Hi everyone. Another late update, I know and I am again very sorry for it, but I can't help it. I love writing at it, but as of late I've had little time to do it. I hope next time I'll be more diligent because I really have a lot more to write at it:) I hope you haven't given up on it and thank you for reading and for reviewing.

To SilviaB: Thank you for the kind review and for sticking to my story for so long, I appreciate it very much. Your PM did not work so I hope you get this message.

Chapter 28: If only…

Dear Miss Bennet,

I am writing to you in the hope that this last wretched letter shall reach your kind eyes. I have written you quite a few letters and I think they would make a pretty stack in your drawer, if you but kept them. If in my previous letters my tone was anything but cordial I apologise to you. If I was too imposing or sentimental you can only blame my foolish wishes to see you again.

I know by now that I am not held in your esteem and I do not deserve to be, but I shall choose my words differently for this epistle. I cannot say I am a changed man, men do not change much without the aid of a firm woman by their side, but I have striven to correct my faulty behaviour as much as you'd wish it. I neither drink nor gamble. I do not go out much for everything tires me and everything is empty, devoid of true life. I find myself reminiscing from time to time on how you, young lady, managed to defeat me at chess and how you talked to me of the books that inspired you. I do not wish to embarrass you but these are happy memories for me, a poor old man.

I know you cannot forget my past deeds, nor forgive my misdemeanours, but perhaps your heart might not be so ruthless as not to care for a sickly being like me.

I am quite ill, Miss Bennet. A month ago I had an unfortunate accident when I was out hunting and since I know you do not approve of this sport you will find that after this incident I will no longer want to hunt. As a cause of my boldness now I am quite bedridden and my favourite stallion is dead. I am almost paralyzed and I quite fear I shan't ever be able to use my legs properly, though the physicians remark that in due time an improvement might, with some luck, be on its way. I cannot say I have much hope, seeing as I am alone, friendless, without company or someone to care for me. I hope I did not frighten or alarm you with such news. I only wish that perhaps, in your spare time, you might come and see me at Huntington for I need a soul to bear me. I do not ask but warm friendship from you and a kind look. Nothing shall come to harm you, I only hope you can oblige this sickly man writing to you.

As always, I shall be expecting your letter. Your humble servant,

Harold Fowler

The first thing Mary came to notice upon inspecting the date was that it had been sent to Longbourn a week ago, probably before any of the family members could receive it. In Mrs. Bennet's rush to come to Rosings, the letter was sent after her by a servant.

And now it stood in Mary's trembling fingers and she wished its contents could vanish.

'Poor Mr. Fowler, isn't it terrible?' Mrs. Bennet asked. 'And how wicked of you to make him suffer in addition, Mary!'

'Make him suffer?' she echoed.

'Well the poor man wishes to see you, you might as well pay him a visit.'

'Mama, father is ill and I cannot travel all the way to Derbyshire.'

Mrs. Bennet's physiognomy paled with barely restrained anger and she took Mary by the elbow roughly, taking her to the adjacent room, to be out of earshot.

'I do not think that under these circumstances you should act like a martyr and claim you have regard for your father.'

'What do you mean?'

'Your presence is not required here, Mary.'

Mary folded her hands defensively and started pacing around the room flustered.

'Papa needs me. He said so. I will not go on any account.'

Mrs. Bennet rubbed her eyes tiredly and bid her sit down.

'You and I both know your father cannot be bothered with too much excitement. How would you help? You're a very squeamish creature who has never done much around the house. You're not practical Mary. You'd rather be a scholar than have a good husband and a warm home. For the life of me, I can't think who has put these wretched ideas in your mind but I must wrench them out before it is too late. A woman's place should be known by her, first and foremost!'

'A woman's place? My place is here, with my family!'

'What family? You should open your eyes and see that your sisters are well married, Lydia is a widower and your father is on his death-bed. And then what shall I do? Carry you as a burden when I will have to take care of a woman with child?'

