A/N: And now, Lydia's recovery and a closer look into the life of Mary Bennet.

Work has been insane lately, so I'm moving my update days to Saturday to try to work with my schedule better. This chapter was originally supposed to go an entirely different way, but I finally had to admit to myself it wasn't working, and moved that content to a different chapter later down the line. I hate it when that happens! I hope you guys like this one, though. Love you all!

Chapter 6: Senio
07 November, 1803
Meryton

Careful and quiet, a small figure stole out of a side door in the ivy-covered brick bulk that was Longbourn just as dawn began breaking over the horizon.

Looking over her shoulder to check that no one was following her, Lydia smiled. She was feeling positively rapturous at her first breath of true freedom in two months. She dearly loved all of those who had helped care for her during her convalescence at Netherfield, but Lydia was far too much like Lizzy. She wanted to feel the wind on her face, the sun on her skin, wanted to run free over the fields of her home. She wanted to be one with the outside.

Being cooped up, even someplace as wonderful as Netherfield, and with constant company watching her every minute of the day, even as wonderful people like her sisters or her other friends were, took their toll on her free spirit.

On the other hand, being surprised by Sophie and Nikolai's early arrival in Meryton, and therefore Netherfield, had been almost as wonderful as the news that the two of them would be staying in England 'for the foreseeable future'. Lydia wasn't quite sure how long that was, but it was certainly longer than any of their previous stays, and the Bennets and Lucases had yet to come down from their excitement.

Those first few days that Sophie and Nikolai had been at Netherfield, they had spent an awful lot of time with Great Aunt Phoebe and the three eldest Bennet sisters, all of them looking very serious. Lydia had only noticed because, whenever she was brought down to the parlor to alleviate the monotony of always being in the bedroom she now called her own at Netherfield, she saw that they would all sit together, heads bowed in towards one another, talking quietly with somber expressions. Additionally, she had seen them pass one another significant glances whenever the conversation alluded to Mr. or Mrs. Bennet.

Putting those instances of strange behavior out of mind, all of them seemed very normal to Lydia, so she hadn't given any of it much more thought.

All of the girls, Lydia included, had been disappointed that Nikolai had almost immediately departed for Eton. Noah and John Lucas, however, had been thrilled their friend was joining them at school, and their letters reflected such enthusiasm. Sophie, Charlotte, and Great Aunt Phoebe often read portions of the letters they received from the boys aloud to Lydia while she'd been recuperating as a means of entertainment, as well as a way of helping everyone feel close to their faraway friends.

Lydia was exceptionally grateful for all of this. She was! And yet, the days had dragged on and on and on, and she had become morose and snippy these last two weeks, counting the seconds until Doctor White declared her fully healed and able to go about her normal activities.

Yet even that happy occasion had been blackened by Mama - No, Lydia corrected herself firmly, not Mama. Never Mama, never again - Mrs. Bennet. Mrs. Bennet had insisted on Lydia's return to Longbourn the very afternoon after Doctor White pronounced her hale and healthy again. Without another clever reason to stay at Netherfield, courtesy of Mary, Lydia reluctantly obliged.

To be truthful, she did feel awful about her moody behavior and had apologized profusely after every outburst of petulance. None of her attentive friends and family deserved such ungrateful behavior, and they had all been kind enough to forgive her.

But now, oh now, she was free! Doctor White had declared her fully healed, and she was finally free to do whatever she liked (well, within reason). In honor of her restored health, Lydia was going to take complete advantage of this beautiful early winter morning.

Lydia pulled the stable door open, and carefully closed it behind her to keep the chill of winter away from her dear animal friends. Turning around, she inhaled deeply, smiling. She loved many things about Netherfield, but her one true love would always be the horses Great Aunt Phoebe kept. For her last birthday, dear Aunt Bee-bee had given her a filly of her very own to keep at Longbourn, who she had named Phoebe, both in honor of the woman who gave her the gift and in accordance with Lizzy's suggestion of naming the white mare after the Greek Titaness daughter of Uranus.

However, Lydia only paused at Phoebe's stall long enough to pass an apple to the mare, as well as a very fond greeting. "Hello, lovely," Lydia crooned, stroking the horse's long nose, and giggling as a velvet muzzle bumped against her fingers in a defiant request for more attention. "Now, do not feel bad that I am not taking you with me this morning. It is only that you are younger, and Great Aunt Phoebe says that you and I have yet to fully establish trust. I will take you out on my morning rides someday, I promise."

