AN: Thank you for your reviews. They are all accepted with much delight and gratitude. I do hope that you shall enjoy these next two chapters. Please tell me what ou think, and I shall be eternally grateful.
13
The engagement of Margaret Gallagher emerged forth as the new gossip of the town, and thoughts of Mary Bennet and her supposed engagement to Edward Pendleton faded until the entire matter was questionable that it was ever present at all. Even Mrs. Bennet, who declared that she shall never tire of speaking of her daughter's engagement, partook in the scandal of Margaret accepting a proposal from a servant- despite all of the eligible gentleman out there.
Mary Bennet had been sent to town by Mrs. Bennet to retrieve a bonnet of hers that was in need of mending. Though the task took minimal time, Mary felt a need to explore, rather than waste away inside for the entirety of the day, so she continued walking through the streets. She had passed down the sidewalk numerous times in the past, so often she could navigate with her eyes closed if ever she had the desire to, yet she stopped at every window and walked through every store as if it be her first time.
"Life does look much more promising through new eyes," Mary remarked, stopping inside the store she had last read some novel. "I suppose mama would not mind if I retired with a book for a bit."
Her refuge within the pages of some hysterical romance story was interrupted with the sound of shrill laughter, a very strident, boisterous sound that made it impossible for anyone to focus on anything besides the chortles of this individual. Leaning forward so that the shelves did not obstruct her view, Mary was able to see the bright face of Margaret Gallagher enter, giggling ridiculously at every uproarious statement her partner said.
"Honestly, I do believe those women might have given me a good spanking if we had proceeded on there any further." Margaret leaned against the shelf wall across from that which Mary stood by and set a hand to her heart, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Why, my heart is racing faster than ever before. I do not think I have ever had such fun!"
"Perhaps we might do that for the rest of our lives?" her companion suggested, and Mary came to recognize the voice before the individual's identity was revealed a moment later.
There come moments where one is taken entirely off guard, and are left awestruck and dumbfounded, for there is no other sentiment to complete the emotions that rush through one's very being. Never before might Mary Bennet have thought that she would come to observe William Cadaver turn the corner to lean beside Margaret Gallagher, a lopsided grin about his face and his eyes sparkling with something fierce. His youthfulness was omnipresent, but Mary now observed a new maturity about the boy. There was a new way in which he smiled, with one corner more upturned than the other, and his eyes crinkled in the corners, which was a new feature that Mary not had noticed before.
"Margaret?" the clerk's arms were propped upon the countertop as he leaned to look at her. "You have not visited me in many days."
"Oh, I do apologize for my neglect." She waved a dainty hand and used it to cover her mouth and suppress giggles. "George, have you met William Cadaver? He has been in town for almost a sennight since he has been detained by… other circumstances."
"Circumstances?" the clerk's eyes focused upon William, and it was the first instance that he came to realize that they were not alone.
"Yes, might you be able to guess what detained him?" Margaret coaxed a response.
"Be this a circumstance that I would wish to guess?"
"Oh, I cannot wait further, he was detained because of me!" she bounced as she said it, unable to remain motionless. "Why, George, we are engaged!"
"Engaged?" never before had Mary seen a man more dejected. "I do wish you both much happiness and good fortune."
"I am glad to have your blessing, George." Margaret turned to William, not detecting the man's melancholy countenance. "Never might I have thought it possible to be so happy."
"I am sure you feel much good fortune in capturing the heart of such a woman, Mr. Cadaver." The clerk bowed his head. "Do promise to treat her well."
"I shall treat her like a queen," William grinned ear to ear. "She is the most beautiful creature."
As absurd a picture that was before her, Mary now felt sadness envelop her. The way in which William spoke of Margaret was sincere, and it was to compliment her beauty. Margaret Gallagher was not a woman of vast intellect, nor was she much of a woman, for she was still the same girl she was the day prior, and yet she had managed to obtain a happiness that appeared so impossible for Mary Bennet. Scrutinizing the situation with meticulous care, she could only discern that the two of them were very much in love and that, regardless of scandals and gossips, they would continue with their laughs and jollity.
"It seems almost unfair," Mary breathed, slumping down to the ground with her back against a bookshelf, the book resting against her legs.
"Mary?" William stood in front of her, his eyes large with curiosity. "Why, I do think you do rather enjoy the company of books, for in all of our acquaintance I have not seen you without one."
"I suppose that is an accurate portrayal of myself, if ever there were one." Mary smiled weakly.
"However have you been, Mary?" William inquired. "I did attempt to call upon you when I arrived in Hertfordshire, but… I was detained…"
"Might you be able to guess why?" Margaret questioned, her hand resting upon William's shoulder possessively.
"I suppose it is directly related to your engagement to William?" Mary suggested, wishing now to be rid of them.
