Chapter 23: The Necessity of Diversion
But what of Mary Bennet, we may wonder? In what frame of mind has she endured this time at Longbourn, so recently returned as she was from Pemberley, with all its triumphs and wounds still freshly vivid in her memories?
Alas, she was in as poor a state as would be expected. Her days were all draped in a stupor of sensibility; and she drifted through them mechanically, indifferent and oblivious to the life which unfurled and continued around her. When she was not recollecting and reexamining, with painful clarity, her last conversation with Mr. Crawford – and how awful the blow to her heart, each time the name was resurrected within her memories – she was occupying herself with her studies, with a miscellany of menial yet grueling tasks. She could waver, it seemed, between only two states: acute pain, and the numbing absence of all emotion entirely; and preferring the latter, she spent her time copying out long sections of extracts, or memorizing, verbatim, certain chapters of classics tomes; tasks which were wholly uninteresting and unnecessary, but which consumed her time, and tired her.
The most punishing moments for her, were, perhaps, those times in which she suffered the admission of doubt, and in which the prudence of her actions was laid bare under her own scrutiny. Her heart would fill suddenly with the terribly certainty that she had made a grave error – that her judgment, usually so rational, so dependable, had cruelly betrayed her. She might this very moment have secured contentment, and security, and companionship - all three, in one simple acquiescence; but instead, she had forfeited her own happiness, her own comfort, for no earthly reason excepting her baseless fears.
But then there would intrude upon her memory a vision of Mr. Crawford from that morning – his unfamiliar demeanor, his agitation… that condemning moment of hesitation. She had not imagined it. No matter how much she wished it to be so, she could not convince herself that she had imagined it; and she would take the little comfort she could, in that she could not have acted any differently, spoken any differently, even had the whole scene been played out before her once more, at this precise moment. But of course, as far as comfort went, it was paltry earnings indeed.
The prospect of her aunt's forthcoming supper party could inspire no excitement in Mary; at best, she could only regard it with distinct apathy; but soon, even this apathy was no longer possible, for ill portents soon began to appear, to warn her that the evening might not be as indifferent as she would wish it to be. All of a sudden, Mrs. Bennet was very particular in what she wished for Mary to wear; and which accessories with which to adorn her dress; and seemed more in despair than usual at Mary's plain face – at her nose being just a touch too long and too narrow, at her cheeks being slightly too angular, and all the other idiosyncrasies of visage which are such blights upon a mother's soul. So pitiful and earnest were all her mother's laments on this end, that Mary almost could not be abashed by it. However, at last even her patience began to wear thin.
"Perhaps a veil will satisfy you, madam," Mary said sharply; and though Mrs. Bennet had already developed, over many years of marriage, a rather willful obliviousness to sardonic reproach, there must have been some particular note in Mary's tone, which had made her unexpectedly cease in her ministrations. For a brief moment, Mrs. Bennet was made to gape at her daughter dumbly, as if she were a child who had just been severely scolded; and Mary, surprised at her words' effect, reflected that perhaps she had never spoken to her mother so directly before.
There were but a few moments of tense silence, however, before Mrs. Bennet recovered herself, and said, busily, "Oh, but of course, you are still quite young, and I daresay you shall grow into your features yet. There are some, indeed, who much prefer a serious countenance over a gay one. And there is nothing at all with which to find fault in your eyes, I must say; a very particular, striking colour, your eyes." And thus, no more was said upon the topic of Mary's appearance that evening.
Certainly, Mary's tendency towards retreating soundly behind the embankments of her own thoughts, and remaining there for hours at a time, meant that these days she made for a rather poor observer; but as Mrs. Philips ushered them to the parlour for the start of her dinner party, even Mary could not avoid being at last sensible to the great evil which her mother had so blithely enacted, in plain sight before her, and which it was now too late to avert or escape.
Certainly, it should have been a great challenge for anyone to remain wholly oblivious to Mrs. Bennet's intentions, so unceremoniously did she urge her daughter forward for introductions, and announce with loud, painfully insincere wonderment, that she did not believe they had yet had chance to make the acquaintance of Mr. Philips' new clerk, Mr. Radcliff.
