Chapter 24: Chequered
Miss Stoddard looked excessively pretty even bedridden, as Mary and the two men could assess without any shadow of subjectivity. Her room was improved by the existence of a fireplace and the comfort of a large bed, filled with blankets.
On two chairs in the room lay some forgotten dresses that Mary thought becoming, yet not suited for a beauty like hers, which called for sweetness of manner.
As for her presumption that her looks equalled her character, here she would have some pains in justifying her supposition.
Margaret was anything but modest of her station and merely smiled indifferently to Mary Bennet upon hearing her brother call her one of the most amiable ladies he had met. Her fraternal love hid a jealousy aroused at any moment.
She doted on Mr. Prowler, however and considered his word law. She even attempted to stand in bed to receive him better, but admitted her lack of strength.
When her brother started on the subject of Morel once more, Margaret turned her nose upset and tried looking away.
'You have entreated Mr. Prowler to come to see me in this state, no doubt, to make sure I was not bluffing my fall. I suspected it so, that you would not believe me, Sir. But cannot you see how dejected I feel?'
Both men reassured her it was nothing of the sort and her state was well known to both. They had come to communicate her some good news, something which should make her attend to her future prospects with not so grave a look.
When her brother had related to her their decidedly vapid plans of tricking a man like Morel, the sister could not suppress a small chuckle as she peered at Mary.
'And you mean to say this poor creature here will be made to help us drag ourselves out of the mud?' she inquired mockingly.
Mary could not but flinch at such verbal spat, but remained silent. She could not call Margaret impolite, for, she was right to consider everything her friends concocted quite out of all established propriety.
Her own heart sank beneath her as she sat and listened, her mortification increasing with every moment. Her tranquillity was something she could not regain and needed the comfort of solitude to meditate on the events of the day.
However, Margaret Stoddard was all smiles and nods when she was asked to be of service for the deed and help Mary prepare for the Ball. She confirmed her talents would be more than enough to impress on Mary the firmness of a woman in the company of men and would be more than happy to assist with this as long as it meant a chance of all troubles to end.
Theodore's sister accepted all this, for she considered herself very fortunate not to bear the task given to Mary. Therefore, her interest in the scheme would recommend her good intentions and no one would suspect her of selfishness.
When it was all talked of, the same sister gave many accolades to the wily lawyer who had made up such efficient plan as to secure their secret and make use of Miss Mary without harming her reputation. She now could only inquire if Miss Bennet was of the sort to seem interested in studying the law.
'Oh, I believe there was no other young lady so fit for this inquiry. Her wish to grasp the essence of all which occupies the mind is evident in all her actions.'
This being settled, Mary only looked in wonder at Margaret, who considered the affair faultless and perfectly well established. It did not take long for her to reach this conclusion, for she was in the habit of agreeing with men just as much as Mrs. Gardiner agreed with her husband. To this, Mary shook her head inwardly and felt very bitter indeed. To her, nothing of this arrangement seemed in the least proper and she condemned the thing for being too impossible for even thought. However, she did not ask herself why she had agreed without thinking on it and without considering all precautions. She had gone and softened, weakened her refusal, melted her already pained heart at hearing the fate of this unfortunate family.
One astute observer would remark that she was inconsistent, beyond all folly. That she could be quite a perverse creature and act on her own stead when occasion arose. One could also remark she was infinitely vain by considering herself necessary to the scheme, important and worthy of all the praise that could be given to Margaret. And finally, it could be said she was nurturing a reputation and an opinion of herself which were both deceitful.
However, do we not know Mary Bennet and her steady character? Perhaps we cannot look in the deepest recesses of her mind, but we can observe from past behaviour that her inconsistencies lay only in her naiveté and her want to do good to everyone. This must be inspected; this desire to do well in every matter. Did it arise from self-importance and pride, from want of notice and praise, from want of shewing herself as superior in manner? Or did it arise from her gentle heart which she rarely let free, from her loveable nature that condemned all cruelty and encouraged sweetness and affection beyond all merits?
I would say both and I do not think I would be much mistaken, for Miss Bennet was not a heroine much like those sought in Sir Scott's tales. Mary was the sort of creature not to be confused with the model of propriety or the likeness of impudence.
It is in a man's being to have both the evil and the good and she lacked neither, though we preserve in the thought that good was her obvious sovereign of heart.
Perhaps it was both goodness and evilness that guided her in the moment of her acceptance. Her habit of self-sacrifice had been procured living amongst her younger sisters, while her compassionate and keen character allowed her to be of much service to many a poor soul in her neighbourhood. It cannot be said she took care of the poor, no young lady of her statute was made to do so directly, there were other means of helping the destitute. But she always took company with the elderly ladies, sad widows with no joy but the thread of their own needle-work, with no book to light their way but that of sermons. Mary always played with the children in the village and gave them sweets and apples from the family larder and she recommended herself as help to her father and her mother at all times.
