Finally back! Hi there, the absence was due to me arranging some school affairs and going on my holiday with my parents! Eastern Europe rocks! Anyway it was lovely. I needed to get back to writing this story of mine that I quite treasure, be it bad or good. It's my biggest project in writing, up till now.

Anyway I wanted to thank all the wonderful reviewers and to answers some anonymous ones.

ixi-shaj: Hi, guess that was awkward for both of them, but it was spontaneous, like all such things. Neither was ready for it. Yes it does resemble Lizzy/Darcy but things will be kind of different, you shall see (love P&P too much not to make some resemblances). Thanks for reviewing.

* : Hi there, whoever you are :) The whole Mary/Prowler mirroring Pride and Prejudice, well...I don't like to spoil the story so I'll just say once more things shall be quite different. Let us remember Mary isn't Lizzy and while Darcy is proud, reserved and affectionate, Prowler is genuinely egotistic and versatile, confused and arrogant. Arrogance and gregariousness are two characteristics Darcy doesn't possess so strongly.

Coals to Newcastle: Hey, thanks for the really, really kind review, I mean this is too big a compliment. Thanks a bunch! I really wish Jane Austen had had some plans for Mary too. In any case, I don't compare with the authoress but I can at least give her a homage. Somerset Maugham once said she has the power of keeping one hooked in her wonderful world and I guess the proof of it is visible to this day.

lifestory-101: Thanks for the nice review, it's good to know I can still surprise readers.

Irore: Hi there, thanks a bunch for the kind review. If the proposal was a bit rushed it was because Prowler himself wasn't ready for it. He rushed into it not knowing what else to do. As you might have noticed he isn't quite sure of his own feelings. Heck, he doesn't know his own feelings. He only knows he wants to preserve her, as if wanting to keep a beautiful flower from withering. He was reminded of himself at the beginnings of his youthful life and whether he had made the right choices. Subconsciously, he didn't want her to end up like him, bitter with life. In truth that is what he wanted to prevent, not her becoming a common wife. Because in a way, he thought he could get back his own life if he protected hers. Hope the explanation helped. Oh and there will be more exposition on his feelings when he settles them :)

lovethestory: Hi, thanks for the wonderful review, it boosts my confidence, like all reviews do:) I see you understand Prowler quite well, I've explained more of his feelings at the previous reviewer. He was in double minds about the marriage. Unfortunately, I can't tell you much about the Lydia-Prowler affair, you'll have to read and I hope you do. Everything shall be explained later. Fowler too remains a character that shall be explained thoroughly a bit later. I hope you will read till the end to find out. Thanks for reading my story up until now.

Once again, thank you all and please tell me what you think :)

Chapter 29: Epiphany

Mary needed several moments to calm down her agitated breath, but when she did she immediately ran out of the room, embarrassed at the way they had parted.

She felt sorry for him in a way and wanted to apologise, but not knowing what for.

She caught him as he was stepping down the stairs to the paved alley.

'Mr. Prowler! Have a safe trip…wherever you are going.'

He turned stiffly and smiled a very congested, irritated, knowing smile.

'Why Miss Bennet, did we not say goodbye before? You are spoiling my decorum by coming here to wave at me like a common country maid. I am not going to war.'

'Well, why are you so angry, Sir?' she asked distraught.

'You always manage to make my day, Miss Bennet. I presume you are unaware that I do not like refusals, I do not take them well, especially from petty, pedant little girls with no head to know what is right for them.'

'I know what is right for me,' she said defiantly, her pride and annoyance swelling in her heart.

'I am overjoyed to hear it. I am sure I would love to come and see you collect chicken eggs some day. I am actually glad you did not accept me, Miss Bennet. Heavens know what I could have done with an obstinate woman such as you. You and your mother are more alike than you think.'

Mary's face turned white and red all over and she refrained from throwing insults at him by pinching her skin hard.

'Quite a speech there. I presume you are done.'

'Indeed, I am! I would not want to bore you. Good day, Miss Bennet.'

James Prowler pulled the hems of his horse and took off without a look back, wishing to erase her image from his scalp for the moment.

Mary clicked her heels angrily and turned towards the house, seeing as great black clouds were about to pour their weight on the estate.

