AN: Thank you for the reviews. It is all greatly appreciated. I am soon coming to the closure of Volume 1, which I hope is all to your liking. With the new volume coming in the next few updates, there will be new characters, all of whom I hope you will find delightful. Don't forget to review. It always keeps me typing away with much haste when I have others who wish for me to continue this story as much as I.
15
Mrs. Bennet's disposition remained fairly delicate for the next few days as William Cadaver departed further into the countryside. It was the utmost priority for Mrs. Bennet to ponder over the situation in vexation, for she was back at the beginning of her task at hand, and it was quite bothersome to regress. She had retired in her room, and life at home for Mary Bennet was unbearably quiet, without even Mrs. Bennet's chatter of nonsense to fill the empty halls.
During this period of silence and solitude, Mary had retreated to the ivory keys that had captivated her childhood until present time. She began each day with scales and progressed into simple minuets and often indulged herself in Mozart and Beethoven to pass her time. Her lack of practice and a tutor had denied her the necessary attributes to perfect the masterpieces of her most beloved composers, but she took especial delight in the completion of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, which she felt captured well the melancholy of her life. Above her, Mrs. Bennet could be heard during the interludes of soft notes, and when the crescendo faded into a low hum, a dreadful moan would pass through the walls and cause Mary to be reminded as well of Edward Pendleton's empty promise.
Of course it would be silly of myself to suspect Edward Pendleton to uphold such a bold statement, and it would be terribly wrong and selfish of myself to desire injury upon him. A man cannot be blamed for a woman's inability to woo him, and I suppose that his actions must certainly have been anticipated, at least in some subconscious manner. Mama will now proceed with her usual tactics in placing me within matrimony by the winter holiday, and I shall be tormented with following her into town, dressed like a poppy and attempting to entertain available men who are twice my senior, with daughters older than I. Be it wrong of myself to expect more from life than that which mama wishes to offer me?
Within the confines of her room, Mary Bennet heard the soft pattering of hooves upon the path that led to the Bennet household. She closed the leather-bound journal and placed it beneath her sheets, then advanced towards the open window, where a large carriage rested outside the gate. Mr. Bennet was seen exiting from the house, standing before the entrance of the gate and conversing withthe driver. He gave a polite nod and took a step back so as to allow the driver to open the door and assist the passenger from the carriage.
A large white straw hat emerged, where many yellow flowers were pinned upon the ribbon, and golden locks followed, swaying with the slight breeze. Georgiana Darcy appeared as a gift from above, in her yellow dress, with a ribbon from her hat tied in a bow beneath her chin. Her large eyes locked upon Mary, and she held up a hand in a wave, her voice carrying across the grounds.
"Why, Mary, I have grown so lonely without you, I felt it not possible to last another day without you, so I departed to see you again!"
Georgiana situated herself upon Kitty's old bed that she had shared with Lydia, and Mary sat upon her own, which was the small window that allowed for half of her body to drape off of the ends. Though since her sisters' departure, Mary had allowed herself to spend her nights within their larger bed, she was most willing to sacrifice for this minute space for the likes of Georgiana Darcy.
Amongst the plain room of simple furniture and dull colors of brown and gray, Georgiana looked very much out of place, but she seemed not to notice, gazing about at her environment with a bright smile and much interest. She felt rather comfortable, her back resting against a lace-covered pillow, and she took off her hat to allow more curls to fall and placed the large mass of straw and ribbons and flowers upon the bedpost.
"Do tell me you have been well, Mary." Georgiana began. "I could not stand to know that you have been anything less, for I do long for your happiness."
"Life does offer substantial satisfaction," Mary answered. "Although I do think that mama shall drive me to my own demise if I do not find myself within the bondage of matrimony in due time."
"Does she not realize that there is much to do with one's life before we are wed?"
"We do not all possess the luxuries to allow ourselves such opportunities," Mary replied. "I am not one with much advantages to which I may decline any offer of marriage."
"Do tell me you shall not marry the first man who might propose to you."
"Unless it seems like a sensible match, I shall be an old maid."
"You shall always have a place with me, Mary." Georgiana promised. "I do rather enjoy your company, and you are the only person who be willing now to listen to me, for my brother is married and your other sisters do not care so for the tribulations of a girl like me."
"I fear that is all that I might have to invest my time."
"Be it that bad, Mary?" Georgiana giggled. "Honestly, I did not think myself so dull to incite you to shudder at such a thought as conversing with me for a lifetime."
"I do hope I am substantial company for another out in the world," Mary sighed and commenced to stare out of the window.
