This is the chapter where Mary discovers the dreadful truth about Matthew. May I reassure any Mary shippers reading that all will be well...eventually!


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Edith, who never had much toleration for vulgarity, was particularly ill-disposed to be pleased with the Miss Steeles. But Lavinia was naturally clever; her remarks were often amusing; and as a companion for half an hour Mary frequently found her agreeable; but she had received no aid from education: indeed she was ignorant and illiterate. Mary saw, and pitied her for, the neglect of abilities which education might have rendered respectable; but she saw, with less tenderness of feeling, the thorough want of delicacy and integrity of mind which her behaviour at the Park betrayed.

"Pray, are you acquainted with your sister-in-law's mother, Mrs. Ferrars?" said Lavinia one day, as they were walking from the Park to the cottage. Mary did think the question an odd one, as she answered that she had never seen Mrs. Ferrars.

"Indeed!" replied Lavinia; "I wonder at that, for I thought you must have seen her at Downton. Then you cannot tell me what sort of woman she is?"

"No," returned Mary, cautious of giving her real opinion of Matthew's mother, "I know nothing of her."

"You think me very strange for enquiring about her," said Lavinia, eyeing Mary attentively as she spoke; "but there may be reasons. I should be very glad of your advice how to manage in such an uncomfortable situation as I am; but there is no occasion to trouble you if you do not happen to know Mrs. Ferrars."

"I am sorry I cannot help you," said Mary, in great astonishment, "but I never understood that you were at all connected with that family, and therefore I am a little surprised, I confess."

"I dare say you are. But if I dared tell you all, you would not be so surprised. Mrs. Ferrars is certainly nothing to me at present but the time may come when we may be very intimately connected."

She looked down, amiably bashful, with only one side glance at her companion to observe its effect on her.

"Good heavens!" cried Mary, "do you mean you are acquainted with Mr. Robert Ferrars?" And she did not feel much delighted with the idea of such a sister-in-law.

"No," replied Lavinia, "not Mr. Robert Ferrars: I never saw him in my life; but," fixing her eyes upon Mary, "his elder brother."

What felt Mary at that moment? Astonishment, a pain so strong, had not disbelief attended it. She turned towards Lavinia in silent amazement, and though her complexion varied, she stood firm in no danger of a swoon.

"You may well be surprised," continued Lavinia, "for to be sure you could have had no idea of it before. I dare say he never dropped the smallest hint of it to you or any of your family because it was always meant to be a great secret, and I am sure has been faithfully kept so by me to this hour. Not a soul of all my relations know of it, and I never should have mentioned it to you, if I had not felt the greatest dependence in the world upon your secrecy; and I really thought my asking so many questions about Mrs. Ferrars must seem so odd that it ought to be explained. And I do not think Mr. Ferrars can be displeased when he knows I have trusted you, because I know he has the highest opinion of all your family, and looks upon yourself and the other Miss Crawleys quite as his own sisters." She paused.

Mary for a few moments remained silent. Her astonishment at what she heard was at first too great for words; but at length forcing herself to speak, she said, with a calmness of manner which tolerably well concealed her surprise, "May I ask if your engagement is of long standing?"

"We have been engaged these four years."

"Four years!"

"Yes."

Mary, though greatly shocked, still felt unable to believe it.

"I did not know," said she, "that you were even acquainted till the other day."

"Our acquaintance, however, is of many years' date. He was under my uncle's care a considerable while."

"Your uncle!"

"Yes; Mr. Pratt. Did you never hear him talk of Mr. Pratt?"

"I think I have," replied Mary, with an increase of emotion.

"He was four years with my uncle. It was there our acquaintance began, and it was there our engagement was formed, though not till a year after he had quitted as a pupil. I was very unwilling to enter into it without the knowledge and approval of his mother; but I was too young, and loved him too well, to be so prudent as I ought to have been. Though you do not know him so well as me, Miss Crawley, you must have seen enough of him to know how he is very capable of making a woman sincerely attached to him."

"Certainly," answered Mary, distractedly, but after a moment's reflection, she added, with revived security of Matthew's honour and love, and her companion's falsehood, "Engaged to Mr. Matthew Ferrars! I confess myself so totally surprised at what you tell me, that really…I beg your pardon but surely there must be some mistake of person or name. We cannot mean the same Mr. Ferrars."

"We can mean no other," cried Lavinia, smiling. "Mr. Matthew Ferrars, the eldest son of Mrs. Ferrars of Park Street, and brother of your sister-in-law, Mrs. Joseph Crawley, is the person I mean. You must allow that I am not likely to be deceived as to the name of the man on whom all my happiness depends."

"It is strange," replied Mary, in a most painful perplexity, "that I should never have heard him even mention your name."

