Hi everyone, new chapter is ready! Mary's adventures continue, so I hope you'll keep on reading. Thanks ixi-shaj for the review, I share your feelings.

I hope you'll like this chapter and I hope you'll tell me what you think, no matter your opinion, it is always treasured.

Merry Christmas to all and a Happy New Year, have lots of fun with your families and hope Santa brings you everything you wish!

Chapter 34: Mr. Fowler Repents

Mary decided after some days of not receiving any news from Georgiana that she had better not let Theodore find out about the engagement. It would surely break his heart. She had to see whether it was all a misunderstanding or a cruel fancy of her friend.

For the time being, she waited for Mr. Darcy who had left for Bath.

This was no time for him to be travelling, what with his wife being so indisposed. She was taking care of her sister and suffering over her mother's death like a martyr.

But Lizzy wasn't one to complain verbally. Mary noticed the signs and tried to stay out of her way as much as she could.

One night, as they were all going to bed, she heard terrible screams in the rooms above. She instantly rose and put on her dress.

When she reached the chamber, she saw Lizzy was ushering everyone and going about frantic, calling the names of some servants. One of them was sent to fetch a midwife.

'Had mama been here we wouldn't be needing one,' she was saying frightened.

Mary tried to take her hand but she just turned away, entering the chamber once more.

'My husband has gone for a physician as well,' a voice spoke in the dark and Mary saw Kitty appearing from the shadows, wearing a ridiculously long night gown, nothing like the one she wore at home, when she was not married.

'I pray she's alright. She'll be alright, won't she, Mary?'

'Well, of course, Jane has always been strong. Remember when she got that dreadful cold at Netherfield?'

Just then the door of the chamber opened and Elizabeth ushered out a very gloomy looking Charles Bingley.

None of his protests could bend the sister's will. Whoever had heard of a man present there?! Elizabeth had said.

They all waited in the adjacent room which was another bedroom, but they did not mind.

'Where is papa?' Mary asked at one point.

'He is in his room, pacing it up and down…he said he shouldn't come close,' Kitty replied.

'Well, Charles, what would you like it to be?' Kitty asked.

'Kitty, that's not very…' Mary started but Charles waved his hand and smiled.

'It does not matter, I just hope she is alright.'

'Well, I hope it is a girl. I would love a little niece,' Kitty told him.

Mary nudged her to keep quiet, but Kitty only frowned and ignored her.

'But if it is a boy, then it shall be much better, like mama said…well she used to say it would be much better, it would secure the estate,' Kitty went on.

The Colonel came back after an hour and sat with them, just as worried and gloomy as Charles. He told them it had not been easy finding the physician, it was windy and rainy outside.

After many hours of waiting and worrying, they heard noise on the corridor. Charles and the Colonel ran out and Kitty pursued them but Mary stayed put, afraid of what they might find out.

But when she heard sounds of joy she came out happily and Elizabeth announced her that she had a nephew.

'Well, I don't mind if it's a boy really!' Kitty said once more, hugging Lizzy.

'May I go in and see them?' Charles asked.

'You may but be very quiet, she is resting, poor soul, it wasn't an easy birth,' Lizzy said smiling uneasily.

'Oh, our family is growing,' Kitty exclaimed excited, taking the Colonel's hands in hers. 'Soon we shall all have children and papa shall have many grandchildren and they shall fill these houses with their laughter. Oh, I do adore children.'

'Grandchildren, eh? I suppose I shall have that too.'

Mr. Bennet had come up to see how the birth had gone. He was smiling serenely.

'Papa,' Mary went to him and hugged him. 'It was alright. She is alright.'

'Well, goodness, Mary, you are trembling.'

'I thought…I thought He'd take her away too,' she whispered in his ear.

'As if I would let that happen,' he said cheerfully, though a tinge of sadness could be heard in his voice. 'I would never let that happen.'

It was morning now and the rays of sunshine after the rain were soothing and gentle. The early fog was dissipating and a white sun was rising from grey clouds. The green fields looked blue.

'Thank you,' Mary whispered, folding her hands in prayer.

After a while, they all went to see the child. It was a strong, sturdy boy with a shock of red hair. He would be called Richard, after Charles' grandfather.

Jane looked weak but very happy. She lay in her bed, caressed by all around her, her son and husband at her side and nothing to complain about.

Mary thought this was the perfect picture of happiness. Yet, it was the picture of happiness becoming to the Bingleys, the Bennets and the Darcys, but for some reason it was not her perfect picture.

She did not know what she was looking for, what else was requisite for her perfect picture. Having a child and a husband seemed like great treasures and they were sources of endless happiness, but she was looking for something else. She was looking for something beyond. The word beyond was ambiguously employed and therefore Mary did not know what she wanted.