And yet, Mary Bennet was selfish and thought well of herself, like most ladies of her enlightened mind did. Her accomplishments, whilst deprecated in her eyes, she descried in her conduct and she could only feel pleasure at knowing she was acting righteously when others were considering their enjoyment only.
Her pride sometimes extended to her benevolence and she could not distinguish at times, whether she was acting on the case of her own good will or on her wish to be acclaimed. One cannot be born with perfect judgement, nor can one refrain from erring, one must see life as a chance to atone and do better.
Such thoughts of herself and the world she entertained often and, at this moment, she was considering much of what had been said with a constricted heart.
It was quite a relief to her when Mr. Prowler, taking out his watch exclaimed it was well past an hour and a half and they would need to return promptly to his office.
Upon arriving home, Mary expected to be inquired of her studies numerous questions by both uncle and aunt, but neither persevered in doing so. Mrs. Gardiner had her head in much too excitement and preparation for Sir Nordstrom's birthday and had ordered two dresses which she noticed had a blunder or two. As for her uncle, he was a tired sight, for the absence of Mr. Toddler increased his work and he derived no pleasure from too much talk in the afternoon, when he liked best to rest by the fireplace with some tobacco to chew on.
The situation was comfortable to Mary who wanted nothing more than to retire to her room. There, she would think bitterly of her actions that day and confirm her suspicions that she had been fooled by her own vanity.
Her wish to have both Theodore and Margaret secured from harm could not be a solid reason, other notions of pride interfered, but it was the dread of refusing once more that tortured her. For, if she were not to follow upon this scheme, Georgiana's beloved would perhaps rot in prison and she did not even wish to consider what would happen to Margaret. The consciousness of being the one to cause such distress, of being the guilty one who would bring all this misfortune made her shed some painful tears. At the same time, the awareness of being a schemer herself, of acting against all she thought was right and proper, the image of herself as a coquette added double pain to this sorrow.
However, she did not have time to exhaust herself with such diffuse feelings, for she discovered on her bed a letter from Mrs. Bennet.
The lady wrote in sober tones and asked first of the welfare of her father, who had not yet returned home and whether he was enjoying London alright. His wife did not feel alarmed at his longer stay, for she could only suppose men were prone to stay up to a month in town and seek all that could be sought.
After such polite considerations, followed something very much distressing for Mary and for the whole of Hertfordshire.
Reverend Abbot, dear, sweet, kind reverend Abbot had passed away three days ago. The cause of this sad death was simple old age and much exertion for his parish, a thing which was praised beyond word, but now quite useless. His sudden collapse had affected the entire neighbourhood and many a lady came to weep at his grave.
Mrs. Bennet told Mary of all that had transpired; how, upon this unexpected sorrow, all the Abbots of the family from every corner of England had reunited and how of all his children, poor fourteen year old Michael Abbot had cried the most.
Such news could not be received calmly and poor Mary felt so much regret at being away and enjoying herself in town, instead of doing her duty at home, that the remembrance of her other injudicious actions could only nurture her self-hate.
When it was time for dinner she was decided not to go to Mr. Prowler's office the morrow, but she could not think of any excuse to give to her uncle.
No, she reconsidered and thought she should act differently and try to avoid any suspicious behaviour. She should better agree with it and bear what followed, though she knew not what that was.
The next three days were a tedious passage for Miss Bennet, who was rushed constantly to attend Miss Margaret and was forced to stand her presence for two whole hours in which she would be talked to with such superiority she could hardly believe her ears.
From the first day, Margaret had tried teaching her to use the fan properly. She had insisted it was a delicate art and, when used properly, could attract the attention of anyone within her distance.
She had persuaded her that an elegant walk was that where the head was not only high, but the shoulders held back so Miss Bennet's fine neck could be praised.
All sorts of idle words were said about dress and fashion, about hair and curls and many an impertinent comments that Mary strayed from. She was advised to braid her hair immediately and produce a wave of hair she lacked. Her face was too white and whilst a fair complexion was desired, a blush must spread across her cheeks from time to time.
'I declare! God has bestowed upon you all that is plain and it will not do. People seek something unique, something even peculiar to catch their eye. All I see peculiar at you is the lack of these things. Every woman has her charm, I am sure if you exert yourself a little more to appear presentable, you shall show me some remarkable trait. I cannot render you a futile case, can I? Your likeness to me is evident on some points, but it is a strange resemblance. You are a plain me, Miss Bennet.'
'I am sure you are right. I have other things to be pleased with, than my apparel.'