Mary wanted to reply but for the moment remained silent and looked around the modest parlour of the Collins'. How she wanted the walls to fall on her, to feel their weight on her chest and never to wake up.

'Your father might perish soon and you well know it!' Mrs. Bennet went on sharply. 'And you and your petty talents will get nowhere in life if you do not find a situation for yourself. You are not handsome or gentle as your sister Jane and for sure you cannot lower yourself to the indecency of finding a good husband,' she said ironically.

'If you do not go to Mr. Fowler I shall pack you up myself. How can you refuse the attentions of the only man who has paid them to you? Such incredibly vanity I have never seen! Why, your grandmother and great-grandmother would have chided me for being so kind to you, for indulging you too much in trifles such as books and education.'

When she felt her mother had no more to say, Mary dared speak though she found it hard not to cry.

'Books are not trifles. I will not marry Mr. Fowler. I do not love him, nor could I ever.'

'Not marry him? Ha! If the man ever proposes to a mule like you, who will not be tamed!' Mrs Bennet said catching her breath.

'And I cannot go alone,' she said over her mother's words a notch louder. 'How can I go alone to a man? I am but twenty.'

'Oh! Do not find such small details to dwell on! I shall make plans for you. Since you cannot stay with the Darcys, I will arrange for you to stay at the parish. Father Woble would be more than happy to receive you in his home.'

'Father Woble…mama this is not rightfully done!'

'You will heed to my words! You shall pay poor Mr. Fowler a visit and you shall apologise to him for the great misfortune you have caused him. Hm! A man suffering on accounts of you, well I've seen the day!'

'I shall go if I must but I shall not wait on the gentleman as you wish me to. I cannot accept him as a friend or a suitor.'

'Do not flatter yourself already, Mary and let us count our chicken after the eggs have hatched. If he does ever make a proposal you shall accept it.'

'I will not,' Mary said rising. 'I will not.'

Mrs. Bennet's lip trembled as she steadied herself and before Mary knew it she had already advanced to her and slapped her hard over the face.

'Get out of my face you ungrateful child,' she whispered and bowed her head sorrowfully.

Mary did not even flinch and taking the hems of her dress she ran out of the room, slamming the door.

Mr. Prowler sat hunched in the carriage over some books he had carried with him. He was reading again some old works from the university, in the hope of achieving some great progress or discovering a loophole.

Yet, all his knowledge amassed to this; superior help was needed to deal against a fellow that had half of London at his toe. If Mr. Darcy could give any help he would take it humbly, though he doubted anything could be solved, even after his urgent letter.

Kent was looking sunny and muddy after a long period of rain and he indulged to look out the window at the poplars bowing towards the red road.

If only he could stop from this turmoil and look out into the sky without a care…

Why did he choose this horrible path? He could have been a wealthy farmer like his father. Then everything would have ceased to matter but the sky and the rain, the soil and the trees.

Unfortunately he had been vain and stupid thinking town would open his horizon, thinking studying such a dead art would take him anywhere. He only sank into depravation more.

He became someone known and almost respected, he became a fashionable gentleman, but the roots could never be erased.

And the roots told him he wasn't made for this journey of prevarication, corruption, foil, boisterous women and liquor…all that London could offer to a young man.

Yet could he return home to his family and sit on the porch looking at the dying sun, bringing a new day? No… he felt there was more in store to life than this. He felt he must discover something beyond his senses, he felt he was destined to learn much more than to feel the heart of the earth. And was this it?

Were these books what he was looking for? Was not he the one who should have been in the gaol?

Theodore was a pure soul. Surely, he had committed many terrible acts perhaps…yet he was a pure soul, he had always been honest. He had been made to act in such a way by the blasts of life.

And he? Had he been made to do anything but be a good man?

He was not a good man. He could never be one.

As the carriage passed a small brown hill he could see the shape of a familiar house and a nice, crammed little garden.

