AN: Much apologies. I've had this done for awhile, but I have not had access to post this all week. However, now it is up and running again, and I do hope that this is to your liking. Keep on R&R!
17
Mary Bennet now found herself within the depths of a most adverse situation, and her own self-pride could not permit her to welcome her sister after so long of an absence. She had declared an illness for the first day, to which she was informed of her younger sister's welfare by Georgiana Darcy.
Catherine Pendleton had developed into a decent enough lady, and one who had matured with an aristocratic air about her, cultivated during her time at Rosings with Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Though she was a good deal less silly than the youngest Bennet, she occasionally found herself within an uncontrollable fit of giggles and smiles, but she had learned to use it to give her the appearance of a blithe countenance. She was not so presumptuous and dynamic as Lydia, and found it more favorable to demonstrate herself in more subtle mannerisms, with a hand resting upon another's shoulder in a friendly gesture to display the diamonds upon her finger.
Mrs. Bennet could be heard below Mary's room praising her second youngest daughter until dusk. When Kitty was not extolled by her, Mrs. Bennet would change the object of her accolade to Edward Pendleton, and none might have been able to identify him as the man who had her in such a fluster earlier that very day. He appeared wan during the entirety of the afternoon, and his pallor went unnoticed by all except Georgiana Darcy, who knew so very well the customary appearance of her former friend. Occasionally, he was seen to blush a bright crimson when Mrs. Bennet presented him with exaggerated raptures of her congratulations and by supper he felt the necessity to retire for the night in Jane and Elizabeth's old room.
"You might never have thought him to ever be in health, Mary," Georgiana remarked during her tale of the day. "Why, the poor man glistened so with perspiration, I do wonder why his overcoat had not been soaked by nightfall."
"It does provide some relief to know that the man feels some inclination of guilt over his actions, though my family is not one to notice the obvious when it conflicts with their present happiness." Mary leaned against the window and smiled at Georgiana. "So you are satisfied with the day, I hope?"
"Yes, though I do feel considerably apprehensive over Edward's well-being. I do hope his health does not continue to fail him, for at this rate, we shall write him a eulogy by the end of this month." Georgiana hugged her legs. "Do you feel you are ready to face your sister now? She did wish to see you, but was deterred when I spoke that you were very much contagious and that she would not wish to ruin her future plans by catching cold."
"Kitty is far too silly to notice any ill-feelings I might have towards her," Mary admitted. "And I doubt any shall notice but you, Georgiana, and perhaps Edward, if he will even permit himself to allow his eyes to fixate upon me."
"Whyever would he not?"
"I do wonder how a man might possibly confront a woman who he had fooled so dreadfully, and I cannot think I would allow myself to place myself in the acquaintance of another I might have done injustice to."
"I suppose those are your morals?"
"I would wish to speak with him, for there is not much to forgive, but I do desire to inquire about his decisions. I must admit, his actions did cause a diminutive slight to the esteem of myself."
"Do you plan now to tell me of how you invested your day? I cannot imagine being so locked up all afternoon. However did you pass the time?"
"Books can allow for the mind to wander in such a manner that time itself seems insignificant." Mary shrugged. "I do feel as if I had my fair share of time to look at my current situation in retrospect and come to a full understanding."
"Always in need to augment your mind," Georgiana smiled. "You do make me feel as if I shall never do good with the time given me, for I never shall find myself investing my life to such things as that which you do, Mary."
"My life is far from admirable, Georgiana, and I advise you never desire to possess anything of any relative closeness to that which I have, for I would never wish such a thing upon you."
"My, your life be not so dreadful, Mary."
"Nonetheless, I would never wish for you to suffer the occurrences that I have."
"Might you please inform me of that which I must never endure?"
"You must think me daft for saying thus," Mary began. "But 'tis not as simple as one may feel inclined to believe. I am not a jealous sort, nor do I feel envious of others, for I do enjoy my life to a certain degree, and I am proud, to say the least, in all that I have endured and accomplished. This may sound vain to hear, but please think me not some pedantic girl whose own self-aggrandizing led to her demise.