The white mare whickered gently as if to show that no offense was taken. In response, Lydia pressed a kiss to the horse's nose, and then went on her way down to a different stall.

A large, russet red stallion swung his head through the open top half of the door to his stall, nuzzling the small girl for the treats he'd learned to expect from his master's youngest child.

"Be patient, Celeritas!" Lydia chided. "Janie always says good things come to those who wait."

Although Celeritas was technically Mr. Bennet's horse, the master of Longbourn rarely rode him. Though he was regularly exercised by the Longbourn groom, he was visited most often by the petite girl now searching her pockets for treats in spite of her earlier chastisement.

Upon finding a few small things to feed her friend, Lydia spent a few minutes petting and praising the russet stallion. Then, she moved into action. It was a matter of moments for her experienced hands to tack up her large friend, utilizing a stool where height proved an issue.

Celeritas stood still for her, enjoying her attentions and happy chatter. Those two months without her had been long, and he was glad to see her again. Though he was most often described as a 'willful' creature, Celeritas was nothing but dutiful to whatever direction the little miss gave him.

The two walked out of the stable into the first beams of sunrise breaking through the trees, and Lydia walked Celeritas over to a mounting block, whereupon she swung into the saddle.

Giddy with the feeling of finally being back where she most loved to be, on top of a horse, and riding astride of all scandalous things, Lydia couldn't help but beam. Her expression was as bright as the sunlight streaming over the land as they rode towards the flat, open fields she frequented for her secret morning rides, a thrill of eagerness racing through her that was echoed in Celeritas' prancing feet as he awaited her signal.

They reached the empty field of Longbourn land that bordered Lucas land, nothing around them but nature and peaceful silence. Finally, the signal was given.

Firmly seated, knees tight to the large horse's sides, Lydia leaned over Celeritas' neck and whispered, "Let us run once again, my friend."

And they were off.

Wind whipped her hair loose from its plain knot, scenery blurred past them as they raced along the fence line.

Celeritas, after so long left without the means to truly stretch his legs, pushed himself farther, faster, and his feet hardly touched the ground.

The cool air stole Lydia's breath from her lungs, her hands wound tight in the rich red mane of her proud steed. There was nothing troubling her anymore. Here she was, finally free, feeling alive and invigorated and-

A dark flash appeared in her peripheral vision. Lydia turned her head, only able to see a dark rider and steed racing alongside her and Celeritas, but on the other side of the fence. The other rider and horse matched her and Celeritas, step for step and lunge for lunge.

Lydia couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled free from her, and she leaned lower over Celeritas' neck, grinning madly as she raced this unknown rider.

The horses were evenly matched, hooves thundering down upon the ground, snorting in exertion as they stretched towards the rapidly approaching end of the field.

As suddenly as the race had begun, it was over, with no clear winner or loser, both horses sweaty, sides heaving for breath. Both riders checked their horse, and then looked towards the other, blanching in shock.

"Lyddie!"

"John!"

Now, it was not altogether proper for either of them to use such familiarity with one another since John was fifteen, but Lydia was still seven and they had practically grown up together. Charlotte, John's (slightly) elder twin thought of the Bennet girls as additional sisters who just happened to live in a different house. Lydia had heard all manner of stories from Maria Lucas, who was her age, about John getting the Lucas children out of trouble when they inevitably found it in the way all children did. They both thought of the other as, well, familiar, in a completely innocent way.

So, in an extremely unladylike gesture, Lydia's mouth was left hanging open in surprise. Fifteen-year-old John Lucas was the very last person she would ever expect to see sitting astride a dark stallion, racing another rider at dawn. That she happened to be the rider in question didn't phase her, but that was of no matter. John Lucas had always been a little...boring to Lydia. As an older brother, he was therefore all things dependable and proper. It was no secret that the young Lucas was a horseman, but still. She had never expected him to be capable of something so wild.

Again, that Lydia was also behaving wildly by secretly racing her father's stallion (while riding astride) neither bothered or surprised her in the slightest.