She resolved to be happy for her sister and forget all about her nonsense. She would in time understand herself better, she told herself.

There was no celebrating feast given in honour of the child, because Mrs. Bennet was not there to celebrate with them and they could not be fully happy without her.

In less than five days Georgiana and Mr. Darcy arrived in Kent. They received a very cold welcome, especially from Elizabeth who above all felt wounded in her good sense and pride.

Miss Darcy was looking rather pale and tired, but altogether decided and undeterred from her plans of matrimony. She told everyone how Mr. Bancroft had not come to pay his congratulations for the newborn only because he had his business to arrange with his sister before the marriage.

She immediately demanded to see her nephew and spoke no more of her engagement, unless asked by others and even then reluctantly.

She had brought gifts for the newborn, in an attempt to assuage Lizzy's bad temper and had made herself very amiable to Jane and Charles.

Mr. Darcy had been very happy to hear of the birth and did not show any signs of current discontent at Georgiana's hasty arrangements. In fact, he had come from the journey half-pleased with himself and the matter at hand.

He had talked to Mr. Bancroft thoroughly and decided the best course was to marry in three months. However, Georgiana had protested, saying it would be a long time away from her fiancée and so darling and gentle was her speech and manner that she almost convinced her brother to have the wedding in a month, no matter the hard chiding he had given her for acting against his knowledge.

She insisted it would be a small gathering, a mere formality as not to insult the memory of the late Mrs. Bennet whom she respected. In this demand, she enlisted the help of Mr. Bancroft who consequently obliged and Mr. Darcy was finally convinced to have the wedding sooner, though he remained in some doubt.

Mary had tried on several occasions to talk to Georgiana about the union, but she had given her very short, puzzling answers, saying it was just another marriage of convenience like all the others.

At first, Mary did not understand what she meant.

'You are marrying him for convenience's sake? Georgiana! I cannot comprehend at all! Why would you need convenience? You have a fortune of twenty thousand and a great name and family. You were convinced you would unite with Theodore.'

'Yes, Mary, perhaps I said all those things, but I only meant I loved Theodore. Not that…I would marry him. It is very hard to marry someone like him in this position Mary, you must understand! Before, it might have been easier, but now my only road to independence is this marriage, you must understand me Mary!'

'Independence? But you are very independent Georgiana. You travel as you like and you may study whatever you please…'

'That barely suffices what I need, my dear friend. I know you will judge me, I was ready for that, I really was. I cannot tell you how I feel and how I am afraid I shall lose your friendship forever. That saddens me greatly. But I cannot act otherwise. Our lot does not have many opportunities besides marriage. I know you will say you have fewer opportunities, but you do not know what it is like to be a young lady "with fortune" and expectations to uphold.'

'No, I suppose I do not,' Mary answered weakly. 'But I do know when I see a very confused little girl trying to act like a wise woman.'

'I am not trying to be wise, Mary. I am trying to be practical. Oh, you must know I still cherish Theodore!'

'Indeed! How will you ever have the chance to love him like this?'

Georgiana looked down ashamed and chose not to answer.

Mary was not capable to assume that Georgiana could muster the boldness to act so unscrupulously and pragmatically as to acquire a lover.

And to her friend's bitter amusement, she remained in the dark throughout their conversation.

'Well, tell me then, how?! You shall sacrifice your love for the comfort of your own home? Is that the independence you crave? Because let me tell you, mama was just as independent and she was not happy.'

'And how do you know that?' Georgiana countered.

'Well! I saw her every day struggling and complaining and suffering on account of…'

'Women must always complain, otherwise men wouldn't love them, but I daresay your mother was not very miserable with her lot,' Georgiana replied.

'And now you turned philosopher I presume!'

'Philosopher no, but maybe I have learnt a lesson or two in my life,' she said proudly.

Mary was very frustrated that her friend was acting so strange and uncommon. She was another person from the one she had seen at Kitty's wedding.

What had come over her indeed?

Mary could not know that Georgiana had only dropped the veil of a good sister that she always wore and stepped out as the young woman who though cold and pragmatic, still kept her old ideals of love and freedom that she had harboured ever since she had been tamed and brought up as a young lady.

It was not that Georgiana Darcy was perverse or vengeful. Her spirit was not broken in its essence and her desires were about to be fulfilled. She was not even coquettish or prepossessing; she was only trying to break the invisible chains around her hands. The chains she thought she had ever since that fateful day in town when she had been so young. She was trying to live a life of her own.

She would not bear her brother any resentment. She would respect and cherish his care and she would visit his family and he hers, as all relatives did, but that would be all and she would be content.

It was too late to tell Mary of her misfortunes and her tribulations and it was too late to let out her frustrations on a poor soul. She would just be a sweet, gentle girl and take care of her friend and not let her know that she sometimes suffered and that she had suffered before Mr. Wickham's appearance.