"What thoughts go through your mind, Mary Bennet?" Georgiana inquired. "Thoughts of the future? Of vast lands in which you might exploreand write of? I suppose that might be what you so long for. You do wish for an adventure, I must guess, for you have read of such tales that you must be thirsty for your own, and life thus far must make you very much parched of such trifles. Be it that we ladies have not the advantage to pursue such a life, and must partake only in accommodating our lives with that which will make us desirable to the men who might wish to wed us? Life does seem dreadfully unfair, do you not think so, Mary? I do fear that we shall have only marriage to anticipate in life."
"It does appear like such a waste of a life," Mary frowned. "Might there be more to it than merely that?"
"How does your family fair, Mary? Are they well?"
"Papa shall always find enjoyment in his leisure, now that the house is near to empty. Mama shall never find leisure, for she shall always have me to worry her nerves over."
"I do think I have heard Elizabeth mention such a trait before," Georgiana laughed. "Your mother does seem very delightful."
"Perhaps just the idea of such a mother," Mary remarked. "To actually possess such a person within your life is far from delightful, and such ideas do sound much more agreeable to one's taste than the actual reality of the idea."
"I shall have to take your word."
Mrs. Bennet had heard a great deal of the Darcy family, and she had come into the acquaintance of Mr. Darcy very rarely, for providence had not allowed her to visit Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy as often as she would have desired, but the arrival of Georgiana appealed to her greatly. When a servant entered her room with tea and some soup to assist her weakening body and spirit, the servant also brought news of the new visitor, and Mrs. Bennet found a rapid recovery as she jumped up abruptly and rushed into Mary's room, still within her night robes.
"Ms. Darcy, how greet it is to meet you at last!" Mrs. Bennet clasped the girl's hands and shook them before stepping into the center of the room. "I do hope you enjoy your stay, for we shall do our very best to make our home accommodating to your needs. How is Pemberley?"
"No different than the usual," Georgiana replied. "I do think that my brother and Elizabeth shall enjoy my absence, for they do find much pleasure in being alone. They are still very much in love, and Elizabeth has adjusted quite well to her new home. One might never have guessed she had resided elsewhere."
"It does make my dear heart very happy to hear such things of my Lizzie," Mrs. Bennet chortled. "Why, I might not have thought it possible for my daughters to find such matches! I have been fortunate that my children all find themselves with many a great acquaintance, as I am sure you are aware of the necessity of good relations with others, for one is only as good as those that they surround themselves with."
"There are many a good person who I am proud to say are in my acquaintance," Georgiana agreed. "You are very lucky, to have raised such amiable daughters. Mary is a most delightful companion."
"I am most confident that my Mary shall find an agreeable husband soon enough," Mrs. Bennet commented. "I dare say my nerves shall rest at last, though they have not faired so well since that scoundrel of a man. Oh, the audacity of such a man, to leave my poor Mary to wait like this! And for poor mama to sit at home, helpless to do a thing about this selfish man who has injured my Mary so!"
"You did not tell me that there was a man in your life, Mary." Georgiana turned towards Mary with a question.
"There is no man in my life, Georgiana, you need not worry yourself of such things."
"Oh, how can you tease her so, Mary!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. "Why, there was a man in her life less than a sennight ago. But what an odious man! It shall be the greatest fortune to be disposed of him for life. He has treated her so dreadfully. And now Mary is left alone as a woman whose own engagement was ignored by a man to be married to another!"
"I was never engaged, mama."
"It was not formally announced, but it was as good as sealed, and now you are ruined."
"Ruined?"
"Whyever might a man desire for you now, when another man could so easily be rid of you for another woman? Why, a man shall never find you desirable again."
"Because I possessed such a surplus of men before who wished to call me their own.'
"Oh, Mary, this is most dreadful news and you shall not treat it with such sarcasm."
"I am truly sorry for your sudden disposition, Mary." Georgiana chimed in. "The man does not sound at all like a gentleman, for a man is only as good as his word."
"Actions do speak louder than words, Georgiana, and the truth is that they mean far more than any amount of eloquent reassurance possibly can."
"I do wish to hunt down this man myself and give him a fine talking to."
"What an odious man!" Mrs. Bennet declared. "I cannot bear to watch what shall prevail my Mary, if anything at all does! Oh, what a sad day for poor mama, to see her only daughter left ruined before my eyes. I cannot bear it!"
"Mama, there is nothing to worry of, for I shall be just as good as ever." Mary reassured. "Such a hindrance to your plan is surely not going to lead you astray. You are a very determined, mama, if I do say so myself."