"It is just, as of late, I have grown unbearably tired of the events to which my life has presented me thus far. Life falls far from fairness, but I do feel as if, by doing some sort of good in this world, you deserve a bit of good in return. It seems that be the least that might occur, but it matters not what I do. I need not flirt with men and cause scandal for the family, worrying mama so as Lydia had, or be just as worse, following another for lack of spontaneity in their own persona, as Kitty. I was not so independent and self-assured that I find the necessity to always voice my opinion, despite the objections one knows might arise, as Elizabeth, though it is a trait I do not find particularly unsatisfactory. I was not so sweet to blind myself of the wretched truths of society like Jane. However, life has handled their affairs quite nicely, and it is I who am left here, uncertain of any future at all. It gets dreadfully intolerable, waiting the entirety of your life for it to begin, for a lady is nothing until she is wed, according to past generations and traditions that exist at present time."
"In due time your opportunity will present itself," Georgiana reassured. "You need not worry of such troubles, for you are most certainly not alone. I, too, am very much single and unwed."
"But men look at you, Georgiana, for you are beautiful. This society is one in which the greatest first impression that a person may give is their wealth and how pleasing their appearance may be. Unfortunately, for me, both are qualities in which I do not possess."
"You cannot think that, because people might think you plain, that they may not take the time to become acquainted with you?"
"Eighteen years of life has taught me no more."
"Why, Mary, I did not think you possible of thinking such a thought!" Georgiana exclaimed. "What an unpleasant thought to have within your mind. I cannot think you to think so ill of all."
"Do you not think I wish I did not know such a fact?" Mary spoke softly, her eyes downcast. "It is the most cumbersome thought that I have grown up with, and such a problem I cannot think of probable cause for such a thing occurring, and no amount of time has permitted me to find an answer behind it. Why must I stand alone at balls for eighteen years and go unnoticed still? Why be it that the only opportunity in which a multitude of men display interest in investing time with me during a ball be when I am dressed in finery and appearing as a doll? It is why no man before has displayed interest in a close acquaintance with me thus far and it is why Edward Pendleton married Kitty instead of me. In contrast with the ladies around me, I shall never compare. It matters not what I do, or how well I have endowed myself with accomplishments, for they shall never spare me the moment to allow myself to make known to them that I possess such attributes. I fear I prepare myself for a moment in life that shall never occur, and I was always so impatient that eighteen years of waiting does much to the diminishment of my spirit." Mary wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, and looked up with a wan smile. "I do fear I have prattled for far too long of nothing. I do apologize for speaking so. It is not my usual custom to share such a burden with another. You need not worry of what is kept in the closet. It is supposed to be my own responsibility to watch over, and I do apologize for opening it up to you. You need not deserve…"
"Honestly, Mary, after such a time with you, you cannot suspect that I might not care to hear of what troubles you?" Georgiana reached over and held her hand. "You need not feel ashamed for such feelings. In all of your knowledge and logic, I have never heard more blessed news to my ears from you. You are merely a person, after all, Mary, and you have truly never sounded more human than you did before me just now."
"So this is what it feels like?" Mary grinned. "Perhaps I take all events in life far too literally, it is in my character, after all, to do thus. At least I shall have the comfort of knowing that this is an affair in which I am not the sole victim, for you are as much prey to this wait as am I."
"At least you are aware of such a thing now." Georgiana remarked and settled beneath the sheets. "So much talk, and it be already late when I returned to this room."
"I was always a dilatory one in regards to sleep," Mary stood and went to grab a shawl. "I think I shall indulge myself in the company of candlelight and literature for a bit. It provides much relief to the mind and body before I lay to bed."