"Oh, of course you must have overheard." Margaret remarked. "I cannot help it. When I am so excited, I tend to speak louder than need be."
"I did mean to call for you, Mary." William spoke to her in a low voice, as Margaret skipped about the store. "But the word around town was that you were engaged, and that might not have stopped me, had not I heard your own mother speaking of it as I walked down the street one afternoon."
"I do feel it would be wrong for me to confirm the gossip, when gossip rarely possesses the truth of the matter."
"So it is not true?"
"I was made a promise. That is all."
"A promise?"
"The man told me he might fall in love with me, and that he would call upon me in due time.
"You do not speak of him with affection. Do you not think fondly of him?"
"I know little to nothing of him. How might I love a stranger?"
"Always so practical," William laughed. "Mary, perhaps you should not worry so much of what is logical to do, for such a pragmatic mindset is apt to confine you in such restrictions that you will be denied many a good and pleasant experience. Try not to judge every situation so, and perhaps you might find your happiness as well."
"What?" Mary could not conceal her surprise at his remark. "This seems not at all like something that you might say."
"I do possess some degree of wisdom about me, I do believe." William grinned haughtily. "And I do feel as if I should provide you with my own candid advice, for I do not think you happy standing, or rather sitting, before me today."
"Whyever would I not be happy?"
"I do not think you would find it satisfactory to spend all of your life sitting in the corner of a store reading novels that would no doubt be more beneficiary if used for firewood than an afternoon immersed in it."
"Whenever did you decide to grow up?"
"Love does a good many changes to a person," William looked over at Margaret. "I must admit that I did not think it logical for me to be in love. She can be a silly girl often enough, but she does possess a good heart about her, and I am sure that she shall become far more calm as she grows older. I have nothing to offer to her but myself, and we cannot be wed until I am done with my servitude to my master. There are many perfectly sensible reasons to prevent me from pursuing anything with Margaret Gallagher, but I do think that sometimes there is a necessity to abandon practicality for awhile. It allowed me to find love and happiness, after all. Never before might logic, in all of its order and planning and realism, provide me with such as that I have obtained."
"And I thought you to be a silly boy as well," Mary found herself grinning just as wide. "I do wish you much luck in the future. I am sure time shall pass swiftly and that you and Margaret might have a bright wedding ahead."
"I believe it evermore," William agreed. "I do cherish our friendship, Mary. You are unlike any woman I have ever beheld."
"I suppose that is all the compliments I might ever receive, so it shall suffice."
"You shall find a man someday, Mary." William reassured. "And he might iron his stockings and polish his shoes, and the both of you might read a book into the evening or talk of mathematical equations or organize the kitchen cupboard, if that is what you wish. I do not know if that is honestly what you desire."
"Whatever is that picture that you paint before me, William?" Mary asked, truly perplexed, yet a smile of amusement shown upon her face.
"I assume that would be your life, if ever you decide to find a man so sensible as yourself."
"You do not approve of a man like that?"
"Certainly you did not find my portrait to be desirable?" William arched an eyebrow in question. "A man whose idea of spontaneity is wearing gray shoes with navy britches or taking an extra walk around the park with his wife?"
"Of course not."
"Then I do hope you realize what I intended to say in my portrait."
14
With the announcement of an engagement there occurred either a complete alteration of character or no change at all. For Mary Bennet, she epitomized the latter, and Margaret Gallagher the former.
Her haughty air dispelled with thoughts of marriage, and she conceded to present herself to the Bennet household, for she considered herself fairly relatable to Mary Bennet now, because of their connections with the opposite sex. Mrs. Bennet took especial delight in her daughter's new relationship, for her middle child was known to be an introverted, pedantic creature, and it was a new sight to see this very child now indulging herself in the company of another.
William Cadaver was to be leaving the following day for his home in the country and the Gallagher's had invited the Bennets to supper. Mr. Bennet had affairs to deal with on the farm,but,though Mary had not expressed any reluctance to attend, Mrs. Bennet was adamant and sent Mary to her room to change into a more colorful gown and to have one of the servants pull her hair up for the occasion. The reflection she met after readying herself was nothing compared to what she had been at Pemberley, but she was able to smile with a confidence in recognizing herself for what she truly was.
Providence had provided them with a pleasant ride in the country to the Gallagher farm. Though it was situated upon a minute plot of land, Mr. Gallagher had taken excessive pride in the appearance of his home, having the shutters painted twice a year and the front porch re-decked every few years with fresh lumber and then covered with an appealing shade of cream. The small garden in front was quaint and pleasant, for the small poppies and bushes provided a tranquil picture to rest after a day's labor. Margaret Gallagher, had she taken a particular interest in it, might have related her childhood afternoons spent in the confines of the small trees and landscape that once appeared large and extravagant in youthful eyes.
