."

The boy was quite proud of his speech. His mother had been teaching him to speak properly since he was a tyke, saying that there may come a time when he would need to do so, and he must be practiced in his courtesy; even if it was almost never necessary in his present life.

"Might I take you home Miss? It's frightfully cold here, and old Nellie has a few miles left in her."

"I cannot go home."

This mystified he boy. Perhaps the lady's father was indisposed, as Peter's father was from time to time, and the young lady didn't want to tussle with him. Maybe there was damage on the road to her home. Maybe she just needed to wait for her father to fall asleep. He still felt a need to help her. He wasn't yet to the age where he would start thinking of her as a woman. He was still a bit childlike, and just didn't understand such things, but he was perfectly old enough to know you didn't leave a woman shivering on the side of the road.

"How long will it be until you are allowed home?" He asked. He needed to get to his own bed but could not until he had done his duty.

The young lady let out a very sad sigh, and looked at the ground at her feet. He could barely hear her reply.

"I don't believe I can ever go home!"

Such words were completely out of the boy's experience, and he had no idea how to proceed. He could see the young Miss shivering though, and he knew what to do about that.

"Miss. Would it be proper to ask you to use my blanket. I can even leave you with it if you desire. You truly look half-frozen."

The young lady gradually approached the cart, and gratefully accepted the blanket.

"I thank you sir."

"I'm no sir. I'm just a carter."

"You speak uncommonly well for a carter and you may have saved me from freezing to death. I will call you 'Sir' with pleasure. Might I have the pleasure of your name sir?"

The boy blushed at the request and stammered out his reply.

"Norman, ma'am. Norman Stewart at your service."

"I'm very pleased to meet you Mr. Stewart. I'm Miss Mary Bennet."

"If you cannot go home, where can you go ma'am? A friend or acquaintance mayhap?"

"No, I'm afraid I cannot go to the home of any of my friends. At least not this night and possibly ever."

This seemed quite odd to Norman, but who was he to question a lady. His mother had taught him better.

"You cannot stay out in the cold all night. Could I take you to my mother? She'll know what to do."

Mary looked at him in confusion and indecision, but then absent a better plan she acquiesced.

"I thank you Mr. Stewart… with all my heart."

Mary climbed up beside the boy to ride the rest of the way to his mother's house. She never could remember all the obscure rules of propriety, so didn't know if she would ordinarily be censured for such behavior; but after her outburst of a half-hour ago, she doubted she had any reputation left to salvage anyway.

With a heavy heart, Mary left the site of her ultimate demise, the Netherfield ball.


Mrs. Stewart turned out to be a motherly woman of around forty years, who took a shine to Mary immediately and started fussing over the state of her health, her dress, her warmth and her son's deportment all in a flurry of words Mary could only half process in her distressed state. First, she had to make sure Mary was dry. Then she had to provide a better blanket than the 'disreputable' mess her son had proffered, even though Mary had not a single complaint about the original. Then she had to be set down by the fire, and inquiries made of her health, the state of her stomach (agitated) and anything else related to her comfort.

At last, Mary was warm, comfortable and dry; so it became time for the inevitable questions. Mrs. Stewart was astute enough to see Mary's distressed state; not that it required any very fine discernment. Mrs. Stewart was a gentle soul and she gradually extracted the entire story of Mary's humiliation, from the first to the last. Such was her kind nature and so unlike Mrs. Bennet or any of the other ladies of Mary's acquaintance; that she managed to extract nearly her entire life history over the next hour.

Mrs. Stewart was of the opinion that Mary should go home and face her consequences, but she was not certain. There was no doubt that Mary's outburst would have a terrible effect on the reputations of the Bennet sisters. Among the gentry, such things would hurt a woman's marital prospects; although in Mrs. Stewart's class, it would make very little difference. That was part of the disadvantage of being a gentlewoman. Very few would choose to give up their status, and even should they choose to do so, they were rarely trained in any useful trade, so it was a difficult path to walk.

Mrs. Stewart couldn't even be certain whether Mary's return to take her punishment would help or hurt her sisters. She was not a prolific gossip herself, but as a woman who did sewing and mending for her living, she was exposed to it often enough. There were certain groups of people in the town, both male and female, who really had nothing better to do than spread idle gossip. According to Mary, her mother was probably the worst practitioner in the village; and that accorded with Mrs. Stewart's experience. The path of gossip was difficult to predict. In some cases, should a person bravely face down the gossips, and take their lumps; the gossip would to die down as soon as some other juicy tidbit came along. In other cases, keeping yourself visible simply made you a bigger target, and the gossip would continue so long as there was the slightest chance of you further embarrassing yourself.