'Oh! But you must not give up on it. I see you have fine eyes and a good mouth. I am sure with a curl you would look quite pretty.'
'I trust your good eye on this…' she said ashamed.
'And I do think that my red dress shall suit you. Yes, my dear brother beckoned me to settle you a fine dress and that one shall do. The sleeves are very short, but the folds are exquisite. Mr. Russel adores me in the red dress and Morel saw me in the very dress I speak of. It is very becoming and will do. You would need to pull your hair up and some curls should fall down your shoulder, your nape must not be exposed.'
'Miss Stoddard, these…improvements to my look could not make up for my lack of skills…in conversation and…I cannot be as amiable as you are to young gentlemen, nor can I give them right justice or attract anyone through my manners which are intended to be…what they ought to be.'
'And what ought manners to be?' she inquired amused.
'They ought to be sensible.'
'And being amiable is not sensible? Come now, I see the country has affected your views and your family has perhaps brought you up in a stiffness worthy of abhorrence.'
'Not at all, not at all!'
'Nay, I can see right away that you see town as an extravagance, I can read that well in your countenance, but all respectable gentlemen go to town and all respectable females try to please them, for attachment and connection with such men is always gratifying and likely to advance them in status.'
'Yet, this is more about persuading Mr. Morel to consider me a lady willing to walk to his rooms. Is not that a great offence to a lady?'
'Offence! Do not imagine his rooms or any man's rooms as something as oddly perverse as you suppose. There is almost honour in being invited to have dinner with the man, but not with Morel, I dare say, he's quite insufferable. Though, a handsome gentleman, he has no respect for prior affection and he irks me beyond reason. But think, Miss Bennet, you are not doing this to satisfy him or his wishes, you are doing this to save my poor brother and I from a worse fate.'
Not being able to make clear to her, her wants of disposition and manners of attraction, she remained silent and vexed with herself and the young lady before her.
She could not master the fan as Margaret would have wished, nor could she walk without humbly lowering her eyes. Her manners of speech were sober and detached, the warmth was there, but it was warmth of sincerity, not interest.
However, her quick tongue was in her favour and Margaret established she would be considered entertaining, a thing which only added to her offended pride.
On the third day, Mr. Prowler confessed to her the help he had in the Gardiner household and it did not come as a surprise to her that Anita would be the one to secure her quick escape from Sir Nordstrom's Ball. She would arrange her dress and fix her hair and looking on the whole, Mary found Margaret's help completely futile since Anita would be the only one useful with the only thing she could attempt deceit.
She saw the course of the last three days as such a waste as to be felt immensely on her behalf, for she had not engaged in anything useful.
The acquaintance with Margaret Stoddard had been of the kind to disappoint her deeply, for she had expected someone as good-natured as her brother, who, albeit not the most respectable gentleman, was infinitely her superior in taste and character.
This disappointment, however, would be twice inflicted in a manner so cruel that upon being witness to it she thought it must be a jest.
On the day of the expected Balls, one for Sir Thomas, the other for Morel, she had not been called to Margaret, for it was necessary to prepare in dress and hair. Yet, on that very day, Mary was considerably agitated and wished nothing but to go back home, to Longbourn.
At three o' clock in the afternoon, she decided she could no longer keep the appearance of composed manner and she needed to be done with it.
The red dress on her bed mortified her, Anita's calls through the house made her soul wretched and her own easy acceptance into this trickery made her disgusted.
Mary proceeded to ask her uncle for a walk outside since she was quite out of spirits and Mr. Gardiner, suspecting she was nervous on account of the Ball, agreed to let her have his carriage to ride.
The coachman was liberal enough a man to nod carelessly at her pleading him to take her to the lower grounds of London to visit Margaret. She had no fortitude to see Mr. Prowler, her plan was to confess to brother and sister that she was not apt to it.
How bitter her surprise was when she did reach the street! For, not only did she see Margaret Stoddard next to a shop, dressed in a very pretty gown, with a large brimmed hat hiding her hair, but she was also sprinting happily with a gentleman at her side who she supposed was Mr. Russel. The man seemed to be very fond of her and would kiss her hand tenderly from time to time, at which point she would laugh.
Mary held her head back in the carriage and forced herself to remain calm and breathe, for it would not do to lose patience now.
Margaret Stoddard had been well all along.
It was the first thought that came to mind, but then hundred others followed, more wicked and terrible. Had she been well since the beginning? Had she recovered in a single day to such extent that she could not just get out of bed, but also laugh cheerfully while walking animated with a man by her side?
It couldn't be another way, for yesterday, Margaret had feigned the impossibility of even too much speech.
It was all a foolery! It must have been and she felt the pain and shame for it.
