Chapter 36

Mary, once again, was excused from appearing downstairs. Despite the miserable cramping, she tried her best not to resort to the laudanum. Sarah brought a tea brewed with elderberry and nettle, as prescribed in the earlier letter from Dr. Reis. It didn't offer much of a pleasant flavour, so a spoon of honey had been added to assist it.

"This should fix you right," Sarah said reassuringly. "Oh, and before I forget. I saw the post had just come."

Mary's head snapped up. "Did it?"

"Just two. But I'm afraid, well, not what you're expecting."

This letter was her own, the one she'd written to Captain Carter. There had been some remark and revision on the address, to the effect that the recipient was not to be found at the current address any longer. It had slipped her memory, Denny's last letter to Kitty, that he told her that the regiment would not be much longer at Brighton. So, it must've been the case. The regiment already had a new assignment from the war office.

"I'm so sorry." Sarah's head shook. "I had so hoped you'd have word from him soon."

"It's not so bad as all that. It's not the end of the world," Mary lied. Although, given she was already fighting internal pain, it didn't take much to provoke tears. They gathered but stayed within her eyes, which the maid almost begged to stoop down and hold her in sisterly embrace.

"Perhaps, the letter might be sent elsewhere? Someone else might know the right address?"

"Serves me right, really," retorted Mary. This letter was placed aside and below her pillow. "What was the other one?"

The second letter produced came from Mrs. Gardiner. And a happier one:

Dear Mary,

I hope this letter finds you well. Since I wish to give you particulars, I'm writing to you directly while I still have time away from the children.

I've both good news and bad news, I'm afraid. Of course, it was unfortunate, this recent episode with Lydia, has overthrown our original plans. Now that we all have that resolved, I'm determined to have you come visit as soon as possible. According to Lizzy's instruction, you were told to seek a specialist by the name of Dr. Reis. I took the liberty of calling on his offices, to make an appointment on your behalf. The bad news is that I was seriously mistaken in my expectations. I did not realize how full his schedule is, and how long waiting for the appointment can be. It was disappointing. His clerk seemed very understanding. He did offer to refer me to another physician if I preferred it.

So we have two options before us.

I may call on Dr. White's office, the alternative, and make an appointment with him. If you are so willing though, eager to see Dr. Reis, we can wait seven months for an appointment with him. Just to secure your place, I've decided it best to make an appointment with Dr. Reis. After all, it's easier to cancel that if you change your mind. From what I've heard from several of my friends about Dr. Reis, he is one of the top specialists in town. He comes to us from Germany, which university exactly has slipped my memory. From whomever you got your reference knows the doctor's reputation. Personally, I am anxious that you should see him, but don't let me influence your decision. Only you can judge whether the pain of your condition will wait as long as that.

Write me soon of your answer. We will welcome you at any time, and we will make the arrangements necessary. I will also write your mother when we have laid our plans. Lizzy has made the situation known to me, so we will give you a reason to come to Gracechurch Street. If you can manage, we'll also plan to go to a concert or a small party as well. That way, your mother will not be under any suspicion about your true reason for this visit. If we need to do it again, for any preceding appointments, it can be done easily.

Yours&etc.

At least, the arrival of Mrs. Gardiner's letter produced happier tears, to dull the disappointment of another quarter. For perhaps, as soon as she could see Lizzy, Mary might ask that she send a reply in her behalf. It would be a day or two before her body would permit her to do so.

Sarah promised to bring a modest breakfast tray, and was about to disappear with the discarded linen when Kitty reappeared. Mary thought she looked out of sorts and puzzled, but did not need to inquire further.

"Mary, did you hear the carriage in the drive?" she asked. "The most enormous carriage. I think it's a barouche."

"In our drive?"

"Yes. And you won't believe it. Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I was just with her in the drawing room with Mama and Lizzy when she came in. Oh Mary, thank goodness that you're here. You don't want to be downstairs. She's the most frightening old lady I've ever seen in my life."

"Why is she here?"

"Well, at first, she didn't say. She just scowled across the room, spoke to Lizzy, saying: 'That lady I suppose is your mother… and that, I suppose is one of your sisters.' That, that is what I am called!"

"Really?"

"Mama just timidly replied that she is my youngest girl but one. And my youngest of all is lately married. As if Mama needed to state the obvious. Actually, I came up here because she's gone out to the copses, with Lizzy. I thought—oh yes, I see them. You can see them from here." Kitty leaned against the open window.

