Title- Mary
Author-4give4get
Rated- T
Disclaimer- I own nothing.
Serena- Yup.
distorted realities- Thanks for the prediction, glad you liked the last chapter. :P
Thinkoutsidethebun07- Thanks so much for the review, don't worry about last chapter. You're a great reviewer! :P
Chapter Six…
Mary Bennet. Unstoppable. Were the first words in her head when she woke up on that day. She jumped from bed, and ardently dressed herself in her favorite black gown. She put on her shoes for the first time in what seemed like ages and opened the window again.
She almost stopped. It had been many years since she'd climbed down from the window. She wasn't so sure that the tree branches could hold her weight, much after fourteen. Now she was nineteen…
Well, she was smaller than any of the other Bennet girls. With only this thought to comfort her, she stepped out of the window. Left foot first. She rested it on the tree limb, and it did not instantly give away and snap, so she was ever so slightly boosted by that much. Then her right foot. Still not all of her weight was on the branch, since she still sat on her windowsill.
Well, here goes.
Mary reached for the trunk and caught it in her fingers. She did not fall, and lie broken on the garden below. But she still hardly dared to breathe. Of course, climbing Mrs. Coleman's rose trellis was nothing to the horrors of climbing out of a window and into a tree in which you were not one hundred percent sure could hold your weight. She cautiously climbed down, realizing that the limbs grew thicker the lower she went.
Unfortunately for Mary, it was impossible not to look down as that was the direction in which she was climbing. The ground moved beneath her, and it seemed like ages before she finally landed firmly on her two feet on solid earth. The feeling was so overwhelming that she even collapsed onto her knees for about a few seconds. Think on it though, the first time having been outside in so long…
Mary never appreciated the feel of grass between her fingers or wind in her hair so much. Quickly, as not to waste time, she ran, ducking beneath windows down to the path to Meryton. Once there, she flung open Mrs. Coleman's front door and cried out, "James Latimer!"
Mrs. Coleman was sitting in her parlor, with a bible in her hands and simply reading, the very picture of perfect womanly innocence. Upon Mary's appearance, she gasped in shock, putting her hand over her heart in displeasure. It only took two seconds for Mary to realize just what she had done.
"Many apologizes, madam," she breathed, walking towards the kitchen, "But where is your nephew?"
The poor woman was so surprised and blustered that she could do nothing but stare at her with eyes as large as eggs and pant heavily. Mary hoped she did not cause her to have a heart attack.
And then came James. His blue eyes scanned the scene of his aunt having a thrombosis and Mary standing there uneasily, wondering what to do about it. No smile decorated his face today. The usually happy person she knew was gone. Had she hurt him that much? Mary wondered if he would even hear her out, or just throw her out. Well, she would simply have to take her chances, she realized, because as James stood before her, he obviously planned on saying nothing.
Mary did not meet his eyes. She needed to be able to speak plainly, so she simply fixed her eyes on his feet instead. They were rather normal looking feet. Nothing special or unusual about them.
"I… er, I would like to apologize, and sincerely apologize and act contrite for the transgression I, er, committed…"
She was interrupted before completion, however, "Stop," Mary looked up to see James was smiling as brightly as ever, "This is far to painful to listen to. You don't apologize often, do you, Miss Bennet?"
"Perhaps not," Mary began, but then smiled (as Mary ever smiles) just happy to realize that James was no longer angry with her for her behavior the night before regarding her punishments from Mrs. Bennet. So she did not even mind when he mocked her loss at words.
"Miss Bennet?" she looked up, and oh no, he looked serious again. She cringed, she should have known that she would not get off the hook so easily.
"Yes, Mr. Latimer?" she asked, returning her line of vision to his average-looking feet.
"I have new books for you," he said, and Mary looked into his face to see that the smile had come back.
.x.X.x.
And do not be mistaken and think that Mary got away with sneaking out of her room. Indeed, it did not go unnoticed. Mrs. Bennet had no actual proof that she had gone to Mrs. Coleman's, but she could put two and two together. In response, Mary's windows were boarded over and nailed shut.