'How awfully rude! What a proud, arrogant man. As if!' she muttered trying to hold her chest whose heart beat too fast.

As if I could ever…

See me collect chicken eggs? Well! He'll see. I shan't bury my life here, I will be damned if I do!

And yet... why would he wish to give me a better life? Did he really care?

He probably wanted to guard me as some relic. Nothing more.

She almost felt like crying but Mary Bennet never cried unless there was a good reason behind it. She could almost hear his words, piercing her red ears again and again but it was only some drops of rain. It would not do to look back.

Her mother always told her marriages are somewhat like businesses. The way men make their fortunes in commerce, women make theirs in marriages.

A simple mind would think these connections are formed on feelings and common natures, but maybe the elder knew best. Maybe she was a silly fool looking for something that wasn't there. She had to admit that the proposal had shaken some of her reason.

He thinks I am a spineless woman simply because I shan't tie my life to him. He thinks…oh what do I care what he thinks about? He is a reckless coward, that's what he is.

'I won't be just a stupid country maid!' she almost yelled.

'Who said you would?'

She turned surprised and saw Lizzy walking up the steps all drenched in rain waiter.

'Lizzy…what are you doing here?'

'I am staying here for the time being,' she said smiling. 'Have you forgotten Mary?'

'Oh, goodness, yes I know…I am sorry, are you going to see papa?'

'Yes, a bit later. Is everything alright? Have you come to visit us?' she asked taking her hand.

'Yes…I mean no…I…don't know what to do,' Mary said fidgeting desperately.

'How do you mean?' she asked concerned. Lizzy tried to take her to the drawing room but she shrank away as if burnt.

'No, no, not there!'

'Mary what in God's name is wrong?'

'Oh Lizzy, if you only knew! Life is so difficult at times; I don't know what to do! Father is ill and I…I am to be a stupid maid, I'll probably end up in a farm and I'll be destitute and thick-headed, I'll forget all about books and I shall never do anything with my life! I will probably collect chicken eggs like he said!' Mary burst out spilling tears on her pale cheeks as a frightened Lizzy tried to calm her.

'Mary, who said such a thing?!'

'No one, it doesn't matter! Tell me it isn't true Lizzy, tell me there is more to life than this.'

'Oh come now, come to my room and we shall have a talk,' she said softly taking her arm gently and leading her up the stairs. 'You need to stop crying, I can't have you suffering now when so many are sorrowful already.'

They sat down in Lizzy's own parlour, while Mary tried to dry her cheeks with her old handkerchief, in vain.

'I think the problems seem like giants to you now, but they can be overcome, I assure you. There were times like these before, when we all thought there was no solution. But you see, there is always a solution, even choosing not to act might be one. Just let things come and face them as you can, I say.'

'I wish I could think like that, Lizzy. But I can't be content with anything.'

'How do you mean?'

'I shan't be happy if I marry, and I shan't be happy if I remain alone. I am never truly at peace. And perhaps I am selfish now for complaining.'

'Marriage is not such a terrible thing. In fact you grow to like it if you love your husband.'

Mary nodded complacent and briefly smiled bitterly.

'I am sure you are right, but this is not for me. Love is something very strange and everyone writes about it as if they knew perfectly well what it is but I am sure they know nothing. That's why they write about it, hoping they'll find out.'

Lizzy raised an eyebrow perplexed.

'And you do? Do you know?'

Mary shook her head and continued brushing her cheeks. 'For me marriage kills love! Oh if he hadn't…if there wasn't this…union! People would be so happy! I would be so happy…but then again people always come and go and are they ever what you expect?'

'Mary! Who has done this to you? Who do you love?'

She looked up as if shaken from a trance. Her eyes widened and she coughed loudly trying to get rid of a terrible taste on her lips. Her own words frightened her.

She stayed in the chair for several minutes, not speaking, looking at the small saucer and the shadows playing on it.

She hastily got up and straightened her frock.

'I must leave sister. I must leave for Derbyshire.'

Lizzy rose alarmed. 'Whatever for?!'

'I have a… friend to see there.'

'At last you see reason! I knew your sisters would guide you rightfully! They have more experience than you do. I told you this is the best choice,' Mrs. Bennet said beaming gleefully as she helped Mary pack her last belongings.

