To say the truth, women are, in general, too familiar with each other, which leads to that gross degree of familiarity that so frequently renders the marriage state unhappy. -Mary Wollstonecraft, A Vindication of the Rights of Woman
"And how shall I obtain this husband?" asked Miss de Bourgh angrily. "Shall we take out an advertisement in the Times seeking young, well born men, in need of a fortune, and with no pressing need for an heir? Am I to be packed off to the highest bidder regardless of my feelings on the matter? Do you care at all that I do not wish to marry?"
This outburst completed, Miss de Bourgh was left looking pale and drained, and she sat back in her chair heavily, short of breath.
"Do not be absurd. We have always had visitors here from time to time. I will simply make sure that more of those visitors are eligible young men. And however you may think you feel about marriage now, you can be sure those feelings will change when you meet the right man."
"How foolish of me, to think that I would know my own feelings."
"Come, let us not argue. I have invited Colonel Fitzwilliam to visit us a little earlier this year, and hopefully he can recommend us some suitable men of his acquaintance. And John himself would make a most suitable match should something develop between the two of you; he certainly could not come from better stock. In a few weeks we can ask his advice, and perhaps you will see things differently then."
"A few weeks?"
"Yes, I received a letter from him this morning. He had said he might be kept elsewhere on business, but finds himself free and will be able to visit us shortly."
Never one to continue a conflict she felt wasn't going anywhere, Miss de Bourgh sighed and changed the subject, and the conversation shifted to various practicalities and gossip. Shortly afterwards, the Elliots arrived and the evening progressed in the usual way. But Mary had not lived with Miss de Bourgh for so long without learning to recognise the tense shoulders and dark expression that indicated that she was in a foul mood.
Mary's feelings confused her. She agreed with Lady Catherine that Miss de Bourgh should marry; at least she thought she did. Yet she found it hard to feel any enthusiasm for her plans, especially since they clearly made Miss de Bourgh so unhappy. She was reminded of Elizabeth's reaction to their mother trying to get her to marry Mr Collins. Mary had not been very sympathetic at the time, but now could see what a bad match it would have been for both of them. Miss de Bourgh deserved better than that, yet with such limited prospects how was she to find someone to make her truly happy?
Meeting Miss de Bourgh the next morning, Mary prepared herself for the worst. Her previous attempts to lighten Miss de Bough's dark moods with some quotes from Paul had not been as successful as she might have hoped, so this time she had prepared by collecting some of Miss de Bourgh's favourite books and had committed to not immediately contradicting every wrong thing Miss de Bourgh said, or at least not in too much length.
She was thus almost disappointed to discover Miss de Bourgh looking happy, sitting at her desk in the middle of of a pile of papers and engrossed in writing.
"Good morning, Miss Bennet."
"Good morning, Miss de Bourgh." Mary put her pile of books down in what empty space she could find and waited for Miss de Bourgh to finish.
"I apologise that I am not ready for you, I find myself inspired to uncharacteristic heights of organisation this morning; a plethora of tasks that I have been happily ignoring have suddenly all called out to me that they must be completed this very instant." She tapped the end of her pen absently against her lips, looking pensive, and wrote something down on the list in front of her. "There, but I am done for now. And I see that you have brought a very uncharacteristic choice of reading materials." Miss de Bourgh smiled. "Were you trying to cheer me up after my disagreement with Lady Catherine?"
"Yes."
"Thank-you for the thought. I was indeed quite unhappy with her last night, but on further reflection have decided she may actually be right. And with my mother it is important to pick one's battles carefully. Perhaps by going along with this scheme of hers I may later persuade her to go along with some of mine."
This was unprecedented. Miss de Bourgh thought Lady Catherine was right?
"You wish to marry Colonel Fitzwilliam?" Miss de Bourgh had not spoken of her cousin often, but what little she had said had been ambivalent at best. Also, of late she had become more forthcoming about her opinions on marriage in general and its unbalanced treatment of women. Despite the polite fiction that she would marry "when she found the right man", Mary had her doubts that any man would ever be good enough to convince Miss de Bourgh to give up her freedom so completely. This idea did not bother as much as it once had.
