Note: I can't believe I actually finished a chapter. It's been sitting on my GDocs but my love for Mary fought back.
By the way, I'm currently beta-ing with another Mary-centric story. It's published here in FF Can you guess what it is?
II
Mary was wholly familiar with the terrible emotions that brewed inside her as she prepared for her departure from home. While it was true she has left Longbourn before to visit their Aunt and Uncle Gardiner once, she had never truly left Hertfordshire on her own. She carries with her nerves and anxiety for her travels.
With bitter feelings she tried to swallow away, she noted her mother's absence in bidding her a safe journey. Thankfully, she has her father and Kitty there to give her the cheerful farewell that lifted her spirits.
Kitty, the dear that she is, was more excited than Mary for the opportunity presented.
"Oh, you shall be invited to so many balls," Kitty sighed. "You shall go to many stores and see so many dresses. How I envy you, Mary."
With being the only sister she had left with her at home, Mary found herself being charmed by the Kitty that emerged out of the shadow Lydia cast over the years on her. Kitty has a heart as big as Jane and a charm in her solely her own. It would not be difficult for her to find a husband.
"Our sister is most kind to extend an invitation to me," Mary said, "but I am of the opinion that it ought to be you that she invited. I am a dull companion and am more suited to stay with Mama and Papa here in Longbourn while you charm London."
Kitty gave her a pat on both cheeks, squishing her face as she spoke, "Now, Mary, I know you cannot help it but speaking such condescending words about yourself is unattractive. You must hold your head high and move with confidence. You have been a wonderful companion to me in this past months. Do not worry. You can charm London just as well as I can."
Mary smiled, hugging her younger sister. She was fortunate, she thought, to have been given the chance to get to know her sister after all those years of living under the same roof but being blind to her character.
"I doubt I can charm them as you can," she said, "but I shall try to bring my best."
Kitty's grin lights her face, youth and vibrancy shining.
Her father, who stood at the side with a small smile, spoke, "Be kind to yourself out there."
Mary blinked, confused at that.
Her father gave her a hug and kissed the top of her head. "Have a safe journey to Pemberley, my dear."
"Oh, oh," Kitty reacted loudly. "I forgot to bid you a safe journey! Oh, Kitty, how forgetful of you!"
Mary laughed at Kitty's berating of herself. She gave her sister another hug. It is the easy affection she can now receive that she will miss most fervently whilst she stays in Pemberley. "I shall miss you, Kitty, very much so."
"And so shall I, Mary," she replied.
"Write to us," her father said. "We will await your post every day, wondering how you are faring."
Mary couldn't help the warmth that spreads in her. With the love they gave her, she could almost forget her mother's missing presence.
The ride out of Longbourm was filled with silence. It was the silence she craved while the house was filled with bustling noises of all the Bennets. It is the noise she now craves, a much better company than the thoughts that enter her mind in silence.
The only other person in the carriage, a kindly matron by the name of Mrs. Dudley whom her new brother hired to be her traveling companion for the duration of the trip, tried to reel her in for a conversation. She tried to respond to the woman's questions but her answers were short and to the point. Kitty would be disappointed in her.
Rebuffed by her rather aloof attitude, Mrs. Dudley was now asleep in the carriage, her head leaning on the window as she snored softly.
Mary envied her. She could not find it in her to fall asleep. Her mind ran around. Her heart jumped inside her body. She was getting antsy with each bump in the road.
She looked to see her copy of Fordyce's sermon has been replaced with a novel she knows she did not pack nor does she own. "Kitty, it seems," she whispers to herself, "is continuing her pursuit of converting my sermons into novels."
She had denied herself of novels for a long time, having been warned that they are filled with fancies a proper woman has no need for. However, she decided that today is the day she put down Fordyce's sermons. After all, despite reading his words, again and again, she has failed to be the ideal woman for a wife. In fact, despite following his sermons, she remained unlikeable.
"La, those sermons are a joke," Kitty had exclaimed once, during the first fragile months after their sisters' marriages. "It is amusing to read at first but to have it repeated over and over is tiring. We were ever surprised you read it with such fervor."
Mary had pursed her lips then, "there is nothing wrong with living by Fordyce's sermon. He has taught me how to moderate myself and behave in a more appropriate manner."
Kitty snorted. After that, Mary had retreated to her room with her sermons until Kitty could not bear the loneliness further and apologized. Since then she had introduced Mary to various novels, enticing her to open her mind to other pleasures.
"Just once," she decided. The book was entitled Pamela, Virtue Rewarded and had a letter tucked in between the pages from Kitty.
My sister Mary,
I have asked for help from the good ladies of Meryton to find a book that would appeal to your good sense. I hope that the title of this novel entices you to not put it away. A good story for a good woman, I say to you.
