Chapter 14

"Engaged to Mr. Collins! My dear Charlotte – impossible!"

Longbourn received the news with a mixture of emotions. Lizzy, perhaps, took it the hardest, not for regret of her decision but to see her friend taken in by such an odious character. It was bad enough to be taken in love, but only worse, was that Charlotte professed no such feelings that come of being taken in by love. Private conversation revealed much about her, and that conversation was largely kept in the dark from the rest of the family. The Lucases, having only small fortune, could not offer great material securities to spinster daughters. It was a transaction. Needless to say, Mrs. Bennet looked upon the whole transaction as fraudulent.

"Good Lord! Sir William, how can you tell usch a story?" laughed Lydia. "Do you not know that Mr. Collins wants to marry Lizzy?"

For the two youngest, it was no more than a piece of news to carry with them into Meryton. For Charlotte was not enviable in the slightest, as her husband would be nothing more than a clergyman. They shared plenty of laughter and jokes over the stupidity of Mr. Collins making two offers of marriage in one week. Even if Charlotte was not to be envied, she was not spared from impudence. Mr. Bennet proudly laughed at his table, to discover Miss Lucas, whom he judged the most sensible young woman of acquaintance, to be as silly as any of his own daughters. Such a remark stabbed the heart of the only daughter who actually grieved the news.

Very much like Jane, in one way in particular, Mary did not give voice to her feelings. It would do no good to anybody. Now that their cousin was engaged, such feelings were highly improper for a man laid claim to, as good as married. Congratulations and good wishes for Miss Lucas were within her power. Friendship between their neighbour or her family didn't sour for Mary, which was hardly the case with her mother.

"I refuse to believe! I do not believe it, Mr. Bennet!" she sobbed in the parlour. "How could our own neighbours, our dear friends betray us so? Mr. Collins has been taken in, I declare. Charlotte Lucas is not even a pretty girl, in which case, I could almost understand. But no, she's just a plain, old maid of twenty-seven! Where is the logic in such a choice? It will not last, mark my words. Such a schemer could never make him happy. They'll be a miserable pair! I hope Mr. Collins has the good sense to break it off before it's too late!"

"It's already too late, my dear Mrs. Bennet."

Her voice found its way through the fitful sobs. "I blame Lizzy for this! That ungrateful child! You've always spoiled her, let her have her way in everything, given her the preference over your other children. Look what she's come to now, refusing an offer of marriage to a decent man, and for what? Some notion about not being able to respect him, make him happy, being ill-suited for each other. If it weren't so detrimental to her family's prospects, I'd say she deserved losing Mr. Collins to her own intimate friend. Friend indeed!" Her strength faded under such watery protest. "Friend? What friends do I have anymore, Mr. Bennet? I have been barbarously used by everybody!"

A few weeks passed since the news of the engagement. Half of the household was rendered more quiet and subdued by it. While Lydia and Kitty continued on with life as usual, and Mary pretended to do likewise, Jane had been dealt a blow with the tenants of Netherfield vacating to London. According to Miss Bingley, there was little chance of them returning. Lizzy stood by and defended her dear sister against all suspicions and inquiries as best she possibly could from Mrs. Bennet. When another letter followed in a week or so, Jane's hopes were done away, with confirmation that Mr. Bingley and his sisters were to remain in town all winter. If there were any tears, nobody saw a single one shed, not even Elizabeth. The wound was a deep one. For a time, Jane was not quite herself. Lizzy argued some expression of anger or sadness would actually help. It might have worked to purge her sister of any remaining thoughts of Mr. Bingley.

Mary's bitter reflections saw some sense in the advice. Yet, even she could not bring herself to rend garments or go about in sackcloth. How could she possibly make the claim she was injured? Mr. Collins never paid any addresses to her. He made no promises or illusions to returning for her sake. How confounding it was that she should be upset at all when no logical reason existed. Mrs. Bennet actually did far greater injury than Mr. Collins. In all her haranguing against Lizzy, the Lucases, and the rest of the world, that particular conversation between herself and Mary had been forgotten. Poor consolation that her third daughter would have been prevailed on to accept him, if given the chance. The woman made herself too poor of health and ill-humoured to offer any private words of comfort.

