The next afternoon brought them to Pemberley. Elizabeth stood outside the house to greet them, Darcy close at hand. The day's ride had been spent in Georgiana describing memories of the places they passed. Mary focused on her conversation, on smiling in response, desperately suppressing her need to confess her love.
When they came to her, Elizabeth was concerned to see how careworn her sister looked, and briefly greeted Georgiana before telling Darcy that she should get her sister settled for a rest before tea. Darcy said he would likewise see to his sister, and they parted.
Elizabeth took Mary's arm as she walked her to the guest room prepared for her. Darcy and Georgiana were following, as Mary's room was not far from her friend's. Elizabeth remarked on the closeness of their choice, and said that she hoped it would be agreeable to her, as they seemed such fast friends. Mary thanked her absently.
It wasn't until the door closed and Elizabeth had removed her sister's bonnet and urged her to sit and rest that the dam broke. Mary began crying helplessly, unable to stop herself. Elizabeth immediately moved to comfort her, dismayed by the violent display from a sister who had never given in to emotion, save occasionally exasperation.
"Dear Mary, I am so sorry that you were harmed by my scandal. I am so sorry that you were hurt because of my bad choices, and I do beg your forgiveness."
Mary's sobs continued unabated. She was scarce able to draw breath to continue to cry, and Elizabeth wrapped her arms around the girl's shoulders, casting her mind about for what might be the matter.
"Are you homesick, do you miss Mama and Papa and our home?"
Again, her tears were unchecked. "Please, Mary, do tell me what is wrong. I want to help."
The pressure in her chest eased a little with the offer of help. She was able to lift her hand and press it to Elizabeth's encircling arm. The crying eased a bit more, and Mary found herself able to draw complete breaths. With a great effort, she pushed the crying aside and focused on her sister. Elizabeth, her smart older sister, perhaps had answers to the unanswerable questions that crowded her breast.
"Lizzy," she began, hoping to appeal to her sister by the family-given nickname that she had always withheld. "Lizzy, when did you know that you loved Mr. Darcy?"
Elizabeth rocked back. That Mary would ask such a question so desperately… what could it mean? Had she received some hint somehow, of the truth of the matter? The possibility was frightening.
"It was in Kent that my feelings began to alter from what you observed in Hertfordshire," Elizabeth explained carefully.
"Yes," Mary said, grasping at shared realities. "At home, you found him proud and not at all agreeable."
"But in Kent, he began to study to please me. He proved himself very different than I had judged him."
"So you came to love him so much that you were willing to go away with him?" Mary asked, desperate in her wish to understand.
"Yes," Elizabeth said weakly.
"Love is a powerful force," Mary observed intently. "I think that perhaps, sometimes, it sets all of propriety at naught."
Surprised to hear such a nuanced view from her dogmatic sister, Elizabeth squeezed her hand.
"Yes, it is surprisingly powerful," Elizabeth agreed warily, unsure what her sister was driving at.
Mary drew a deep breath and looked her sister straight in the face.
"I have lately gained some perspective on love that makes me understand, I think, how you could have acted so," Mary said, searching for some way to gain her sister's advice on her pressing situation.
"Did you meet some agreeable man in Ramsgate whom you were unhappy to leave?" she asked.
Mary shook her head. "No, it was not like that."
Elizabeth frowned in consternation. She was not used to Mary being secretive, and this was a downright mystery.
"Please, Mary, tell me what is on your heart."
Mary again dissolved into tears, unable to speak. Elizabeth tried to comfort her, but she was inconsolable. As her crying went on, Elizabeth took off her shoes and helped her into bed, tucking the covers around her and dabbing at the abundant tears with her handkerchief. When Mary had cried herself to sleep, she went to look for Darcy and Georgiana.
The sound of the pianoforte drew her to the music room, where Georgiana played proudly for her brother. Seeing Elizabeth enter the room, Georgiana dashed to her to clasp her hands and thank her for welcoming her and Mary.
"Of course, Georgiana, this is ever your home," Elizabeth said, embracing her. Her eyes found Darcy, who inquired about Mary.
"The poor dear is overtired. She has cried herself out and is sleeping quietly."
Georgiana started in concern.
"Mary, crying?" she asked, distraught.
"Crying as I had never seen her cry, not even when she was a little girl," Elizabeth confided. "I couldn't discover what she was so upset about."
"She has been very concerned about why the two of you eloped as you did," Georgiana confessed, her distress over Mary forcing the truth from her.
Darcy's jaw dropped and he stepped forward toward Elizabeth instinctively before recovering himself.
"Georgie, I'm so sorry," he said.
"I know, brother, and you've apologized already. I know you didn't mean to hurt us, you were just overcome with love for Elizabeth," she assured her brother.
"That is… you have it exactly right," he said, near collapsing with relief at her words.
"I think I've come to understand love better, now that I know Mary," Georgiana said, reflecting.
Darcy was speechless, but Elizabeth encouraged her to continue.