'Yes mother,' she said quietly inspecting one of her books. 'It's damp.'

'Oh, leave that now! Have you written to Mr. Fowler?'

'Yes. He replied in most affectionate terms.'

'He is a wonderful man indeed. I can't understand why you were so adamantly against him, but I am glad you have changed. I have arranged everything for you with Mrs. Woble and her husband. They are only too happy to receive you. They have been worried and they are in want of companionship and news from Kent. Do be polite and considerate to them and thank them for their kindness.'

'I shall.'

'Oh and send my best wishes to Mr. Fowler too and my gratitude for his invitation.'

'Mother, you've already told me.'

'I wouldn't want you to forget!'

The room was crammed with luggage and furniture. The small window was dirty and dark, the air was thick and the candles were dying in the old room, her improvised bedroom at Collins. She couldn't even see her own bed, her own face in the mirror.

She never asked herself about the beginning and the end. She was a superficial being, a coquette herself. Weren't all women the same? No talent, no mind, no depth.

Why did it matter anymore where she came from, what she was meant to do?

Maybe she should give in, since she had already approved of her mother's plans. Perhaps she should throw herself in any man's arms and, come what may, she would lie with him and smell the scent of brutal love. But she wasn't voluptuous or at least romantic.

Maybe she should become a hermit and climb sacred mountains searching for an answer. But she was far too daft and dirty for it.

Maybe she should become a governess and earn her own penny, while teaching young ones Greek. But she was far too selfish and inapt for it. She couldn't even know if she knew anything at all.

Why couldn't I be born a man? Being a woman has its charms but I do not relish in those charms. Maybe I should. Maybe…Why is there never a certitude? My life is an endless maybe.

'I am worried for father,' she mumbled.

'He will be alright. The physician said he needs fresh air. He will soon come and live at the Bingleys. He will be as right as rain after some weeks there. I daresay when you come back you shall see him walking.'

'Won't he be upset about my departure?'

'Heavens no! He was thrilled to hear you can be of service to that honourable gentleman.'

Mary doubted her father was thrilled but had to believe her mother for the time being.

She could not even go say goodbye to him. He was resting and Mrs. Bennet thought it would harm him. They had talked a while in the morning but now it was time for Mary to leave and there was no room left for discussions. A week had come and gone, it was enough time to say any adieus and pack up for the journey of such prospects, as Mrs. Bennet called it.

Mr. Bennet did not oppose the idea, he only did not comprehend. He was melancholy and confused, but not entirely disapproving when Mrs. Bennet whispered to him Mr. Fowler was attached to Mary dearly and might even propose. The thought of Mary finding happiness warmed his old heart at least a bit.

'If you need me or if anything happens you shall call for me, won't you?' Mary asked fretted.

'Well! I hope that won't be the case! We shall keep you posted,' she said trying to do up her tangled hair. 'You shall know everything that we know, my dear. You always have.'

'I suppose…'

The carriage was waiting outside, the horses breathing tiredly. The gates banged, hit by the strong wind.

'Dreadful weather in spring!' her mother said as if warning her as she placed the coat over her shoulders and kissed her forehead making a small cross over her head.

'I shall keep in mind.'

The doors opened for her as she stepped outside in the weary dusk. There was no colour in her cheeks and one would think she was just as ill as her father, but one would be wrong. She was actually quite resilient and much stronger in times of need. Her passion rose from others needing her, her heart swelled whenever she acted.

'Mary.'

Mrs. Collins was shaking her hand gently. 'Be safe and write to us soon.'

Mr. Collins and a young boy helped her with her luggage, the former always whispering to her she should not trust Father Woble for having some catholic habits unworthy of any Anglican parish.

She got in the carriage without replying and turned her head towards the empty hills.

'Please let us leave,' she told the driver. He acquiesced and the carriage moved before her mother could come and tell her anything else.

The murky road opened to her as a window into the past. She was going far away, in her mind, leaving all behind, her father, her past.

Perhaps it was silly, that one chance encounter should make up her mind.

She was an impressionable woman, a woman who thought little of the future, more of the past and everything of the present.

But if she loved Mr. Prowler, she couldn't stay.

And love him she did.