Theodore's sister chose her illness at a right time when she saw herself in danger of being made to smile flirtatiously at Mr. Morel and it was no wonder she did so, to save herself from much trouble.
However, to lead on family and friends and herself! She who had to do it for her! Margaret was content to let someone carry the burden, as long as she was safe from it.
Upon thinking this, Mary considered how awful it would be for Georgiana to be connected with the sister of this man, who proclaimed such love for her. The match she had doubted from the beginning, but now considered it entirely fraught with danger.
With her throat dry, she ordered the coachman to turn back. She wished to go home, her ride was over.
As the afternoon turned into evening, Mrs. Gardiner urged Mary to get ready to leave for the Nordstrom residence and was quite scandalized upon seeing it was six in the evening and Mary was looking for Anita, of all people.
'I shall call her, my dear, if you need help dressing, but I entreat you to make haste! We cannot be late, you know, her ladyship demands our acting accordingly, for she was most civil when she paid us a visit. But there's no need to rush too much, make yourself very pretty my dear. I am sure Mr. Toddler will be very happy to see you, he has not talked to you in a long while and he would have many to tell you. Make haste, but make haste slowly as the Romans would say.'
During such speech Anita was found and Miss Bennet was suffered to go dress with utmost care and promptness. The red gown was a good fit and upon examining herself in the looking glass Mary admitted her figure improved considerably, but her bosom seemed too naked, her entire soul seemed exposed, the short sleeves made her arms shiver and she could not repress the disgust she felt at remembering what she had seen earlier.
Her hair had been curled a night earlier but it had turned quite straight once more and only some ringlets remained around her shoulders.
Anita, however, had foreseen Miss Bennet's plain hair would be best hidden, thus she proceeded to pull it up with a ribbon and let the ringlets fall free around her.
Mary looked at herself with a smile, she looked quite pretty, but this smile faded when she recalled everything and her mind darkened. Her appearance was something to be guessed at…her prettiness was brought out by the fine eyes and good mouth Margaret had singled out.
'Missus is looking lovely. Quite so…I'll be attending ye, ye need but call,' Anita said smiling.
Mary wanted to question more, but was rushed out of the room at the calls of her aunt and uncle and made to put on her shawl and coat so there could be a proper departure. Anita was taken with them, as Mary expected, for Lady Nordstrom had complained about the lack of help in the kitchen and the Gardiners had offered to provide her with their own maid for the event.
As the carriage left their house, she felt like she always did when she had to attend a Ball. Wretched. But now, from more reasons than could be counted.
The clock chimed eight when they arrived at Lady Isabel's tall, bleak white house, shadowed by many apple trees and a coarse drive with a cobbled path. Every window was lit and it gave the house an even more sinister look. Inside, people were talking, but not many could laugh or even chuckle, for Lady Nordstrom expected a check of manner from everyone and most were too shy to jest.
They were welcomed with the same coldness and politeness as all the other dozen families which had entered through the large black doors into the Ball Room and the only person who seemed in high spirits was Sir Thomas himself who feigned complete surprise at the feast.
'Upon my word! I hadn't the faintest idea! I was sure Lady Nordstrom would not like it, for she had such trouble two years ago with her health during the Ball that I never truly forgave myself. But I had not even thought! Oh, she is very selfless, she thought nothing of her trouble.'
Mary's entrance in the room after having disposed of her coat and shawl made quite an impression. Her looks, though by no means gratuitous, had something ostentatious but charming about them.
Mrs. Gardiner was very much surprised to see her niece so good looking, but her uncle, who noticed very little in women in general, only nodded pleased and remarked she would be asked two dances or more.
That was the last thing on her mind, as Mary Bennet only wanted to sit down and hide from everyone's stares and comments.
In very little time, she was noticed by Mr. Toddler, who, having recovered his health and spirits, wanted to be grand tonight and offer her four dances, a thing which he never did.
He came by her side immediately and introduced himself as if she had not seen him before. He expressed his compliments politely, adding that he hadn't seen such charms before at such a modest lady.
She wanted him gone from her sight with such repulse, but it was not because she detested his manners, she was in no mood to entertain him.
When the clock chimed ten she knew Anita would call on her and bid her come in the parlour, after which she would be sent through the back door of the kitchen where Mr. Prowler would be waiting.
Her disappearance would be accounted by Anita, who would insist the young lady had been feeling very low and needed rest, for which reason she had called a cab for her and had accompanied her to Southwark Street where she left her to rest. If the Gardiners asked why their carriage was not used, she would have enough good words to calm them in that respect also, bringing up the waste, the long journey back, the advantage of being taken home easier and without trouble to them.
She looked at the grandfather clock in the cards room from time to time and dreaded its moving hands.