Mary was, of course, suitably mortified at her mother's blatant schemes, the resurrection of which were so untimely, and the unpleasant position in which it placed herself for the duration of the evening. At the same time, she was, with a bitter satisfaction, gladdened by it; for her mother's conduct most often had the quality of quashing that which it wished to encourage; and Mary was certain that most of the labours of rebuffing this potential suitor had already been wrought by Mrs. Bennet's own hand, in her indecorous and tasteless comportment.
Mary's first impression of Mr. William Radcliff was that he had a countenance and air dashing enough to be a hero from one of Georgiana's many romantic novels; and this had the immediate effect of predisposing her against him. Mrs. Philips had not misdiagnosed when she had ascribed to him an easy disposition; his manner of speaking was earnest and without any pretension, and by the same token, without any particular indication of arduous forethought. A word which immediately sprang to one's mind was – 'good-humoured.' This word was brought to the fore of one's mind particularly in his amiable reception of Mrs. Bennet. Mary was greatly disappointed to see that he was not fazed in the slightest by her mother's histrionics, and only replied affably, that 'he had only started with her brother some weeks ago, and had yet to make many acquaintances in Meryton.'
"And this, of course, is my daughter. You will find she is considered quite the star of our small Meryton." And Mary was left almost in awe of how assuredly Mrs. Bennet pronounced this – this which was the grossest falsehood which may have ever passed her lips.
Unhappily for Mary, it was quite easily contrived by her aunt and mother that she was escorted by Mr. Radcliff to the dining room, and subsequently seated beside him. She quickly resolved herself to speaking only when direct inquiries were made of her; and in those cases, to make her responses as terse and uninviting as possible.
But unfortunately, her mother was perfectly happy to supply conversation; and she wasted no time as the food was brought out, to say, loudly, "Did you know, Mr. Radcliff, that Mary is by far the most accomplished of all my daughters? Yes, indeed! I daresay that such natural, studious discipline I have never seen in any young lady, as I have in my dear Mary."
"And yet, these days I really only apply myself to my readings," Mary interceded brusquely.
"Ah, then you are better than I!" said Mr. Radcliff genially. "Of course, there are many records to trawl through in my work; but I confess I am not nearly so avid a reader as should be wanted from me, when it comes to my leisure. However, my sister, in many ways a superior being to myself, reads many novels in her spare time, and often writes of them to me in her letters; and then, perhaps," he said, smiling, "I have not lost too much in the end, in having so many books explained to me, rather than reading them myself."
Mary, breaking her own resolve towards silence, could not allow this affront to stand uncontradicted. "Someone else's impression of a book is a poor substitute for the book itself, I should think."
"Indeed, I am certain Mr. Radcliff reads just as much as a young man should, Mary," Mrs. Bennet said reprovingly.
"No, no, I beg, do not come to my defense," he said with a puckish smile. "Miss Bennet is, I allow, quite right in that regard. It is only a poor excuse I use at times, to pardon my own indolence; but quite right that I should be challenged on it. My sister is, I believe, at the moment quite taken with one of her Waverley novels – are you partial to them yourself, Miss Bennet?"
Ah-ha, Mary thought to herself with a vicious gratification. Here at last I shall frighten him off.
"I do not read novels, sir," she said tartly, "for I find their subjects tend towards the frivolous and ineffectual; I read only those tomes pertaining to philosophy and morality."
"Do you?" Mr. Radcliff asked; he seemed only earnestly astonished. "Indeed! And why, may I ask?"
Mary was momentarily perplexed by this question, in part because it had been said with such sincere, amiable bewilderment that she could not suspect him of intending to offend her with it – but also in part, because such a question, almost severe in its simplicity, had never been asked of her before; and embarrassingly, it had never occurred to her to ask it of herself.
For as long as Mary could recall, she had never been able to find any relevance in the remote, imagined heroine or her far-fetched, romantic adventures; what interest was it to her, what the raven-haired Lavinia discovered in her uncle's attic; or whether her brooding cousin Montague should rescue her from a vile captor? It was all rather nonsense – none of it was real, after all. Was it not, Mary had always wondered, much more engaging, much more enlightening, to read someone's real thoughts laid out upon paper, to read of the true human condition, to read the words of real scholars, and their genuine, original notions? Why, indeed, was this not so obvious to everyone?
