Title- Mary
Author- 4give4get
Rated- T
Pairing- Mary BennetxOC
Disclaimer- I own nothing.
Serena- Yup.
abyssgirl- Thanks for the compliments!
distorted realities- Glad you like Mary! Thanks for reviewing!
Thinkoutsidethebun07- Thank you so much for saying all of those nice things! (tears in eyes) I'm truly flattered. Thanks so much.
Serena- Yup.
Chapter Four…
Lizzy proposed they have ride to see the Pemberly grounds. Mary had little taste for nature, but it was not within her preference to object. It was a horribly sunny day and everything was dry. There was not even her favorite thunderstorm weather to accompany her on this carriage ride.
Most of the gentlemen opted out, leaving only Lizzy, Jane, Mary, and Mr. Ashby. Lizzy prompted Miss Bingley and Kitty to stay at Pemberly together and keep each other company, turning both girl's face's red in annoyance.
"Mary has not yet seen all of Pemberly," she added, "We shall have dinner by the pond, and be back in time for supper."
The carriage sat four people in the back, but had a narrow bench where the driver would sit to hold another two. Mr. Ashby took the reins while Lizzy and Jane settled in the back. Mary began to climb in after them on the opposite bench, when Lizzy interjected.
"We cannot allow Mr. Ashby to sit alone, why don't you accompany him, Mary?"
"I don't accompany him because I do not feel that we cannot allow him to sit alone. If you feel that way, madam, then you may sit by him," Mary stated clearly, obviously appearing rude and obviously hardly caring.
Lizzy gasped and Jane's eyes were as large as eggs. Mary's countenance changed very little after the proclamation and Mr. Ashby had been turned away at the moment so she did not notice if he was offended by her speech.
"Mary, I am your elder sister and a married woman, at that. I outrank you, now do as I say."
Wordlessly, Mary climbed up on the narrow board next to Mr. Ashby, her fists in tight balls, as if she were about to punch Lizzy. She had more self-control than that, luckily and her fingernails only dug into her palms leaving marks and indents there for the remainder of the evening.
Mary could enjoy herself very little out of the shade on a hot day next to a man like Mr. Ashby, while Lizzy kept trying to have them strike up a conversation. She was not taking the bait, however. She noticed little of the scenery, only grass and trees and screeching birds, while she felt herself roasting alive. There was not a speck of breeze to be found.
"How can Mary be so goaded on such a lovely, sunny day?" Lizzy wondered aloud to Jane, not out of Mary's earshot whatsoever.
How indeed? Mary thought, dryly, I only imagine being stretched on a rack and having my joints separate or having my tongue ripped out would be yet less torturous than this.
Eventually, they did make it to the pond Elizabeth spoke of. Mary regarded it with distaste—it was mostly dried up and what water was there was brown and boiling hot. Apparently, they had brought a small basket of apples and bread and cheese. She was not particularly hungry and threw her apple in the pond just to see the splash and fed the cheese and bread to random screeching birds.
"You are bringing them all over here," Lizzy noticed, waving her hands at them, "Stop feeding them."
Mary threw another hunk of cheese at a bird.
Mr. Ashby looked extremely uncomfortable through it all and silently ate his dinner; his eyes were downcast for the most part. Mary assumed he could only guess at the relationship between the sisters and did not want to be involved. Well, Mary did not want to be involved either, so that made two of them. A large squawking black bird flew down from the trees, seeing Mary giving away her food. Of course, before it arrived at its destination of Mary's lap, it let loose its droppings on Mr. Ashby's shoulder.
His black suit jacket was stained white on one side, the dripping wetness of it stole down his arm as well. He looked at it in horror, not sure what to do.
"Dear me!" Lizzy and Jane gasped, but Mary suppressed a laugh—it was the most interesting thing that had happened all day—and a funny one at that.
"Nice bird," she said, giving it the remainder of her bread.
On the ride back to the estate, Mary got out of having to sit next to Mr. Ashby by worrying that the bird droppings might be smeared from his shoulder to hers on that narrow bench. Lizzy reluctantly allowed her to sit in the back with them, although not trying any less to have them get any better acquainted with each other.
Kitty greeted her at the demise of the ride at Pemberly's front doors. Although, when Mr. Ashby pushed his way inside, nothing needed to be said. Both girls waited for Elizabeth and Jane to pass before they held each other and laughed until they were collapsed on the ground, tears rolling down their cheeks, Mr. Ashby's face burned in their minds.
.x.X.x.
