"…Mary, I fancy you have not heard a single word I have uttered in the last five minutes!" Colonel Fitzwilliam's voice was gently teasing, but Mary flushed a guilty red. They were sitting together in a small sitting room at Rosings.
"I am sorry, Richard." She smiled a little, still unused to calling him by his Christian name, even though they were so soon to be married. "You are right, I was distracted. Please, tell me again."
"No, no." Richard chuckled. "I shall not burden you with my concerns when your mind clearly longs to be elsewhere. What is the matter, dear?"
Mary frowned. "I do not know, except…" She paused. "Did the silence on our journey home from the church strike you as odd?"
"Silence?" Richard laughed again, properly this time. "We must have been in different carriages, for I certainly was not aware of any silence. Aunt Catherine talked just as much as ever, in fact, none of the rest of us could get a word in alongside her reflections on the day."
"But that is precisely my point," Mary said. "Did not you notice how she tried - and failed! - to draw Mr Darcy into conversation? He would scarcely answer her, indeed, he hardly seemed even to hear her."
"That is not anything to comment upon. You know almost as well as I do that my cousin is not well known as a conversationalist."
"But he was not the only one," Mary protested. She tried to put her thoughts into words that Colonel Fitzwilliam might understand, not knowing Elizabeth as well as she did. "Lizzy was…distracted, somehow. She kept her eyes fixed on the scenery as it passed, and would not be brought into the conversation by myself or by Anne, or even, once, by Lady Catherine!"
"And this strikes you as unusual?"
"Indeed!" Mary nodded her head, vigorously. "My sister is rarely so quiet, unless something concerns her."
Richard leaned back in his chair.
"Well, if you are sure there is some problem, why are you tarrying to talk to me?" He clasped Mary's hand warmly. "I can see your care at present is for your sister: please, do go and reassure yourself that she is as well and as happy as she can be expected to be."
"You do not mind?"
"Mary, dear!" Richard laughed. "We shall have the rest of our lives to be together. I might manage to spare you for an afternoon."
She smiled, and darted away towards the door, pausing only as she heard his languid voice call after her.
"Only for an afternoon, mind! You must be by my side this evening, for Aunt Catherine spent half the morning discussing our wedding with her friends: I cannot face her inquisition alone!"
Mary turned back quickly to nod at him and then scurried up the stairs towards Elizabeth's room. Knocking lightly, she could not help but remember the last time she had been in this position, in Longbourn, and how her concern for Lizzy's well-being had pressed her to encourage her sister to accompany her to Rosings. This time, a tiny flicker of anticipation burned in her chest. Elizabeth had been quiet, yes, but so had Mr Darcy! Surely that meant something?
A murmur from within gave Mary the confidence to push the door open, and she entered, to see Elizabeth sitting on a chair by the window, staring listlessly out towards the gardens. She scarcely looked up to greet her sister, so Mary took a deep breath, and crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking with concern at Elizabeth.
"Is anything the matter?" she asked, with an affectation of ease.
Lizzy glanced up, then, her features relaxing briefly into a smile.
"Oh, Mary!" she said. "I am so glad you are here. You must help me to make a decision."
Mary's heart began to pound a little quicker. Lizzy looked so unlike herself. Her forehead was creased into a frown, and her cheeks were drawn and pale. Her eyes were still undeniably bright, though, and darted around the room, before returning to Mary's face.
"Mr Darcy and I - that is, he has asked me to marry him."
"Marry?" It was too much to hope for! Mary almost clapped her hands, rejoicing that Jane's plan had come to fruition, and with scarcely the need for any intervention from her.
"Yes," Lizzy said, her voice faint. "It is quite ridiculous, is it not? I cannot possibly say yes."
"Why not?" Mary's response was sharper than she intended, and Lizzy lifted an anxious glance to her. "I mean, I do not understand why you might not wish to say yes! You do like him, don't you?"
Lizzy laughed, but it was a humourless sound.
"If you had asked me the question three weeks ago I do not doubt my answer would have been different," she conceded. "But our acquaintance has grown since then, and I suppose it is no great shame to confess that yes, I do like him. He is intelligent and kind, and - when one can draw him into conversation - is a clever, witty partner. Only -"
Mary's breath caught, the only sound that she offered as a response to Elizabeth's verbal reasoning.