"She makes me feel so protected. She is ever supportive of my improving myself, and her morals are so steady. I feel safe with her, and I always want to do what will make her happy. Isn't that love?"
Both agreed that it was, indeed, love, relieved that her feeling was about her friend, not some uncomfortable question about their elopement.
"Can I go to Mary?" Georgiana requested. "I shall not wake her, but I should like to sit by her while she sleeps in case she is upset when she awakens."
"That is a loving friend," Elizabeth said approvingly, and Darcy hastened to endorse her kindly act.
When his sister had gone to seek her friend, they sought each other and embraced.
"Thank God for you, Elizabeth," he said devoutly, kissing her forehead.
"Poor Darcy, I've rarely seen you so stunned. I suppose Georgiana had never had a bosom friend before."
"I have never seen Georgie so affected since Wickham," he said. "I am so overcome still by guilt that it is hard to know what she means. That there is this lie between us, that I cannot admit my wrongdoing to her…"
"Secrecy is a heavy burden to bear," she agreed, caressing him. "But we shall bear it together."
He thanked her, and they moved to the drawing room to await word of their sisters.
Mary opened her eyes to see Georgiana looking at her intently. She was so surprised to see the object of her affections looking at her so close that she jumped convulsively.
"Oh, I wakened you," Georgiana said in self-recrimination. Mary hastened to assure her that she had merely woken oddly, that no sound had disturbed her.
Georgiana sighed in relief and climbed into bed with her, reaching out to hold her hand.
"I'm so glad. I was so concerned when your sister said you were very unhappy."
"I was, but you always make me happy," Mary told her, desperately hoping for Georgiana to read her true meaning from her words.
Her friend smiled warmly and embraced her. Mary allowed herself to return the hug, solace coming to grips with her overwhelming need to confess her love.
Mary forced herself to release Georgiana and sit up.
"I am much refreshed by my sleep," she lied.
"I am so glad," Georgiana said, leaping up. "There is so much I would like to show you."
Mary agreed, relieved by the prospect of an activity as unexceptional as sight-seeing. Georgiana excitedly helped her friend assume her bonnet, then led her outside, passing by the drawing room to inform their siblings that they would walk before tea.
Winding her way through the garden, Georgiana brought her to an apple orchard, now full of leaf and ripening fruit sweetening in the sun.
"This was my special refuge when I was a girl," Georgiana told her, wrapping her arm around her waist and pulling her close.
"It is beautiful," Mary said, overcome by her friend's closeness.
"I would lie under the trees and watch the apples grow and ripen all summer long," Georgiana said. "I would always guess which ones would be sweetest, but once they were harvested, I could never tell which were my favorites."
Georgiana led her further to the cider apple trees, full of small fruits already beginning to drop.
"It will soon be time for sweet cider," Georgiana said excitedly. "The cider-makers always made sure to give me some before it had become hard for keeping, so that I might enjoy it fresh."
Mary agreed that it seemed delightful, a bit dazed by the care that had been taken of this girl. Her own father had enjoyed seeing the girls try cider, only to recoil at the sour heat. That was ever Mary's expectation – anything that seemed in anticipation to be sweet would prove punishing. She had suppressed every hope with a steady tincture of remonstration, but now that this sweetness was before her lips, she believed it to be true and real.
Happily, Georgiana led her back inside for tea, pointing out her favorite flowers along the way.
Elizabeth and Darcy awaited them, glad to see that Mary was looking better. Elizabeth helped her to tea and piled her plate high with good things. Darcy asked his sister about their tour of the gardens. Georgiana chattered happily about the gardens.
Mary sipped her tea and nibbled on her bread. She was hungry but could barely choke down a bite. Feeling swelled her throat, and each time Georgiana's voice chimed, it resonated through her whole frame.
Desperately trapped, Mary asked her sister if she might speak with her, her voice barely a whisper. Immediately Elizabeth assented and rose, escorting Mary to her own room. The elder sister settled the younger into a comfortable chair and sat by her, holding her hand.
"I am so sorry that you are so troubled, dear Mary. There has been much to trouble you of late. If there is anything you wish to say to me, please do."
Mary breathed deep and tried to corral her thoughts.
"Lizzy, I think that I have… developed strong feelings… for someone," she confessed falteringly.
Her sister squeezed her hand and smiled at her, asking who had inspired these feelings.
Mary could not answer, but words began to find their way out of her.
"It was so sudden that I realized… that what I felt was love. When anyone spoke of it before, it seemed so… abstract. Or purely venal. This is so real, so overwhelming. How am I to live with this?" she pleaded, tears again starting from her eyes.
Elizabeth wrapped her arm around her shoulders, wondering who could have possibly wrought such powerful feelings in her steady younger sister. To her recollection, Mary had only expressed admiration for Mr. Collins, and that ceased when he married Charlotte. While any of the rest of them might have had admirers or those they admired, stolid Mary would find her way to behind a book or the pianoforte, not into the set or company. She invited no admiration and gave none. Thinking back, Elizabeth could think of no one with whom Mary had even willingly kept company.