John Lucas had only thought of Lydia as an energetic little girl still in the nursery, while he and most of his childhood friends had left the nursery behind. He'd been amused by stories of her vibrant personality from Charlotte and Maria, and had been part of many games played in the halls of Netherfield that Lydia had joined in on, but he had never given her too much thought until that chilly November morning. John had been pleasantly surprised to come across a fellow rider with a spirited stallion, and shocked silent to see Lydia was the rider.

The Lucas family's transition from trade to successful landed gentry had been...rocky, to say the least. While Mr. Lucas was a shrewd and intelligent businessman, not all of his skills transferred into running a farm. He might have given up on the dedication and hard work ethic that had brought him success in trade, deciding instead to follow Mr. Bennet's example of living a life of leisure, had it not been for Elizabeth Bennet.

While most of Meryton did not care to examine why the second-eldest Bennet daughter was running estate errands on behalf of her father, since after all the man had no sons and it was no secret that Bennet disliked stirring from his beloved books, Mr. Lucas was different. Elizabeth Bennet had marched into his office one day while he had been worrying himself grey over the harvest and the livestock, and she had handed him the solution to all of his problems as if she was returning a book to the lending library. Yes, she had told him it was her father's idea, but Mr. Lucas hadn't been fooled for a minute. He'd been humbled by the young miss; her brilliance, her kindness, and her dedication to the land and community.

Mr. Lucas had then turned away from the urge to give up the fight to learn the land, and had gone to who he suspected was Miss Elizabeth's teacher; the dowager. It had not been an easy thing, to ask for help like a boy at school, but he had never regretted that choice. Mrs. Lucas made calls to Netherfield under the guise of sharing petty gossip, and instead took estate lessons with the mistress of the grand estate before coming home to share all she'd learned with her husband. This closeness and shared secret in turn had renewed the love that had once burned so brightly between Mr. and Mrs. Lucas. Now, over a year later, the estate had recovered from its questionable stability and was well on its way to rivaling the Goulding's estate, which was the third most profitable estate in the area, following Longbourn and Netherfield.

Things had approved so much, in fact, that for John's fifteenth birthday just over a fortnight ago, Mr. Lucas had given his son and heir a prize stallion. Black as night, with a stubborn and often mischievous temper, the horse was a fine mount, if one that would make even the most accomplished rider earn every inch of respect and obedience. And John was determined to do just that. That was the only reason he was in Meryton at the moment, instead of at Eton with Noah and Nikolai, to take Areion back to Eton with him.

The horse in question tossed his head, whinnying at his red rival, who stamped his feet. "Easy, Areion," John soothed, brushing a hand down over his steed's velvet neck. "They're alright. They're friends."

Areion was not certain of that, his sense of competition was too highly developed to ever be complacent about finishing a race in a draw. However, he trusted his rider enough to drop his direct challenge and let himself settle at the urged command.

"Areion?" Lydia asked, quirking a brow in thought. "As in the immortal horse who saved the life of Adrastus during the war of the Seven against Thebes?"

Yet again, John's mouth dropped open in shock. "How...how do you know so much about Greek mythology?" It had taken John ages to learn what he had.

Lydia shrugged. "Lizzy has been telling Kitty and I Greek myths as bedtime stories for a long time. Since, oh, as long as I can recall." Lydia's eyes traced the fine lines of the horse in question, who preened under the attention, and she sighed, "He is beautiful. Just like I imagined."

"Thank you," John said quietly. He almost felt as if he were dreaming, he could hardly believe that any of this was really happening.

Blinking out of her reverie of admiration, Lydia smiled brilliantly. "This is Celeritas. He and I have just been enjoying our first morning of freedom in two months."

Finally, there was something John thought he could address with a modicum of authority and certainty. "Lydia Bennet, you could break your neck riding a horse like this. Do your sisters know where you are?" He knew better than to bring up her parents, though why he wasn't entirely sure.

The brilliant smile on Lydia's face vanished as she rolled her eyes. "There is nothing to worry about, John, Celeritas would not throw me."

John guided Areion closer to the fence, concern carving furrows into his young face. "Lyddie, you just broke your leg!"

"I have been declared healthy as a, well, a horse!" Lydia joked, smiling again. "And Celeritas is my friend. I could no more deny him his enjoyment and need for these runs to celebrate his freedom and speed than I could deny my own."

Sunlight beamed across the dewy grass, bright golden rays breaking over the tops of trees and lighting up the meadow around them. Everything was tinged in gold, warmed by the sun and for a moment, all John could see was the happy smile on Lydia's face.

