AN: I realize now that in my last update, I had William mention a Patricia at one point of Chapter 5. Not sure exactly what went through my mind, perhaps the lack of sleep is paying its toll on me, but I had meant Margaret. Much apologies for this. Just thought I should clarify this.
7
Her arrival at home did not prove to be so void of excitement and companionship, for the following day, Mary received a call from the servants that a guest had arrived on her behalf. Assembling herself, Mary went below to greet the visitor who rested in the parlor. Upon entering, her guest looked up, and Mary Bennet was greeted with the smiling face of Margaret Gallagher, who sat perfectly erect, her hands folded upon her lap.
"My, Mary, you need not appear so surprised by my presence!" Margaret laughed in a manner that might have indicated her relationship with Mary Bennet was one that was extremely close. "Why, my future husband is your dearest friend, I have heard. Can we not get along?"
"Whatever brings you here?" Mary inquired, choosing not to sit beside Margaret and choosing a chair at a small table. "I am not so accustomed to your visits, Margaret, and I know not what intentions you possess in coming here."
"Oh, I am not so vindictive as you might think me to be," Margaret leaned forward to be closer to Mary. "I do think we might be friends, Mary, and I would very much like to be. I come so we might talk, in hopes to rejuvenate our friendship."
"Rejuvenate?" Mary arched an eyebrow. "Margaret, I mean no injury to you when I say this, but we never had a friendship to begin with. In actuality, we never even had a relationship or acquaintance at all."
"Oh, but we shall, in due time!" Margaret piped. "Now, William tells me that his brother escorted you home before he departed. I did catch a glimpse of the man, Mary, and my, he is most certainly a man of an appealing countenance! Do you not think so?"
"I am not one to develop so much enthusiasm for a person, merely by a desirable outward appearance," Mary answered dryly.
"Oh, do not be a bore now!" Margaret teased. "What is your opinion of the man? Is he amiable?"
"He is not presumptuous as many men I have encountered," Mary replied. "And he is quite the animated character, though he does prove to be troublesome at times, but it does not take one of vast intellect to construe that he is a man with good intentions. Yes, Jonathan is a good enough person, despite his silliness and capricious ways."
"My, and you call him Jonathan!" Margaret giggled. "How utterly perfect for you, Mary! Do you think you might be happy married to him?"
"Married?" Mary exclaimed. "Such a thought has never once materialized into my head! Why, Jonathan would not suit me at all. He is far too ridiculous. However could you ask such a ridiculous question?"
"It is not so ridiculous as one might initially think," Margaret disagreed. "At such times as these, Mary, us ladies must always consider the eligible men we find within our acquaintance and ask of ourselves if they are compatible, for any man with whom we have relations with who is not yet wed is a potential husband."
"I do not scrutinize over those men in my acquaintance as if I seek for the best bargain in town," Mary could not hide her disgust at such a thought. "What a horrid thing to do, to look at a person as the good they might provide you in the near future."
"I do fear you think so very little of me," Margaret frowned. "I am not so terrible as you may think, Mary, I do reassure you. Why, I am just a girl who wishes to live and have her share of fun before I must be wed. I am not so selfish to forget of the person and look at them only as some material good that I might acquire. Is it so wrong to desire that I do all that I might possibly can during this life, even if they might be so frivolous and juvenile at times?"
"No, I suppose not." Mary now found herself frowning at herself. "I do apologize, Margaret. I have been harboring such ill feelings as of late, I forget of my manners. I understand completely what you speak of, for in my absence from Hertfordshire, I, too, indulged myself in such blithe merriment."
"You?" Margaret chortled loudly. "My, I am sorry Mary, but I cannot conjure up within my head the image of you in such a display…"
"It is alright," Mary blushed. "I suppose that shall be how all might think of me, considering I was not one to ever let down my hair."
"But I see that you do so now," Margaret ceased with her laughter and smiled. "You know, now that I allow myself this moment to look you over, Mary, it does appear as if you have undergone a change. Yes… I never before noticed your lovely hair, and you have a most beautiful smile, which now I may see, for I do not recall ever seeing a grin from you before. And your eyes do hold a certain something within them that I cannot determine for sure, but it does remind me so of your sister Elizabeth's eyes. Yes, I dare say you have Elizabeth's eyes."
"Elizabeth's eyes? So they are not my own, but my sister's?"
"Oh, I do not say that, but they are so very similar."
"Can they not be my own?"
"Well, of course they are your own eyes! They do not reside elsewhere."