"Of course, it 'tis all a mother might be for her daughters," Mrs. Bennet dropped upon the chair where Mary occasionally wrote. "Oh, I do think I shall faint with worry. The task is still not done! I do fear I shall die for neglecting my poor nerves. There is much for a mother to worry of for her children, and I feel so weak as of late."
"Perhaps you shall retire to your room, again?" Mary suggested.
"Do stay strong, my dear Mary." Mrs. Bennet placed a hand to her forehead in a dramatic air. "You shall need to be strong for you to find a man. And we shall find one yet! I do hope for many good things for you, my dear."
"Try not to think of Edward Pendleton," Mary called as Mrs. Bennet departed from her room.
"Oh, the insolence of that man!" Mrs. Bennet was heard groaning as she entered her bed chambers.
"I do understand now how the idea might appear better than present reality," Georgiana giggled briefly before becoming serious. "Mary, did you mention Edward Pendleton?"
"Yes, I did."
"Was he that man who…"
"Yes, that was Edward."
"But… Mary, you did not make mention of him…"
"Please forgive me for not telling you, it was a most awkward situation to be in."
"Awkward? But Mary, you told me not a word of him!"
"He is your dear friend. I felt silly sharing such an account with you, when I was still so uncertain of what he had meant in the gesture."
"Whatever passed between the two of you, Mary?"
"After the ball, I had escaped outdoors for a bit." Mary explained. "Edward had appeared, and I was quite cross with him from the previous night, for he had been a most dreadful companion and I did not desire to see of him so soon after. It was there that he proclaimed of his fascination with me, and how I intrigued him so. I was so awestruck at his statements that my good sense left me during this interlude, in which he proceeded to speak that he might fall in love with me, and that he had plans for an engagement with me in due time. He then said he could not be engaged with me then, for he must first attend to affairs in London, but that he would call upon me when he first received an opportunity to continue with wherever it may be that we left off. That was all that passed."
"He spoke to you of all that?" Georgiana's eyes went wide. "Why, I never thought it of Edward to…"
"Georgiana?" Mary noted the girl's complexion fading. "You are alright, I hope?"
"Oh Mary, how he abused you so!" Georgiana could not conceal the tears that silently began to fall. "Why, he lied to you, and then made you feel the necessity to wait for him… and he spoke such tender sentiments to you… those sweet little nothings that any lady might be prone to fall for… and so reassuring… and he promised you… and he might fall in love with you…"
"Georgiana?" Mary stood and approached the babbling Georgiana. "You did not have feelings for Edward, did you?"
"Mary!" Georgiana's arms wrapped around her as she wept. "For so long I had thought it might have been me! When I… when I heard the news of his engagement… how it hurt me so! I never, never might I have thought you were prey also to his lies and deceit!"
"You, also? Whatever did he do to you?"
"Nothing, absolutely nothing!" Georgiana sobbed. "It was not that he spoke to me so formally of his affections as he had with you. No, it was most probable that it was my silly girlish fancies possessing my sensibility, for he never once spoke so tender to me. But I always thought! It seemed so perfect that he should love me, but of course such dreams are apt to fall short. I never did wish for such an injury to pass to you as well, Mary! At least we may say we share the same pain…"
"Yes," Mary looked out the window now, for Edward Pendleton's actions did nothing to her but injure her pride to a slight effect. "I dare say he has done much injury."
16
Mary Bennet's acquaintance with Georgiana Darcy was not one of great longevity, nor was it one of much intimacy. However, such qualities posed no hindrance to their closeness, and it was the unification from a man who had allowed them to possess false hopes of the future that their friendship suddenly augmented to a great extent.
The puerile airs of Georgiana had dissipated with the news of Edward Pendleton's engagement, and she became very much the serious person, with a solemn face that appeared more suitable for a widow than a young girl with very much a bright future ahead. Mary began to note the looks of men in town in regards to her friend, but Georgiana took no note, her eyes downcast and looking up only to speak with Mary.
"Do I appear like this to others?" Mary wondered to herself one afternoon when she read against a tree and Georgiana stood, painting the Bennet household.
"I do find the country very serene," Georgiana remarked, her hand gracefully guiding the brush across the canvas. "Why, I have never felt more at peace with myself. Your home is so very pleasant, Mary, I cannot imagine wishing to live elsewhere. I suppose it is a great deal more silent than it should be, but that can be accounted for because your mother has taken ill, and your father was never one of great loquaciousness. It does allow a lady much time to devote in circumspect of life, and I can now understand how you have grown so insightful as to so many aspects of this world, for you must have an awfully vast amount of time in which to consider all that surround you. I do think that I would not mind at all to live with your family, for, though it certainly is not as grandiose as my own home, it is most beneficial to the mind and spirit."
