Chapter 20

Those two weeks were the most miserable two weeks for Kitty. Despite the assurances and constancy of Mr. Denny's attentions, he was by no means obliged to confine himself to her society. Indeed, he did sit by her at the Lucases next card and supper party. But Lydia, and their other companions, also managed to get him up for dancing. Following the Easter services, he did assist her walking back home to Longbourn; their conversation was communal between the five or six others walking along with them. Hardly a private discussion of more tender nature, that would've satisfied Kitty's expectations.

More and more, ever since the girls' invasion of the camp, Lydia showed little to no determination as far as winning Mr. Denny away from her sister. They had no quarrels about him, for some time. More so lately, Lydia's eye was wandering towards the corner of the room, toward the pews, whichever direction Mr. Wickham was going. There was no hesitation, even in the presence of Mary King, to approach him and engage him on common, safe topics. It never crossed the mind that it would be suspicious to invite Mr. Wickham to Longbourn for a supper and cards, on another night. Miss King received no such pointed invitations, and the exclusion was felt. Mary rather pitied the girl, not only for her choice but the competition and envy that her choice incited. All her dear friends of many years were treating her differently; sweet as ever, congratulatory. Yet, the Harrington sisters, and sweet, unoffending Miss Watson, more in ignorance than with malice, were subtly withdrawing from her society.

"I think you ought to go pay her a visit, Kitty," Mary suggested.

"And do what? Mary King is always welcome to the house, just as she's always been," defended Kitty. "Besides, she's far too busy planning the wedding. It's only a month away, and her uncle is coming from Liverpool."

"I didn't know she had another uncle."

"Oh yes, a Mr. King. The Barneses are a maternal relation. Sounds as though they do not look forward to Mr. King coming."

"Still, it would be neighbourly and in good friendship to call on her."

"I'm sure she'll come. Mama wants to have Hill and the staff clear out the drawing room for dancing. The more, the merrier."

"I hope she does come," expressed Mary. "Honestly, Kitty, I do not like what's been going on, between Lydia and Miss King. I sense hostility. And I see you and all your friends following her example."

"We do not!"

"Then how come you didn't invite her yourself?"

"Why, I don't know. I just assumed she wouldn't like… to stay up so late… and she's busy about the wedding…"

"Admit it, Kitty. Those are sorry excuses. Poor Mary King. She's never had a real friend in her life. All of you act all nice and sweet to her face, laugh at her behind her back. Then she becomes an heiress, snares a handsome mercenary, and all her supposed friends turn the cold shoulder."

This rebuke was taken poorly, but it was taken to heart. Kitty did call upon Mary King the following day to offer an invitation to the same party. She did accept, only to confirm Mary's own suspicions of Lydia's motives.

"Why did you invite her, Kitty? We want people that will dance and be a merry party. She's an awkward dancer. If you can't do it well, then you shouldn't at all. Mama says we may only have twenty persons total. That's the maximum number that may be seated at the dining table, and that will fit in the drawing room without overcrowding."

"But we also need equal numbers, Lydia. We have more officers than women attending so far. We have Harriet and Pen and their parents. We have Emma Watson, Sir William and Lady Lucas, Colonel and Mrs. Forster, Aunt and Uncle Phillips, Mrs. Long and her niece. Then there's Denny, Wickham, Pratt, Carter, and Chamberlayne. Then count ourselves, that's twenty-three."

"Twenty-three! We're overcrowded as it is! We cannot afford another place for Mary King!"

"The Colonel and his wife are not even coming for dinner. He will not be free until after—"

"You ought to have asked Mama beforehand. This is really an inconvenience."

Having had more than enough: "If the numbers are such an inconvenience for this little party," threatened Mary, "then I'll be happy to relieve myself of the company."

"No! No! No! We need you, Mary!" cried Lydia. "We need you to be there to play, or there will be no dancing."

"A pleasure I could easily forego."

"Don't be so hateful! You wouldn't disappoint the whole company that's coming."

"I might, I could, and I could care less."