Though far be it from her to let resentment fester within, Mary no longer touched Fordyce's Sermons for her daily studies. Other authors were procured from either the Longbourn library or Clarke's library.

While awaiting the arrival of their Uncle and Aunt Gardiner with their children from London, Mary curled herself up in the drawing room window. She would see the arrival of the carriage soon. It gave everyone something to look forward to in this gloom. Mild winds stirred the foliage outside, tumbling leaf debris on the gravel walk and stripping more from the trees. December had come, but snow was yet to arrive. Lizzy and Jane tended to a few of the trees out in the copses, along with their father. They seemed to busy themselves, hurrying to get accomplished before the gentle winds escalated to gale forces. Their tasks had a happy interruption from the arrival of a small troupe of officers, coming from the drive. Lizzy's countenance was a sunbeam peaking through a storm cloud. Mr. Wickham was among them, and delighted to meet her, as well as her sister and father.

Mr. Bennet made some droll remarks about the weather, with some teasing about not keeping the young people away from the party at Lucas Lodge tonight. All the men heartily concurred, nothing should stand in the way of duty. Mary rolled her eyes and disdainfully shook her head. Mr. Wickham made his preference all too clear. For disheveled hair, gardening gloves, and dirt-stained aprons made as charming a picture as a lady in the drawing room. His words, his compliments to both sisters, but with eyes only for Elizabeth. Before the man could monopolize, another member of the red troupe stepped forward. Captain Carter made a decorous bow to Jane and Lizzy, asked them a question, which puzzled them to answer. Something to the effect, who is the expert gardener? He had been told much about their pleasures in the outdoors, especially Miss Elizabeth. But he noticed a sad lack of something in the garden, which he must be forgiven for remarking on. From behind his back, he produced a wrapped parcel and a great robust bushel of mint.

Jane and Lizzy were delighted. The gift was accepted, with both brushing their noses over the tops of the leaves. Lizzy even turned it to her father for a whiff. With some gestures and endearing smiles, the captain gave instructions about how best to plant it, swore by its medical properties, and assured that if given opportunity, it would grow plentifully. While not the most convenient time of year for new plants, they were eager to see Captain Carter's promises come to fruition in good time. Lizzy set off for the storage room adjoining the servants' quarters, knowing the ideal pot to place their gifted mint. Ideal situation for Mr. Wickham to offer his assistance and follow her. Again, another shake of the head Mary couldn't resist. Typical man, and predictable.

With the rest of the party, they delayed and lingered with Jane and Mr. Bennet, all except Captain Carter. When Mary observed him glance at the house, catching her in the window, she shrunk closer to the curtain, even stumble back and up closer to the fire. Her book tumbled clumsily in the process. Fortunately neither her mother or sisters were nearby to witness this flustered display. She suspected, inevitably, the doorbell ringing, Mrs. Hill admitting him, and ushering him into the room. Mary kept her face towards the fire, settling any nervousness. The last time they were in this room, alone together, she had abused him monstrously. Perhaps, he feared a repetition.

Their good mornings were civil. Mimicking her mother in this same position, Mary thought to ask that he would sit down. That seemed to trigger his memory as well.

"I hope you don't mind the intrusion. I promise I shall not stay long," he said composedly.

"You do not disturb me. I was just reading." That book had not been picked up. Poor thing lay, pages splayed open and spine up.

"Well, even if you lie, your book seems to suggest I am disturbing you," he teased, which produced a rosy blush to her cheek.

"I was already sitting in the window when you saw me. I assure you I was not eavesdropping."

"Can you eavesdrop from this distance? Besides, the window is closed."

She hastily removed her spectacles, also having forgotten to remove them. "Distance is a challenge, sometimes. And I never need to be within hearing."

"Are you saying you can read lips?" The captain fairly brightened, interested and amused.

"I can. I have. It's still an imperfect skill, but it's been honed by years of noisy assemblies and parties."

"Upon my word, as good an accomplishment as speaking French. Well, I suppose then, you saw what transpired outside?"

"Yes. You've brought my sisters a plant."

"Don't be so coy. You know what it is, don't you?"