Supper passed by in four courses, all of which Mrs. Bennet took it upon herself to compliment on, and praising the good fortune Margaret had in finding herself an agreeable husband. Margaret beamed and seemed to expand with each appraisal towards her, but William soon grew abashed and his face was red as his cravat by the time that they had all withdrawn to the parlor.
Within the parlor, they sat and talked of wedding plans, and Mary soon tired of such conversation and departed for the gardens in the front for some refuge, if only for a brief period of time. There, she allowed herself to recollect the events of Pemberley and her acquaintance with Edward Pendleton, who she now questioned his sincerity and she grew more and more certain might soon forget of her.
"Mary?"
Mary released her thoughts when she saw William enter through the gates into the garden, his hands fumbling about in his coat pockets. He held himself in a reserved fashion, his face slightly turned as if discomfited. He stood before her, his eyes lowered and his bottom lipped sucked in as if he now bit on them, preventing words to surpass his lips, for a few minutes, and Mary soon found herself doing the same out of nervousness for him.
"I know you might now question my reasons for coming out here and abandoning those that had provided us with a pleasant evening, merely for the sake of celebration on my behalf." William continued his ritual, his lip half immersed in his mouth. "I hope you do realize I meant not to offend you the previous day when I chastised you of your logic."
"There was no offense taken. I believe your words to be sincere and quite truthful, in fact."
"Mary, I did not enter this town with thoughts of Margaret Gallagher on my mind," William looked up now. "I rather enjoyed your company, truly that is my honest opinion, and I had hoped when I first came that you might have perhaps desired to call me your own, however my thoughts, though they seem childish now, soon ended with the reassurance of your engagement. And now I know they be not true, but then it was as real as ever to me, you must believe me."
"I do not think you have reason to speak falsely with me, William. I do believe every word."
"Since my first acquaintance with you, I had such notions of you." William grinned.
"Notions?" Mary raised an eyebrow. "Whatever kind of notions might you have within your mind, William?"
"Nothing disrespectful to you, I must reassure." William answered and his face turned crimson. "You do seem too large for all of Hertfordshire, if I may be exact. I simply felt you to be the kind of woman who would not settle for such a life as the rest of them."
"It does seem I have not the choice in such a matter," Mary responded.
"Would you not desire to be elsewhere?"
"I know not else I might be, if not here or with my family."
"Would you wish to know?"
"Whyever are you asking of these things?" Mary questioned.
"It is just that, I consider you to be one held very close to me, even if we might have such a short acquaintance." William rested beside her now. "I do not say this with the intention of ruining your relations with this man who might propose to you, but I do not wish to see you so wasted away within the confines of marriage that your own source of exploring the world is through the literature you spend your days reading. I do not object to such things, but I did wish that you might have the life noteworthy of a story."
"You do have such high expectations of me," Mary laughed. "William, I do admire your portrayal of myself, but I am far from grand. I, who cannot find myself a partner at a ball, surely cannot take it upon myself to expect more from a life but a simple marriage."
"Be that what you think, or what others wish it of you to believe?"
"It has been fed to me often enough, but I know I should not expect more than this."
"But you do, nonetheless."
"I would be lying if I objected."
"Might you promise me to be open-minded in your decisions pertaining to your future?" William held one of her hands, and many might consider his fervent gestures to be an indication of something scandalous, butMary knew them to be nothing more than a person wishing well for a friend. "I know there is much I know not about you, Mary, but as I have alreadyspoken of with you, you are unlike all else that I have met. I know not what it is about you that made me approach you that day, but you do have something about you, and I truly can see you having adventures that all else might only read of in books. Do not compromise your dreams to only be present within the words of some novel in your lap. I do wish for the best of you."
"And I do wish for your happiness as well," Mary shifted in her seat. "William, I am far too silly of a girl to wish it upon myself to live such a life."
"Do not say such things!" and William was thus transfigured into a boyish figure, begging Mary. "I cannot have you marry yourself to some man you might not have an ounce of affection for, for too many women find themselves settled in unhappy marriages."
"And then what do you advise me do?"
"To explore and exploit yourself..."
"I beg pardon?" Mary had hardly allowed William to finish before she had questioned his statement.
"I wish for you to see the country and the cities and towns and know what is out there. I do think you have much to offer, if only you allowed yourself to be out there for the world to see. You need not dress up handsomely or adorn yourself with jewels and gold to be listened to, and I do find you have opinions worth listening to. You do love a good story, Mary, and I do think you have the possibility of living a life worth reading of."
"Nonsense."
"It is if you do not believe it."
"William, you barely know me."
"I know enough to know that you do not wish to marry this man."