"Can you believe it?" Kitty screamed in delight, "Mr. Darcy's to hold a ball while we're here!"
"Honestly, I can," Mary responded, flipping through the random assortment of books on the shelves in Kitty's chamber. Both girls were in their nightclothes, Kitty having insisted they share a room instead of having Mary sleep all the way up in the attic.
"Miss Bennet and Miss Catherine Bennet?" a voice asked, knocking lightly on the door, "Are you decent?"
"Decent enough," Mary snorted and pulled the door open, feeling little modesty. It was only Mrs. Reynolds anyhow. Mary could think of worse people to see her in her nightgown, honestly.
The woman was surprised by her forwardness, but simply pushed two letters in her hands and uttered a good night, quickly turning away. Mary examined the letters. One was addressed to "Miss Bennet," and the other addressed to "Mary and Kitty Bennet." The latter was from Lydia, Mary could tell because she noticed it was signed, "Mrs. Wickham." She handed that one off to Kitty and opened the one addressed to herself only.
Miss Bennet,
New reading materials in your window boxes awaiting your return to Hertfordshire.
-J. Latimer
"Oh, poor Lydia!" Kitty cried, crumbling the letter, "She is afraid she no longer loves Wickham!"
"That is unfortunate, indeed," Mary allowed, "What shall we tell her?"
"I know not," Kitty rubbed her temples, "But I just feel awful."
Mary quickly hugged her, "I know—I do as well. Somehow I feel that things will work themselves out."
Kitty only nodded. She then perked, "What are the contents of your letter?"
"This?" Mary held up James Latimer's note, "Look for yourself."
Kitty read the note and then looked at her confused, "It makes little sense."
"Allow me to rid you of your unawareness, sister," Mary grinned, "That note is from James Latimer. Mrs. Coleman's American nephew. He is lending me books."
Kitty's face fell in disappointment, "Oh, how romantic," she sighed in sarcasm, "The exchange of books!"
"Romantic?" Mary scoffed, "Hardly. I believe Americans to be incapable of romance."
"I know no Americans," her sister reminded her.
"And I, one, which is not very many to judge from. I like him indifferently," Mary said, "But these books are not just any books. Do you remember as I wrote to you about Mrs. Bennet burning my book?"
"I evoke it, yes."
"These books are of a similar nature," Mary explained, "Thus the window boxes—it is very secret."
"Except not anymore."
"No—a secret it is still, because this shall go no farther than you, is that not right, Kitty?"
"Of course, of course," Kitty replied vaguely, "I excel at keeping naughty, mischievous, dirty secrets."
"You'd best be," Mary warned her.
"Come now, Mary, who would I tell, Miss Bingley?"
"Fair point. Well, I suppose I owe you the keeping of one nasty, awful, dark secret now."
"You suppose correctly—I'll hold you to it."
"What are you doing?"
Kitty was fishing a sheet of paper out of the desk along with a pen and ink. She began writing, "I'm replying to Lydia. And don't think I would leave James Latimer out."
"I thought this would go no further than you," Mary quoted, utterly annoyed.
"And Lydia," her sister said quickly, "Don't worry, she does not write other people. And if she does her letters are not read, for they only include idle gossip anyhow."
"Fine, tell Lydia," Mary sighed. Two people more than she'd intended knew about James Latimer and his books now. Well, Kitty and Lydia could keep secrets, just not to each other. Didn't she keep Lydia's planned elopement a safe secret? Mary didn't like comparing her situation with James and elopement, so she resolved to go to bed as Kitty wrote.
The night of the supposed ball at Pemberly came all too quickly for Mary and not quickly enough for Kitty. She was now bouncing off the walls in excitement, hardly able to contain herself.
"Oh, sister! We shall dress alike! We may wear identical gowns and style our hair the same way!"
The end result was old mint green muslin that both of the girls owned was given new trim. Mary frowned at it—it was so very fancy. She decided she would only wear it for Kitty's sake. And then Mary's hair was curled. Mary had never curled her hair once, so it was a very new experience. Her nose was powdered and she felt as foolish as a clown in all of it.
"You look beautiful," Kitty assured her, perfecting her own hair.
Mary looked at herself in the large mirror they were sharing. No. She looked awkward. Kitty looked beautiful in that hairstyle and that gown, but Mary just looked like she was playing dress-up. It was that pathetic. As they made their way down, they saw just how fancy Mr. Darcy's ballroom was. Many guests had already arrived, but she could see Lizzy standing in the center conversing with that blasted Mr. Ashby.