Lifting a hand, John rubbed at his face and chuckled. What was he to do, tell her what not to do? If his childhood playing with the Bennet girls had taught him anything, it was that no one but Lady Pembroke or Mrs. Byrne ever told those girls what to do.

"Just..." he looked over at her and shrugged, trying not to smile as he finished weakly, "Just be careful, I suppose."

Lydia shifted her grip on the reins and neatly turned Celeritas back towards Netherfield. With a smile as bright and warm as the sun cresting over the woods, she laughed, "I am never careful, John Lucas!"

Before he could reply, she had urged Celeritas back into a steady canter, while John watched her leave. It wasn't until Areion snorted, impatient to be off, that John stirred from his silence, and likewise, rode towards his home.

Sometimes, Lydia thought about John Lucas, smiling fondly at her from atop the black steed, and couldn't understand why she was thinking about him. Likewise, occasionally while on a morning ride John would think about the flash of russet red carrying a small form over sunlit hills and shake his head, chuckling to himself.

04 April, 1804
Netherfield

Growing up with four sisters, all with their own unique personalities, was a loud and often intense affair. Jane did her best to keep the peace, often with Kitty's help, but Lizzy and Lydia were powerful personalities that, despite their similarities, sometimes came into conflict over the silliest things. Kitty and Lydia shared a room, and unlike Jane and Lizzy's peace (born through years of experience sharing everything with a sister), the two youngest Bennets sometimes squabbled as well.

Mary had long been used to this status quo, and enjoyed watching her sisters live their vibrant, full lives; chattering, laughing, arguing, living. Mary did not share the force of her sisters' personalities, but that was alright. She enjoyed her sister's personalities, and they never made her feel lesser for her quieter ways.

Occasionally one of her sisters would join her for a quiet afternoon spent indoors, but it wasn't every afternoon. Currently, Mary sat alone, her fingers poised over the keys of the pianoforte at Netherfield, listening carefully for Great Aunt Phoebe, Sophie, or her sisters. It wasn't that she didn't want them to hear her play, it was just that sometimes it was nice to be by oneself.

Hearing none of them, Mary closed her eyes and began to play.

Music had always captivated her. It fed something hungry deep inside of her, down to her very soul. Mary had no idea who she would have become if she wasn't able to take solace in music.

Take solace in music she did, though, and gladly. Music was everything to her. Stories were told through notes and measures, rests and stresses on the keys. Mary didn't even need the sheets of music for some pieces, anymore, she knew them as if they were engraved within her very fingers.

Her eyes slipped closed, her fingers moving reverently over the keyboard. The first movement of Beethoven's fourteenth sonata, unlike the second or third movement of the piece, wasn't fast or overly complicated, but it was her favorite. It had depth and weight she couldn't quite explain, that she somehow likened to Lizzy's explanation of a tide pulling and pushing at the sand. As the sea moved the land it broke upon, so her music moved her.

The notes floated out into the air, clear and pure from the fine instrument and the skilled, loving hands that so often used it. Mary could spend hours like this, playing her beloved pieces over and over again, driving her sisters mad with her repetition. But Mary...oh, she could listen to these notes echo forever.

Noah, unseen by Mary, stood frozen in the doorway, watching her with his heart frozen in his throat.

Eton was on break for the Easter holidays, and so Nikolai, Noah, and John had returned to Meryton until term resumed. Noah was not personally all that fond of Eton, which all too often became a haven for bullying and abuse by the older boys put in charge of younger students. He would have much preferred to stay in Meryton with his mother and the Bennets...

And Mary's music.

Mary Benet had always been of special interest to Noah that went beyond the interest he had in her sisters. It also went beyond the things that 'made sense' for the friendship that had blossomed between the two of them in their early childhood. Yes, he liked questions and she liked answers. Yes, he liked talking and she liked listening. Those things 'made sense', but it wasn't the heart of his fascination. No, it went beyond things like that.

Lizzy was brilliant, everyone knew that. A cleverer girl was never born in England, as his mother would say. And yes, Jane was considerate and kind, and Kitty was wonderfully creative, and Lyddie rivaled Lizzy for cleverness, but Mary...Mary was special.