I am happy and sad at this opportunity given to you. Happy am I for you who is most deserving of this. But I am saddened that you are to leave home. These past months have been one of the best I have ever experienced. Without our sisters' shadows, I can finally see you. I feel blind, dear sister, to your wonderful qualities that make you who you are. All the flaws I perceived before are untrue.
Sister, I shall miss the way you practice your music so loudly to try and let your voice be heard among the loudness of our sisters. I shall miss your continuous droning. I shall miss your warm hugs in the cold nights I feel alone in the bedroom that belongs to only me.
I have small favour from you. Sister to sister, I say.
Please be happy. Even just for the duration of your trip. Please allow yourself to be happy. Do not let your mind continue to say you cannot be.
Please open yourself to Lizzy as you have to me. Please do not hide. Please see that your mind is wrong. You are a wonderful person, Mary. You are beautiful. It is hidden behind your frown but whenever your mouth curves into a smile and you laugh without holding back, the whole room can see it. You compare yourself to others but know that while your kindness is not the same as Jane's, you are ever so kind. Your kindness is in your admonishments, in the way you bring me tea when I cough, in the way you play a softer melody for me.
That is all your wonderful and favourite sister asks.
Ah, and do not forget to pen every day to us. Do not forget how boring our home is this day. Pray, let us live vivaciously through your words.
I love you, dearest sister.
Yours always,
Kitty B.
Mary felt her heart lighten. Kitty never fails to lift her spirits, she thought as her mind travels to the days spent in each other's company - at first, begrudgingly, and growing into the affection they now share.
Mary didn't know how Jane and lizzy would come home from their long journey from London to Hertfordshire still looking refreshed as if they had just come from a walk in town and not cooped in a small four-walled carriage and being thrown in various directions when the driver either makes a turn or go pass a bumpy road.
The two-day journey ended up turning into three. On the first day of their journey, Mary was sick. The first hours were horrible, in her opinion. So used was Mary on the arrangement with her family that she sat backwards and allowed her companion the forwards seat. She got dizzy quite easily and had to call for the coach to a halt as she clambered out and dry heaved out in the grass.
The next few hours, she was too sick to say anything. With each bump on the road, she wanted to hurl. Her mother's voice inside her mind berated her continuously, forcing her to swallow back the sickness and to tell herself to be fine with it.
Thankfully, Mrs. Dudley opened up the idea of stopping at an inn for the day. Mary nodded her acquiesce and let herself finally rest for that day. It was moments later Mrs. Dudley is truly one of a kind and deserving of praise. She understood Mary's pride and did not do anything to coddle her.
Mrs. Dudley maneuvered her into resting and allowing the journey to delay with pauses. She talked to Mary about her family, coaxing her to return the favour. And so, Mary found a wonderful listener with Mrs. Dudley who never judged her nor patronized her.
It's not just Mrs. Dudley, though, that wormed her way into Mary's heart. The coachman, a young man of eight and twenty named Mr. Philip Smeeth, was a kind man with a hearty laugh. He insisted she call him Philip but Mary stubbornly refused and kept calling him Mr. Smeeth. He was playful and with many stories of his travels. Their words lulled her the second day and helped her make the journey bearable.
She found herself befriending them, hearing their stories and baring her own to them. Mrs. Dudley, she realized, is like a kind aunt with a no-nonsense bearing. She showed her love with her actions rather than words. Meanwhile, Mr. Smeeth is like the brother she always wished she would have. He has the boyish charm that would have made Kitty and Lydia swoon. He told her stories of various other passengers of his who also have a hard time with long journeys.
It was in the afternoon of the second day that Mrs. Dudley finally persuaded her into sitting forwards. Mary's nausea diminished and she found herself finally having a good rest while in the carriage. She fell asleep until early in the evening when they stopped at an inn to stay for the night.
And now, the third day of their journey, Mr. Smeeth informed them that they were near.
"Only a couple of hours now, Miss Bennet," he called out.
"Are you excited to see your sister again, Miss Bennet?" Mrs. Dudley asked.
Mary's mouth tightened, and it is not from the way the carriage throws her around. "Yes," she said.
It's a lie, she knows. She and lizzy were never close. lizzy, though amicable with her, never did look back to actually see her shadow. She had her own circle of peers with Jane and the now Mrs. Collins. Mary didn't hold that against her despite the envy that burns. She let it go because the good book said that it was wrong.
"Mrs. Darcy is most kind to sponsor your season in London," Mrs. Dudley commented.
Mary sighs, "My sister is most kind. But I do wonder why she chose to sponsor me."