As this was such a freak of an occurrence, visited by a woman of nobility who had no previous introductions except by way of Mr. Collins, Mary's curiosity overcame her cramps and weakness. Slowly, she ventured to the window. She asked Kitty to fetch her spectacles. Although distance was her forte, smaller facial features often proved out of focus. Kitty found them. Mary observed in silence for a minute, and what scraps of conversation she saw, caused her jaw to drop.

"Oh my! She is very angry," Mary relayed.

"Lady Catherine? Well, tell me! What is she saying?"

"If… pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been industriously circulated by yourself? Do you not know that such a report is spread abroad?"

"Pretend what? What report?"

Mary signaled her to hush.

"Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I have not been accustomed to such language… I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world, and…. entitiled to know all his dearest concerns… But you are not entitled to know mine… Mr. Darcy is engaged to my daughter. Now what have you to say?"

"Mr. Darcy!"

"… The engagement between them…" Mary, now entirely fascinated, fumed at the movement of Lady Catherine's head. She proved difficult to follow. Lizzy stood motionless under the tree, but only half her face was visible, making her responses even more difficult to make out. "… now, at the moment when the wishes of both sisters would be accomplished in their marriage… by a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance in the world and… Are you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say that from his earliest hours he was destined for his cousin?"

"What on earth is she talking about?"

"Oh, Lizzy! Why can't you be facing this way?" vented Mary. "… You did as much… If Mr. Darcy is neither by honour nor inclination confined to his cousin, why is he not… Whatever she says, it's making Lady Catherine even more angry… If you willfully act against the inclinations of all… You will be censured, slighted, and despised, by everyone connected with him. Your alliance will be a disgrace…" Kitty gasped. "Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you… I came here with the determined resolution of carrying out my purpose; nor will I be dissuaded from it. I have not been used to submit to any person's whims. I… have not been in the habit of… disappointment."

"Too bad for her then," giggled Kitty.

"Oh Lizzy," gasped Mary, almost amused herself. "That will make your ladyship's situation at present more pitiable; but it will have no effect on me… I will not be interrupted. Hear me in silence… They are descended… from respectable, honourable, and ancient… Their fortune on both sides is splendid… What is to divide them… The upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, or fortune… If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which you have been brought up… Lizzy says: In marrying your nephew, I should not consider myself as quitting… He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman's daughter; so far we are equal."

"Lizzy will not be shamed, nor should she."

"...Who are your uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their condition… Tell me once and for all, are you engaged to him?"

"Lizzy! Engaged to Mr. Darcy? What does she say?"

"I don't see… And Lady Catherine has just asked: And will you promise me, never to enter into such an engagement? Lizzy!"

"What did she say?"

"I will make no promise of the kind!"

"She said that!"

Mary smiled, with a head-shake. "No mistake," she affirmed. "… do not deceive yourself… I shall not go away till you have given me the assurance I require… And I certainly never shall give it. I am not to be intimidated into anything so wholly unreasonable… supposing him attached to me, would my refusing… make him wish to bestow it on his cousin? Oh Lizzy, turn this way… extraordinary application have been as frivolous as the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my character, if you think… I can be worked on by such persuasions… I cannot tell, but you have certainly no right to concern yourself in mine…"

"Yes!"

"… I have by no means done… I am no stranger to the particulars of your youngest sister's infamous elopement." Both sisters felt the blow, as much as what was spoken to Lizzy herself, which froze her in her stride. Since Elizabeth had started walking back, Lady Catherine's figure was turned toward the house. Mary could now see it all perfectly. Their voices were beginning to project, requiring no further relay of dialogue through Mary herself.

Lady Catherine triumphantly declared: "I know it all; that the young man's marrying her was a patched-up business, at the expense of your father and uncles. And is such a girl to be my nephew's sister? Is her husband, is the son of his late father's steward, to be his brother? Heaven and earth!—of what are you thinking? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?"

"You can now have nothing further to say," snapped Elizabeth. "You have insulted me in every possible method. I must beg to return to the house."

"You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of my nephew!" called out Lady Catherine. "Unfeeling, selfish girl!" Both sisters almost laughed aloud, watching Lizzy refuse acknowledgment of the insolence and unfeeling selfishness in her opponent. "Do you not consider that a connection with you must disgrace him in the eyes of everybody?"