Mary's opinion was that she would rather leave Meryton forever then face up to the gauntlet, and Mrs. Stewart could not convince her that her path was incorrect. She believed that leaving was probably worse than staying, but she could see a determination in Mary's eyes that left her believing that regardless of whether she approved or not, Mary was to set her own course, and that course was not back towards Longbourn.

Mrs. Stewart did her best to keep her own opinion of Mrs. Bennet from influencing any guidance she might give to the young girl. She had been near Mrs. Bennet for nigh on twenty years now, and her opinion of the matron was not the very good. Mrs. Bennet was a vicious gossip, eager to share the latest tale of woe, and particularly ignorant and unconcerned about her daughters. She was obsessed with getting her daughters married, to anybody, but beyond that, she seemed to have no particular regard for them. Even in that manner, she was more concerned about her own future than her daughters; and she would happily sacrifice any of her daughters for her own future felicity. It was clear that should Mary give her the opportunity to use her well or ill to advance her own goals; Mrs. Bennet would not hesitate in the slightest.

"Are you absolutely set on this course of leaving Meryton, Miss Bennet?"

"Mrs. Stewart, I have been around the center of Meryton gossip all my life. I know how it works. If I remain, I will be the center of it for quite some time. I am afraid I'm not up to the task. Right or wrong, I choose to go elsewhere. I believe that disappearing without a word will be the least damaging to my sisters. The only thing I can think of that would be less damaging would be for me to be found dead, and I'm not quite willing to go that far."

Mrs. Stewart did not like the sound of this, but she didn't believe she could convince the young girl otherwise. Perhaps if she assisted her, she might be able to come back and reconcile with the family after the gossip died down in a few months.

"Have you any family that you could apply to?"

"I have an uncle and aunt in town, but I do not wish to drag my problems into another household. They have their own children to raise, and their own concerns to deal with. I've made my bed, and I'll lie in it."

"Have you any money child?"

"Yes, I get the same pin money is my sisters, but I don't waste it on frippery's. I have nearly all of the money my father is ever given me in my home. It's enough to pay for a place to live and necessities for a year or more if I'm frugal."

"Does anybody know where it is, and how much you have?"

"I live in a house of five sisters, of which the one is Lydia Bennet. What do you think?"

Mrs. Wilson had to chuckle at that. There was no doubt that Mary's money was safely hidden or it would have been gong long ago. She was cleverer than her parents gave her credit for. It would be difficult, but Mrs. Stewart saw no alternative considering how determined Mary was. She still thought the girl was being foolish, but it wasn't for her to correct the young lady.

"Are you completely set on this course? You do not even want to leave a note?"

Mary looked at first pensive, but then determined.

"Neither my parents nor my sisters have earned a note. I will not be dissuaded. I must also beg you not to say a word. I would not have you and your son dragged into this mess, as it will get very ugly before it gets better."

Mary had no idea how ugly things would become. Years in the future, she would look back with great nostalgia at the time when her outburst at the Netherfield ball had been the worst calamity ever to befall the Bennet sisters.

If it was to be done, it must be done quickly.

"Norman. Hitch the wagon back up and take Miss Bennet out to Longbourn, but do it quietly and do not be seen. She has things to do, and must be back before sunup."

Mrs. Stewart was not in the least certain that she was doing the right thing, or that Mary was even in her completely right state of mind, but it was obvious that she would not be dissuaded in the least.

"Miss Bennet, I will direct you to my sister who may be able to help you find lodgings and work, but you understand you are setting yourself a very difficult path, and this choice may not be the best for your sisters."

"Mrs. Stewart, I appreciate what you've done, and I would not in any way wish to hurt you or your sister. If your sister can discreetly help me I would appreciate it, but I know what task is in front of me and I will face it with fortitude. At the very least, the next person to call me one of the silliest girls in England will be someone other than my father."

By the time the sun rose, Mary Bennet had already departed Netherfield with nothing more than her saved up money, and a few dresses and items she had taken from the house that would not be noticed. Her new life was to begin. Whether it was for good or ill remained to be determined. Whether she was being wise or foolish; benevolent or vindictive; brave or cowardly also remained undetermined; but either way she was now her own woman.