"I do not love him." She sighed. "I was always so determined that only the greatest affection could induce me to marry, but now, I wonder if I was not being childish to hold to such a view. Certainly, Mama does not hold it, nor Father, and even Charlotte Lucas told me in no uncertain terms that I must let go of the idea and consider my future security as the most important concern in deciding upon marriage. What do you think, Mary?"
Mary felt the colour drain from her cheeks. This was an important question, and it fell to her to give a still more important answer, for she felt certain that what she said in this room would determine Elizabeth course of action, and thus, her future happiness.
"I think," she began, frowning as she carefully considered her words. "I think that to marry for love is one's highest ideal."
"You see?" Elizabeth said, nodding, fervently. "I knew I could not be alone in this. Jane loves Mr Bingley. And you love Colonel Fitzwilliam."
"Yes," Mary conceded. "And yet -"
Elizabeth snapped her gaze up, and Mary struggled to find the words to communicate clearly what she was thinking.
"I do not think love is necessarily the same as we read about in books. And - do not take this as criticism, Lizzy dear, for it is not meant to be - you have read many more books than I. It may grow over time."
"It may not," Elizabeth interjected, in a low voice.
"I think that unlikely," Mary said. "If you marry, if you build a life so entwined with another, how can you fail but grow to love them?" She drew a tentative breath. "And if you like Mr Darcy, if you get on well together, then that is a better start than many might wish for."
"Better certainly, than the other marriage Mama seems intent on forcing me into," Elizabeth acknowledged, with a weary sigh. "And it is only I that speak of love. He, as you well know, is not romantic in the least." She cracked the merest hint of a smile and Mary's spirits began to lift. "He actually referred to it as a business proposition. We might provide one another with a way out of the difficult circumstances we found ourselves trapped in."
"And is Mr Darcy trapped?" Mary asked, recalling Anne de Bourgh's explanation of her mother's wishes for him to marry her. She frowned. "Will this new scheme not leave Anne all alone?" Mary asked, feeling a flare of concern for her new friend.
"No, that is perhaps the best part, and aids me in deciding, for it is clear my marrying must have an impact on all those around me, whoever I choose to marry and whether I marry at all!" Elizabeth's voice was soft, yet she still darted a glance towards the door as if to reassure herself that they were not to be overheard. "I have reason to believe Anne has a shared affection with another gentleman - one her mother will most likely disapprove of, and one whom she certainly might not pursue any kind of friendship with if she is forced into marriage with Mr Darcy. If he is otherwise - if we are married, then at least she might be free to pursue her heart."
Elizabeth sighed.
"You are yet not convinced?" Mary asked, folding her hands in her lap to keep from wringing them in despair. Where was Jane in this? She would be far better to counsel her sister. Could Elizabeth truly not see what was only too apparent to Mary? She did indeed love Mr Darcy, and he loved her. They might call it a practical marriage all they liked, but surely they could not ignore the truth of the matter for long.
"I am reluctant to admit to the wisdom of the plan," Lizzy said, lifting her eyes to Mary's. "Yet I am thankful that it is you, pragmatic, sensible Mary, who is my counsel on the matter. I know this is a wise step to take. Certainly, Mr Darcy is a gentleman. He might provide all I could hope to wish for in life - more! And I know you are right, if I do not love him, at least I respect him, and no doubt love will grow in time." She paused, a strange expression lighting on her face. "I cannot deny I do care for him, though he infuriates me at times." This last was whispered, and Mary wondered if her sister realised she had spoken it aloud. Wisely, she did not respond, merely allowed Elizabeth to reason in silence.
"I believe I must accept him," Elizabeth said, at length. "Though I can scarcely believe I am saying so!" She grinned, looking at last like her old self once more. "Imagine, Mary, what Mama and Father will say when they hear. Imagine Jane's reaction! It is a dream, I am sure. One of those absurd dreams that make real life seem dull and logical, and yet I have pinched myself blue and still have not awoken."
"Lizzy!" Mary laughed. "How can you have gone from romance to logic in the span of one conversation?"
"I can scarcely say!" Elisabeth said, smiling. "I hardly know myself, or my life, and yet I imagine you felt much the same, upon accepting Colonel Fitzwilliam, and look how happy it has made you both."
Spontaneously, Elizabeth reached over and enfolded her sister in an embrace.
"Thank you, Mary," she murmured into Mary's shoulder. "I am grateful for your counsel and your support. I know now what I must do, though I do not rejoice at the prospect."
Yet, Mary silently corrected her. You may not rejoice at it yet, dear, but I am sure you will come to in time…