After all, Mary had come to her at the right time, when she sorely missed Theodore. She had always wanted a sister, a female companion to replace her mother and Mary had serviced as a great friend indeed. Mary had let her be her child self again, if only for a while. She and Theodore managed to bring out the eleven year old girl in her heart.

But even free-spirited, somewhat unconventional Georgiana Darcy knew she could not have Theodore. She could not stoop so low, no matter what the circumstances. She had been raised in the spirit of the Darcys and though she could break many of the old principles, she could not go so far.

Why wouldn't Mary understand?

She was jealous of her sometimes, jealous of her life and her way of seeing things, so pristine and clear, but ever so naïve.

'Georgiana, you always told me you wanted love to guide you, didn't you?' Mary asked.

'Yes and love will guide me,' Georgiana said taking her friend's hands. 'Love will guide me very far, I know it will.'

'No, it's nonsense. How can love guide you far now?' Mary kept asking.

Soon the time came for Mr. Bennet and Mary to return to their old abode in Hertfordshire. They could not stay any longer, they had already stayed far too long and ignored the condition of another daughter, at Longbourn, a daughter that needed their assistance greatly, and it was unpardonable for a husband who had lost a wife and a sister who had lost a mother to stay any longer.

They paid many goodbyes and shed many tears for the child and their mother, but eventually, Lizzy, Jane and Mary parted, Mr. Bennet and Charles shook hands, Mr. Darcy bid them adieu and Kitty and the Colonel waved to them as father and daughter stepped into the carriage that exited the gates of the estate.

Mary looked back wistfully. Georgiana was standing on the steps, wearing a long floating, blue dress, her eyes sad but a small smile planted on her lips as she watched her friend leave.

Mary thought she looked like a fallen goddess that couldn't find her place on earth.

She was relieved though, to be returning home.

There was much work to be done at Longbourn. Now without a mistress, the house passed on to Mary, unwillingly. She was the eldest and therefore had to take some responsibility even though she had help from Mr. Hill and Bertha.

Lydia they found in a foul mood, but not fouler than they would have expected. She bellowed for days on end how they had forgotten all about her and how they were insensitive creatures, bared of any good sense, leaving a woman like her "in a house like that, with those servants and that suffocating air".

'Mrs. Lucas thought it was mighty fine to come and visit me and laugh at my expense. Her daughter too, what an insidious creature! She pretended to be worried about me and wanted to help me dress, but I know the old harps are probably thinking I've been rightfully punished because I married earlier and had a better husband, God rest his soul! I do not know why we waste any good tea on them,' she said heaving, as she was helped up by Mary who was giving her some gruel.

She lay in her bed, proud and majestic, though bulged and deformed as she was.

'I do not know how you manage to harbour these feelings right now,' Mary said amused.

'Well, I do what I can to keep my wits about, but it's not easy I tell you.'

'No, I am sure it cannot be.'

'If mama were here, I would be very relieved. She would know what to do. She would take care of me properly,' she said bitterly. 'But everyone I love must die, it appears! Pshaw! Is that the price for happiness? I will probably never get married either. Who will take me with little to no income and a child on my hands?! I suppose I shall end up an old maid! An old widow too! And I bet this child will be very spoilt and cry a great deal. And if it's a girl then she will probably end up an old maid too, for who would want her as a wife? Unless she is very beautiful, like her mama or her grandmamma. That is my only hope.'

'Lydia, you will not end up an old maid and this child will be a blessing to you, be it girl or boy. Who knows, you might even find immense joy in taking care of it and you shall forget all your troubles.'

'Yes, yes, if I were you or Kitty maybe I would settle for that, but you know Mary I was never meant to be pleased like that. That is why I eloped. I have always been the most forward of the family. And papa has always castigated me for it. But he never saw what I saw. He never made mama feel loved.'

Mary put down the bowl, feeling rather tired. She had worked all day with Bertha and now she was feeling exhausted. But the words Lydia had just uttered rang in her ears like shattered crockery.

'I know. I know he didn't love her very much.'

'You do? And I thought you only had your head buried in books. But I suppose anyone could have noticed how disparaging a behaviour papa had.'

'You'd best mind your words, he is still your father and he has taken care of you all these years.'

'But has he ever taken me seriously? Has he ever taken you seriously?'

Mary was about to protest, but Lydia guessed what she was about to reply.

'And you might think he has given you attention, but that was only after his "dear, sweet Elizabeth and Jane" left Longbourn. He did not mind you very much before, or me, or Kitty. He thought we were silly, because we weren't collected and gentle like Jane or witty and outspoken like Lizzy. I for one never envied them, but papa seemed to think we should.'