There was something Noah had seen in her, watching her from afar while she interacted with her sisters. She saw them. Nothing as simple as she was watching them, she truly, honestly, saw who they were. Mary could look at someone and see into their heart and soul, and once Noah had discovered that he had never been able to stop thinking about it, or stop thinking about Mary.

And then, of course, was the way she played music. All of the Bennet girls played, and as they had their lessons in Netherfield, Noah had heard every one of the sisters play often enough to pick out their individual styles. Jane's serenity, Lizzy's emotion, Kitty's precision, Lyddie's enthusiasm.

Mary, in his mind, outplayed them all. Yes, Lizzy played with emotion that could often forgive the few and far between mistakes in her playing, but Mary...when he listened to her play, he knew that she loved it more than almost anything else in the world. There was an energy around her when she played like this, and he couldn't look away.

He hadn't intended to intrude, honestly, all he'd wanted to do was ask Mary if she had seen his mother. But then she had started to play, and he was lost.

Spellbound, Noah walked over to the pianoforte. There was no music to turn, and, not quite thinking about it, Noah sat down beside Mary on the bench. He was torn between watching her face, serene and smiling, and her fingers, light and airy as they coaxed heavenly music from the fine instrument beneath them.

All too soon, the song ended.

Blinking slowly, Mary came back into the world around her, resurfacing from where she had been lost in the music. She could feel someone else's presence beside her, and so she was not surprised to see someone sitting on the bench with her, though she was slightly surprised to see that it was Noah.

"Hello, Noah," she said quietly, not wanting to break the peace in the air around them with conversation, but some part of her longed to speak with him. "I did not hear you come in."

If Noah found Mary fascinating, Mary found Noah equally fascinating. He was stubborn and strong-willed, but he never belittled those around him in his self-assurance and he was the first to admit when he was in the wrong. He liked patterns and routines, and he dearly loved the land, his home, and his mother.

Most importantly, however, he always talked to Mary. Yes, he talked to Jane and Lizzy and Kitty and Lydia and all of their other friends, but he always, always, made time to talk to Mary. He looked at her when they talked, and he listened as if he truly believed what she said was valuable. She loved her sisters, valued their advice and their company. Noah was more complicated, but a small part of her (a very small, minuscule part), privately thought of him as 'hers' during those conversations. It was a fool's dream, yes, but what were dreams for if not to be foolish?

"Hello, Mary," Noah replied, looking deep into her clear grey eyes. How your mother can call your eyes plain, he wondered to himself, I will never know. Clearing his throat, he gestured to the pianoforte. "You play beautifully."

The smile on Mary's face was modest, but brilliant. "Thank you." Mary's lashes lowered as her cheeks flushed slightly. "I love to play."

Noah smiled in return. "Then you should play as often as you like."

A companionable silence fell between them, minutes passing as Mary's fingers started and stopped over the keys, occasionally playing soft, short bits of tune and melody while Noah closed his eyes and listened.

Still playing her gentle notes, Mary glanced at Noah out of the corner of her eye, and asked, "Did you enjoy the Easter holiday?"

"Yes," Noah hummed, opening his eyes. "I am glad to be home, even for only a short while."

School had always fascinated Mary, and secretly, she'd longed to be offered the opportunity to go to one, even just for a single term. Mary, being Mary, couldn't help but see the tension come into Noah's expression when the subject of school came up, and this confused her. Most peculiar was the expression on Noah's face, half between a frown and disgust.

Trying to approach the question delicately, Mary asked, "Do you not like it at Eton?"

Shrugging in an attempt at nonchalance, Noah said, "There are things that I prefer about being home."

"For example?"

Noah and Mary's eyes met. She hadn't meant anything by her question, however impertinent it might have been upon closer thought, but Noah didn't seem to mind.

A warm hand, larger than her own closed around Mary's over the pianoforte keys, and Mary's breath froze in her throat. She couldn't look away from Noah's bright green eyes.

"You, for one," was Noah's soft reply, his peculiar expression replaced by something she could not define, did not dare.

Taking a deep breath for courage, Mary turned her hand over under Noah's and interlaced their fingers. "Then it is well," she said, "That you are home for the holiday. You are missed here when you are away at school. We...I...miss you."

Noah's eyes traced Mary's face, his expression easing. "Yes, it is well I am home indeed.."