In response to that, Mary spent all day using her sewing scissors to pull the nails out and saw through the boards. She was determined to show that no one could lock her up like so. Mrs. Bennet caught her at that too (although too late) and screamed until Mr. Bennet consented to put real metal bars on the inside of her windows. For this, Mary would stick her finger through the bars to unlatch the window and then push it open as best she could. James climbed up the tree in the dead of night and handed her books through the bars.
Unfortunately, both Mrs. Hall and Mrs. Bennet frequently unlocked the door and checked on her. And when they would, they would search her room for anything that had not been there before. Mary was caught more than not. And the books were thrown on the fireplace. Of course, Mary warned James of this, but he kept giving them to her anyway. It was something she would never understand for the rest of her life.
It was impossible to say who was really winning. As fast as Mrs. Bennet was burning them, Mary kept getting new ones to read. And the fire blazed strong. The Age of Reason, by Thomas Paine—burned. Candide, by Voltaire—burned. An Apology for the Life of Mrs. Shamela Andrews, by Henry Fielding—burned. A Treatise of Human Nature, An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, and An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals, all by David Hume—burned. Juliette, by the Marquess de Sade—burned. Leviathan, by Thomas Hobbes—burned. A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, by Mary Wollstonecraft—burned.
Somehow, once she had started, Mary could never allow herself to stop. She grew thinner and paler. Her health had never been robust by a long shot, but now it was truly dire. Her thin hair fell limp, and her gowns were baggy and often drooped off of her shoulders. She was hardly given anything to eat, and no sunlight touched her skin. But it hardly mattered. Her body had never been strong. She had always had her mind instead. And while her body died away, her mind stayed fresh as ever.
One day, while Mrs. Hall triumphantly walked in carrying a tray of food, she also placed a sealed envelope on her desk in front of her. Mary was determined to simply stare at the wall in front of her until the woman left, the lock clicking into place. As soon as she was gone, Mary quickly got up (as quickly as her little strength would allow) and snatched the letter up. It was from Lizzy.
What could she possibly want with me? Mary wondered if it had anything to do with Mr. Ashby… Or perhaps about her behavior at Pemberly towards Miss Bingley? Mary ripped the letter open, the task having taken longer than usual, but finally read the letter:
My Dear Little Sister,
She had only read the first line and already Mary was snorting in distaste. Mary was about as dear to Lizzy as a nasty headache and she knew it.
Our mother has written me about your current quandary in vehement discontentment. I know not what has started this abhorrent phase with you, but do ask, as your sister, that you hinder these faults and become the presentable lady you could become. Perceptibly, the Bennet family name has undergone quite enough on behalf of Lydia's elopement and now the third daughter locked away upstairs with a bag over her head. I cannot imagine you will have any qualms upon hearing this, and know that I only intend to help. I believe I have felt embarrassed for this family sufficiently and it is time you fulfill that much.
Your Loving Sister,
-L. Darcy
Mary crumbled the note and threw it at the wall, it only bounced back to hit her in the forehead before landing on her desk in front of her. Just because Lizzy felt embarrassed about their family didn't mean Mary had to! Mary chuckled, and then full-out laughed. She laughed until she fell out of her seat and was simply lying face down on the floor and laughing like a madwoman. Footsteps could be heard on the stairs and the door was unlocked and flung open.
Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Hall both stood in the doorway staring at her. Her laughter grew shrill and even odd to her own ears. She sat herself up, her hair still tousled and gleamed up at her jailers, "What is it, madam?"
Mrs. Bennet was paler than usual, but stared down at her daughter in utter horror. A horror-stricken face worthy of an Ann Radcliff novel. Mary's legs were twisted together on the ground, and the only thing supporting her body were her thin, trembling arms. Both women took a step back and slammed the door. Mary smiled.
That's what I thought...
In an instant, Mary realized how insane she must have looked. Truly mad! Indeed, the confinement had taken a horrible toll on her mental health, but it was not truly gone. She coaxed herself over and over again to think reasonably and eventually managed to bring herself back to sanity. She could not loose her mind—of that she was utterly determined.