Yet she had been flustered, and could not think of an adequate way to express any of this, which should have come easily to her tongue, and feeling herself colour, she only said, rather insipidly, "Well, it…it interests me."
Mr. Radcliff laughed easily. "Well, I suppose it rather must," he agreed, with no hint of pretension. "I myself cannot pretend to have any particular knowledge on the subject, however; and if my sister reads such volumes, she must think me a hopeless case, for she does not ever mention them to me in her letters."
This was, of course, not at all the response which Mary had wished to stir in him. There is an unfortunate failing of society, in that it has a tendency to underestimate the worth of a character which possesses a true and natural good humour; when in fact such people have actually proven themselves to be indomitable creatures. Let someone be tasked with the disparagement of a person who is in possession of a genuine good humour, and he shall be fated to fail in his endeavour; for such people draw from an infinite reserve of good nature. This precisely was the difficulty which Mary was at present encountering; she could not puzzle out how she might condescend to someone who was already so much inclined to condescend to himself.
"And indeed, she has never even had a governess!" Mrs. Bennet declared proudly. "I remember quite well the airs Lady Lucas had, when I informed her I was not set on finding a governess for my daughters; they shall learn well enough, I told her, if it is their wish; and if it is not, then a hundred governesses will not make any difference! Well, and if my dear Mary is not now more accomplished by tenfold than any of her daughters are!"
Mary coloured again at this ignorant speech, and the embarrassingly misplaced pride it contained within; and waited in discomfort for Mr. Radcliff's response to such willful ill-breeding.
"Indeed, ma'am, I myself cannot disparage the usefulness of a governess, for my dear sister Lucy so happens to be one by occupation; and in the family where she is at the moment situated, I think she is getting on wonderfully with the children's education; but I am in full agreement with you, in that it is a great credit to your daughter, that she has kept with her studies, and has derived such great satisfaction in them."
Mrs. Bennet seemed quite gratified by these compliments to Mary, and no doubt considered their elicitation an achievement solely of her own orchestration.
But any compliments from Mr. Radcliff could not possibly be gratifying to Mary; not when he held a disposition so foreign to her own; nor when her thoughts were these days permanently inclined to dwell on another, and the far superior compliments which had once been paid to her by him.
Mr. Philips, who was perhaps the lone member of the table who remained still oblivious to Mrs. Bennet's determined overtures, chose this moment, in response to no one in particular, to chime in bullishly: "A subscription to a good, practical periodical – that is all a young, working man needs to be reading! Enough to keep him abreast of his politics, but not so much that it fills his head with unserviceable dross. I was only reading in my Quarterly yesterday –" and the conversation at the table was thus turned to an entirely different avenue, and to Mary's great relief did not have chance to return to either her or her accomplishments for the rest of the meal.
After supper concluded, the women retired to the drawing room. The presence of the other clerks' young wives prevented Mrs. Bennet from imparting any particular confidences or counsel to Mary; but she was already well-pleased with the results yielded from her own efforts, and was quite convinced that an attachment was well under way. How perfectly convenient for Mr. Radcliff, Mrs. Bennet reflected, to be presented with an eligible young lady, so readily and shortly upon his arrival to Meryton; and to be given the chance to marry into the family of his employer, moreover, just as Mr. Phillips himself had done in his time.
When the gentlemen joined them at last, a game of lottery tickets was begun, and Mr. Radcliff placed at Mary's side. The first few minutes seemed to give her hope the game might pass in silence between them, but then Mr. Radcliff asked, "All your sisters are otherwise departed from Longbourn, is that so? Your aunt made mention of the house being rather empty."
Now with her mother removed to the other table, and her interference suitably deterred, Mary felt she might at last be perfectly frank and united with her intentions, and only nodded in response to his inquiry, rather coldly.
"Ah, then it must be quite forlorn for you without them, after having grown used to such constant companionship?"
He could not have known how close to the truth he came with such words; for even if it was not the constant companionship of her sisters which was missed, companionship was certainly wanting, after such a close intimacy as was formed at Pemberley; and indeed, there was something in Mr. Radcliff's gentle tone which was almost wont to remind Mary of Georgiana's manner of speaking. His words, therefore, had a marked effect on her, and she was startled out of her coldness towards him, in spite of her firm resolution towards it only moments before.