"Of course," Mary did not pursue that segment of the conversation any further. "How is William? Is he adjusting well to his new circumstances?"
"My father takes him to the fields to work today," Margaret explained. "He has had an early start, and shall not be done until it is dark. It is arduous labor, but 'tis the life of a farmer, after all. I am sure he shall adjust. He is a most determined man, I believe. It does make me wonder how lucky I truly am, to stumble across such a person within my life, and then be all the more fortunate to spend the entirety of it with him. I never thought I should be handed such luck!"
"It does appear as if you both are fortunate," Mary was just as shocked at her compliment as Margaret. "I thought, perhaps, this might be some childish fancy, but you have taught me otherwise. I am most certain that you both shall receive eternal happiness with your union."
"And you thought we might not be friends?" Margaret jested. "You have grown more vivacious, and I more serious, it seems. Perhaps we have found a satisfactory medium between the two of us?"
"It does appear as if that be the case in our circumstances," Mary agreed. "And it does provide us much good essentially, since William is a dear friend of mine, and so we shall be in one another's acquaintance throughout our lives."
"And 'tis so wonderful to just all get along, I think." Margaret remarked. "You shall be like the elder sister I never did have, you know. It does get quite dreadfully lonely without siblings, but I am sure you might not understand how utterly lonely it 'tis, with four other sisters and both your parents there throughout your life…"
"Of course I am not inept from feeling the depths of solitude ," Mary responded. "I was never one to be like my sisters. I do feel that being alone amongst a mass of people is the worst sort of isolation that one can possibly feel."
"Certainly that has not been your life, Mary?"
"You need not worry over me," Mary told her. "My life has changed so much since my sisters have departed for married life. I do not think I am the same person, nor are the circumstances that I had grown so accustomed to for eighteen years."
"Well, whatever these circumstances may be now," Margaret began. "I do hope that it all shall work in your favor and that you find happiness, Mary Bennet."
"It is what I hope for as well, of course."
"And I know I do speak for William and myself when I say that you do deserve such merriment in your life. You are so unlike all others that I have ever met."
"I have heard that often enough these days to believe you."
8
Mary Bennet's morning was spent with Margaret Gallagher who departed at lunch to visit her future husband on his first day of work on the farm. Despite Mrs. Bennet's inquiries again on her daughter's affairs, Mary did not respond and secluded herself within her room, writing in her journal and wondering desperately if ever she would depart from such a place as that which she resided.
It was upon the fourth time that Mrs. Bennet had come knocking upon her daughter's door that a servant sent a leter from the Gallagher household that invited Mary to dine with them that evening. They required her to come around six, and Mrs. Bennet was able to escape into Mary's room when she went to retrieve the invitation, thus forcing Mary to allow the servants to ready her for the evening.
Her hair was piled atop her head in massive curls, much like Elizabeth Bennet's hair upon the Netherfield Ball, and Mrs. Bennet had pressed for her to restrict herself within a corset and wear an under-dress beneath a pink gown of Lydia's that she had left at home for her "poor sisters who might need it" more than she. By the time that the servants returned with powders to press against her face, Mary had locked her room, refusing that anything else might be done in an attempt to augment her appearance.
"Oh, Mary, what a sight you are!" Margaret clapped her hands and she rushed down the stairs to greet her. "I do think that you appear so very angelic and regal in such a gown. I never knew you to be one to wear pink. You appear so well suited for dark colors. I could picture you in a lovely gown of purple or burgundy and being the belle of the ball!"
"No balls for me tonight, I suppose." And Mary smiled at the thought. "Or, perhaps, for any time in the very near future."
"Oh, you are so very humorous," Margaret remarked, giggling. "We are all set to dine already. It is a very early evening for us all, but I thought that John should like to see you before he departed for London in the morning."
"Jonathan?" Mary stopped as she entered the dining room where she saw Jonathan sitting beside William, both who smiled the same mischievous grin. Mary turned to Margaret, who merely shrugged and gave her the same flash of teeth. "I did not know you were still in Hertfordshire."
"Yes, I thought I should make sure my brother adjusted well enough," Jonathan patted his brother's back. "How are you fairing, dear brother of mine?"
"I am well enough," Mary noted William's wanly countenance and how he was slumped over in his chair. "It has been a long day."
"For all of us," Margaret piped in. "And does Mary not look as if she has undergone a long day?"
"Oh, I most certainly can note a change in her," Jonathan remarked. "This is Mary Bennet, I think…"
"Jonathan!" Mary exclaimed. "I am not different that I was the previous day."