"I'll tell Mama!"

"Mary King must be a guest, or learn to play the pianoforte yourself."

It was a victory hard won, but no one was made the happier or better for it. Mary King did come for that dinner at Longbourn. She had a seat at the table beside her betrothed. She also had the chance to dance with him. Her situation relegated her to sitting mostly with the matrons during the evening's entertainment. All girls near her in age were much too preoccupied in dancing and other card tables. Mr. Wickham stayed mostly near, seated somewhat behind her to help teach her the game, suggest her next moves. Aside from the nonsense of this drama, it was neither successful or disastrous.

Mrs. Bennet had been hard-pressed to keep the total number to twenty. They managed it, though before long, the drawing room had grown intolerably hot. Shawls were removed, fans opened and fluttered, yet the hearth continued to burn. Sir William mistakenly made a remark about the estate of Rosings. Kent was the topic of conversation. Charlotte's residence, his son-in-law's patroness, the village of Hunsford: it was only natural. Lady Lucas, now an authority upon the subject, relayed many details on the grandiosity of the house, the beauty and breadth of the grounds. With great pride did her husband recount the names of lords and ladies made mention of while on his visit. He spoke of these strangers, these lords and ladies, as though he'd made the acquaintances himself rather than secondhand through Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

"I've heard Lizzy say she's a rather imperious woman," declared Mrs. Bennet, sick of a subject in which she was trumped. "She may be a very attentive neighbour, and so Charlotte has said. But if I were your daughter, Lady Lucas, in such a situation, I would not put up with having this grand lady tell me how to run my house. It's no business of hers how I keep my poultry and my garden, what cuts of beef I order for the household, what tapestries I hang in my parlour."

Mary saw this speech from the distance of the instrument, feeling some sympathy for the Lucases. Their friendship with Mrs. Bennet was based on grounds as solid as Miss King's with her own sisters. Everyone had tolerated affronts and minor, underhanded insults for many years. Any alteration of behaviour would be so out of the norm, everyone would go into shock.

"Aren't you going to stop? Why not sit at a table with us?" Captain Carter had been glancing over from his table numerous times, until pity got the better. While Mary could not escape attendance, she hardly seemed apart of the company. If Maria Lucas were not still in Kent, she'd come and sit and chat with her a bit. Now that she's come out, without the hindrance of an elder sister's feelings and delicacy for her unmarried status, she would now be free to join and attempt flirtation. If she were here.

"I'd much rather be here. Don't worry about me, Captain," whispered Mary.

"You ate very little at dinner."

"Stop watching me."

"Actually, I was rather offended that you did not sit near me. Am I not a better friend than that?"

"Captain…" Half-exasperated, half flattered… For now, Mary found out for herself, what a handsome man was capable of achieving. His attentions these last few months had proven just that, flattering. It did not mean much. That his presence quickened her pulse and caused many blushes, was not to be depended on. If she blushed, more often it was due to her own awkwardness. And he never made her heart beat wild, except when they'd first met.

"Are we still trying to keep things hush-hush from your family?" he surmised.

"I think we have good reason for that."

"Perhaps, but we can talk freely. I was hoping we might've talked more at dinner. I've been wondering how you've been getting on lately."

"As… well as can be expected," Mary shrugged. No other reply could be made to sound decent in the present company. By her deflated tone, he could draw the right conclusion.

"I'm sorry. I've not yet heard from my colleague. He's promised me to look into it. He's a busy man, and he just needs some time to do research."

"I understand."

"But enough of that. How are things getting along otherwise?"

"Otherwise? What do you mean?"

"I mean with yourself and your sister. Is she still in Kent?"

"Yes… Yes, all is well with Lizzy and myself. While I do have regard for your opinion, sir, I cannot say that I took your advice. I did speak with her about a certain matter, regarding a certain gentleman."

"With what result?"

"Without much results. It was implied that any warnings were unnecessary, especially being that there was no love involved."

"Well, you ought to be relieved then. Are you not?"