James' eyes were arrested by the sight of a young woman, going out through the gate, following the red road with tired steps and quiet sighs. Her hands hung limply by the side of her body and her feet seemed to carry her wherever the wind blew.

Mary turned her gaze towards the carriage, but her pupils seemed white as if an entire world was buried in them and she could not make sense of the objects around her.

She did not see him passing by but James recognized that melancholy air that seemed to surround her wherever she went. It was like a soft perfume that permeated your coat and never left your nostrils until you closed your mind to her image.

He opened the window and crouched to call for her, yet he pulled away and sat down again.

He was not a schoolboy and she was not a happy maiden waiting for a lad to be jilted.

He watched those black eyes following the clouds and he wondered what she was thinking.

Suddenly he felt a bout of anger climbing up his throat. She had humiliated him!

Her silly common sense had crumbled all his well-made plans. His entire scheme fell to dust when she slapped him over the face with her principles.

How he wanted to shake her and shout in her face how she had destroyed his friend's life!
And then…it all ended.

Just like a ray which dies in the night…his anger disappeared. And instead a hollow feeling pierced his eyes. He felt like kicking and yelling in agony.

It hadn't been her fault! How could it? Theodore had destroyed his own life. It had been his fault and James had only added more to that sorrow.

Her principles…were all the more beautiful, she was not perfect, she erred and perhaps that made her suffer so much.

She was just another illusion from his life, she was an idealist like he had once been.

And he had been close to staining everything she was, he had been close to marring her just like he had marred his soul when he had left for London.

Only she had stopped him. She had stopped him from marring herself and…could she have stopped him from marring his own spirit?

Could she have helped him?

No. She only saw him as a disgrace, she probably abhorred him for making her feel the guilt that was not duly hers to feel.

He did not want to shout at her, he wanted to shout at himself and make himself comprehend the nature of her. Not a woman! How stupid, she was not a woman.

She was a silly little thing that could shine from time to time.

Maybe she was the last silly little thing left in this forlorn country. Should he preserve her?

How could he? With her upbringing and family she would be thrown in the midst of life with a drunkard and five children. She would forever remain a silly pedant when he could make her flourish, perhaps show her the greatness of life.

But why he? Why did he think he could do it?

He treasured the life in her too much to let her go astray. He would not talk to her, not look at her, but he would like to guide her. At least one ideal of his life should be protected from the wild torrent that seemed to fall on all men.

With that last thought in mind he looked back once more. Even from afar, the black pool of her eyes swallowed the carriage, the road, the sky and offered him a sleepless slumber.

Charles Bingley received his old friend with the same gallantry as if nothing had happened, choosing to ignore the many predicaments that had fallen over the family.

James could not help but notice however that his eyes were sunken, his skin sallow, his entire figure weakened. His wife looked rather worse and the Darcys were only a shadow of what the husband and wife had been in winter.

The prevailing danger of death marked a serious change in their dispositions. You could barely catch a smile now and then. James thought it was all very unfair, for a bit of happiness man having to suffer so much pain.

But there it was; laid open to the eyes of everyone, their sorrow.

As it turned out, Mr. Darcy had much to say to the young man, in the private study.

'I am grateful to you for having made this trip on such short notice. I hope I did not encumber your affairs,' Mr. Darcy began.

'Not at all, I was eager to speak to you concerning our common troubles.'

'Yes…that too indeed. Would you like a pint of brandy?'

'It would do me well, thank you.'

Darcy took a very long time pouring the drink from the decanter, almost wishing to prolong the dreadful discussion.

'Mr. Darcy, pardon me my intrusion, but you do not seem well, Sir.'

'Don't I? Well, you might as well know that Mr. Bennet's imminent death is not my only concern, unfortunately.'

James nodded, leaning his head back on the upholstered armchair, feeling the warm flicker of fire on his back.

'Here you have the documents in question; safe and sound,' he said placing the wad on the table in front of him.