"It is all right, please tell me who it is. Perhaps I can help," Elizabeth offered. Mary began sobbing, overcome by shame and desperation.
Feeling helpless, Elizabeth could only offer her a handkerchief and attempt to comfort her as the wracking sobs shook Mary's form.
"You shall make yourself ill with crying," Elizabeth said, concerned when the crying neither softened nor ceased.
Mary looked up her, desperation in her eyes.
"How can you help, how can anyone help?" she cried, voice breaking. "It is… impossible. She was telling me about how Mr. Darcy loves you and… I knew."
Elizabeth was mystified. Could Mary have developed an infatuation for a married man? The thought of her cherishing a hidden passion for Mr. Collins made her bite her cheek to avoid smiling. The danger passed, and Elizabeth again tried to coax the man's identity from her sister.
Mary tried to force down the tide of shame and guilt that kept her from speaking. If anyone could understand being driven by love, it was Elizabeth.
Could she but force herself to speak, her sister could at least reprimand her, tell her flatly that it was forbidden and she should put it from her mind, perhaps send her home to Longbourn to keep her from making a fool of herself. That was the only real answer, but she could not make the sacrifice, herself.
Mary stared at her sister as she tried to make herself speak. The torment in her little sister's eyes spoke of internal agonies, and Elizabeth regretted that she had not made more of an effort to connect with Mary. That her sister was unable to trust her enough to speak of that which ailed her was painful.
Elizabeth thought hard about all the men they knew in Longbourn, everyone who came for Jane's wedding. She had seen little enough of Mary then, and she seemed to seek the company of no one but Georgiana.
Georgiana, who on the first day spent with Mary had asked her to visit.
Georgiana, whom Mary admired as Elizabeth had seen her steady sister admire no one else.
Elizabeth's eyes widened, and with mingled horror and relief, Mary thought her sister comprehended her at last.
"Yes," she spoke, her voice rough with feeling. "I love her. I love her so dearly, Lizzy, that I do not know what to do. Please, help me."
Astonishment had fallen upon Elizabeth like a heavy woolen blanked from a high shelf. Mary in love was an oddity enough, but in love with Darcy's girlish sister? It was unthinkable. She could not mean it.
"When you say you love Georgiana, what do you mean?" Elizabeth asked, attempting to keep her voice even. She had turned to face her sister so that she could view her countenance.
"I want to be with her always. Her happiness is the most important thing in the world to me," Mary explained, picking up confidence as she continued, finding acute relief in speaking of her feelings. "I cannot be happy if she is sad. I wish to always know what she is thinking and to help her with aught that comes her way of trouble."
"That sounds like the very picture of dear friendship," Elizabeth said, confused.
"But it is not," Mary said emphatically. "It was so, at first, but as we continued, I came to realize that I felt for her as one spouse feels for the other, as you and Mr. Darcy feel for each other."
Elizabeth was stunned. She knew not where to turn or what to think. That girls could love one another as one loved a man… her mind was as a blank wall.
"Have you told her how you feel?" Elizabeth managed to say, her voice squeaking a bit.
"Of course not," Mary said indignantly. "How could I say such a thing to her? It is… unnatural. Wrong. Against God's law. I should not be feeling this."
Elizabeth's heart keened in sympathy for her sister's plight. Memories of how impossible she had felt her situation, how doomed to unhappiness she felt in Guernsey after she accepted that she must marry with Mr. Darcy but before he had been swept off the Spaniel. She could scarce bear to remember her tortured feelings then. This was too alike for her to not feel deeply. She again embraced her.
"I am so sorry, Mary, for not comprehending. You must have felt so alone in this."
Both sisters were now crying, and Mary felt some measure of relief in the sympathy.
"You see why I could not speak?" Mary asked when she had recovered her voice.
"Oh, Mary, how you must have suffered with this. I had thought that my situation was difficult, but yours…" she trailed off, wishing she could speak words more hopeful. Mary only nodded, matter of fact.
"Of course, it is impossible. I should return to Longbourn, bury this feeling far away from her, where I cannot harm her."
Elizabeth felt her sister's words with a great pang. That Mary was prepared to sacrifice herself to protect her beloved spoke to the sincerity and purity of her love. All the sentimental part of her nature cried that such a love should be honored.
"Let us consider nothing hastily. You have just arrived and should have to rest before returning to the road in any case. I must speak with Mr. Darcy, you understand."
"Yes, of course, he is her guardian. I am prepared to accept his judgment," Mary announced, preparing herself for the worst, expulsion from paradise.
Elizabeth could scarce keep herself from dissolving into tears but assured her that she would do everything in her power to make him understand.
Mary nodded, already readying herself for her fate.
—
Poor Mary. Her culture has done a number on her.
I haven't stated this in a while but it's important: In this variant, Georgiana is 18 and the Wickham incident was three years ago.
In other news, I'm close to finishing two books. One another P&P variant again diverging at the Hunsford proposal and the other a collection of short stories. If you'd like to be on the list for an Advanced Reading Copy, please PM me.
Thank you for reading!
Kaurifish