Mr. Bennet found out in the morning that his daughter had left. He cursed his wife for not waking him and he rarely did curse her. Mostly he did not bother with her fits and moods. But now his dear Mary was gone on heavy roads and he had been sleeping.

He tried to get out of bed and barely had he managed when Mrs. Collins put him back in.

'Not yet, Mr. Bennet. You are very weak. You need your rest if you wish to walk steadily again.'

'I need to see to my own business and not be treated like a milksop by everyone!' he said angrily pushing her away. 'Call my wife please.'

Mrs. Bennet came to his call but she regretted ever showing herself to him, for her husband was quite rough with her, having just woken up, morose and put off, he only told her off and chided her almost as if she were a child. He reprimanded her for her lack of thought and care.

'But you agreed to her departure!'

'Perhaps I was not fit to think! I…I did not want her to go so far, so fast, I wanted her to stay.'

'But Mr. Bennet! Only think how happy she will be if she marries Mr. Fowler. She will have a home…'

'That is true, but you should have consulted more with me.'

'Yet I did! Indeed I did!'

'Then Mary should have talked to me more.'

'Then do not blame me.'

'Oh I blame you! You were inclined to let her go without my calling. You did not want me putting other ideas into her head. How did she come about going in any case?'

'It seems her sisters convinced her,' she said meekly.

'Heavens, what a family, what a concoction of odd characters!'

'Well you are the head of this family!' she said getting red in the face.

'Then let me act like one,' he said trying to get up again, flinging his hands in the air.

'Keep quiet! You shall be the death of you, stay put, Mr. Bennet.'

'I shall do what I please. Where are Kitty and Lydia? Why haven't they come yet?' he asked as if woken up from a long sleep, as if only now he could recall having other daughters.

'Lydia is at home and…'

'Alone?'

'I left her with the servants.'

'You left that daughter of ours, with child and alone? Know you not her silly tricks and mischievous mind?'

'Do not talk of your own daughter so! She has suffered infinitely!'

'Her suffering was her own doing. I suppose you think Lydia better than all her sisters?'

'I think she has suffered the most!'

'And that makes her indeed a saint?' he replied ironically.

'Mr. Bennet! How awfully cruel you are!'

'I am only speaking the truth!'

'Speaking the truth? How will your painful remarks help our poor daughter? Misfortune is upon her! When will she ever get married in this state?'

'Better she not be married!'

'Mr. Ben…'

'Remember, Helen, how we took each other.'

He almost never called her by her own name. She turned all white. He wouldn't bring up such memories.

'You were with child. Your father threatened to shoot me lest I married you. I do not wish to make a young man do the same for Lydia.'

Mrs. Bennet tried to speak, but her throat was too dry for even the shriek of anger that was swelling in her bosom.

'I thought you loved me a little bit!' she whispered, tears in her eyes. 'I am old! I am old! I can't stand it, not now!'

In a fit of anger, she ran out of the room as if she was once more sixteen.

'Mrs. Bennet! Helen! Come back…' he almost whispered closing his eyes in pain.

He got up and threw the saucer and tea on the floor.

'Helen! I did not mean it…Please!'

Charlotte ran inside the room looking positively alarmed.

'Mr. Bennet! What on Earth happened?'

'Helen! Where is she?'

'Mrs. Bennet? She is out on the porch…'

'Call her back! Call her back please…'

The young wife acquiesced and turned to leave while Mr. Bennet waited in dreadful silence.

The wind still blew with some fortitude, unsettling the window panes. But the sun was prevailing over the clouds.

Then the entire room echoed with a terrible scream.

Mr. Collins' voice was heard.

'Dear Lord…' he whispered in shock.

Mr. Bennet had barely managed to reach the window, dragging himself sorrowfully only to see outside a dishevelled and frightened Charlotte wailing. He opened the shutters and saw a mass of white and blue lying outside the gates. A small chaise was next to it, along with a chestnut horse that was beating his hoofs terribly.

'Mrs. Bennet!' Charlotte moaned. 'Mrs. Bennet!'

'What has happened? What has happened?' Mr. Bennet whispered frightened, shaking altogether.

'She is dead, dear God, she is dead!' Mr. Collins exclaimed touching her neck.