"Good heavens, no. But I think we would all benefit from a visit from some new people to Rosings, and young eligible men are people too. While I do not have high hopes of ever finding a man whose company I prefer over my own, it is not impossible, and I see no harm in making the attempt."
"Oh," said Mary. "That is...I am very happy to hear that."
"Because it is the duty of every woman to get married?"
"Yes–I...I truly want what is best for you Miss de Bourgh. Whatever that may be."
"Thank you, I am glad to hear it." A smiled played across Miss de Bourgh's face only to be replaced by a more pensive expression. "And that reminds me of something I have been meaning to talk to you about."
"Yes?"
"I hope you know how much I appreciate the help and companionship you give me here at Rosings. You will always have a home here for as long as you want it." Mary's heart twisted itself into a ball in the pit of her stomach. She could sense a looming "but". "I was talking to your sister." ("No!" thought Mary. "Don't do that!") "She expressed a concern that you would be happier living with your family, and only stay here out of a sense of obligation or fear of my mother's censure. If that is true please tell me; I would never wish to make you stay where you are unhappy. My situation is not as dire as it was in September. I could find another companion should you wish to leave."
"I do not," said Mary. The idea of returning to her family permanently was deeply unpleasant; she'd only just managed to escape! But how could she get this across, when the very strength of her negative emotions made it so difficult for her to get her thoughts in order? Mary stared mutely at Miss de Bourgh, who, clearly sensing her distress, returned her gaze with calm concern.
"Do not be alarmed; if you wish to stay, then you shall, and I am glad of it. But promise me that you will speak to me should you change your mind. I would never wish to cause you pain."
"Yes," said Mary. She took a deep breath and sat in a nearby chair. And of course now that it was no longer required, her mind felt able to properly address the question. To her surprise she found herself saying, "I do miss my family." Before Miss de Bourgh could react she added, "Sometimes. But not enough that I would wish to leave Rosings permanently. Definitely not." Mary considered. What did she want? "I was glad to visit Longbourn again, more glad than I had expected to be. If it is convenient, I think I would like to visit again, perhaps in a few months. My father...it was good to see my parents, and the other familiar people and places. But I would only like to visit." Mary considered how her position must appear from Miss de Bourgh's point of view. "I suppose it is different for you, whose experience of travel away from home has been so disagreeable. But...I think you understand, how one might love and honour one's family but still desire..."
"Some distance?"
"Yes."
Colonel Fitzwilliam was certainly not looking forward to his visit to his family at Rosings. The house itself he was quite fond of, but he generally tried to see its inhabitants as little as possible. Being forced to visit earlier in the year than normal meant he would not be able to walk the grounds as much as he might like, and without Darcy or anyone else to keep him company he was going to have to bear the full force of Lady Catherine's attention alone. Anne was tolerable enough company when she was in a friendly and talkative humour, but that was a rare event.
Last year's visit had been particularly unpleasant. Darcy had not long been married, and Lady Catherine had waxed lyrical on his betrayal of family and class. Colonel Fitzwilliam had envisioned year after year of awkward silences and angry rants without Darcy's company to lighten the burden and wished that Darcy had, like himself, been able to resist the allure of the charming but unsuitable Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Thankfully the breach between Lady Catherine and Darcy had been mended, but Fitzwilliam was regardless here alone. Then again, Miss Elizabeth Bennet had been very charming, and perhaps her sister, Anne's new companion, would be equally so. A small possibility of brightness to yet another of the constant round of family obligations that were his lot as a younger son.
Alas, when he arrived, Miss Bennet turned out to be rather plain, not to mention a dull conversationalist.
Worse, the vague hints Lady Catherine had made in her letter inviting him to come became near blatant exhortations for him to marry Anne, or at the very least immediately produce some other poor fellow to marry her. At her request he had carefully considered those of his male acquaintances fitting Lady Catherine's standards of wealth and breeding, but since he was too scrupulous to suggest anyone he felt would not make an at least moderately happy match with Anne, he had failed to think of any potential husbands.
It felt as if he had barely walked in the door before Lady Catherine engineered the Colonel and Anne to be stuck in the same room alone together, whisking Miss Bennet off on some invented task with an admonition that the two cousins "had not seen each other in too long, and surely had much to talk about."