"I am, somewhat, but something feels unsettled. I'm not certain why."

Being this was a subject for themselves and not the general company, pursuit of it dropped for a time. Captain Carter perused the selections of music, feigning great interest for a song. His eyes had the habit of scanning the room, very quickly, very repetitiously. Particularly, did he glance often towards the card tables where Lydia and Kitty sat, innocently engaged in whist with Mr. Denny and Mr. Pratt. Any admirer of theirs would've done the same. What made the difference was the occasional glance toward Mrs. Bennet, too much absorbed in the gossip of her neighbours to make note of him.

"Is there no one else in the room that plays?"

"One of the Miss Harringtons does play a little also, but she won't stay at an instrument for very long. Everyone would rather be dancing."

"How about letting the company go without music? For a few minutes. Give your fingers a rest."

"Do I play that badly, Captain Carter?"

He chuckled softly. "Of course not. But what's the good of music if your hands are sore and overexerted?"

"Ah Mary!" A moment of trauma was relived as Mr. Bennet approached the both of them at the piano, a glass of port in hand, quietly cheerful and content; still, the memory of Netherfield had not been blotted out. "Why all these sonatas and concertos are putting people to sleep."

"Papa—"

"It is delightful, don't get me wrong, but I'm not ready for bed yet. What do you say, Captain Carter? Are you trying to persuade our musician to livelier melodies?"

"I'm incapable of any such thing, sir," he replied courteously. "It was kind of you to invite me, Mr. Bennet. I should be remiss to find fault in your hospitality, including the music."

"It's incumbent upon you. My daughter is known for being quite the accomplished musician in the neighbourhood."

"Papa, please don't," pleaded Mary. Wearing her black and white gingham frock for the evening, the colours of embarrassment glowed. Thankfully, it was a cap sleeve; the room was already warm enough.

"But unfortunately, she lacks a good critic," declared Mr. Bennet, nodding. "She needs someone who is judicious in their praise but also to find fault with her every once in a while. It's absolutely essential if she means to achieve greatness."

"A very astute observation, Mr. Bennet. But actually, I was just observing to Miss Mary that there is no one to relieve her of her duty. I suggested that she might forsake the piano for awhile and join the company."

"You hear that Mary? He's tired of your playing." Mary's hands stilled and dropped. "In fact, I have a better idea. It's rather warm in here. Why don't you and the captain take a stroll in the garden? You might show him our thriving mint plant that he was so good to gift us."

He could not have done better than if he had been schooled by her own mother. With a bit of a smirk and a wink only meant for Mary's eye, she about shrank away and out of the room.

"Capital idea, Mr. Bennet."

"Papa, there's no need. I am perfectly well."

"My poor child, you're about ready to faint from the heat of this room. Go on, get along. And don't forget to show him the rose beds. You must tell me, Captain Carter, what you make of them. I'm having a bit of trouble with a parasite, and I'm desperate to save them. If you please."

"Of course."

"You see, Mary. I am no hypocrite," added her father. "I too must ask for praise and criticism of my horticultural craft."

Congratulations was in order for Mr. Bennet. The incident at Netherfield, having to stop Mary from monopolizing the piano before all the company, had been the most humiliating experience in public of her entire life. It was absolutely dreadful, yet he rises to the occasion. Mary almost wished this interchange between the three of them could be blasted to oblivion by a swallow of her mysterious little friend in the medicine bottle. Whether any of her sisters observed them both disappear quietly out the side door was impossible to determine. Now that she had risen to depart, all the better to go out unnoticed.

However, as soon as the cool and gentle breeze outside brushed her cheeks, mortification mellowed by degrees. A nearly full moon bathed the earth, lending the most gentle light that treated even a blushing face very kindly. Captain Carter took the lead. Both silently proceeded to the rose beds first, ready to commence to the task assigned. All was rather peaceful and graceful for the thousand apologies that swam inside her head.

"It doesn't appear to be a parasite," remarked Captain Carter.