"I am accustomed quite well to solitude," she said, "for my occupations have always been chiefly solitary pursuits, and you may think me unfeeling for it, but I have not found my life here to be a great deal different since my sisters' departures."
"Certainly, I should not call you unfeeling, Miss Bennet. I should rather presume you to be adaptable, and evenly spirited. Having first departed my home, I was certain to feel the lack of my family; but I resolved to not allow myself to dwell upon it; rather, I resolved, I would focus on my good fortune, my fine prospects, and my new acquaintances; and in a similar vein, it is perfectly understandable that you might focus upon such diversions as your readings and your artistic endeavours, to prevent your spirits from sinking too deeply into melancholy."
Once more, his words had struck upon a tangible truth of her current circumstance; but it had been attributed to an entirely wrong source, namely, that of her sisters' absence. He could not know that loneliness was an altogether familiar animal to her, and had never much stymied her; but that it was, rather, her first prospects of companionship which had so crippled her and her sensibilities.
"I have never thought dwelling on one's misfortunes to be particularly fruitful," she agreed at last, begrudgingly. She had resolved to dislike Mr. Radcliff, and judge him severely, the moment the looming threats of her mother's plotting had become apparent to her. She could say still that she did not understand nor wholly approve of a character which prompted one to speak as unthinkingly as Mr. Radcliff's did; but alas, she could not say she disliked him nearly as much as she would liked to have done.
"Ah, but you have been awarded a pair, Miss Bennet!" Mr. Radcliff said, and Mary, looking down upon her cards, which had taken little of her notice until that moment, saw he was correct. Rather indifferently, she collected her fish; but with Mr. Radcliff's encouragement, she began to pay more attention to the game, and found she had rather good fortune that evening; and was at the end of it the one with the most prizes accumulated.
"Chance has been on your side tonight," Mr. Radcliff declared cheerfully. He seemed to have enjoyed the game himself, and the occupation for his evening in general; and as everyone from the party parted ways at last (with many unsubtle hints of an imminent reunion and great encouragement of visitors being welcome at Longbourn, on the part of Mrs. Bennet), Mary found she could not make up her mind on him, whether his good humour irritated or reassured her.
In their coach on the way back to Longbourn, Mary was deep in her thoughts. She was reflecting on how she must have appeared to Mr. Radcliff, that he had so quickly spotted her malaise; and on how she had spent the past month of her life, as if in a fog which dampened her sensibilities, her colours, her very existence. It was as Mr. Radcliff had said – she was distracting herself from melancholy, with her studies; holding her agonies temporarily at bay; but still they writhed, and twisted, and lived on in her heart; she could find no way to be rid of them, or alleviate them, except to stolidly wait out their existence.
This evening had been a strange exception to the buttress of numbness in which she had covered herself; something in Mr. Radcliff's earnestness had broken through her defenses, and for the first time in a month, she had had the stirrings of emotion which had not been wholly painful – not anything nearing happiness, certainly, but for the first time, she had not had to remind herself to not dwell on her unpleasant memories – for once, they had left her undisturbed for the evening.
"Indeed, I think Mr. Radcliff seemed quite agreeable to the proposition of visiting us at Longbourn, do you not, Mr. Bennet? I shall not be in the least surprised if we are to see him in a few days' time, on some pretense or other; but of course, we shall pretend to be most surprised at his appearance, Mary, dear, as if we had not been expecting him at all; after all, young men always like to think it is their own idea to have done something, rather than someone else's."
Mary did not see fit to reply to her mother; but staring out the coach as it rattled home, she only reflected to herself: at last, there is something of change in the air; at last, the season begins to turn.
A/N: So there we have it: a new OC, and Mary finally starting to return to herself a bit. Don't worry, Mr. Crawford may be absent, but he is very much not forgotten...
Thank you as always to everyone for reading, following, and for your lovely reviews :D In regards to posting: I did, alas, get sick this week, so I am a bit behind on my chapters (meaning I unfortunately might have to skip posting next week to catch up :/ ). But hopefully, this time it will be only a short-term hiatus, as I have already started work on the next chapter...either way, your patience is greatly appreciated!
Hope you all enjoyed! :D