Naturally they sat for some time in an awkward silence, punctuated only by the regular ticking of the ornate and ugly clock dominating the sitting room.
Well, there was no point sitting around waiting for Anne to make conversation. "I was sorry to hear about Mrs Jennings," he said, "but Miss Bennet seems agreeable enough."
"Yes."
He thought about commenting on the weather, such as it was. But there was no point wasting time with pleasantries; better to get the awkwardness out and dealt with. "I suppose it is worth making sure: you do agree that we most definitely should not marry, yes?"
"Indeed."
That was something at least. He tried to think of how to say "I am neither willing nor able to play matchmaker to my spinster cousin" without actually saying it. "I have been considering my male acquaintanceship. As you know, Lady Catherine has asked me to suggest which of my friends might enjoy visiting Rosings as guests. But I am not sure that there are any amongst them with whom you would be likely to share any significant commonality."
"Do not trouble yourself on my account," she replied. Colonel Fitzwilliam frowned in irritation. That was all very well for her to say, but Lady Catherine expected him to trouble himself as much as was necessary. Luckily she seemed to realise how unhelpful her reply was, for she added, "I do not expect much from this. At most I hope for some new and interesting conversation for a few days. I apologise that Lady Catherine is putting you in this position."
"Ah, well, if you will be satisfied with interesting rather than eligible, I might be able to oblige you. Hmm. I know a very entertaining fellow by the name of Mr Sharrow; his parents are forever at him to get married, though he has no interest in matrimony. If he comes here and makes a show of seeking your hand it will satisfy his parents and Lady Catherine both."
"Yes, I suppose so. Thank you."
Anne felt buoyed by the outcome of this conversation right up until the moment when she discussed it with Lady Catherine.
"I knew it was a good idea to invite John," she said in a self satisfied tone when she and Mary returned and Colonel Fitzwilliam requested her permission to invite his friend to Rosings. "I have met Mr Sharrow in town; he was quite charming. A little wild, but I am sure he would settle down with the influence of a strong feminine guidance. His estate is not far from here, so he should be able to arrive soon."
"Wild?" began Miss Bennet. "I would hope that..." but was quailed into silence by Lady Catherine's glare.
"Miss Bennet, it is not your place to question who I choose to invite into my house. Well, now that that has been settled I have things to do. John, I shall expect you to write to your friend directly."
When Lady Catherine had left, Miss Bennet asked Colonel Fitzwilliam, "But is he very wild? I do not mean to cast aspersions upon your friend, but as single women it is imperative that Miss de Bourgh and myself guard against any malign masculine influence."
"Miss Bennet, be assured that you are in no danger from my friend. I will admit, he is somewhat of a gambler and a flirt, but he would never direct his attentions where they were unwanted. Sensible, moral young women such as yourself or my cousin would be in no danger from such a man."
"And I suppose by 'sensible' you mean 'plain'," thought Anne to herself. "I wish I had known this earlier," she said unhappily, "I might not have been so enthusiastic about you inviting him into my house."
"I did tell you that he had no interest in marriage. What did you expect?"
"I have no particular interest in marriage," said Anne, "and I am hardly wild."
"But you are a special case." He turned to Miss Bennet. "Do you know, when she was a girl, Anne declared that not only had she no interest in marrying any man her parents chose, but that she would marry a woman?"
Anne blanched.
"Really?" said Miss Bennet.
"Yes, I believe she had someone in particular in mind too, a pretty young friend of the family by the name of Miss Finch. Lady Catherine would never have approved the match, though; her portion was far too small." He grinned. "There's a thought: we should get Darcy to settle some large sum on you, then I am sure there could be no objection to your suit. After all you are not only a woman, but part of the family now, and are already accustomed to all of Anne's peccadilloes."
"But..." Miss Bennet's eyes glazed as she tried to comprehend such a strange notion. This was intolerable. Anne stifled the overwhelming desire to curl into a ball and wait to die of embarrassment.
"Do not be vulgar," she said stiffly. "Come, Miss Bennet, let us go. We have trespassed too long on Colonel Fitzwilliam's time; I am sure he has more productive things to do than talk to us."