"Whatever may work for you, Mary…" Georgiana's voice was already fading. "I…think… I shall… stay…here…"
18
Edward Pendleton had been restful since his arrival into the Bennet household, where they all welcomed him with such tenderness and sincerity, one might never have discerned that he had done so much injury to them. Though much relief was provided him at the news he shall not see Mary Bennet that afternoon, for she was within her room for the day with a sudden ailment, he soon desired for her presence, for he was quite certain he would prefer her cold glare besides Mrs. Bennet's warm appraisal.
Despite his own independence, caused by the death of his parents at such an early age, he had grown increasingly influenced by Lady Catherine De Bourgh, who grew especially close to his family after she had severed most ties with her nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy, upon his marriage to Elizabeth Bennet. Such a severance to her connections with her nephew would be in vain, as she grew to welcome him back within her family, and even visited Pemberley for a weekend, in which she grew very much attached to one of the Bennet girls, who shared the same name as herself. She had a pleasant face about her, and she was patient to her ranting, and when Lady Catherine grew tired of such talk, the Bennet girl would always know what to say to provide her some slight comfort. It was a trait in which Catherine Bennet had developed during her lifetime aside Lydia, for Lydia was one who was either overly stimulated with excitement or unbearably cross, to which it was up to Catherine to pacify her. And it was a quality that Lady Catherine would soon value enough to offer the girl the opportunity to live with her, if she would only provide Lady Catherine the company she required during the day.
Catherine Bennet had obliged most reluctantly, and she adjusted quite rapidly, and took to the new lifestyle with much enthusiasm. She had still felt a great deal of slight in her younger sister being wed before she, but such a new lifestyle of lavishness was an opportunity in which Catherine knew Lydia shall never possess, and she took much comfort in such a thought, for she had been very much jealous of her sister. A lifetime in the shadow of another was replaced in a new life in the shadow of an even greater person, but Catherine Bennet was one of the few who took delight in it. She did not mind so that she sat unspoken for when guests called for Lady Catherine, for she was used to listening to others talk over herself all her life, and most guests found her just as delightful, thinking her to be a sweet girl with a very timid temper.
Edward Pendleton's intrigue for Mary Bennet was one in which it was not easily eradicated in her absence from his life, but the determination of Lady Catherine persevered over his newly developed attachment for this new acquaintance in his life. He wished very much to please her, and did not think it possible to go against her own desires as her nephew had done in his affairs with love, and in that sense he was able to display his weakness in pleasing those around him.
He soon conformed his previous affections prior to his visit to Rosings to now encompass a relationship with Catherine Bennet, and upon his first meeting with her, the transition from one sister to another was made particularly facile. Catherine Bennet's welcoming smile provided a security and safety for his future that Mary Bennet had failed to provide, in all her impulsiveness, and he grew especially attached to her soft features and convivial grin. She did not accentuate the pace of his heart to the extent in which Mary had upon her fraternizing with him, but it mattered not when he might wake up to the same bright eyes and dimpled smile. Her contribution to his esteem for himself only further contributed to his decision to abide by Lady Catherine's desire for their relations, for this Bennet knew well how to enlarge the egos and self-assurance of those in her direct contact.
His new wife had fallen asleep without another thought, and he had sat awake until he heard a figure walking about in the halls. Sensibility became absent in his decision to leave his room and follow the person down the staircase into the small parlor. He saw already a dim illumination through the cracks at the bottom of the closed door, and did not hesitate in the slightest degree before his abrupt entrance.
Mary Bennet had draped herself sideways across an armchair, with her back against one arm and her legs dangling off of the other. The small candle flickered atop a table beside the chair, and did not provide substantial lighting for the book that rested upon her lap.
"I knew that you would come to face me eventually, Mr. Pendleton, however I did not think that you should be one to obey inappropriate inclinations to speak with me in the darkness of the night, as if there is anything that need be hidden." Mary remarked, turning her head to face him.
"Please, Mary, you may call me Edward."
