"Miss Bennet, may I speak to you alone?"
Mary looked up from her book. Miss de Bourgh's eyes were alight with some intense emotion and her pale cheeks flushed pink with warmth. Her voice was still hoarse from her illness and she had leaned in close to Mary so that she wouldn't have to speak too loudly.
"Of course," said Mary. They slipped into a small room in the side of the house, Miss de Bourgh sitting down with barely concealed relief onto a small sofa. Mary sat beside her and shuffled closer so that Miss de Bourgh wouldn't strain her voice.
She wondered what Miss de Bourgh wanted to talk to her about. Since they had come to London it felt like they were never alone together any more, their comfortable routine interrupted by Miss de Bourgh's recovery, the new rhythms of Elizabeth's busy London house, and of course Lydia. Perhaps she was the cause of this meeting. It was proof of Miss de Bourgh's charitable spirit that she had tried so hard to see good in Mary's wayward sister, but hopefully she had finally come to realise the truth in Mary's judgement of Lydia. If Mary was honest with herself (and she was of course always scrupulously honest with herself) she felt a little hurt that Miss de Bourgh had not trusted her judgement in the first place. She accepted that Miss de Bourgh had her own decided opinions on morality and questions relating to her estate, but it only seemed fair for her to accept Mary's expertise on the subject of her own family.
Mary had certainly not enjoyed being thrust back into Lydia's company again. Marriage had brought neither maturity nor propriety, and she seemed as determined to torment Mary as ever. But Mary could not regret the move to London. Despite the strain to her health, Miss de Bourgh seemed happier than she had been of late at Rosings, even with her currently limited ability to travel or spend time in company, and although Mary had not found Lady Catherine's presence very oppressive herself, she found herself enjoying its absence. The city, too, had its own delights, although Mary had not yet had much chance to sample them.
Miss de Bourgh did not seem very happy now. Her fingers curled in tension on her lap, and her legs jittered subtly with nervous energy, the vibration passing into Mary where their hips brushed against each other. Mary smiled gently and placed her hand on Miss de Bourgh's, her thin fingers a shock of cold against Mary's skin. Whatever burden Miss de Bourgh was carrying, Mary felt certain that she could help her bear it. The thought filled her with an affectionate warmth.
"Miss Bennet," said Miss de Bourgh, "Is it true that Darcy refuses to be in the same house as your sister on account of her marrying Mr Wickham?"
"Uh," said Mary.
Miss de Bourgh pulled her hand out from underneath Mary's to punctuate her speech with an irritated splay of her fingers. "What a high handed prig Darcy is. I and my cousin have not always been the best of friends, but I had thought him generous enough in spirit not to abandon his own sister-in-law."
Mary stared blankly at Miss de Bourgh for a moment before her brain caught up with the conversation. "I do not think he refuses entirely," she said. "But from what I can gather he does avoid her company." Miss de Bourgh frowned. "I do not see that he should not," continued Mary. "It is his house and he may seek what company he chooses. I do not know the details and have not asked, but I cannot imagine that he would find much in Lydia's company that would appeal to his sensibilities."
"She is still family," said Miss de Bourgh, "and whatever dark things he knows of Wickham, they should only make Darcy more sympathetic to any poor girl lured into his clutches. One need only meet her to see that she is a simple creature, too straightforward and guileless to defend herself against the charm and lies of such a man."
"Guileless? She is no such thing. And I am quite sure that she did not require much luring. No woman of sense would allow herself to be in the power of a man such as Mr Wickham, and Lydia has always been quite determined on a life of sin."
"A life of… Miss Bennet when you say such things I am ashamed to know you. She is your sister," said Miss de Bourgh. "How can you be so unforgiving?"
Normally Mary felt a sort of disdainful pity for those unable to see the wisdom of her opinions, and gained satisfaction from knowing better than to listen to their flawed arguments. But at this moment she felt only frustration and disappointment. If only Miss de Bourgh would see.
"Miss de Bourgh," said Mary, "I have tried to be patient with Lydia. I have done my best to be an exemplar of purity, submissiveness and humility, but rather than following my example she has only…" To her annoyance Mary could feel tears pricking at her eyes. She was not going to let her feelings interfere with her argument.
Miss de Bourgh turned to look at Mary, her eyes focussing on her face with more comprehension than Mary was entirely comfortable with. She was still frowning, but her brows bent slightly from anger to concern.
"…She has shown no interest in being a true sister to me," Mary finished weakly.
Miss de Bourgh said, "I do not deny that your sister is unkind to you, and I am sorry to see it. I have always thought that it would be pleasant to have a sister, but I would not wish to live with such animosity. If I do not lecture her, it is only because I am not her friend, and would not expect her to listen to me." Miss de Bourgh looked up into Mary's eyes with sincerity, and Mary's heart felt a little lighter.