Anne was furious. What was he thinking, dredging up those old memories? Anne had spent the last decade trying to forget her friendship with Miss Finch, and all the implications it had about Anne. And to bring her up in front of Miss Bennet!
"Miss de Bourgh? May I talk to you about something?" Anne tensed for her reaction.
"Of course, Miss Bennet."
"Well, when I visited my family, I asked my father if he could recommend me any good books about drains..."
As she prepared for bed, Anne was was reminded again of John's comment. It was true, if one allowed for a female spouse (and Anne was more willing to allow it than most), Miss Bennet was as good a choice as anyone else she could think of. It had taken a while for them to get used to each other, but they had now had settled into a comfortable sort of domesticity, and with Colonel Fitzwilliam in the house, they were even sharing a bed. Of course, Anne didn't find her particularly attractive, but that was likely to be true of any man as well.
Not that Miss Bennet was entirely plain. Her skin was very tan, but one could see that as a charming glow. Her hair was thick and coarse and would never curl into fashionable ringlets, but hanging down free, as it did now, it made a flowing black curtain around her face. And her figure might not be ideal, but it was certainly not shapeless.
"Miss de Bourgh?"
"Yes?"
"Did you want something? You were staring at me."
Anne blushed and looked up at Mary's face. "I was engaged in thought. I apologise."
Miss Bennet smiled, her dark eyes glinting in the light of the fire. "One need not apologise for thinking, Miss de Bourgh."
Anne nodded mutely, then crawled as far as possible to the far side of the bed. Curse her damnable cousin.
Mary had not been sure what to expect of Colonel Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth and Georgiana had spoke of him quite highly, and it was not as if Miss de Bourgh had said anything very negative, but there had been something very uncomplimentary in the way she had avoided expressing any opinion when Lady Catherine had been waxing lyrical on his virtues. Having met him, Mary found the Colonel amiable enough in small doses, but could definitely see why Miss de Bourgh had no wish to spend the rest of her life with him.
As Miss de Bourgh's companion, Mary was more often a spectator to Colonel Fitzwilliam's conversation than a participant in it. They did not find themselves talking alone until a few days after his arrival at Rosings, when he happened upon Mary in a copse of trees near the house.
"Hello Miss Bennet," he said cheerfully. "I am glad to see that I am not the only one fool enough to go for a walk in this weather! The mud is doing terrible things to my boots, but it is worth it for the marvellous view, would you not agree?"
Mary followed his gaze to look out at the rolling hills and frost covered trees. "Yes, I suppose it is quite pretty," she said, "but I am here to search these hawthorn bushes for weevils."
He laughed. "Well, that is a worthy use for these fine grounds too, I suppose. I wish that Anne could be persuaded to come out and see the beauty that lies just beyond her bedchamber. It does her no good to lie about all day, and I wish that Lady Catherine would not encourage her in it. Mrs Jennings, God rest her soul, was a good woman, but she coddled my cousin far too much. I am glad to see that you leave her much more to her own devices."
Mary, who saw outside exercise as a necessary evil rather than a goal worth pursuing for its own sake, could not agree with this. Overall she did not like his implication. "I am not with Miss de Bourgh at present at her own request; she said I would distract her from resting were I to remain with her this morning. And her lying abed is necessary; she becomes very ill when she does not rest adequately. Lady Catherine is only concerned for Miss de Bourgh's well being, as am I."
"I mean no offence," he replied, "but if she is so ill, why does she not see a doctor? When I visited Rosings as a boy there were often physicians attending to Lord de Bourgh and Miss de Bourgh, yet after my uncle died I can hardly recall seeing any. Ah, but I should not drag you into these family disputes, it is not as if you could have much hope of influencing Lady Catherine even if you wanted to. I am glad to see that you are concerned for my cousin's welfare, at least. I shall leave you to your weevils, good day."
To Mary's great pleasure, she did manage to find some weevils, of a kind she had not seen before, and when Miss de Bourgh came to visit her room, Mary had set her killing jar beside her on the table and was carefully writing up her notes.
"I see the hawthorn bore fruit, Miss Bennet," she said by way of greeting.
"Metaphorically," replied Mary, "for at this time of year these beetles are all the tree has to offer. Are you feeling better now, Miss de Bough?"