They sat there like that for a long moment, looking at one another and simply existing next to one another. Eventually, Mary turned back to the pianoforte, and with her free hand, began playing the keys in a continuation of the simple melodies from before, without pulling her hand away from Noah's.

Head tilted back, eyes closed, Noah listened to Mary play. The notes flowed and ebbed like the tide, pulling and pushing Mary where they wanted, taking Noah along with her. The music filled the space between them like words, comfort and reassurance all at once.

19 May, 1804
Longbourn

Lydia stamped her foot, eyes bright with angry tears. "Mary, you promised you would help me with my needlework this afternoon!"

Without even raising her head from where she was bent over the thick, heavy tome in her hands, Mary replied distractedly, "In a moment, Lydia. I have to finish this passage."

Jane and Lizzy exchanged meaningful glances but remained silent where they sat on the other side of the parlor.

Throwing her hands up in the air, Lydia cried, "You said that an hour ago, Mary! All you want to do lately is read that silly book."

Mary's head snapped up and she glared at her youngest sister. "Fordyce is not silly, Lydia, it is practical! You could learn a lot about proper behavior from a book like this. For instance, a lady must always-"

"No!" Lydia whined, frustrated tears now running down her face. "I do not want to hear any more about Fordyce's sermons. Are you going to help me, or not?"

Hurt rocketed through Mary at her sister's blunt refusal to let her share the wisdom she'd discovered between the pages of her newest book. For once, Mary allowed that hurt and her frustration with her sister to go unchecked. She stood stiffly from her seat, and stormed out of the room, tossing over her shoulder, "I will not."

She ignored Jane and Lizzy calling out after her, as well as Lydia's loud expressions of disappointment as she stomped out of the house, to places unknown. Lizzy was the one who enjoyed walking all over Hertfordshire, true, but Mary was angry enough she didn't quite notice that her feet were unconsciously taking her to Netherfield.

Noah, Nikolai, and John had left a few days after Easter to go back to Eton. Mary had been apart from them before, this was true, but she just couldn't stop thinking about Noah, about that afternoon she'd spent with one hand on her beloved pianoforte, and one hand holding Noah's. It had haunted her whenever she'd played for Signore Mancini, or whenever she'd glanced over at the portrait of Noah hung in Great Aunt Phoebe's office.

Mary had been absolutely miserable these past weeks, trying to distract herself with activities. She'd spent much more time with her sisters and their favorite activities; embroidery with Jane, walking or reading with Lizzy, drawing with Kitty, and riding with Lyddie. Nothing had helped, however, until she had happened upon the thick tome now clutched in her hands at the book store in Meryton, Sermons to Young Women by Scottish pastor James Fordyce. She'd been shocked to read and learn how sinfully she had been living, how vain she had been!

Aligning her lifestyle to Fordyce's morals was certainly a good distraction, but it had caused a lot of friction between herself and her sisters. She was hurt beyond expression by their rejection of something she'd been so eager to share with them, especially considering that they had, before this, always sought her opinions on things.

Her anger and hurt had abated somewhat by the time she finally walked into Netherfield. She debated whether or not to go to the music room or to curl up in one of the overstuffed chairs in Great Aunt Phoebe's office to keep reading, and decided on finishing the sermon Lydia had interrupted.

Mrs. Nicholls, the new housekeeper Great Aunt Phoebe had hired after Mrs. Hudson had left to live with her sister, smiled at her as Mary passed. Mary smiled back and they exchanged the bare pleasantries required by polite society before she resumed her journey to Great Aunt Phoebe's office.

As she and her sisters had been taught, she paused at the grand white door and knocked twice.

"Come in," Great Aunt Phoebe's voice called through the door.

Mary immediately felt much better as she entered the room. Great Aunt Phoebe had an energy about her, one that calmed and cheered you. She always loved that about Great Aunt Phoebe, among so many other traits of the great lady.

Great Aunt Phoebe was sitting and rereading her last letter from Maggie, trying to make sure she'd answered all of her favorite cousin's questions about her children. She was surprised to see Mary in her office, rather than at home as was usual on a Saturday afternoon. "Mary, dearest," she said, putting down her papers, and reaching out a hand to Mary. "What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here, my dear?"

Crossing the room briskly, Mary dipped her head to press a kiss to Great Aunt Phoebe's slightly wrinkled cheek. "Hello, Great Aunt Phoebe. I hope you do not mind the intrusion."