The next morning, Mrs. Bennet came into the room, looking serious, but nothing worse. Mary did not look at her, but only stared ahead. Mrs. Bennet sat next to her on the bed and took a deep breath.
"Mary," she began, looking at her, but her glances got no replies, "I have spoken with Mr. Bennet on this issue," Mary noticed that whatever "issue" she was speaking of, she did not mention which one, "And decided that it would be best to send you away."
Upon hearing this, she turned to face Mrs. Bennet. Her eyes were dark, and there was nothing of the cheerful, talkative woman she had once been. Mary frowned, "Send me away?" she repeated, "Where to you plan to send me, madam?"
Mrs. Bennet swallowed, "An… institution." She allowed, vaguely.
"By that you mean an asylum?" Mary corrected harshly.
The woman vehemently shook her head, "No, not at all. It is only that you are quite out of the control of poor Mrs. Hall and myself—"
Mary interrupted her, "Oh, yes! Poor Mrs. Hall! I am going to be sent to an asylum!" she stood up and stared into Mrs. Bennet's frightened eyes, and then sat back down and quickly calmed her voice, "Madam, I am not insane," she said it in a perfectly even voice.
But Mrs. Bennet only stood up and left the room.
The very next morning, she was assured out of her chambers by men she had never seen before, and locked in a carriage below with only a thin opening for a window. As she passed through her childhood home, Mary wondered if it would indeed be the last time she ever saw it. She remembered having returning from Pemberly and thinking on how much she abhorred it. How little did she know back then! Before her body had been starved and weakened, before such a toll had been taken on her mental health… Before she realized that there were much worse places than Longbourn.
The last Mary saw of Longbourn was the amazed stare of Mr. Bennet standing on the front steps. It felt unreal to be finally out of her chamber, but yet terrifying when she realized just where she would be going.
Mary did not cry. She simply hugged her thin, trembling knees to her chest and swallowed deeply. She had not broken after all of those weeks of confinement and she was determined that she would not break at this… institution. Whatever sort of place it was, in that horrible carriage ride, Mary swore to live past this chapter of her life.
The carriage jostled her, and using her thin window of sunlight she saw that they were passing through Meryton. As they did, Mary thought of James. Would he notice she was gone? Would he wonder what had happened to her? Mary liked to think that he would, but wasn't entirely sure. She shrugged those thoughts off—she had more important matters on her mind than James Latimer.
Mary attempted to image what it could possibly be like. Like a prison. That thought did not frighten her. Where she had come from was practically a prison, was it not? Locked up all day and all night? Except this time, she would not be in the protection of her own home. She would be like any other inmate. This would likely be worse.
And yet, Mary was completely prepared for worse. She thought the word "worse" (for indeed, worse it would be, how could it not be?) without a single prick of fear in her heart. If the reader has not yet picked up on this much, I shall spell it out for you: It took a lot to frighten Mary Bennet. Likely five times more than it took to frighten any average nineteen-year-old girl of the time. Her heart was stronger, her disposition sharper, and her judgment quicker. Therefore, if a nineteen year old girl were to be sent to an asylum (as Mary was) then you must make no mistake in believing that our heroine is positively the best possible heroine to have in such a dire time in a story.
She held her chin high, and continued to watch the landscape pass. From what she could tell, they were mostly heading north and somewhat east. Although, Mary did not pretend to have an internal compass as some do. For all she knew, they could be going south-west, so she did not set much store by her estimates of direction. As the half-moon rose in the sky, the carriage stopped, and the doors were thrown open.
One of the men, possibly thirty-ish, with a large nose, sneered at her and tossed her a single roll the size of her fist. He watched her eat it, and when she was done, she spoke up in her best tone.
"Excuse me, sir," she began, "But it would appear to me that I must inform you that I have got a single bodily function in to which I must acquiesce."
He stared at her oddly, as if she were speaking French and not perfectly plain English, but then suddenly cackled an odd laugh and spat his tobacco into the grass below his boots. Mary noted that if Lizzy or Jane were in her position they would be beside themselves with fear at such a un-gentlemanlike man. Mary regarded him with her usual cold indifference.
