Chapter 16
They got some distance from the apothecary's shop door, before Mary found words again.
"I don't know what to say, captain, except thank you. Although, I am sorry—"
"Don't you dare be sorry… That was brilliant!"
"I don't know how that came out of me. For I've never felt so angry, let alone expressed it, in my entire life. While I'd say Mr. Jones showed some very poor manners, I should not—"
"No. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Mary. As we've just witnessed, he knew himself to be acting in the wrong. Anytime he fell silent, hesitant to answer the question, is strong proof of his guilt."
"You don't suppose he might accuse me of slander for some of the things I'd said?"
"I think you effectually silenced him at the end. If there's anything a doctor should be afraid of, it's an attorney. At the mention of your uncle, he very willingly complied. He could have chosen to hold to ethics. An innocent practitioner shouldn't be intimidated by a 'patient' asking questions within their right to be asked. I didn't care for his defensive stance right from the start. Strikes me as the type of man…"
"The type of man?"
"As… the type of man who is too accustomed to subservience."
"Perhaps because I am a young woman."
"I'm sure."
"Even with you, I was rather horrified at his behaviour, likening an army surgeon to a butcher. I guarantee, if my mother had been present, she'd have taken great offense to some of his statements… I hope there's enough good sense that he will keep silent about this. I dread to think what my mother would say about it."
"I wouldn't worry about Mr. Jones if I were you, Mary. I was rather proud and honoured to have been requested to be present for such an occasion. I hope, that whatever he said and whatever confidential matters were revealed, did not prove very embarrassing. Shame you had to take such measures upon yourself. I don't blame you for that, but I will not hear you recall that with any shame."
"Perhaps, I can convince myself not to feel so, but if word does get out, I will be shamed. That's not saying I distrust you, not at all. That's simply my fear should it become public knowledge. Mr. Jones is highly respected in these parts. What he said about the public opinion of the matriarchal society of Meryton is quite accurate. Those whom they respect are highly respected. It doesn't take much insult or injury to wound a lady, or her daughter or family member, and that offender is respected nowhere."
"It is that way in many hamlets and small towns like Meryton."
"Since we are in a rather… unorthodox, somewhat professional confidence, Captain Carter, may I ask what is your interest in me? As in, what is your interest, in my situation? What I mean… I'm struggling to describe it… you seem to know or understand my situation, without my telling you. And my hardships… you seem, to me, to take it almost personally."
"Perhaps a failing on my part. Even though I have intruded unwanted, I hope you know it comes from a good place."
"I feel that now."
"Until now, I have deferred talking about a certain subject, but now I think I'm safe to share more with you."
"Oh?"
"… As to my period of mourning, it was my sister."
"Oh no!"
"Yes. I am the eldest of three children. She was the middle child, about the age of your eldest sister, Jane. We were all very good friends growing up. Not just siblings, but friends. Recently, as of the last year or so, Amelia started to become ill. Her doctor didn't give her pain and symptoms much thought. After all, her experience is nothing uncommon to women, you understand. But she became progressively worse. On my last trip to town, it wasn't just to simply escape some flirtatious girls in Meryton. I had gone to see her, for what I didn't know was, the last time."
"What happened to her? I mean, if you don't mind my asking, what was the cause?"
"Her doctor… That fool of a doctor. If I had been at home this last year, I would've dismissed him and taken her to a specialist. I'm very sure that something better could've been done for her, if they had found the problem much sooner. Her doctor assigned her cause of death to severe anemia, and other unknown internal complaints… Needless to say, I am very dissatisfied with that verdict. I am very… ashamed… proud yet ashamed; proud to be apart of the profession, but ashamed to be part of a profession that cannot offer any better treatment or answers than that."
"I am so sorry, Captain Carter. Truly."
"When Mr. Jones thought he was being delicate by the term, internal complaint, I about lost my head back there."
"I wouldn't have known it. You were so calm and in command throughout, while I could say very differently for myself."
"May I tell you, Mary, though I don't say this to needlessly alarm you, I am disturbed by it. That's probably why you could say I take a great interest in your situation. I'm seeing a similar pattern between yourself and my sister."
"I am much obliged to you, but rational fear serves a useful purpose. Regardless of my own fears or opinions, I prefer not to be one of those people who choose ignorance."
"That gives me some relief. Still, don't take what I say as a diagnosis. Bear in mind that I am not your physician. I can surmise all I like, but nothing is definitive without an examination. Also, I could be entirely wrong. It could very well be that you are in no danger. Your health concerns and my late sister's bear similarities but could be very different in nature."
"I understand, Captain. Still, I see the wisdom in perseverance. I have proven that for myself just today. I am only more determined now... Last night, I tried to convince my mother to let me return with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner to London, and more specifically, to see a doctor. She absolutely refused her consent."