"I merely jest," Jonathan replied.
Supper occurred quite rapidly, amidst all of the conversation. It did appear awkward to Mary when she realized she dined with Mr. Gallagher and Margaret as if they were family and, indeed, they might possibly well had been, had Mary continued to reside at Hertfordshire with Mrs. Bennet any longer than she had before she departed to Pemberley. It was an odd instance, for one to dine with the persons who represented a past and a future. With the Gallagher's, Mary knew well they were a family that had pervaded her past, in a life of mere waiting for life to begin. However, the Cadaver's were a family to which she had recently found within her acquaintance, who have allowed for her to begin anew and finally embark towards a life where she might find some degree of enjoyment. Amidst these realizations, Mary grinned most profoundly, knowing well that by dining here amongst these particular persons, her life would never again be the same.
"Does Mary not look lovely this evening, John?" William inquired as they sat in a small parlor with only two benches and a small table that separated them. "Conversing with Margaret with such a smile! It does appear as if Mary Bennet does find herself to be an entirely new person."
"I am sure she is not completely anew," Jonathan whispered his reply, though both knew the young ladies across them paid not attention to their conversation. "Do you not still see some degree of a pedantic air about her?"
"I dare say she shall have it all of her life," William grinned. "It is not so bad of a thing, John, for a woman to glow with the knowledge that she does possess a certain degree of uniqueness that sets her apart from all else. Do you suppose that is what puts a twinkle in her eyes?"
"Her eyes do sparkle with their own secrets," Jonathan answered. "Ido not know what it makes them so very enticing, but it is a feature that surely does not go unnoticed by those within her acquaintance."
"See, you can be a bit polished up, if you wish it." William teased, noting the difference in his brother's speech. "Perhaps remaining here shall put some good upon you, John?"
"I much rather prefer the outdoors and adventures…"
"Can you not receive it here?"
"Hertfordshire is no Rome, brother."
"Oh, but it does provide the soul with just as much exhilaration." William replied. "It is not the place that makes it worthwhile, John, but the inhabitants. Do you not think so?"
"Think what, William?" Margaret looked up. "Whatever are the two of you speaking of? Surely not of another woman?"
"Never," William shook his head.
"Oh, so might you enlighten us with those tender words that you might possibly speak of?" Margaret batted her eyelashes and Mary controlled allowing herself to laugh at such a coquettish display.
"Perhaps we might take a walk and I shall enlighten you further?" William suggested, rising and helping her up.
"I should take great delight in it!"
"Young love," Mary shrugged and offered Jonathan a smile. "I suppose there is not a thing a person might do in regards to it."
"It is a surprise you can possibly think at all, amidst all of that curl upon your head." Jonathan laughed when Mary placed a hand upon her hair.
"Well, if it impedes upon my ability to think, then perhaps I should put an end to such frivolities."
Reaching both hands up, Mary begin to pull pins out of her hair, placing them upon a table until they piled up and she was most certain her hair was empty of such things. Looking up now with a triumphant smile, Jonathan did not speak instantaneously as he would have initially liked to. Her hair had fallen in waves, outlining her cheeks and the curves of her face. He spent the first minutes staring in ambivalence of whether he preferred her hair straight or in these curls, and after a few more minutes of contemplation, Jonathan Cadaver was able to conclude it mattered not what fashion her hair was in, for it would always appear just as glorious as it typically did.
"My, it does appear as if you are actually thinking quite deeply, Jonathan." Mary laughed. "Shall I leave you with a few more minutes of contemplation, or are you through with whatever thoughts possess you at this moment."
"You… look so divine, sitting before me, Mary."
"Oh," Mary's eyes fell before she looked up again with her reply. "I do suppose that is a common remark in regards to the women of your life, Jonathan. I am quite glad that I was able to provoke you to share the same sentiments. I am glad that we are beginning to grow closer."
"No, Mary, I do not say this to every women within my acquaintance," Jonathan replied. "I have never spoken about things such as this before. Never. Only to you."
"John…" Mary sucked in her bottom lip at the feel of her heart exhilarating when he stood, in fear of what might occur.
"I do think I have never heard my name so beautifully spoken," Jonathan knelt upon the floor before her, and Mary's eyes went wide. "Mary, I do not speak this because I am a flirt, nor because I wish to find some fun in the company of a woman, nor will I do you the injustice of jesting with you. Please believe me that what I speak of is true, and is meant only for you, and never for any other lady that I might ever find in my life…"
"Jonathan…" Mary shook her head. "You do not know what you speak of."