"If that is what you believe, then I shall not. I was unsure myself, and he has not proposed, so I am not bound within marriage yet. But I do not think it wise of myself to expect so much in a lifetime. It shall surely leave to much disappointment."
"Might you toss such opinions to the flames, Mary!" William shook his head, and Mary feltsuddenly nervous,for William had learned to read herbetter thanall else."If there is one thing I wish to know, tell me what it is that you want. Tell me what might be that dream which flows through your veins as natural as blood and that you wish to call your own. Tell me it is not this."
"I…"
"Confounded logic! Mary, not all of life might be so logical that you might find the answer to everything. Might there be a situation in which there is no logic to the answer? Abandon it and tell me what it is that you want."
"I…" Mary lowered her head now, her own embarrassment to admit it coming forth. "Why do you ask it of me?"
"Because I need to hear it for myself, and I do believe you do as well."
"I wish to live a story worth telling," Mary now repeated the gestures which William had begun. Tears passed for a brief moment and she looked up, speaking softly. "Be it so wrong that I wish for such a life? That I cannot be satisfied with what all of my sisters shall have? That I should be grateful if ever I have what they do, and yet I wish for more?"
"That was all I needed to hear," William stood and held out a hand to help her up. "Perhaps we might join them now? I do believe that was what was needed to be said. For the both of us."
"You do myself much good, William." Mary thanked him. "I do not think a man of twice your age might have provided me with better incite for myself."
The exchange between William and Mary was unnoticed by all else, who were immersed in conversation of Margaret's engagement still. Mrs. Bennet, upon seeing the two enter and seat themselves once more, took it upon herself to change the object of attention to her own daughter, and she did so with more spirits than she had when she first heard of Edward Pendleton's attachment to Mary.
"Can you believe it, Mr. Gallagher, that our daughters are so soon to be wed?" Mrs. Bennet directed Mr. Gallagher's eyes to Mary. "Does she not look the part of a desirable partner for a man?"
"I do say she shall make her husband immensely happy."
"We do find her match to be most providential," Mrs. Bennet told him. "Why, he has two estates, can you imagine? Why, my Mary shall have much trouble often enough, I am sure, in deciding where she might wish to spend her summers or her winters."
"If that is all the trouble I might have in my life, then I do find my situation most fortunate." Mary remarked, exasperated with Mrs. Bennet's talk already.
"It is of the greatest fortune!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed most happily. "I do not think we could have asked for more for her."
"Do tell us more of this man, Mary." Mr. Gallagher suggested. "I do wonder what kind of fellow this gentleman may be that has you set upon marrying him."
"It is not that I am determined to marry him."
The room responded with silence, which Mrs. Bennet broke.
"My Mary is not one to be desperate, that is sure, for she shall make a perfect match for any lucky gentleman…"
"If you wish to know more of him, then you must ask someone else, Mr. Gallagher, for you know just as much as I at this point." Mary interrupted Mrs. Bennet, unable to allow her to paint color to her situation.
"Mary!" Mrs. Bennet gasped at her daughter's behavior.
"If I might ask, what is the name of this man?" Mr. Gallagher asked.
"Edward Pendleton." Mary answered.
"Oh, Mr. Pendleton is a most amiable man, Mr. Gallagher!"
"Edward Pendleton?" William looked up from where he conversed now with Margaret. "You cannot be engaged to Edward Pendleton."
"I am not engaged, but he has made a promise that he shall once he returns from London." Mary explained.
"Yes, the man is sure to propose once he returns. He is honorable and will stick to his word." Mrs. Bennet reassured.
"There is no possibility of his proposal," William stated.
"Why, of course there is!" Mrs. Bennet retorted aggressively, standing to put emphasis on her statement. "Why, his words were near close to a proposal as there may be."
"Believe me, Mrs. Bennet, I would know above all else of the affairs of Edward Pendleton."
"And whyever would you be so well-informed of his happenings?" Mrs. Bennet inquired, her hands crossed upon her bosom.
"Because Edward Pendleton is the man whom I work for," the room grew tense as William continued, and Mrs. Bennet's hands dropped as she stood perfectly erect, her expression blank. "I received a letter from him just yesterday of most joyous news. He wrote to tell me to return tomorrow, for I need to ready his house, for he is to return home soon and shall bring with him his betrothed."
"Betrothed?" Mrs. Bennet breathed the word meekly, as if she needed to say such a thing in order to believe it.
"Yes, while in London, my master met a young lady who easily captured his affections." William told them. "He proposed to her and she has accepted. They are to be wed in the winter, for his lady wishes it of him."
Before another word might be said of Edward Pendleton and his sudden engagement now eradicating all hopes of Mary's own marriage with him, Mrs. Bennet let out a small cry and fainted.