"Much, thank you."
"I did point out that the pudding was very rich."
"Thank you, Miss Bennet, I know you did. But sometimes the pleasures of fine food are worth the punishment I must suffer later." She winced. "Although that argument seemed more persuasive last night than it does now."
"Miss de Bourgh..." Mary had a deep sense of foreboding that this was one of those topics where her meagre skills at tact would be insufficient. All previous attempts to offer Miss de Bourgh advice on her health had received a very firm response on the limitations of the educated amateur. "Have you ever seen a physician about your condition?"
"Countless," she said darkly.
"And they could not suggest a diagnosis or treatment?"
"Oh, they suggested many. My father and I must have been diagnosed with every ailment imaginable, from gout to consumption to excessive virginity. I have been cupped, bled, dosed, starved, sent on long walks and confined to my bed. Between us we must have tried every elixir and tonic for sale by every quack within several counties, all of which had no effect beyond occasionally making things worse. After my father died, Lady Catherine and I agreed that it was a pointless waste of time and we stopped trying. A decision I have yet to regret."
"Oh," said Mary, disappointed.
"It could be worse. Though no treatment exists to cure my condition, there are some which make my symtoms more bearable. And I am still able to do a great many things, and can afford to pay others to perform those tasks I cannot. Do not pity me, Miss Bennet."
"I do not," replied Mary. "I merely wish there was something I could do to help."
"But you do help, Miss Bennet, as much as anyone can. You read to me, and you give me someone to talk to. Just last night you reminded me about the pudding."
"That is not what I meant," she said, but did not press the issue. She held the jar to the light and watched the weevils weakly waving their little legs as the poison took hold. Miss de Bourgh quietly flipped through one of the books on Mary's desk, then asked to see the jar herself. She held it carefully with both hands and considered the contents.
"I cannot help but feel a little sorry for the creatures. It cannot be a pleasant death." She put the jar back down gently on the table and closed her book. "Do you know what sort of beetle you have found? Is it the one you were looking for?"
"I am not sure. I think it may be the Anthonomus, but at this stage I cannot say for certain."
Mary finished writing up her notes and put them to the side."I wonder how long it will be until Mr Sharrow arrives," she said.
"I am not sure. But I am increasingly unenthusiastic at the prospect."
"As am I; he does not sound suitable at all. It is a pity that your health does not allow you to come out or travel, if this is the sort of man we are to expect to be introduced to by Colonel Fitzwilliam."
"Do you think that I am wrong to let myself be so restricted? That I should be willing to undergo the extra strain of travel and society?"
Mary paused, and then was surprised at herself for pausing. It was not in her nature to second guess herself on a question of this nature. In fact, she prided herself on her ability to give her opinion quickly and honestly, regardless of censure. She had learned to sometimes keep her opinion to herself where it was not welcome, but Miss de Bourgh had asked. She took a breath.
"I–I will not lie to you, Miss de Bourgh, but I am not sure that you wish to hear my answer."
"I stand forewarned. Proceed."
"I have observed you, as you know, for many months. Although I am not a physician, I cannot deny that you are very ill, and appear to require a life of retirement and limited exertion. But having seen what social duties and travel you are able to perform at Rosings, I cannot help but feel...that you could travel outside Rosings as well. Perhaps even as far as London. You would find it fatiguing, but not unduly so, as long as you had somewhere to rest afterwards. At least, that is what I believe."
Miss de Bourgh responded with a sigh. "That is what I believe as well," she said.
"Oh!" said Mary. This was unexpected. She considered. "Perhaps you could write to Mr Darcy and ask to stay with him in London. My sister said that I was welcome to visit whenever I wished, and I am sure that the same offer extends to you as Mr Darcy's cousin."
"It does," said Miss de Bourgh. "But that is not...I would have to persuade Lady Catherine that it was wise."
"That should not be so hard," said Mary. "After all, we both agree it would be in your best interests. And she is the one who has been so determined that you should meet new people. Perhaps you should ask her at breakfast, then it can be organised in time for the start of the season."
Miss de Bourgh blanched. "No, not at breakfast. Leave it to me, please, Miss Bennet."
"As you wish."