"Lady Catherine, I have nothing further to say! You know my sentiments." She kept on walking.

"You are resolved to have him?"

Lizzy approached the baroche sitting in the drive, waited for Lady Catherine's approach, then turned to look her directly in the face. "I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me."

"You refuse, then, to oblige me. You refuse to obey the claims of duty, honour, and gratitude. You are determined to ruin him in the opinion of all his friends, and make him the contempt of the world."

"Neither duty, honour, or gratitude have any possible claim on me, in the present instance. No principle of either would be violated by my marriage with Mr. Darcy. And with regard to the resentment of his family, or the indignation of the world, if the former were excited by his marrying me, it would not give me one moment's concern—and the world in general would have too much sense to join in the scorn."

"And this is your real opinion!" uttered the astonished lady. "This is your final resolve! Very well. I shall know how to act. Do no imagine, Miss Bennet," standing right in Lizzy's face, "that your ambition will ever be gratified. I came to try you. I hoped to find you reasonable; but, depend upon it, I will carry my point." She ascended the carriage with the assistance of her footman. The door was shut, the window let down. "I take no leave of you, Miss Bennet. I send no compliments to your mother. You deserve no such attention. I am most seriously displeased."

Mary and Kitty retreated behind the curtain, upon realizing that Lady Catherine looked up and spied them in the window. Nothing else was said, nobody else observed them. But for that whole day, their heads were full of it. Their sister Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy?

"Where did she get the idea that Mr. Darcy would be engaged to Lizzy?" muttered a baffled Kitty. "And who does she think she is to come all this way, demanding she have her way?"

"I'm sure she has Mr. Darcy's best interests at heart, but of course, she also has her own best interests closer to heart," asserted Mary. "For I'm sure, if Mama were in the same position as Lady Catherine, she would not be riding about the country harrassing young women who are strangers, to give up suitors that she might consider the property of her daughter… Lizzy was right! Her attempt was ill-judged. And what conceit and bad manners to talk about anybody in such a way, regardless of their station!"

"I'm rather surprised Lizzy did not laugh at her. I might have, especially when she says: I'm not in the habit of disappointment. I am not accustomed to such language as this. I am most seriously displeased—What does that mean to Lizzy? Or anybody for that matter?"

"She was rather… amusing." Both girls began to giggle. "I feel rather sorry now, for Mr. and Mrs. Collins," confessed Mary, returning to her bed. "Who can argue with such an ill-tempered woman, too used to her own way?"

"If Lydia were here, she'd have taken the leftover wash bowl water and—"

"Kitty, that would be wicked!"

"I'm talking about the clean water."

"But she won't know that."

"I know, but too bad Lydia isn't here. At least, she could've gotten away with it." Even through pain, Mary was joined with her in enjoyment of this fantasy.

Their mother never came to know the real reason for Lady Catherine's visit. Lizzy led her to assume it had been more cordial and neighbourly than the reality. Neither of her sisters dared speak to her about it. For all they had seen from the upper window, it would put Mary, in her own opinion, right in the same category with both her younger sisters. Always such little girls about secrets, as they attempted to listen behind doors or poke their noses through the casement. Both refrained from mentioning the subject to Lizzy, even though Mary had time alone with her. So that she wouldn't have to overwork her eyes or force herself into the tiny corner desk, Lizzy was dictating the letter to her aunt. How is one supposed to feel about a marriage, though he be an agreeable gentleman, when the family's matriarch is against him?

Some four days later, Mary had that internal question answered. Everybody downstairs took a long walk. Since she was only barely recovered from indisposition, Mary shared no desire to go out walking. And a good thing she did not; for the whole party must've been walking for miles. Jane and Mr. Bingley were the first to return from a leisurely excursion into Meryton. Kitty came by herself later, after calling on Maria Lucas. About an hour after herself, Lizzy and Mr. Darcy were seen entering the gates of Longbourn. Peculiar, suspicious, and surprising. What could it mean? Late in the night, when Kitty tripped by the door of Jane and Lizzy's room, around one in the morning, candlelight still flickered underneath.

The very next day, the gentlemen came again, much to Mrs. Bennet's displeasure. She sent Lizzy out walking once more with Mr. Darcy, supposing to keep him out of Jane and Mr. Bingley's way. It did not appear to be by design; just convenience would have it happening that way. By that evening, Mary was capable of joining the family downstairs. She and Kitty sat doing needlework at the table, while Lizzy was reading. Mr. Darcy joined their circle, seeming to admire Kitty's work. But he leaned close to Lizzy, whispering that her father was waiting to speak to her in the library. Even more suspicious, overwhelming, and delightful.