"I beg your pardon. Oh… the roses, yes."

"If it were a parasite, I believe all the leaves would be suffering. I think your father's offender is actually deer."

"Really?"

"Well, at least I need not worry for your mint plant then. Once it starts to grow voluntarily, it would be a good idea if your father and sisters take some clippings and scatter them about the grounds. That will help. It won't cure the problem, but it will help."

"What is it about the mint? Is it harmful to them?"

"It's just the strong aromatic properties. It's also a good repellent for rodents as well."

"So full of knowledge. Doctor, botanist, music critic… Is there anything you don't know how to fix or what to do?"

"You mustn't tease me, Mary," he chided playfully. "But it's nice to hear you tease. I hope you will enjoy the evening yet."

"You must forgive my father, captain. I've no idea why he did that. If he wasn't so facetious, I'd suspect my mother put him up to it."

"No need to defend your father. I can tell he likes to tease, perhaps a little too much. It seems to be a requirement for all fathers, and a curse for their sons and daughters alike. If you don't mind my asking, what did he mean by his last statement? That you require praise and critique if you mean to achieve greatness?"

"That was really a surprise to me. I was not aware that he was in the know."

"In the know of what?"

"It's rather a long story."

"A long story and a secret, that's too good to keep to yourself." Extending his arm, she was prompted to accept and lead him towards the location of the mint plant.

"It began a couple years ago…"

Whist had been fun before the arrival of the regiment, but now, it seemed child's play. Mrs. Forster leaned over Lydia's shoulder suggesting making a table with their own favourite game. Capital scheme, indeed, and she'd have gladly indulged if not for the presence of her father. He made turns about the room every so often, looking on passively at the tables. If any of the officers had desired backgammon, he'd have obliged; that was the main objective. It was no occasion to be fooled into thinking her father had entirely forgotten the minor scandal of February. Kitty bit her lips nervously whenever he looked in upon their game. As this game did not involve bets of money, they were both relatively safe from reproof. And equally safe from a wildly, delightful time. Fair to say, having suffered so little, that Lydia was more tempted than Kitty to toy with high stakes and mere chances.

Having grown bored of the table, Lydia gained Mrs. Forster's support for dancing. It was high time to break up the card tables and enjoy this good company with a lively reel. Only then had it become obvious that all music had ceased. Mary was nowhere to be seen. Both girls sought their mother, who proved to be as clueless to Mary's whereabouts.

In the corner, Lydia began grumbling in whispers to Kitty. "That is just like Mary to have gone upstairs and deserted us."

"Oh dear, it's so hot in here," whined Kitty. "If we're going to start dancing, we need to open the windows. I'll ask Denny."

"Papa!" Lydia tapped him on the shoulder. "Do you know where Mary has got to? We can't find her anywhere, and we have nobody else to play for us."

"Am I your sister's keeper? Why don't you get one of the Harrington girls to play?"

"Pen doesn't play reels. And Harriet is so stupid at the piano, she's useless. Those are her words, not mine. And Emma can't play reels yet either."

"How about Mrs. Long's niece?" suggested Kitty.

"Jemima might do. Will you go ask her, Kitty? I'm going to try and find Mary. Maybe she went out for some air."

"Oh, leave the poor girl alone, Lydia," Mr. Bennet remonstrated. "She has better things to do than function as a hired hand."

"Silly Papa! You know Mary. She loves exhibition. She wouldn't like to miss this. I'll go find her."

As Lydia went in search of her sister, Kitty got Mrs. Long's niece aside and asked if she might play in Mary's absence. Fortunately, the request had been heartily accepted. Mrs. Bennet had a nod from Kitty, and announced the beginning of the dancing. Two menservants entered to assist in the removal and rearranging of the tables, clearing the path for at least four couples to partner and line up. For the first set, Colonel and Mrs. Forster, Miss Harrington and Mr. Chamberlayne, and Emma Watson with Mr. Pratt. Mr. Denny had turned down opportunity for having a share in the first set, despite Pen's sugary persistence. He leaned back in his chair, caught Kitty's eye across the room, and winked.