"Did she? What was her reason?"
"Aside from Mr. Jones, assuming his care is enough… I've come to find, because of previous bad experiences, my mother is distrustful of all doctors. I had hoped to reason with her, as you have reasoned with me. If something could be done, why be so against it? But she would not hear of it."
"I'm sorry for that. It's easy for me to talk about you making up your own mind on decisions… Well, I ought to have been more understanding."
"Dr. Stone, the physician who was here about twenty years ago, has left behind memories that have only hardened my mother's opinion. Our family also suffered personally. I do understand how she feels, yet cannot agree with it."
"One aspect I've learned about Dr. Stone, about his methods and practice, is that he was quite the standard for his day. New science and research and methods are being improved with time. But at that time, and going back further decades, it's remained common practice for many doctors to use blood-letting as a treatment for many illnesses. I might wager a guess, that some of his dissatisfied patients or deceased ones, were supposed to be helped by it. It's still rather commonplace for many doctors. In recent times, newer doctors are being strongly discouraged from such practices that date back centuries, especially with roots in superstitious beliefs."
"That would make a lot of sense."
"Without knowing the man personally, I cannot judge. I'm sorry for what your family and others have suffered."
"Well, I've not given up. Even if I couldn't prevail on her right now, I will continue to press my case with her, in future."
"I'm very glad to hear it, Mary."
For such deep confidences exchanged, they had walked quite a distance down the west road going out of the village. Coming upon the woods and bare apple groves, he remembered his appointment with Colonel Forster and Mr. Wickham. Farewells were bidden, followed by promises to check in discreetly, whether it were while calling at Longbourn or during Mary's next adventure into town. At numerous points in their conversation, Mary caught herself alternating between blushing and blanched cheeks. To the untrained eye of a stranger, any outsider, it looked like just another girl infatuated with an officer of the visiting regiment. She averted her eyes from the occasional passing farmer with his cart or a wife that milled into town with her basket of eggs. Much to her advantage, she avoided any reunion with her sisters or their friends along the way. For they were too much engaged in their own pursuit of officers to imagine that their older sister might be entertaining an officer herself.
If only they knew, if only they understood. They were merry and lively enough to entertain, make friends quickly and make themselves charming. Too charming, they would quickly find themselves out of their depth had they been walking with the pair, listening to Captain Carter struggle to contain the emotion in his voice as he spoke of his late sister. This confidence would've touched a lovesick girl more than any chivalrous compliments he could make to her. It was felt with honour, but also with trepidation. Mary knew, deep down, she'd already said too much. He was an advocate for her health. However, it was within Mr. Jones' power and possible motive, to put an end to it. It was within Kitty and Lydia's power, if inspired by mischievous motives of their own, to bring this to the attention of their mother. Even a chance mention, a chance observation made by a neighbour or fellow officer, might raise uncomfortable questioning.
Today, was not the day for that. Mary was able to return home largely unobserved, and when the rest of her sisters returned in the afternoon, completely unquestioned. Everyone remained occupied, especially Jane who would be leaving for London the next day with their aunt and uncle and the children. For perhaps the first time since their arrival, the Gardiners enjoyed an evening at home and a family dinner. If Mr. Bennet had his way, circumstances would've been the reverse, but his wife depended on company, whether outside the house or at Longbourn. Diversion was necessity during a time of low spirits. Mr. Collins' and Charlotte's wedding couldn't take place soon enough. Lady Lucas was growing more and more intolerable as the day drew near. Nothing could be more intolerable than rejoicing.
Since they finally had a slow and leisurely evening, Mrs. Gardiner finally could sit in the quiet comfort of the drawing room, in light discourse between Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet. Mary played softly and slower tempos. Lydia had a novel open. Kitty applied herself to needlework. Not the norm, to see her youngest sisters engaged in such modest self-occupation. The young Gardiners, tucked away in the opposite, darker corner of the room, were inventing and tinkering away at a game of their own with toy figurines.
Mary watched for a time as Lizzy and Mrs. Bennet discussed Jane with Mrs. Gardiner. There was a mix of hope as well as concern for her happiness. Gracechurch Street was not directly in the path of the Bingley family, yet, correspondences would follow with the sister. At some point, they must all meet. Her attention to the conversation dwindled as she grew gradually more tired. It was also broken when Lydia heaved a long sigh.
"Lord, how tired I am! But I cannot stop, not until I finish this chapter," she yawned.
"What chapter? Oh, you're going to need to read the next three before Percy finishes his revelation-"
"Hush, hush, don't tell me! I want to find out myself. He already has a lock of her hair-"
It promised to be another insipid conversation regarding the current novel in the family's circulating library. Almost…
Lydia mumbled through a yawn. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making a handkerchief, and putting my initials in it," answered Kitty.