"Whatever do you mean, Miss Bennet? You are her sister, is that not enough reason why to sponsor your first season in London?" Mrs. Dudley cocks her head.
She sighs, "My sister and I were never close, Mrs. Dudley. Perhaps, this is her charity to me. She mayhaps came to a realization that I am without prospects and will never find a husband without her guidance."
The words tasted bitter but it wasn't hard to swallow. She had long since admitted to herself that she would grow into a spinster. She is the Bennet without any prospects that would attract men. But it still hurts her when she realizes that even her own sister sees it.
"Oh, Miss Bennet, surely that's not true!" Mrs. Dudley's exclamation returned her to reality.
Mary put a hand to her mouth, ashamed at having unconsciously confessed her faults to someone. "Please," she sounded so small, "please do not speak of what I have said to anyone."
Mrs. Dudley looked as if she wanted to protest but, reluctant though, she agreed, "If that is what you wish, Miss Bennet."
Mary wants to apologize. The aura inside the carriage now feels heavy and awkward. Mrs. Dudley didn't do anything wrong and yet she now feels guilty because Mary could not control her mouth.
"Um, Mrs. Dudley," Mary fumbled for words, "would you mind telling me more about Pemberley? Are the people there… nice?" She squirmed on her seat at her awful choice of word.
Mrs. Dudley looked at her with furrowed brow for a second before a smile lit her face, "Pemberley is homely, Miss Bennet. I had not been given the chance to be under their employ for as long as Philip but I had the chance to stay under their roof before I departed to fetch you, and it is truly a most marvelous house."
Mary smiled, "And the people, Mrs. Dudley, are they as kind and open-hearted as you and Mr. Smeeth?"
The matron laughed, "Oh, you are the one who is most kind, Miss. Your words warm this heart of mine." She turned to yell outside the window, "Philip, have you heard Miss Bennet? She has called us kind and open-hearted. Can you believe what a wonderful young miss, she is."
Mary flushed at the praise thrown her way.
Mr. Smeeth's voice was heard, "Truly, she is."
"Oh, please, don't say so," she said.
"I have been under the Darcy's employ even as a child. My father was a footman under the late Mr. Darcy. All of the Darcys are kind." Mr. Smeeth said. "Although, father had once said that Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy are the opposite of their mother. Father said that Lady Anne was a social one - always craving for company of friends and the sound of laughter. Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy are shy, but they are kind to even to us servants."
"Yes, I've also heard of that," Mrs. Dudley comments.
Mary had not yet met the elusive Miss Darcy, and she feared whether or not her new sister would like her. And so, she asked Mr. Smeeth whether the younger girl would like her or not.
"Why wouldn't she?" Mr. Smeeth replied. "You are a good girl, Miss Bennet. She most certainly will adore you."
Mary blushed, "Ah, but how about the others? You have only spoken of the Darcys. I am also wondering about the other people in Pemberley. What are they like?"
"The servants?" Mrs. Dudley blinks, "You are inquiring what they are like?"
"Yes," she said. "After all, they are also ones I will interact with."
"Huh?"
"Mrs. Dudley, my closest confidant for years had been the maid who helped raise me," Mary said. "Though they may be servants, I know better than to disregard them. It may be frowned upon by society, but I will not pretend the maids who help fix the meal or the manservant who help the organization of the grounds does not exist."
There was silence for a brief moment. Mary frowned and began to think back to her words. Had she said something wrong? Should she apologize?
"You are truly a kind one, Miss Bennet," Mrs. Dudley said.
"Aye," the approval is clear from the one word Mr. Smeeth said.
Her face flushed a darker shade of red. She fiddled with her skirt.
"There is Mrs. Reynolds, the family's housekeeper. She is a severe woman who has been under the Darcy's employ for almost as long as my father," Mr. Smeeth narrates. "She is a kind woman despite her strict nature. There are also Sarah, Beatrice, and Anne who are the maids. Anne and Beatrice are older than you, Miss Bennet, but they are still unmarried. Anne, I think, has a sweetheart though. Sarah is five and twenty and she's the newest maid. She is clumsy but she is a hard worker. If she is assigned to you, do forgive her clumsiness. She does try to be better.
"There is also Andrew, who takes care of the horse. He is also only six and twenty, so you must forgive him for who he is. He is a wild young man who has his mind set on adventure, so he often has his mind in the clouds."
Mr. Smeeth continued to tell them about the other servants under the Pemberley's employ. Mary and Mrs. Dudley made themselves comfortable as they listen to his voice. It merges with the sound of their travel. Their last hour traveling is spent like so.
"Miss Bennet," Mr. Smeeth cut himself off.
"What?"
"Look outside," he said. "We have arrived."