"I know I may, but I choose not to." Mary replied rudely. "I much rather prefer the callousness of formality over such an endearing gesture as calling another by their first name, for our relation is most impersonal and does not call for the usage of casualty."
"So now I might receive chastisement for my actions?" Edward questioned. "You do not think I desire for atonement for what I have done to you?"
"And what be the injuries that you have done to me?"
"You cannot think it necessary that I must inform you of my misgivings towards you."
"I find it most impertinent."
A period of silence passed now, in which Mary stared at him with a calm collectiveness that appeared so very frightening to Edward, whose eyes shifted to every feature of hers in nervousness. He looked now at a different person, whose hair was flat and the features he found particularly satisfying before were nonexistent or suddenly appeared awkward upon her face. The transfiguration of Mary Bennet since last Edward Pendleton had seen her was extraordinary. She possessed still the reserved composure and aplomb that the men at the ball at Pemberley had noted, and Edward Pendleton found himself gazing at her with the same hesitancy and apprehension as those men who had chose to keep a distance from her.
"My statements before my departure for London were most inappropriate and unnecessary, and I do apologize for placing the burden of waiting upon you. I had provided you with a false hope that I did not intentionally instill, for I did have pure thoughts and much assurance that I would carry out my plans that I spoke of to you."
"I do wonder how a man who spoke with such assurance could so easily sway from previous claims that had been spoken of so passionately less than a fortnight ago."
"You must not think ill of me, Mary," Edward began, his face full of defeat. "But as I told you, my connections in London did possess other plans for my future. A future with another woman. Would it be within my ranking to disobey the orders of those whose respect and guidance I revere? I owe them much."
"Of course, for we are all merely slaves to complaisance, after all." Mary remarked. "Of what might life provide in regards to happiness if our actions were not first approved by all?"
"I try to be fair to you, Mary. Please provide me with the same respect, if you may."
"And I suppose now I must be overpowered to comply to your wish, for I have not the choice but to please you? Be that the case?"
"Mary, you are being most distasteful towards me."
"Were we to compromise all that we wish for and all that we are merely for the sake of our desire to not upset all those around you, we shall compromise our lives to the grave. Of what is left of a person after they have denied themselves of all that they initially want, if only so that all might approve of their actions?"
"You might not think my decision to be of substantial reason, but it was the logic which governed me."
"So I suppose if I did not eat supper until every person in all of Hertfordshire approved, it would be the most logical response to starve myself? For not every single person within your acquaintance will approve of every action that you take. You shall die hungry for more in life."
"Perhaps you should become a preacher's wife, Mary, for you do take great enjoyment in chastising those in your acquaintance with your own morals and beliefs."
"Forgive me for having opinions to voice, for I did not realize such a quality was disapproved of in society. Perhaps I should spend a greater quantity of time making myself up to par with such aspects."
"Such cynicism is most unsatisfactory…"
"Be that your own thoughts or that which your beloved Lady Catherine wishes for you to adapt as your own?"
"I know not what to speak of with you, Mary, for it does appear as if all that I might say shall be tossed back at my feet."
"I wish to know of what you think, Edward, not…"
"Thank the Lord you did not say Mr. Pendleton."
"I allowed that to slip, it shall not happen again, but I wish to know of your own beliefs in the matter, and not the logic with which those instilled upon you during your visit to London."
"And what of my opinions did you wish to be aware of?"
"Whatever compelled you to marry my sister?"
"Catherine had presented herself in such a fashionable manner that it did appear to be a wise decision, especially at the urgence of Lady Catherine, who had many a high regard towards her. The decision seemed fairly simple and easy, and it was not as if Catherine were intolerable or insufferable. She provided herself as a safe companion to which I might spend the entirety of my life with."
"Be that all of your reasons?" Mary questioned. "That the decision to be with her would be easier than that which would be if you had married me?"
"Whatever do you mean to imply in that statement, Mary?"