"Of course I do," Jonathan laughed. "I have never been so certain. You… you are an enigma to me, Mary. Being in your presence, I feel myself so easily captivated by all that you do. Before, I might have thought I was so enchanted merely by my absence for eight months aboard a ship as I sailed to various ports in the Mediterranean without many a women for company, but I know it was not what has driven me to pursue you. Everything that has occurred is my fault. Had I not striven so to sneak into the Chamberlain Ball as I had done, my brother would not be out of work, and you would still be accepted into your brother-in-law's home. But I cannot wish for such things to not have occurred, for they brought me closer to this moment. When I first met you, you appeared so brazen and my brother told me that it was quite out of character for you, but I am glad that such a transfiguration has occurred. Can you not see the good I do you? The good we do each other? Never before might I have cared so much in regards to how I spoke. I have forgotten, as of late, how it is to speak so formally to another, but I take upon such a task, for I wish to please you, Mary. Can we not embark on our own journey together now?"
"My, you do enjoy to talk…"
"Please, Mary, I do try to be frank with you, but I simply cannot if you tease me so."
"Jonathan, I know not what to tell you…"
"Tell me that you love me and wish to leave this life for adventures with me. Do you not desire such adventures, Mary? All that has occurred so far, it may continue, if only you would be with me…"
"Jonathan, those are not the adventures I need."
"Whatever else could you ask for?"
"Can you not see we are not compatible in the least?" Mary asked. "Jonathan, I am…you are just not for me!"
"Mary, you speak nonsense! Can you not see how happy you are when we are together? How happy we make one another?"
"You do not know me at all, Jonathan Cadaver…" Mary answered. "Why, I… you could not possibly wish to marry me. I am far too logical and pragmatic and… dull."
"You have not been dull in the least bit, Mary!" Jonathan reached for her hands. "Please, Mary, you can leave all of this. We can leave all of this. Come with me, and I might take you to places you never before might have known."
"Jonathan, I cannot leave now." Mary shook her head. "Not when I am beginning to understand it all."
"Understand? Whatever is left to understand?"
"This is why we are so very different," Mary responded. "John, you wish to have fun all of your life. You take no precautions and, frankly, I almost always shall. As much as I wish for adventures, Jonathan, I yearn for my own piece of solitude. I wish to settle down eventually, and to have a family, and a home with a library, where I might spend evenings with my husband, reading to the children. With you… John… you will never want that, and I could never place you in such a position. You wish to explore the world, and I simply cannot offer you that."
"Mary, do you think me so selfish that I would force you into a life you wish not to be a part of?"
"I mean this not to hurt you, Jonathan, but to accept would be to place me in such a life." Mary had never seen a man more dejected. "Can you not see that we are far too different to ever be together? Can we not just be friends, as William is with me?"
"William would have married you in an instant, had he not heard word of your supposed engagement." Jonathan retorted. "Why, can you not see that he shall always love you!"
"We have discussed it, Jonathan, but William loves Margaret. We shall always keep within us our first love, but it shall not be the end of us to not have the first work out so well. William is entirely fine with his life, and he has neverbeen happier, with Margaret there by his side."
"It does make me wonder, Mary, if perhaps it is my own life of so very little standing that you choose to dismiss me so callously…"
"Jonathan, do not say such…"
"Please, do not do me the injustice of ignoring these words when I think they need to be said! You have grown so accustomed to being amongst men such as Edward Pendleton and all of those husbands of your sisters of so high of standing, I dare say you shall settle for no less than they…"
"How can you compare me now to my sisters…"
"I do not even know them, so how shall I compare? Mary, perhaps it is not I who compare you against them, but you who compares me to their husbands. I possess no amount of wealth. Though I inherited my family's small estate, I have ruined such a life by pursuing the journey of a sailor. I suppose a lady such as yourself might never lower herself to such a position, with an uncultured husband of less intelligence, who cannot quote to you poetry or speak of love so eloquently."
"Why must you tell me this things?" Mary felt tears sting her eyes.
"Perhaps these be the words that you need to hear," Jonathan replied. "You might know of mathematics and geography and philosophy, and become the master of literature and all that is essentially genius, but you know not the first thing of love."
"John…"
"And, I believe, that is your downfall, Mary Bennet." Jonathan stood from where he had previously knelt and walked from the room. "And, the thing that makes you so tragic a person, Miss Mary, is that you know it to be true."