It was the making and pride of her entire evening. The poor girl blushed violently, happy to wait for the next set to share with her Denny. Not Lydia's Mr. Denny but hers! Instead of going to ask him, she turned back into the corridor to catch the attention of the servant, make the request of him to open the windows in the drawing room. Before she could advance towards the servants' quarters, soft voices could be heard coming from the foyer. Too curious, too delicious to pass by whispering. And without the sense to be turned away by a private matter, Kitty tiptoed closer to the staircase to discover the voices belonging to Mr. Wickham and his lady.

Miss King had obviously retreated from the company first, and sat on the stairs. Mr. Wickham had come to ascertain her well-being, only to be disappointed. Little could be heard. Miss King had too soft a voice. For all his sympathy, he attempted to coax her back to the drawing room where everyone was to begin dancing. She politely declined, for the reason being she did not dance very well and cared little for it. There had been some improvement since her blunders at the Meryton assembly in the autumn. Yet, she lacked confidence in her ability, and therefore begged to be excused. Mr. Wickham's feelings were revealed in the sigh. Very well, she would not be pressed. Would she be obliged to return and sit by him? He was most kind, though some patience had been strained. Miss King was ready to bid her thanks to the hostess and call for her carriage. A hired carriage from the village. Money had not been invested yet in a carriage or coachman.

"Please tell me this is not anxiety about your uncle, Mr. King."

"I am rather anxious. I'm sorry, Mr. Wickham, but I cannot help it. I haven't seen him in ten years. He always frightened me."

"But he ought not to spoil your fun for an evening. We'll face him together when he comes."

"I know. I know you'll champion me, but he was most insistent about meeting you before the wedding takes place. I fear if he disapproves—"

"If he disapproves, we shall pause and think, think about what to do next. Don't worry, my dear girl. Let me handle everything."

Kitty did not hear much more beyond that. She almost gasped to hear the faint smacking of lips, except the shadows indicated Mary King's hand was lifted to the silhouette of Wickham's face. Enough said, he mumbled something and stepped out the front door to summon her driver.

"I think it's a brilliant ambition!" protested Captain Carter. "Published composer and professionally entertaining in London, in Bath, in all major cities across the country. You'd be making your own living doing what you love best. Why on earth must this be such a secret?"

"Our mother would not approve such a step. We're the daughters of a gentlemen, and as such, we were not formed and brought up for earning a living. Do I agree with that? Certainly not. Are my sisters and myself these grand ladies of class? No. If we all were to live this delusion that's been indoctrinated into us, being that we're too good to marry men of common birth and average income, our mother may be in for a rather rude awakening. She will have raised five daughters who've learned no useful skills, and now, they must make their own living and support her as well as themselves… Forgive me, I'm being too open about my family's private affairs."

"Don't concern yourself about that. I understand."

"It's been my concern, and my mother's greatest concern for many years. If we fall on hard times, the best thing we might do to remedy the situation is become governesses. And if such thing is to happen, my reading and studies will have served a purpose… However, if I am so fortunate as to gain recognition by a patron or an academy, gain a publisher and copyright, I may be able to get engagements and perform in domestic settings like this, or give private concerts."

"If your father is aware of this, and is keeping your secret, he must approve of it, Mary."

"Perhaps."

"And Jane and Elizabeth fully support you, do they not?"

"Yes. For certain, they're the only ones I've trusted my secret, until now."

"Well, I'm most honoured to have your secret too."

Every time she gave in, let him gain a few more inches, he gained esteem gradually and advanced further. When she stopped and thought about it, they were both alone in the garden on a starlit spring night. Moonlight. Hedged in, engulfed by the roses, sitting on the stone bench of the little courtyard outside the parlour window, they enjoyed one another's company and spoke of things only meant for themselves. This sort of setting was the kind of romantic scene her younger sisters had long aspired to, and if Mary were like them, void of deep thought, she might have, at that moment, fancied herself in love with him.