"I do wish you would listen to me," she added, rather spoiling the effect, but Mary did not mind. They sat in silence for a while. Miss de Bourgh appeared to have run through her burst of angry energy, and Mary had no wish to continue the argument at this precise moment.
Could she perhaps be kinder to Lydia? It seemed unlikely that Lydia's behaviour would change, but moral behaviour should be its own reward. She also felt a certain satisfaction at the idea of proving to Miss de Bourgh that Mary was not the cause of the unfriendly relationship between her and Lydia.
"Perhaps you are right," she said, with some reluctance. "I must face my duty as her sister with humility and a forgiving heart, for however sorely she may try my patience it is not for we mortals to judge our brother's transgressions. Or our sister's."
Miss de Bourgh smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Thank you, Miss Bennet," she said. "You make me very glad. I only wish that my cousin was as good. Perhaps I… perhaps you could speak to Mrs Darcy."
"Perhaps," said Mary. It was not often that she was in a position to offer moral advice to Elizabeth. She would have to consider the situation carefully.
Anne smiled again and Mary was struck by how beautiful she was. And she had said that she and Mary were friends! The thought filled Mary with happiness. Since it felt like the right thing to do, Mary leaned across and kissed her.
Miss de Bourgh gasped and pulled away.
"I am sorry," said Mary. "I did not mean… I have been too forward. Forgive me." She blushed and shifted back across the sofa.
Miss de Bourgh's face had become flushed again. "There is no need to apologise," she said. "I was only surprised."
"No, indeed, I have every need to apologise," said Mary. She could still feel her cheeks burning. What had she been thinking? Her motivations seemed hazy and insufficient in retrospect. "You have been very kind to me, Miss de Bourgh, and I… I must always hold in the forefront of my mind that when two people are thrown together, as we are, there must naturally develop a certain amount of familiarity, and of course a woman of your rank has an obligation to act with the concerns with your dependants in mind, which may sometimes…" She took a breath. "One of the key features of the English language, it is often said, is the complex range of meanings which a single word may manifest depending on context. The… the word "friend" for example may refer in some contexts to a person to whom one is joined in mutual benevolence and intimacy, but it may also simply refer to a person without hostile intentions. It behooves me, as it behooves all of us, to remain vigilant to such double meanings, lest we cause offence or injury."
It was now Miss de Bourgh's turn to stare at Mary blankly.
"I have hurt your feelings," she said, slowly, sounding surprised.
Since there was no point denying it, and she could not think of anything else to say, Mary did not reply.
"Miss Bennet, I…" Miss de Bourgh twisted her hands together and frowned at her thumbs. She took a deep breath and sighed. "Miss Bennet, if you are not my friend then I do not know who is. It is only that I am a strange, difficult sort of person, and friendship does not come naturally to me. I am sorry that this has caused you pain."
"Oh," said Mary. "Miss de Bourgh, I….." The tight ball of sadness that had formed in her chest unfurled. But it pained her to see that Miss de Bourgh still looked melancholy. "You are not strange or difficult," she said. "You have merely been too far removed from society. I am sure that you will make many new friends in London. Any person of sense would be glad to be your friend."
"Do you truly believe that?" asked Miss de Bourgh.
"I do not say things I do not mean," replied Mary.
"That is true," said Miss de Bourgh. She sighed and closed her eyes. "I should not burden you with my self pity. Thank you for your kindness." After a moment she opened her eyes. She looked at Mary and then looked away. "Since we are to be friends, Miss Bennet, may I call you Mary?"
"Yes," said Mary. "Yes you may." She could not remember the last time someone had asked to use her Christian name.
"And you may call me Anne, if you wish." She gave a short laugh. "I cannot remember the last time I asked anyone to call me by my Christian name."
"Anne," said Mary. What a pretty name it was.
"Yes?"
"Oh, no, I…" She had simply wanted to hear how it sounded to say. "Would you like me to escort you back to your room? Since you are tired."
"Thank you, Mi…Mary, but I have slept enough these last few days for a lifetime. If you are willing I would rather sit here quietly with you."
Mary smiled. "I can think of nothing better."
Author's note: Thanks again to Hele for her wonderful beta-ing and support. And I managed not to overwrite her changes this time, huzzah!
There's a few places where Mary is quoting from various contemporary books, but I forgot to take note of which.
I hate to have to say it, but I think this is as far as I can write Anne and Mary's story. I've changed a lot since I started this story three (!) years ago, and one of the things I've realised is that the sort of story I was planning on writing for them is not the sort of thing I have much interest or ability at writing. I hope you've enjoyed the journey thus far, and I intend to try and draw a little epilogue picture at some point. There's a picture of them already at archiveofourown dot org slash works slash 246906.
Thanks for reading!