'Thank you so much, Mr. Prowler. I do not know what I would have done without you…I thought these would be lost forever, but you have saved me from graver consequences. I am much indebted to you…'

'Yes I know you are. I am happy to have helped you, especially in these sad times. However, let us not forget of the man you really owe a great deal to.'

Mr. Darcy shrugged his shoulders slightly and turned to tend to the poker in the fire.

'Mr. Stoddard.'

'Yes, Sir. I hope my letter explained thoroughly the details of the matter.'

'He is a common thief.'

'Was a common thief, Sir. Now he has turned a new leaf and is ready to start out as a decent young man. His first act of kindness was of course, to put his life in danger and find the documents for you in Morel's own house, where he was sought, found and…finally captured. Luckily, he hid the important papers so well that the infamous man could not find them.'

'I understand he has…changed as you say, but how can I trust that this is not yet another ruse?'

'Another ruse?' James asked hollow. 'The poor man is locked up. I do not think he was scheming much. I wonder Sir whether your real fear lies in Mr. Morel and not in my friend.'

At this Mr. Darcy fixed his glare on the pointed eyes of the skilful lawyer.

'Even if I did fear Morel, I would be right to do so, wouldn't I?'

'I suppose so. Still, your duty would be to help my friend, Sir. This would also be my compensation for my hard work.'

'I know that, alright? I know that very well. I trust you well enough. I can't say I trust your friend completely, but I agree he is a tolerable man. But I cannot give you my word that I can put up against…'

'I am not asking you to give me your word. I only think two against one is better.'

'What should we do?'

'First thing, we should go to court and settle this matter of yours with your property. Perhaps we can hit two birds with one stone, by proving Morel has illegally taken your rightful good. From then on, we can only pray that Providence will be on our side.'

'Then what do you demand of me?' Mr. Darcy inquired.

'I only demand you support me in my cause, Sir, in court and wherever we shall go. Have some faith in my powers and I shall have in yours.'

Mr. Darcy furrowed his brows and sat thinking for a good minute or two.

'It does sound reasonable to follow up this first step.'

James smiled gregariously and pushed his brandy aside.

'And if that does not convince you, Sir, I can assure you, you would not only make my friend happy, but also a fair lady you care much about.'

After a while or so, Mrs. Bennet returned to her senses and gathered up her trestles and went outside to see where her daughter had gone. She realised now she had been too rough on her and had not induced her to follow her reason. She had only lengthened the distance between them and now was starting to see the error of it.

Persuading Mary was not difficult. One had to speak her language and she had forgotten to enlist the help of her maternal knowledge of her studious and conscientious daughter.

She found her sitting by the hen barn, on one of the ladder rungs.

'Mary dear, come inside the house now. It's getting close to dusk. The wind has started blowing and we do not need another ill person around!' she said kindly.

Mary rose sulkily and went into the back garden. Mrs. Bennet followed her, catching her breath every now and then. She stepped into some rotten eggs and some donkey manure, but she eventually reached her as Mary went to collect some dry clothes, hung on the cabbages in the little orchard.

'Now you needn't do that! You're not a servant here,' she said taking her hands. 'Listen to me, Mary. I know I was harsh with you, but a mother sometimes has to put sense back into her child's mind. After all, a mother knows best what's good for her child. You don't know life like I do…I am a great deal older than you. That is why I am entitled to speak. Now look at me please. Let's sit down.'

They sat down on the back porch, her mother still trying to hold her hands though she pried them away as much as possible.

'I am not your enemy, Mary. Heavens no… I only want you to find a good home, like all your sisters. Listen, when I was bearing you, your father wanted you to be a boy very much but I insisted I wanted a girl. I said, three girls ought to do it for me. You are my young girl as I wished. Do not disappoint me, do not disappoint your father. If you turned out to be girl, then you must do your duty.'

Mary turned her weary head to her mother and spoke very slowly, as if spitting out every letter.