A pair of shrewd green eyes studied the young girl as Great Aunt Phoebe waved a hand. "You know I always welcome your company, Mary. You seem troubled, however. I hope nothing is wrong?"

Mary dropped down into one of the large brown leather wingback chairs opposite the great desk at which the dowager sat, and sighed deeply. "Lydia and I fought," she admitted, bitterness coloring her words, though her expression conveyed more of the hurt she felt than the girl was aware. "My sisters just do not appreciate Fordyce's words, Aunt. I am exceedingly frustrated with them. Is it so wrong that I wish to live a more pious life? Is it so wrong to want to offer them the knowledge with which they can do the same?"

For a girl who was usually so quiet, Mary's voice had risen quite high in volume and fervor, startling Great Aunt Phoebe somewhat. More concerning was the heavy tome she now recognized on Mary's lap as the girl crossed her arms over her chest and huffed angrily.

"Aha," Great Aunt Phoebe murmured, leaning back in her chair. "Yes, I thought that our teas after morning lessons had become somewhat uncomfortable of late. Now I know why."

"They are being unreasonable!" Mary cried, her jaw set stubbornly in the manner that all of the Bennets had picked up from Sophie. "I had to leave Longbourn before I said something I regretted."

Of course, a small part of Mary reminded herself, you know you already regret not helping Lyddie with her embroidery like you promised. She shook that thought away. It was not her fault that her sisters wanted to consume themselves with frivolous tasks instead of with prayer like she did. Right?

Then again, she mused, glancing up at Great Aunt Phoebe's pensive face, the dowager countess had never steered them wrong before. Sermons to Young Women was a wealth of information on morals and women's behavior, but it didn't quite match what Great Aunt Phoebe had always taught. And that bothered Mary.

Rising from her chair, Great Aunt Phoebe rounded her desk, and settled into the chair beside Mary. "May I?" she asked, holding a hand out for the book.

Mary gave the book to her without a word.

Great Aunt Phoebe leafed through the pages silently, reading a line here or there, nodding to herself as she re-familiarized herself with the sermons within. "You know, Mary," she began gently, "I read this when I was first married."

That was news to Mary, as she'd never heard her beloved aunt say as much before. "Really?" she asked with barely concealed excitement. Maybe there was more overlap between Great Aunt Phoebe's teachings and Fordyce's than she'd thought.

"I did," Great Aunt Phoebe confirmed, tracing a graceful finger over a particular line. "It was given to me by my husband's father, who thought that I was much too outspoken for a Viscountess, and future Countess." She closed the book.

"Too outspoken?" Mary asked quietly.

"Yes," Great Aunt Phobe said simply, then she turned to meet Mary's grey eyes. "Mary, dear, these pages are already well-read, I can tell you've spent a lot of time with these sermons, so you should be familiar with them, yes?"

This was not at all how Mary had anticipated this conversation going, and she wasn't sure what Great Aunt Phoebe's question was for, but she answered regardless, "Yes, Aunt."

With a small hum, Great Aunt Phoebe lifted the great tome. "Mary, you will read and hear many things in your life. Some will speak to you at a point in your life in a manner that nothing else does, for either positive or negative results. I am glad that you are taking an interest and curiosity in reading beyond what your masters teach or your music, however," Great Aunt Phoebe put the book down on the desk. "I am not sure that this is something you should be putting on such a pedestal."

Mary tried to protest, but Great Aunt Phoebe forestalled her by holding up a hand. "Please, my dear, I only ask that you hear what I have to say, and give it an honest thought. Can you do that?"

Feeling a little betrayed, Mary paused before answering. She'd wanted Great Aunt Phoebe to support her and her new book, not...this. But it was Great Aunt Phoebe, so after a few moments, Mary sighed and nodded. "Yes, Great Aunt Phoebe."

Great Aunt Phoebe smiled warmly. "Thank you, Mary." She glanced over at the dark tome on the desk before turning back to Mary and taking both of the girl's hands in hers. "Dearest, an excess of, or misdirected piety can turn even the purity of such a virtue into a moral failing. Fordyce's sermons have much to say on a woman's 'rightful place', do they not? But the Bible says that Eve was created from one of Adam's ribs so as to stand beside him rather than be above or below him, correct?"

Frowning in thought, Mary agreed slowly, "Yes, that's true."