"… It's a mint plant." Mary turned back to the fire, wishing momentarily that she could disappear in it like one of the logs lodged in its flames. Not a destructive whimsy to be sure, simply to make herself and her blushing unseen. "That is very charitable of you. Jane and Lizzy enjoy the gardens as you have seen. I assure you, your plant will be well taken care of, captain."

"It's not for them," he corrected. "I brought it for you. Of course, I did not tell them as much. But I did suggest its medicinal properties and benefits for illness and soothing nervous complaints. Best served in tea, either slightly sweetened or plain. I advertised it in generalities. No references made particularly as to who in the family would benefit."

"Then I am much obliged to you, Captain."

"Mary, it's hardly proper that you should be standing in your own house, while I, a visitor, be sitting down. Quite the reverse. Please, be comfortable if you wish."

She chuckled. "Of course. I suppose if you put it that way, I always wish. That wish is never granted." Mary accepted the hint and sat down on the opposite settee. Same positions as last time, once again. She picked up her book, pulled her shawl taut with determination to erase the memory of last time upon this visit.

"Since we have this brief moment alone, and probably won't be long, may I inquire after your health?"

"I am well. Thank you."

"Glad to hear it. Have you, by chance, had opportunity to inquire about your tonic?"

She shook her head. "No. I've not had the opportunity. Well, I suppose I could open discussion any time, but you see, with four other sisters and servants in and out, a private conversation with my mother is a rarity."

"I can imagine."

"Also, I've not had the heart to inquire. For I fear she'll be rather vexed, and she's not been in good humour as of late."

"Sorry to hear that."

"In all honesty, I rather dread asking… Captain Carter, please don't blame me for this. I see where your concern is warranted. I've read up on some of the benefits as well as the… less desirable effects of the substance in question. Even if that is truly the case, it has been helpful thus far. I'm afraid of having to do without it now. What will I do for pain without it?"

"That's really not my decision. I did force some of my opinions on you at the ball, but pray, don't take any of my advice as absolute. It is your right to decide what is best for your health."

"That is very noble, but I'm afraid, you're very wrong. It is not my decision… My options for cures and treatment are rather limited."

"That is a misfortune many women share, and I wish there were better answers to be had in the medical field. I have faith, one day, there will be better research and new breakthroughs. Whether it will be in our lifetime, my confidence is yet to be justified." A search of his countenance offered no insight. When he paused, Mary could only guess what passed. It was like watching an actor, in the agony of forgetting his next lines. "May I ask, why do you assume that is not your decision?"

"You don't know my mother very well, Captain Carter," Mary drily replied.

He smiled. "A very strong-willed woman, I take it."

"She knows what is best for her daughters. None of us could convince her otherwise, when her mind is made up on a subject. You may have heard already that our cousin, Mr. Collins, who had visited us recently, is engaged to our neighbour, Miss Lucas."

"Ah, yes! I had heard of it."

"Well, she had other expectations for him, and for… one of her daughters. I will not name which of my sisters. But our mother also has a strong-willed daughter. So things did not work out the way she hoped."

"You seem a bit disappointed yourself."

"I am. I am sorry for what our mother has suffered. She meant well. Does she always do well by her intentions? Certainly not, but she meant well."

"Ours mothers are one of the most powerful allies in the world, but at the same time, more dangerous than an enemy ever met on the battlefield."

"She's had several disappointments in that regard. While I do wish she could bear with them better, nor do I often agree with her… meddling, I'll call it, I still don't wish her wounded."

"I respect that. A mother is human, and can make mistakes or have mistaken views with regard what's best for their children. Very often a good decision, the right decision, requires that you disturb the peace. A little."

"Is that a war analogy or a maternal analogy?"

Humour did not come naturally to Mary, yet Captain Carter responded to it. Lizzy would've been happily surprised.

"All light talk aside, Mary, you could advise your mother to see a physician. I'm not talking about the local apothecary. It would be of much benefit to have an examination, by a doctor in London. While the field of knowledge is still limited, as I've said, these doctors deal with more difficult cases, conditions and problems beyond the expertise of any country doctor."

"R-Really?"

"If you or your family wish it, I might make a couple recommendations. The surgeon I trained under has his practice there. He knows a number of specialists, but I'm not pushing it at this time. Just give it some consideration."