Lizzy began to turn her way, but Mary grabbed Kitty's arm and ducked behind a large vase in the corner.
"Mary!" Kitty cried, "What is the matter? You'll wrinkle our gowns!"
"Who cares?" Mary countered, peering out from around the vase, "I've got to hide from Lizzy."
"Why?"
"Or she'll bring around that Ashby man and force me to talk to him for the rest of the night," Mary explained her predicament.
Kitty began laughing out loud, "Lizzy had you set up with someone? With him?"
Mary sighed, irritated, "It is not humorous, Catherine."
"Perhaps Lizzy just means well."
"She thinks she is doing me an reputable favor, perhaps," Mary began another speech, "But she perceptibly knows my disposition very little, otherwise she would apprehend the fact that I have done very well on my own, and shall continue to do so in the future. My soul speaks for no husband. And a life with no husband is that of a free woman—which I am, and intend to stay as such."
"Try telling that to her," Kitty snorted, arranging her feet so they folded more comfortably in their cramped space.
"Let us observe now," both girls peeked from around the vase and saw Lizzy and Mr. Ashby in the center of the room. Lizzy was on her toes trying to see the room better, obviously looking for something—obviously Mary.
"Ha," Kitty laughed, "Where is her plan now? Let us get back to the party soon."
"I suppose, but we must keep a distance from Lizzy," Mary agreed and consented to filing out back into the ballroom. They found seats together along the walls, and spoke some, Mary keeping an eye out for her second eldest sister, and Kitty keeping an eye out for any sort of young gentleman.
"It he not rather commendable?" Kitty pointed to a young man speaking to Mr. Hurst, "He has got green eyes! I wonder if I may be introduced…"
"Let's see," Mary pulled her up and began walking over.
"Oh, Mary, no!" Kitty cried, "I could never!"
"It will be fine," Mary promised her and they approached Mr. Hurst with a curtsy.
"Mr. Hurst," Mary began in her usual polite manner, "My sister, Kitty and I were looking for Mrs. Hurst but do not seem able to find her—did she not come?"
Mr. Hurst was a perfectly civil man, and bowed and smiled at both girls, "How kind of you to inquire. No, Mrs. Hurst finds herself unwell tonight, but asks no one enjoy the party any less."
"Oh, how dreadful," Mary observed, "Give her our hopes of a soon recovery, won't you?"
"Of course. Ah, how rude of me! I never introduced my young friend here to you ladies!" Mr. Hurst patted the young man on the hand to draw him closer, "This is my cousin, Mr. Sutter. And these," he turned to the man, "Are Mrs. Darcy's younger sisters, Miss Bennet and Miss Catherine Bennet."
"Mr. Sutter, won't you keep Dear Kitty, company?" Mary gently pushed her sister forwards, "I believe I see an old acquaintance of mine."
Mr. Sutter (surprised, perhaps) replied in the affirmative, and Mary walked off, smirking. She let herself get lost in the crowd of people and spied from time to time later Kitty and Mr. Sutter conversing. And thus, Mary discovered something about herself. She could use her smarts in such ways as to appear social and appealing! With her confidence boosted, she helped herself to a glass of punch.
After a dance (in which Kitty and Mr. Sutter participated) they joined Mary by the refreshments. Unfortunately, Miss Bingley happened to walk up to find something to drink. She eyed Kitty and Mary and laughed out loud.
"I was under the impression that sisters grew out of dressing alike at ten years old," she sighed, shaking her head.
"Perhaps you were under a droll false impression, Miss Bingley," Mary responded calmly.
"How very droll indeed," she replied tightly, "And tell me, how is your sister, Mrs. Wickham doing lately? A happy patched up marriage?"
Kitty's face turned red, and Mary saw her clench her fists. Mary felt anger stir in her own body. The want to defend Lydia's name rose in her throat. She swallowed it. Mary knew that if she responded angrily she would appear foolish and lose the argument. She kept her calm demeanor.
"Very happy indeed. And how has yours been coming? Oh, that's right—how rude of me, you haven't a husband yet, have you, Miss Bingley," Mary countered.
"But it shouldn't be long now, because my sister didn't ruin my reputation," Miss Bingley snapped, turning purple in the face.
"And you'll find that once a reputation is lost one may never need worry of keeping one ever again."
"Indeed, is that what you've resorted to?" Miss Bingley laughed, even a tad loud, "Well, I won't judge you, I haven't got a sister who's a whore."