Captain Carter did not fit any aspirations. His charm of manner and disposition were not so uncommon. After all, such qualities could easily be ascribed to Mr. Wickham, whom was still held in quiet, active contempt. A good education formed and gave shape to an avid mind. In this way, Mr. Collins failed to measure up to the mark. Knowledge puffed up the one, while it gave humility to the other. Was the captain always humble? Certainly not. Mary would never forget the confrontation with Mr. Jones. A noble deed on the captain's record. Still, he chafed under the apothecary's cutting remarks. Though he could rightly call himself a physician and surgeon, Captain Carter dispensed advice sometimes too freely and unasked for. It was difficult to bear with in those moments. It proved difficult being told when she was wrong, though later she could agree he was right. It also took time to get used to his teasing and sense of humour. While he never used a word unkindly or thoughtlessly, he seemed presumptuous to expect she would receive his attentions with pleasure.

Another factor that disadvantaged him was his profession. The family was now aware of that the militia would decamp for the summer. What would become of a genuine attachment? She cherished no inclination for the life of camp, for the noise, the routine, the suspense, the dread and possible grief. He proved himself a good friend, a little over kind and protective. All this could be acknowledged with open eyes, and no unease. He was nothing unique in the world, but he was unique, being the only man, to have ever credited her mind and heart with real worth.

"Mary!"

Both nearly jumped as Lydia tripped lightly around the hedge, spotting them together on the stone seat, sitting in close proximity. After her search upstairs had proven fruitless, it had to be that her sister could only be found outdoors. Lydia, expecting to find her with book in hand, gaped for a few seconds before stifling a laugh with her hand. It wasn't the normal amusement in her voice, rather more like shock and perplexity.

"La, I did not know you'd both be out here. Why Captain Carter!" she giggled.

"We were merely escaping the hot confinement of the drawing room," he answered indifferently. "Are you at a loss for a partner? I hear a reel playing inside."

"Oh yes, Jemima has been prevailed on to play for us… because Mary decided to make herself scarce."

"Lydia, I—"

"She needed some time to enjoy herself. Did you and Kitty win your game?"

"No, we were opponents. But yes, I did win again!"

"Maybe in a few minutes, we'll return and join you."

"Will you dance with me then?"

"If you wish."

"I should love it above all things! But pray, don't make haste on my account. I'll just wait for your return, let you two have time to yourselves." As she darted off and before getting too far away, both distinctly heard Lydia make kissing noises over her shoulder. All attempts at discretion were in vain now, and now, Mary loathed what she would hear upstairs before going to bed that night. Such insolent impertinence had the blood boiling.

"Mary, I don't say this as an excuse for her, but she's young."

"And very full of herself," hissed Mary.

"She is that. And being that, I think it would give her pleasure knowing her behaviour vexes you," he surmised.

"She will have pleasure either way, whether I acknowledge it or not. I'm sorry you had to witness this behaviour. For it was everything I've been hoping to avoid. Why don't we go back inside? Better not to let Lydia talk and start on about us being missing from the company."

"I'm in no hurry."

"She will draw attention to the fact we are out here alone. If we linger too long, half of Meryton is going to be talking about us the next morning."

Far be it from her to go back willingly to a hot room and tempestuous gossip-monger, and be torn away from cool mists and roses with her delightful companion, it must be endured.

By one o'clock in the morning, the last guest finally took their leave. Mrs. Bennet was freed from hostess duties at long last, swearing to herself for the hundredth time that she was too old for staying up late and straining her poor nerves. It was one thing to sacrifice comfort for one's family, for balls that were productive of good matches for her girls, but it was all too much otherwise. How Mrs. Phillips could stand the noise and gaiety into the early morning hours was beyond comprehension. And Mr. Bennet stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching, listening to this tirade against herself, as she lumbered and yawned all the way up the stairs. This was an enjoyable with the exception that his two eldest daughters were not here to be part of it. And more than once, he sorely longed to see their faces amongst them.