Between that evening and the following, all came out.

"Kitty, my love, you must hold still!" Mrs. Bennet scolded. Sarah attempted to take her measures, as she stood on a little stool.

"Don't we normally do this at the dressmakers', Mama?" asked Kitty.

"But you have grown a little since last year. We've got to get these measurements precise. Next to the wedding gown, the bridesmaids—Kitty, turn the other way now. Let's get the waist. Looks like you're getting a bit plump again."

Lizzy slipped into the room at that moment, close enough to have overheard.

"Oh Mama, don't fret about it. My sister's figure is perfectly fine."

"You're next, my dear! Sarah is almost done with Kitty. Then I just have Mary and you left for measurements. You may as well stay, then we'll go to town in the morning to begin ordering the clothes. Mr. Bingley has some other engagements tomorrow, so that works just fine. I'll take Jane too."

"Mama, I fear there may be a change of plans about the wedding," Lizzy began. Kitty's eyes snapped to attention. Mrs. Bennet did not comprehend it.

"What are you talking about, child?"

"I'm afraid… I've asked Jane's permission, and her feelings about it, and she's in complete agreement that I will not go as a bridesmaid."

"What! No! Lizzy, how can you be so undutiful to your sister! You're going to be a bridesmaid. It's an honour—"

"A bride cannot be a bridesmaid at the same time, can she?"

"You must be a… Wh-What? Did you say a bride?" Now, she was listening. Mrs. Bennet's dressing-room went all silence at the implication.

"Mama, I have no wish to detract from Jane's most special day. In fact, it was all Jane's idea, and she begs it to be considered, that she and I might be married on the same day. She intends to ask Mr. Bingley his thoughts, though certain he will approve, and I'm certain that Mr. Darcy will not object to such arrangement either."

"Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Bennet sunk to her vanity chair.

"Yes, Mama. Mr. Darcy has asked me to marry him, and I've accepted him."

The woman was too overcome for words for a full three minutes. In that time, Kitty and Sarah had stepped out, only for Kitty to fetch Mary. She had been brushing her hair and preparing for bed when Kitty snatched her hand, dragged her down the hall, and found Mrs. Bennet still processing Lizzy's words, trying to recover from the shock.

"Is Mama well?" Mary asked Lizzy.

"I'm not so sure. Mama?"

Mrs. Bennet stood from her chair. "Good gracious! Lord bless me!" She sunk back down again. "Only think… Dear me! Mr. Darcy! Who would have thought it! And is it really true? Oh! My sweetest Lizzy!" She found her footing again, grabbed Lizzy's face, and folded her into her arms. "How rich and how great you will be! What pin-money, what jewels, what carriages you will have!"

Her arms released her new favourite child, allowing her to draw breath. For this was exactly, nearly, what Lizzy had expected. Whether she would be violently opposed or overjoyed in the match, this outburst did not bode well for anybody. "Jane's is nothing to it—nothing at all. I am so pleased—so happy. Such a charming man! So handsome! So tall! Oh, my dear Lizzy! Pray apologize for my having disliked him so much before. I hope he will overlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town! Everything that is charming! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh, Lord! What will become of me? I shall go quite distracted."

In this effusion of delight, all entirely consuming her, all her daughters made a quiet and discreet exit from the dressing-room. As soon as the three were alone, right there in the hallway, the three were crushing each other in an embrace, finally free to share in their joy at this news.

I've thrown out the idea before, but I'll ask again the opinion of you readers. Would you like me to continue with the post-novel here? Or would it be easier by dividing into a separate story for Part 2? I'm still undecided. I could go either way, so a majority vote will probably decide it. Or if not, I'll give you warning if I do a separate story for Part 2... Two chapters left now!

I almost glazed over this part because it doesn't have much to do with Mary or Kitty, except when Lady Catherine first walked in. In the 1995 adaptation, she infamously sat down, looks around and opens her mouth. She could've phrased her sentences much more graciously and politely, but was very insulting to Kitty. However, I did enjoy the scene where Lizzy breaks the news to her mother, just trying to imagine the look in her face is hilarious.

And what will become of Mary's composition...