'But we are outspoken and we have our word to say…' Mary countered feebly.

'Yes, well, he never noticed that, because we could never outshine the eldest daughters.'

'He might have been right that we were silly,' Mary said pensively.

'Speak for yourself, Mary. I was never silly. Kitty perhaps was a tad silly, but I wasn't. I was only content with myself and my means. And I had my own plans and my own ideals. I wanted to dance with many handsome men and have a very comfortable home, full of servants to tend to my needs and rich dresses to wear and if that is a sin well, then God shall forgive me, but I can't find pleasure in anything else.'

'But you eloped with Wickham! What sort of rich dresses could you get out of that?!'

'A young girl still has the right to dream!' she said a little vexed that Mary had found a good argument. 'I wanted a handsome and rich man, but all the rich ones were ugly or pompous like Mr. Darcy, or they were blinded by beauties like Jane. So I had to settle for a handsome but poor one. I would get my own rich dresses. Even if I needed to work for them. I would not let anybody know.'

'Please do not distress yourself,' Mary said a bit worried, as Lydia was heaving a great deal harder.

'I am not distressing myself, I am telling the truth.'

Mary did not know what to think. On the one hand her sister was rather silly, but on the other hand she was a very odd, unruly woman. She was made of childish illusions and cynical conclusions all clashed into an opinionated, if not imposing female. She had to confess she had not given Lydia the credit of being this observant or lucid.

The very next day Longbourn received a very unexpected guest. Someone who Mary had thought would never pass their threshold.

'Mr. Fowler, Sir, at your service,' the man said as he paid his greetings to Mr. Bennet.

'I have come on urgent matters to Hertfordshire. And I have come to discuss with you, Sir, if you would be so willing as to receive me. The subject is a delicate one but I trust you shall hear me out, for I come here as a man who has repented his past mistakes.'

Mr. Bennet was very surprised by this speech and could do nothing but invite him in the parlour. Mary insisted she should stay and listen as well for she had the feeling she would be the subject.

To her surprise, Mr. Fowler did not protest. He seemed rather humble and feeble. He had half-recovered and he could walk, though quite slowly, with a cane. He was glad to be rested in an armchair.

He looked the image of an old, tired man, who, despite all odds, still kept a strange, aloofness by him which could be taken for a personal charm.

'Should Mary call for some tea? Do call for some tea, Mary,' Mr. Bennet said.

'Oh, please do not trouble yourself. I would like to say what I must say and tea cannot help me.'

Mary waited patiently, though rather nervously for him to begin.

'I do hope you have recovered a bit more. My daughter has taken great trouble to visit you,' Mr. Bennet said rather sourly, remembering the circumstances in which his daughter had left Kent to go visit him.

'I did not approve her leave whole-heartedly, but if it has rendered you any good…' he continued.

'Very much, Sir. She has been an ailment to me like no other. But more an ailment to the mind and soul than to the body. Miss Bennet helped me remember how I was when I was younger, she helped me make the decision to change myself.'

'Indeed! To change yourself, Sir?'

'Yes. Ever since I met Miss Bennet she has managed to change me a bit, and now I think I am ready to take my charge and be a good man for once in my life at least.'

'Well, that is good news. Have you come all this way to thank her?' he asked surprised.

'Yes, I admit, I have come for that, but for another reason as well,' he said gravely. 'I have come to take responsibility. Miss Bennet told me I should mend what I have done wrong and that is what I wish to do now. For I believe she is in the right.'

Mr. Bennet remained quiet, more and more puzzled by this strange man.

'I have come with a marriage proposal.'

Mr. Bennet's eyebrows rose considerably as he looked the man up and down.

Mary's cheeks were now as red as apples and she was doing her best not to get up and run out of the room.

But Mr. Bennet did get up.

'To my daughter?'

'Yes, to your daughter.'

'Goodness, this is quite unexpected…' he said turning to Mary.

'I would like to ask the hand of Lydia Wickham, Sir, if I may.'

'Lydia?!' both Mr. Bennet and Mary exclaimed at once.

'What business have you with my youngest, Sir?' Mr. Bennet asked suspiciously. 'As I know, you two have never been in company, have you?'

Mary could not believe her ears. Mr. Fowler wanted to marry Lydia!

'Alas, we have been brought together a couple of times, Sir,' he said getting up with great difficulty.

'I know I do not seem the right man to provide for her, but you must believe me, I will take great care of her. I should be her rightful husband.'

'And perhaps you might tell me, Sir, why I should give you her hand so willingly?' Mr. Bennet asked.

Mr. Fowler looked at Mary and then at Mr. Bennet and she saw fear in his eyes for the very first time.

'Sir, pray…what I should tell you might be preposterous but I beg you to listen. I believe…I believe I am the father of her child.'