The next few moments were very fast for Mary. She remembered feeling angrier than she'd felt in a long time, and desperately needing an outlet for that anger. She acted in fury—one moment she was reaching for a white-frosted cake on the refreshment table and the next she was smearing it in Miss Bingley's face. Miss Bingley screamed and shoved her backwards. Her face was covered in frosting and cake and she was screaming and crying. The whole room was looking at her.
"Don't you ever say such a thing about my sister again!" Mary was shouting at her, "You didn't get it, did you? If you mess with Lydia, you mess with us also, you detrimental, sour-faced, horrid, old hag of a woman!"
Upon finishing her speech, Mary linked arms with Kitty and hurried out of the room. Her head was held high. The girls ran to their room, panting, Kitty collapsed on the bed, smiling.
"You were amazing, Mary! I've wanted to do that to her my whole visit! But, oh, you'll be in so much trouble…"
"I care not," Mary replied, throwing things in her trunk, "I'm leaving!"
"Leaving?" Kitty echoed, "Going where?"
"Longbourn. I'm going home."
Mary knew that she must leave. Her stay at Pemberly was done. She was relieved. No more Lizzy, no more Mr. Ashby, no more anyone. She finished packing and dressed herself back in her gray dress and bonnet.
She kicked open the door and walked down the stairs, meeting Lizzy, Jane, and Mrs. Bennet at the bottom of the stair well.
"What have you done?" cried Lizzy.
"I threw a cake in Miss Bingley's face, that's what I've done, madam," Mary answered her, pushing past her.
"What on earth are you doing, Mary?" Mrs. Bennet asked.
"What I should have done days ago, madam, I'm leaving!"
"You ungrateful girl!" Mrs. Bennet shouted, "Come back here this instant!"
But Mary only ignored her and continued walking out the door. She walked down the path and off of the Pemberly grounds. The night was refreshingly cool and the wind blew her skirt back. She walked briskly, breathing steadily. The oxygen to her brain improved her thinking and the blood to her limbs improved any other bodily function.
Mary did not regret dousing Miss Bingley with cake. Nor would she apologize for something she was not sorry she did. She decided that as she left the grounds in case someone would come around later, expecting her to feel any sort of remorse.
Indeed, they will be sadly mistaken, Mary promised herself.
The nearest town was not by any means very large, nor very far from Pemberly. After having walked the two miles into its outskirts, she saw it was only a little bigger than Meryton. Most of the shops were closed, although some houses still had lamps lit within. She was alone on the empty streets—everyone had finished their evening errands. With what money she had, she paid for a ride to Meryton on the carriage whose driver said they would pass through Hertfordshire.
Mary spent the whole journey back smiling to herself, thinking of Miss Bingley with cake in her face, replaying the moment over and over again in her head. Was not Lizzy and Mrs. Bennet's reactions humorous as well? And wait until she told James of this!
James? She paused, rubbing her chin. And just who was James Latimer to her now, anyway? She did not like him at first, that much was obvious to herself. A she got to know him, she found she could respect his disposition, a rare thing for Mary to be sure. A friend? Mary could think of no other alternative. James was her friend. Her only friend outside of Kitty and Lydia. It felt odd and foreign to think of such a thing, so she let her mind ponder elsewhere.
She slept at the same inn she had with Mr. and Mrs. Bennet on their journey to Pemberly. She had never traveled alone, and even felt scared at the prospect. For all of about fifteen or perhaps twenty minutes. She was nineteen after all! And so most nineteen year old girls hardly left their own hometown without an escort, she was obviously not most nineteen year old girls. She was Mary Bennet.
Mary fell asleep quickly thinking good thoughts and was prepared for the seconds days journey that would take her back to Meryton.
Longbourn looked as it always did. Stately and tall… Mary's childhood home. As she approached it, her trunk in tow, she realized she never felt very attached to it. Miserable place, she thought, stepping up in front of it, let bloody Mr. Collins have it.
Mrs. Hall was horrified to see her back so soon. …And alone… Mary realized that she was scared she might murder her in her sleep without the protection of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. Mary likewise regarded her coldly and simply went up to her chambers to unpack. Mrs. Hall was not surprised to hear about Mary and Miss Bingley but did not have the bravery to scold her for it. Whenever Mary took a step towards her, she took two steps backwards.
And Mary felt no remorse for anything she had ever done—that much you must understand. Mrs. Hall may be scared, for all she cared.
End Chapter
Serena- Please review. Also, I'm going to estimate this story with be nine chapters of roughly the length of the ones I've got so far.