"Poverty is an attribute of life very few find praiseworthy."
"I suppose it be because people are so reluctant to be at leisure and not work at all that they come to scorn that which provides you with the necessity to use your hands. People want a bountiful harvest but they are most unwilling to do the reaping that shall provide you with thus."
"Of what does Georgiana Darcy know of work?" Mary inquired, looking up from her book.
"I dare say I know no more than nothing of the matter," Georgiana shrugged. "But you must not think me ignorant of the entirety of such things, for there are many a thing that people do not experience but know of."
"I must acquiesce to that," Mary nodded.
"Do you ever desire for such things to last for an eternity?" Georgiana questioned. "I do long for such moments as this to never end."
"The importance of such events would no longer exist if you had the privilege of experiencing them daily."
"I suppose so," Georgiana sighed.
"How long do you plan to stay?"
"Here? As long as you feel I am not a nuisance."
"Will your brother not miss you?"
"My brother is a married man. He has other matters of more importance to think of than allow the thought of me to impede."
"He does care for you greatly."
"I would never doubt it, but he is a most devoted husband and was always a man of much business. He is often deferred from Pemberley for great periods of time, and when he does return, his top priority is of investing his visit with his wife. But one cannot blame a husband for such devotion. It is what I would wish of my own husband."
"You do not give up hope for another man?"
"Edward Pendleton never loved me, Mary." Georgiana responded. "And if I allow myself to be candid to myself, I most probably did not feel much attachment to him either. For so long since I have met him, the idea of him loving me and wishing to marry me had just appeared so ideal. But it is just an idea, 'tis all that it may be. You were the one who told me reality falls short of ideals."
"I do think that is what I said."
"Mary! Georgiana!" Mrs. Bennet was seen from a distance gathering up her skirts and running over, her arms in the air, one hand holding a letter. "I have the most wonderful news!"
"What gossip might mama find we are in need of hearing?" Mary asked Georgiana, who began to giggle.
"Oh, it is most great news!" Mrs. Bennet grinned madly. "I might never have asked for more for a daughter!"
"I am glad to see your illness has very rapidly departed," Mary noted.
"I am in no such mood for your remarks, Mary, when such celebration is in need for you dear sister."
"What?"
"Oh, my Kitty, my dearest daughter, Kitty!" Mrs. Bennet chortled. "I always knew her connections with that De Bourgh woman should be of most benefit to her!"
"What has become of Kitty, mama?"
"She is engaged, Mary!" Mrs. Bennet could barely allow herself room to breath between her words. "My Kitty, my dearest Kitty, engaged! She is one her way home from her wedding this very day! And she shall be bringing her husband with her, for they depart for their home. Oh, most happy news! Such a happy day for a mother to see her daughter so well married!"
"Kitty… married?"
"Four daughters wed, and one left! It is all that I might ask for in life!" Mrs. Bennet looked at the crumbled letter as if it were a check of immense fortune. "This is the most I might ask for, with another daughter… married! Do you think it not a most joyous day?"
"Of course, there was never a doubt that some man might fall for her winks and smiles." Mary commented.
"I cannot express how truly happy I am for all my daughters! Such good providence for us all! And there is no doubt that she deserves it. My Kitty has always been so sweet and patient. She shall make any man a most beloved wife! It does not matter that her husband was scorned only moments ago, for he cannot be blamed for falling in love with her. She is a most beautiful girl, and so very amiable, any man shall be prone to develop affections for her."
"Mama, are you meaning to tell me that Kitty is married to…"
"Oh, Mary, do put aside such ill feelings, for you cannot blame the man for falling for your sister." Mrs. Bennet placed a hand upon her racing chest. "I do feel I shall die of happiness for her! Two estates and a fortune of ten thousand, at the least, I am sure! Why, I feel I love the man already for doing such good to my dear Kitty!"
"Mama… how can you forget so easily that Edward Pendleton spoke with false pretenses in mind…"
"Hush, Mary! It is not the time to open old wounds, when there is much to praise in this news! Another of your sisters married, and matched so well! I am most certain of a pleasant life ahead of her."
"Of course," Mary closed her book and stood. "It would only be sensible that the man choose Kitty over me."
"I am most glad that you have not such harsh feelings towards him and your sister, Mary." Mrs. Bennet smiled. "Can you imagine? All of your four sisters married! I must tell the servants to ready a nice plate for them, and cook a feast for them! Oh, happy days! To see my daughters so nicely situated in life!"