Mary changed quickly, and settled into bed. Once she bid goodnight to all the ladies and saw Captain Carter off down the road with the rest of the redcoats, she retreated and prepared herself for inevitable persecution. Both Kitty and Lydia came up the stairs together, burst into the room with shrieks of delight, tempered only by a desperate need for bed. Both set about unfastening each other, shifting to nightgowns, and brushing hair. While Kitty changed, Lydia sat down to brush. She was half way through her routine in front of the vanity mirror when she turned to make eyes at Mary.

"What a sly creature you are, Mary. I hadn't the faintest idea," commended Lydia.

"Before you go and spout nonsense, you haven't the faintest clue as to what really saw."

"You and Captain Carter!"

"Captain Carter?" echoed Kitty, head popping out from behind the changing screen. "When?"

"I saw them both sitting amongst the roses, tête-à-tête." Both were squealing now. "He is a handsome man, isn't he, Mary? Don't deny it! I see you blushing!"

"Lydia, keep your voice down. Mama is exhausted, and she'll come in here very cross if you don't stop that," snapped Mary.

"Is it true, Mary? Is he really an admirer?" begged Kitty. "Well, tell us!"

"Absolutely not! There's none of that."

Lydia, ever relentless: "I highly doubt that. He is a dear, old friend and favourite of mine. You couldn't do better. And here, you act all high and mighty about Kitty and I running after officers. Now you can't say a word 'gainst us, now that you've got a redcoat of your own."

"For a dear old friend of yours, you know practically nothing about him. Never once did either of you bother to express your condolences while he was in mourning."

In unison: "In mourning?"

"That's right. When he last returned from London, he was grieving for his sister. Didn't you know? Or until Kitty sprained her ankle out at the camp, you probably didn't know he was a doctor either. He is a man in a red coat just like the rest of them, but he's also a human being. He has thoughts, feelings, interests that you could've tapped into if you weren't such a flighty coquette."

Mary picked up her book, opening to her mark. Sarah had brought up some tea to complete her repose, and repose she was going to need. Judging from the lack of immediate reply or jest, and the odd expression on Lydia's face, safe to say a nerve had been touched. At first, she was stung, then irritated.

"I see. I see what you're saying. I'm too stupid and hair-brained for a man like him? Is that what you mean?"

"Good men with a couple grains of sense don't fall for flirts. A smart man knows better than to attach feelings to vain, heartless, little girls, especially when that girl's head is so easily turned by another."

"I was never heartless to Captain Carter. It's just when others are so much more handsome and doting, and well… If he wants my notice, but is nowhere to be found, that's his own fault. Don't be so sour about it, Mary. If you're this snappish with me, I can't imagine you'll keep Captain Carter for long. If there's one thing men cannot abide, it's girls who are so self-important that real feeling is beneath her… Your turn, Kitty. I'm done."

Caught in the middle and an eyewitness, Kitty nervously took her place at the vanity. She chanced a look at Mary in the mirror. What a surprise to find her elder sister so cool and composed; by contrast with the angry glow in her younger sister.

"Oh Lydia," Kitty remembered, "you're not going to believe what I saw in the foyer. Miss King and our dear Wickham."

"What about them?"

My thanks to a guest, Strudel, I appreciate your opinion of the characters and their realism. I strive to keep them as much to Jane Austen's imagining as possible. She gave every character fantastic layers, even the unlikable ones.

So, Lydia and Mary. Who was the winner of this round? Would you have held back more cautiously like Mary, would you have given her a piece of your mind without a second thought? Does Lydia actually hit on one of Mary's crucial faults? Maybe I write her as more nasty than Jane Austen does, but... Could that be a natural flaw to Jane Austen's Mary? Perhaps her love of sermons and moralizing in the book, trying to be smarter and more accomplished than her peers, is a compensation for something. I think so. Does she think herself too good for feeling natural emotions, or does she suppress them? I argue both, but I'm curious.

Thanks again for reading, following, and commenting. Have a great weekend!