"No, considering our situation, it is not strange. Our first care has been to keep the matter secret. You knew nothing of me, and, therefore, there could be no reason for his mentioning my name to you; and, as he was always particularly afraid of his sister's suspecting anything, that was reason enough for his silence."

Mary's heart broke; but her self-command did not break with it.

"Four years you have been engaged," said she with a firm voice.

"Yes; and heaven knows how much longer we may have to wait. Poor Matthew! It puts him quite out of heart." Then taking a small miniature from her pocket, she added, "Be so good as to look at this face. It does not do him justice, but I think you cannot be deceived as to the person. I have had it these three years."

She put it into her hands and when Mary saw the painting, whatever other doubts, she could have none of its being Matthew's face. She returned it almost instantly, acknowledging the likeness.

"I have never been able," continued Lavinia, "to give him my picture in return, alas, for he has been so anxious to get it! But I am determined to get it at the very first opportunity."

"You are quite in the right," replied Mary calmly. They then proceeded a few paces in silence. Lavinia spoke first.

"I have no doubt in the world of your faithfully keeping this secret, because you know how important it is not to have it reach his mother; for she would never approve of it. I have no fortune and I fancy she is a proud woman."

"I did not seek your confidence," said Mary; "but your secret is safe with me; pardon me if I express some surprise at so unnecessary a communication. You must at least have felt that my being acquainted with it could not add to its safety."

As she said this, she looked earnestly at Lavinia, hoping to discover something in her countenance; perhaps the falsehood of the greatest part of what she had been saying; but Lavinia's countenance suffered no change.

"I was afraid you would think I was taking a great liberty with you," said she, "in telling you all this. I have not known you long, but as soon as I saw you I felt almost as if you were an old acquaintance. Besides, I really thought some explanation was due to you after my making such inquiries about Matthew's mother; and I have not a creature whose advice I can ask. You don't know how much I go through. I wonder that I am alive after what I have suffered for Matthew's sake these last four years. Everything in such suspense and uncertainty; and seeing him so seldom: we can hardly meet above twice a year. I wonder my heart is not quite broke."

Here she took out her handkerchief; but Mary did not feel very compassionate.

"Sometimes." continued Lavinia, after wiping her eyes, "I think it would be better for us to break off the matter entirely." As she said this, she looked directly at her companion. "But then at other times I have not resolution enough for it. I cannot bear the thought of making him so miserable as I know the very mention of such a thing would do. What would you advise me to do in such a case, Miss Crawley? What would you do yourself?"

"Pardon me," replied Mary, her heart stung by the question "but I can give you no advice under such circumstances. Your own judgment must direct you."

"To be sure," continued Lavinia, "his mother must provide for him sometime or other; poor Matthew is so cast down by it! Did you not think him dreadful low-spirited when he was at Barton? He was so miserable when he left us at Longstaple to go to you that I was afraid you would think him quite ill."

"Did he come from your uncle's when he visited us?"

"Oh, yes! He had stayed a fortnight with us. Did you think he came directly from town?"

"No," replied Mary, most painfully sensible of every fresh circumstance in favour of Lavinia's veracity, "I remember he told us that he had been staying a fortnight with some friends near Plymouth."

"Did not you think him sadly out of spirits?" repeated Lavinia.

"We did, particularly so when he first arrived."

"I begged him to exert himself for fear you should suspect what was the matter, but it made him so melancholy not being able to stay more than a fortnight with us, and seeing me so much affected. Poor fellow! I am afraid it is just the same with him now for he writes in wretched spirits. I heard from him just before I left Exeter" taking a letter from her pocket and carelessly showing the direction to Mary. "You know his hand, yes? Charming isn't it? But that is not written so well as usual. He was tired, I dare say, for he had just filled the sheet to me as full as possible."

Mary saw that it was his hand, and she could doubt no longer. This picture, she had allowed herself to believe, might have been accidentally obtained. It might not have been Matthew's gift. But a correspondence between them by letter could exist only under an engagement. For a few moments she was almost overcome. Her heart sank within her, and she could hardly stand; but she struggled so resolutely against the oppression of her feelings, so that her countenance did not betray her wretchedness.

"Writing to each other" said Lavinia, returning the letter to her pocket, "is the only comfort we have in such long separations. I have one other comfort in his picture, but poor Matthew has not even that. I gave him a lock of my hair set in a ring when he was at Longstaple last and that was some comfort to him, he said, but not equal to a picture. Perhaps you noticed the ring when you saw him?"

"I did," said Mary, with composure of voice under which was concealed an emotion and distress beyond anything she had ever felt before. She was mortified, shocked, and grieving.

Fortunately they had now reached the cottage and the conversation could be continued no farther. After sitting with them a few minutes, the Miss Steeles returned to the Park, and Mary was then at liberty to think and be wretched.