"Seems you've given me a lot to consider," Mary agreed. All her blushes vanished. What colour remained in her cheek was a slight glow, for the first time in days. A new horizon was presented, one candidly presented with no promises but reason for hope. While she hoped to have him continue in greater detail, he changed the subject.

"I like this room. Seems rather cozy," he complimented. "Reminds me of a particular teahouse in London. You wouldn't think you were in the middle of the city. Little hedgerows, roses, fresh herbs in the air, and on a blustery, rainy day like this, it's the most charming place."

"Rainy?"

"Why yes, looks like it's starting to fall." Speckling drops hit the window. The sky had turned a darker shade of gray since she last looked outside. Those still remaining in the gardens were beginning to feel it.

"Perhaps I should ring the bell for tea." Mary jumped up, feeling completely remiss for not having rung earlier. "Do you intend to stay for tea, Captain Carter?"

"Am I welcome to stay this time?"

"Don't forgive me if you won't forget, sir!"

"I'm teasing. Do what is natural and comfortable in your own house. If it pleases you, throw your book at the bell to ring it. Save you the trouble of getting up."

"Nonsense!"

"That book seems to have a habit of flying out of your hands anyway. Why not?"

Sadly, he was denied such a wild display. Mary rose and rung the bell, in time to receive all parties outside into the drawing room through the garden door. Lizzy pulled off her straw hat, which was ill-suited to the job of protecting her hair from chaos. Jane much more gently and patiently unraveled the braid from her hat, any locks that hung about her cheeks received a brutal treatment from the wind. Mr. Bennet made himself amiable for their visitors, returning smiles for smiles, jests for jests, jabs for jabs. The young men were certainly not just polite; he was entertaining them and enjoyable.

As the rain increased, the troupe resigned itself to wait upon the rain. Brave men, men of battle, and yet: "Let's give it a half-hour. I'm sure it won't storm."

"You'll certainly stay, that is as long as we have reinforcements to provide you," retorted Mr. Bennet. "And I'll only charge two shilling per customer."

The tea setting was provided, and set for the expectation of more. Ironically enough, Kitty and Lydia had gone to Meryton earlier for an errand, and another chance meeting with certain officers. They'd rather be ungrateful children to their mother, forego any errands for receiving all their favourites at Longbourn. Lizzy likewise felt the absence of her mother and younger sisters, and Mary heard the exchanges between Lizzy and her father, Mr. Wickham, and all the officers with something of indifference. When Mr. Bennet took an interest, to further his acquaintance with the gentleman, he inquired as to his home county and his reason for joining the –shire regiment. In short, everyone received the whole story that Lizzy had been told in confidence upon their initial meeting. Mr. Wickham had grown up in the care of the Darcy family. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy had been a companion since infancy. But as the favourite of old Mr. Darcy, the late father, he received much love and attention, declared the best of men. It was his hope to establish Mr. Wickham in life, by offering the family living on his estate in Derbyshire. When he died, his son chose to regard the will as merely a recommendation, and as something about the request was informal in its language, Mr. Darcy saw no reason to show deference to his father's intentions or to his godson.

Mary watched Mr. Wickham's face intently throughout his narrative. It was meant to be briefly told, but Mr. Bennet encouraged him to share details, perhaps humouring him a bit. He matched his facial expression with the particulars he revealed. When speaking of old Mr. Darcy, his voice dropped a bit, giving warmth to his expressions of endearment for his godfather. Even recalling the silly tales of childhood, his childhood with the son, his dimple and twinkle of eye spoke a fondness for such memories. So when it came to the death, the will, the drastic upheaval of circumstances, it naturally sent chills through the heart and left the hearer feeling unjustly treated, righteously provoked. Murmurs of sympathy coursed through the room.

Mr. Wickham ended it by assurances. "But I cannot say that current circumstances or ill-usage have wiped away the good memories. And it's better to let things be as they may, instead of fighting to the death over a clause in a will. And what is that? It's hardly worth ruining the Darcy name. And any legal redress might hurt more people than Mr. Darcy himself. This is between myself and him. Nobody else need be injured."