'I will go tomorrow to see my sisters at the Bingley estate.'

'Oh! Well, that's a good thing for you to do. I heard Miss Darcy will be coming too. Yes, yes…do talk to them.'

'Mother, perhaps it would have been better if I had been a boy. I am not meant to be a girl like all girls, I suppose.'

'How do you mean?'

'Nothing, I was just thinking.'

The next morning, Mary walked the few miles to the Bingley household, where she would meet Lizzy, Jane and Georgiana. Little did she know that there was one more guest at the estate.

Mary did not find any of them home when she arrived, for it was Sunday and they had gone to church to pray for Mr. Bennet.

'Oh, it's Sunday! How could I have forgotten? I forgot it was Sunday! I must go after them immediately.'

'I can take you there, Miss Bennet, if you please.'

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned towards the winding staircase, upon which Mr. Prowler was descending. Mary almost flushed in shock, but her face rather paled upon remembering their last talk and the shame of it. He probably felt very angry with her, having been made a fool by a silly little woman.

Mary thought she should apologise for having rudely run away, but stopped considering the ridicule of the situation.

'Oh, no, Sir, it's alright, I can take a chaise.'

'Are you sure? They are not very trustworthy.'

'I might not even go to church…I shall see,' she said turning.

'Well, then, if you do not mean to go anywhere perhaps you can join me for tea in the drawing room. I'd like to have a word with you.'

'Perhaps another time, we are alone.'

'Yes, I was meaning to talk in private,' he said.

'It is not very proper.'

'Come now, Miss Mary, you are not one to hold with propriety,' James said, shadowing some of that old banter between them.

'Maybe not, but in this case…'

'You are ashamed to face me because of what happened.'

'No, that is not…'

'Then let's sit down for some tea and talk. It shan't kill you.'

She relented in the end and was led to the drawing room in silence, followed by his imposing figure. She thought he meant no good. Perhaps he wanted a breach with her, to tell her he had been insulted and wounded in his pride by her impudence. No matter, Mary would listen and bear it. After all, she knew she had been right in her decision.

They ceremoniously sat down at one of the windows, with two cups in front of them, empty and forlorn. The biscuit tray was empty as well and there were no scones on the plates.

'I thought you said we would have tea.'

'Tea is a derogatory word for serious conversation, my dear Miss Bennet. I was only implying we should civilly profess to take tea when we are actually conversing like two responsible adults.'

'Alright, have your say then.'

James got up and started pacing the room in a very decided manner. He was pondering over something, going back and forth.

'Well then?'

'I was thinking.'

'Sir, what news have you of Theodore?' she asked shyly.

Mr. Prowler stopped in his step and half-smirked, knowingly.

'Oh, he is locked up, Miss Bennet.'

'Locked up?!'

'You did not know? Mr. Morel found him in his house and…decided to make him pay for his sister's disloyalty.'

'I…I see…poor Theodore, I am terribly, terribly sorry.'

'Oh, do not give me any of that Miss Bennet. After all, you were there, you knew that would happen.'

She was about to get up but he urged her to sit down.

'I am not going to accuse you if that is what you wanted to say. I know you did the right thing.'

She gaped, stared at him eyes-wide, not meaning to say anything.

'You do?'

'Yes. Despite my former bout of anger and misery, I discovered you did what you had to do, not as an honourable female, not as a gentile lady, but as a worthy person and I respect that.'

'Oh! I am relieved…'

'So was I, to know that my plan had failed. On the one hand I was furious, on the other, I was happy to know you were safe.'

Mary blushed slightly and started folding her napkin in many squares.

'It wasn't about my safety.'

'Yes, yes, it was about morals and principals…Oh please do not blush, I am not mocking you! I really admired what you did.'

'You admire what I did?!'

'Well, of course! I was a perverse being to suggest what I suggested. Even now…upon thinking it through I find it gruesome! And I did discover in time there is always a way when one wants to do good. There is always a just way to justice…though it may be an impossible one. I am grateful to you.'