"You did not choose her because she was beautiful and I am not?"
"No! No, never might I instill such an injustice upon you! The thoughts of beauty never passed through my mind during my acquaintance with Catherine Bennet."
"When you lie, your nostrils flare in quite an outrageous fashion."
"What an acute observation," Edward's face flashed hot at her remark.
"You owe me nothing, and I cannot understand why you choose to refrain from speaking the truth for fear it might injure me, after all the injury you have done thus far."
"Your sister is beautiful, Mary." Edward moved to a settee, where he rested his elbows upon his knees and dug his fingers into his hair. "I must be candid now, for if I evade such things, we are apt to remain here for the remainder of the night, and I do not think it to be of the greatest appropriateness, were all to enter and see you and me within this room alone and in our night garments. I was not so willing to abide by Lady Catherine's demands upon my visit to her. I very much wished to allow my visit to pass in the most rapid manner, so as I might return to you and renew my sentiments. However, it was most difficult to deny a relation with Catherine when I first saw her. She looked divine in all of her pink lace and ribbons, and I fell in love with her smile before our departure from our first meeting. I do very much enjoy to speak of my stories of the past, and she appeared to receive the same enjoyment in listening to it. She was a master in conversation, and knew of what was in need to be said after all that I told. I suppose she must, if she resides with Lady Catherine, for many know not what is needed to be said to please her, and she must have done superbly if she was so agreeable to Lady Catherine that she would offer her to live with her for her own enjoyment in her company. She was not disagreeable at all, and I do admit that I did enjoy her company immensely, just as Lady Catherine had."
"So she won you over with her pretty smiles and her ability to say what you wished to hear?" Mary questioned. "You must be aware that she knows this only because she had spent the longevity of her life with a sister in which she was required to say all that might be needed to as to provide her sister with proper nutrition of her vanity each passing day?"
"Why do you feel the need to speak ill of your sister?"
"I do not speak ill. I speak the truth. To speak ill would be to say that in all of my acquaintance, I have never met more of a coward of a man than that which stands before me. Who can so easily alter his own wants and desires because he is reigned by a complaisance that far exceeds all that I have ever met in my life."
"Is that all that needs to be said, Mary?" Edward asked. "Have you had your fill of insulting me?"
"I understand now. How simple it may be to change your opinions, when faced with a girl with a pretty smile and amiable façade of mildness."
"You do not think ill of me, do you, Mary?" Edward looked up now, his eyes gleaming with a hope that reminded Mary of his speech at Pemberley. "I could not bear to think that I have lost you acquaintance, for it is one that I hold with much esteem."
"I suppose I cannot place blame upon you for making a decision that I am most certain every man might have made," Mary sighed. "'Tis the way of the world, after all, and who am I to question such occurrences of nature that are so very evident in everyday life?"
"You will join us at breakfast then, tomorrow?"
"I suppose I might be able to find a rapid recovery by dawn."
"We are leaving tomorrow, and I would wish that you see your sister, if you can, for she does care for you greatly, of that I am sure."
"I am sure Kitty will wish to share her ring with me, and all the fineries which await her in the future." Mary responded. "But I cannot blame her, for every woman upon finding themselves within wedlock finds it a necessity to share all of their providence to those who they know."
"Catherine is not like that, I assure you most confidently."
"I have known Kitty since the day she entered this world, Edward Pendleton, and I am sure that I am well aware of the habits and ways in which she governs her life."
"Even now, I grow unaccustomed to the way in which you are willing to challenge those around you." Edward smiled. "You shall make a man very entertaining company someday, Mary. He shall be very happy to be in your acquaintance."
"Perhaps I shall display myself as a puppy now, for I might be the fun sort of creature who entertains the world with my barking?" Mary stood up and headed towards the door.
"I do pity the man who plans to govern you, Mary, for I do doubt he shall reap much success."
"I dare say he shall reap nothing at all."