"Ye mean ye got ter piss?" he questioned, wiping saliva from his lip.
"In a forward way of placing it, yes," Mary answered him, not letting her chin droop a single centimeter.
""At's fine," he grabbed her arm and pulled her from the carriage, her legs popped at the knee and struggled under her weight. Her feet lightly touched the grass and she felt she might blow away in the wind, or perhaps his rough hand would snap the bone in her arm in half. Mary also noticed the form of another man caring for the horses. Mary could see that he only had a gray beard in the dark. The first man walked her a few ways away from the carriage and motioned for her to carry on.
She stared up at him in horror, "I will do no such thing in front of you!" she insisted, trying to keep from doubling over.
"Well, then ye don't need ter piss that bad, do ye, missy?" the man snapped, more saliva flying from his mouth. Luckily, none of it happened to land on her face.
"Honestly, sir," Mary began again, "To where would I run away? I know not even where we are! I tell you what," she began to attempt to loosen his hand on her, but he just tightened it, causing her to all but gasp in pain, "What if I go behind that bush, and promptly take care of this… essential and return straightforwardly back in this exact spot?"
"No dice," was all the tobacco chewing man replied with.
"Alright, if you are indeed disinclined to the proposition, what do you suggest?"
He looked at her with watery blue eyes and then picked up a bit of rope off of the ground and showed it to her, "I tie this 'round your wrist, an' then ye may take all of the time ye need be'ind the bush."
Mary did not like it, but really did need to pee and finally acquiesced to his proposal and allowed him to tie the rope about her thin wrist. She limped as quickly as she could to the said bush, and squatted down out of his view to do her business. By the time she walked back, her legs were so worn out, she could barely stand, let alone walk, so when the man viciously grabbed her arm and dragged her back to the carriage again, it was almost welcome, because she need to use little of her own strength.
He tossed her a canteen of water, from which she ardently drank. Ere long, she quickly fell asleep on the hard floor of the carriage. Mary heard a distant howling in the forest beyond, just before she nodded off completely.
Bloody wolves…
.x.X.x.
The next day was quite similar to the first. The continued down the country road, and Mary was neither fed, nor allowed to pee until they stopped again at night. It was not so uncomfortable, however. Since she was given so little to eat, there was not much in the way of anything coming out, either.
The second man was older—about fifty she would guess and had no teeth. From what she could tell, the younger, tobacco-chewing one was called Jack, and the older, toothless one was called Porter—it must have been a surname.
It was on the evening of the third day that they arrived at their destination. Mary knew exactly where they were now. London. Of course, Mary had never seen London before, and when she imagined she would, she was never as an asylum-bound lunatic. But the sight perked her interests all the same. She looked out the window at all of the busy crowded streets in awe, for it was nothing as compared to Meryton.
The streets and buildings were mostly gray. The fog in the air was gray. If Mary was to use one word to describe London, she would have picked, "gray." And so many people! Mary wondered if perhaps everyone in London were all out on this particular street at once. But then she contradicted herself when they turned onto another street equally as crowded. And then another!
She would have liked to stop and actually commit to memory the things she saw as the carriage passed through the city, but that was impossible. The carriage passed swiftly through the streets, the horses' hooves skirting through the mud on the cobblestone. They passed through in a hurry. Finally, Porter called, "Whoa," and the horses slowed to a walk, and then eventually a rather sudden stop, flinging Mary's limp, light body about.
She heard Jack and Porter climb down among the other noises of the London street and then heard the sound of the lock's clicking noise as it unclasped. Jack reached for her and dragged her from the confinement of the carriage, while Porter took her other arm as they led her up the stairs to a tall, dismal stone building. Bars blocked each and every window.
Mary looked wildly about the street full of people and carriages. No one seemed to find her that interesting. No one even looked at her once, much less a second time. And as felt her own weak body between that of Jack and Porter, she knew that a new chapter of her life was beginning, and this one more likely than not, would be worse than its predecessor.
End Chapter
Serena- Thanks for reading, please review.