'What for?'

'For teaching me that. Not many people teach me anything anymore. I've seen many things in my life, though I am fairly young. I do not mean to apologize and beg your forgiveness. I know that is what I am supposed to do, but I cannot. I acted on my instinct, I was a desperate man seeking help, I loved my friend a good deal and I did not want to give up without a fight or a scheme of some sort. I know "desperate" is an exaggeration, but you see, I never lost a case. I do not want to lose this one. This is not the point however.'

'Sir, before you go on, I do not want your apology, I am glad you realised what you did was wrong. I shouldn't have run away like I did.'

'Oh, but it was a real novelty!'

'Now you mock me.'

'On the contrary, it was lovely to see you walk away in that beautiful apparel. It gave more mystery to the night, don't you think?'

'Perhaps I should leave.'

'Well, stay a little while longer, till I am done and then you are free.'

'What more do you wish to say?'

James braced himself and went to her seat.

'Nothing more than that I would be honoured if you could give me your hand in marriage.'

'I beg your pardon?!'

'I am asking you to marry me.'

Mary got up as fast as lightning and dropped her napkin to the floor.

'What is this trickery?'

'No trickery at all. I've come to the conclusion you are the only female I could stand by my side.'

'That is no concern of mine! As far as I know, you are not one for marriage.'

'I am not, but under the circumstances, the only way I could keep you under my sight is marriage…Society, you see is a blessing and a curse.'

'Keep me under your sight?'

'I wish to protect you Miss Bennet and be by your side. I've…grown rather attached to you, if you can believe it. I feel my duty is to raise you from your poor lot and show you what you are truly worth.'

'My poor lot? I'll have you know I am very happy with my lot. Yours is none the better!'

James took her hand gently.

'Oh, but I did not mean that. I only meant…I would save you from marriage to some boring minister or accountant who would give you many young troublesome children to look after and a pig sty.'

Mary began to feel anger and her cheeks were turning bright red.

'So that is my destiny, you think?'

'Not that you wish it, but you cannot escape it. However, with me, you would have a chance, don't you think?'

'I rather do not, Sir. Your poor excuse of proposal did not fool me. You are still angry with me, frustrated that I do not bow to your incredible logics.'

'Incredible logics? The epithets you indulge me with! I assure you I have thought about you long and hard and no longer bear any resentment.'

'Well, maybe I do. I cannot accept you.'

'Why ever not? You expect something better, Miss Bennet?'

'Am I not entitled to?'

James stopped and looked at her. She looked very pretty in the early morning light, with rosy cheeks and tangled hair.

'A female should be modest in her opportunities…'

'I am not the sort of female to be modest, as you say. Thank you for the proposal, but I refuse it.'

'You still have given me no reason for it!'

Mary thought about Lydia, the child, Wickham and the curious incident her sister had accounted to her in that letter. How James and his cousin had fought over Lydia, how James did not want Wickham to ruin his reputation and kept him quiet…

'You know very well all my reasons!'

She meant to leave the room but he caught her hand.

'What if I were to tell you that I cared for you?'

Something behind his eyes was different, as if a recurring shadow had passed and now a glimmer of hope was in them.

'I wouldn't know whether to believe you or not.'

'Why would you not?'

Mary paused. 'It's too early Sir. You have done too many things…think of my sister, Lydia, think of Margaret Stoddard and the entire ruckus…'

'Your sister, Lydia?!' he bellowed. 'What about her?'

'I do not have to tell you myself, do I? You know well what I mean! How do you think I could accept you then?'

His countenance suddenly darkened and he let her go.

'It's too early, or rather too late,' he echoed emptily. 'I understand. This is what you think of me then. Well, I shall not trouble you any longer. It was lovely having tea with you, Miss Bennet. Charming as always. Goodbye.'

With that he took his hat and left the room hastily.