"It gives you a bit of a distinction, if I may say so, to have borne such misfortune," answered Mr. Bennet. "You might make your fortune by changing the names of involved parties, use them for characters and write a good novel. Do so, and trust me, you've made your fortune, as well as made your reputation with every young woman in the kingdom."

"Father," chided Elizabeth, blushing, "this is hardly a matter of comedy for Mr. Wickham. Must you be so flippant about it?"

"A more vindictive man would take your advice, Mr. Bennet," said Mr. Wickham, smiling. "But not I. I'd rather not find myself, one day, the persecuted, becoming the persecutor."

The steam of the tea tickled Mary's nose. It was still too hot, yet she swallowed and burned her tongue in the process. Despite that, she managed to steel herself against the sting. Finally, she possessed a good reason in choosing not to like Mr. Wickham. With their initial acquaintance, she felt some shame in her feelings. When Mr. Collins was adamantly rebuffed by her sister, those feelings rooted even deeper. Suspicious indeed that not long following the rejected proposal, Mr. Wickham is introduced and welcomed at Longbourn. He's now quite welcome in their society. Now, the studies of human nature confirmed her instincts. Mr. Wickham is a clever man.

What was to be gained by it? Why was it such a confidential matter between himself and Elizabeth originally? Now, secrecy is of no importance, and it would soon be gossip in every parlour in Meryton. Perhaps he might use it to bide his time paying bills. Local tradesmen were busy, but also operating a good deal on credit. It would not be surprising. It's hard to harass a man for debts, privy to such a tale of woe. If Mr. Darcy heard this tale circulate while still in residence at Netherfield, he'd have opportunity to deny it. That would make any confidence between himself and his confidante, Mary's sister, vital, without a doubt.

Out of curiosity, Mary observed Captain Carter in a side glance, taking in his reaction. He nodded quietly when appropriate and kept a look of solemnity as his fellow officer spoke for some ten minutes. Once again, all her powers of intellect failed because Captain Carter's expression altered so little. He was capable of charming smiles. Not many minutes ago, he was smiling as they conversed. The other officers sympathized. Captain Carter held reservation. Unhappily for Mary, Lizzy took it all at face value and praised his better feelings.

"Perhaps there has been plenty of misunderstanding," said Jane. "Between the both of you. Surely, if you could meet again, under neutral circumstances, talk it through. I'm sure better you'd both be the better for it. Mr. Darcy might, very well, be hurt and regretful himself, Mr. Wickham. Of course, it's a difficult matter, but for all you've shared in your lives, it's not worth severing ties irrevocably."

Captain Carter didn't wait for Mr. Wickham's response. "Your feelings do you great credit, Miss Bennet."

"Jane would be the poorest court judge in the world," retorted Mr. Bennet. "Is that not so, my dear?"

"Oh Papa!"

"If you are capable of arranging a reconciliation, Miss Bennet," answered Mr. Wickham, "you are too good for this world."

"And so I tell her," sighed Lizzy. "Only she refuses to believe it."

It was not long before everyone was stirred from the fire and drawing room with the arrival of the Gardiners' closed carriage. Best for the gentlemen to shift out of the way for the family. Good company resolutely agreed to meet later tonight at Lucas Lodge and resume their friendships with a fine dinner, and of course, more cards and dancing, Lizzy's first dance with Mr. Wickham.

Thank you for coming back and following and reviewing. I hope you enjoyed the little tender moment between Mary and Mrs. Bennet in the last chapter, and happy to see your comments on Captain Carter. What do you think? Question: should Mary be paired with someone who is like her or someone opposite of her? What about Kitty?

Liysyl: Thanks for the love!

Sullhach: I was laughing that you responded to another reviewer. Thanks for that! Actually, you're not the only one. For those reviewers, that respond to comments of others, it was not my intention to start a debate about 1995/2005, I'm sorry. I realize that's a controversial topic for fans.

So, Mr. Wickham is in our midst. One video that also intrigued me, from Dr. Octavia Cox, was a video titled: How does Wickham manipulate Elizabeth Bennet? I clicked on it thinking: I think everybody knows, yes, he lied and manipulated her. But after watching, it makes his behavior even more insidious.