"So the question remains," Great Aunt Phoebe continued gently, "On who to believe. A pastor, or the word of God. You must decide, Mary, and no one can or should decide for you. Are you in agreement with Fordyce on the rightful place of women being beneath men, or are you made from the rib of Adam, and stand beside them?"

Mary did not answer, now staring at the book, brow creased heavily. She knew it was wrong to have abandoned Lyddie the way she did, but she had been so hurt and frustrated...just as her sisters likely felt. Guilt swelled inside of her, Fordyce's words and Great Aunt Phoebe's swirling together inside her head. Trying to figure out what to believe for herself sounded so confusing. How was she to know for sure?

Great Aunt Phoebe leaned forward and kissed Mary's forehead. "I love you very much, my dear. Do not rush this, and do not be afraid of the answers you may find in your own mind."

She stood, ready to leave Mary to her thoughts, but the young girl squeezed her hand, and she paused.

"Do you..." Mary started softly, struggling to put the right words together. Great Aunt Phoebe was in no rush, though, and stood patiently, waiting for Mary's question. She watched in silence as Mary looked away from the book on the desk, glancing over at the portrait of Noah hanging on the wall.

Finally, Mary looked up at the dowager. "Do you think that he was wrong about everything?"

"No, dear," Great Aunt Phoebe answered. "Not everything. But that is something that I learned over many years of life and of knowing God. As I said, you will read many things in your life, Mary, but what is written is not always entirely good, nor is it entirely evil. You must learn how to define for yourself what is good, and what you believe."

With a final kiss to Mary's forehead, Great Aunt Phoebe left the girl to think in her office.

The door closed behind Great Aunt Phoebe. For a long time, Mary sat in silence, staring at nothing as she thought. Then, she put her head in her hands, groaning as she relived some of the things she'd said to her sisters over the last few weeks. The smug, arrogant manner in which she'd said them. Straightening, Mary sighed and stood, smoothing out her dress. "Well," she said to herself, "I know where I think best."

Head held high and posture determined, Mary went over to the office door but paused before leaving. She turned, glancing back not at her copy of Sermons to Young Women, but at the portrait of Noah. Sighing again, Mary shook her head and left the office without another glance at the book that had not left her side for so many days. Once in the hallway, she began making her way to the music room. She would sit and play, letting the music soothe and center her the way it always did.

She had been so absorbed with Fordyce she had forgone the pianoforte earlier, she realized, pausing briefly in the hallway in her shock. She had never chosen anything over her music before. Was this what growing up was about, she asked herself as she entered her haven at Netherfield, light streaming in from the windows over the gleaming white keys. Was growing up all about trying to figure out who you were and what you believed?

"How annoying," she muttered to herself, pulling out a piece by Hadyn.

A/N: Ok, fine, no it's not safe for a girl of seven to race a spirited stallion. However, I've always had a soft spot for the 'horse girl' movies like Spirit and Free Rein. So this is another bit of self-indulgence, sorry. To be fair, I've grown up around horses and I and my siblings started learning to ride when we were five (on ponies, first), and depending on how often you practice you could, theoretically, be a competent rider by then. Still, what Lydia's doing is in no way safe, since at that point in history they didn't even have helmets.

Latin Chapter Titles: I am aware that this chapter title is not the true Latin translation for six, but it was the one I chose to use.
Celeritas: Celeritas is Latin for 'speed', which honestly I just feel like would be a name that Mr. Bennet would choose for his horse.
Areion: Areion was the name of the immortal horse born to Demeter and Posideon in a very disturbing story, who went on to, as it says above, save the life of Adrastus, king of Argos, during the war of the Seven against Thebes.
Beethoven's 14th Symphony: The Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp minor, marked Quasi una fantasia, Op. 27, No. 2, is a piano sonata by Ludwig van Beethoven. It was completed in 1801 and dedicated in 1802 to his pupil Countess Giulietta Guicciardi. The popular name Moonlight Sonata goes back to a critic's remark after Beethoven's death. This is such a beautiful work, and it has three 'movements', which are basically just three different section of the entire music piece. Mary is only playing the first movement in this chapter, but I highly encourage you to listen to the entire piece on Youtube!
Sermons to Young Women: This book was written in 1766 primarily by Scottish pastor James Fordyce, but there were other sermons in the book as well that were written by other pastors.