"I think it's much more romantic to give a lock of hair than a handkerchief."
Kitty teased in return: "Didn't you give Captain Carter your handkerchief but a couple months ago?"
"No. Captain Carter is a dear man and old friend, but there are plenty of fish in the sea."
"Now, that Mr. Wickham has come along, you need look no further. I wouldn't be so sure, Lydia. Every girl in Meryton has their eye on him."
"Don't speak to me of Mr. Wickham!"
Mary struck a wrong key upon Lydia's sour reply.
"What's wrong with you?" inquired Kitty.
"I'll tell you what's wrong. When we were in town, I happened to run into Mrs. Barnes. She was all dressed in mourning. For Miss King's grandfather has just died, only a couple weeks ago. The whole house is in mourning. Well, when I went to go call her, what do you think? Wickham was there to pay his respects."
"Oh… Well, that doesn't mean anything, Lydia. It was just a formal call."
"If it was merely that, I'd say likewise. But Mrs. Barnes dropped a hint that her niece was in for a great inheritance. The exact sums are yet to be disclosed, but it's been suggested, around ten thousand pounds."
"Ten thousand pounds!"
"And now that she'll be an heiress, every officer in the regiment is going to be at her doorstep."
"You don't suppose Mr. Wickham will marry her, do you?"
"I hate to think! Oh, it's so entirely unfair, Kitty! Mary King is such a plain girl, and she's so gauche and unamusing when in company. It doesn't bode well that our own Wickham should go and sit half an hour in their parlour, now an heiress of a great fortune. She was also wearing all black. So she doesn't look the least bit attractive."
"Well, that is a blow."
"If only Papa were richer."
"Or if only someone would die and leave me ten thousand pounds," suggested Kitty. "Then all the officers would be violently in love with me."
"It would be more deserving for you than Mary King."
Mary would not be able to rebuke them without calling her mother's or aunt's attention. As much as she was disgusted, it was nevertheless a pleasant surprise. Did Lizzy know of it? What would become of Wickham now, if his very name were unwelcome in the house? Would they be seeing less of him in future? It was only to be hoped. Of course, if any of their suspicions were true, Miss King was as much a fool as her sisters not to see through mercenary motives.
"I think I'm done with this for today," declared Lydia, tossing the novel to the nearby table. "I'm going up. I've to write my entry for the day, and I'm so fatigued that I'll collapse asleep on my desk. Good night, Kitty."
Mr. Wickham would be the chief subject of this next entry, without a doubt. She was upset enough by this turn of events, yet not to the point she cried out, I hate him, I hate him. Kitty took the news solemnly, but her needle did not stop. In fact, her countenance kept rather peaceful. Mary finally rose and finished with her music for the evening, resolved to take up a little reading of her own book before retiring. It was a perfect inroad to take the place Lydia had vacated on the settee.
"Who is the handkerchief for, Kitty?"
"… Will you tell Lydia if I tell you?"
"No. I don't care for gossiping and foolish, idle talk."
"Oh, don't you?"
"Well, needless to say, have you ever known me to confide in Lydia?"
"Very well. Since you ask, it's for Mr. Denny."
"Mr. Denny? Are you sure that is wise?"
"I think he's very gentlemanly and charming. Although, he is not be compared with Mr. Wickham, I find him perfectly amiable. He was the best dancer at the Netherfield ball, and I'm determined to know him better, dance with him more, in short further the acquaintance."
"I see. And to what will all this lead?"
"If all goes well, it will lead to a wedding," simpered Kitty.
"Has… Mr. Denny made such intentions known to you?"
"Of course not. It's too early in the acquaintance for any of that. It needs more encouragement. And I mean to help it along where I can."
"Kitty, what do you know of Mr. Denny, that assures you he will make any woman a decent husband? After all, he is a good friend of Mr. Wickham's. And look at him, he's off courting another woman, in mourning, with a rumoured fortune?"
"We don't know all that. Lydia is being dramatic. If Lizzy approves of Mr. Wickham and his friends, why should you be so judgmental?"
"Perhaps, we have differing opinions on that subject. Kitty…" How to begin? "I really wish to tell you how I feel, though I know you won't listen to me. You don't listen to us: to me, Jane, or Lizzy. But you might save yourself a lot of embarrassment if you'd moderate your behaviour towards the visiting militia. It may be that Mr. Denny flatters you and shows you preference, and that is all. He may no intentions to pursue his attentions any farther. Consider, didn't Lydia once show her preference for him?"
"What do you mean?"
"Maybe he's settling for you because he cannot turn Lydia's head?"
"That is ridiculous, Mary!"
"Is it? Does he not have some motive for it? Think about it. How did Lydia afford that red bonnet she so cherishes? You suspected Mama helped her, but she did not. I have it on good authority, that it was Mr. Denny that lend her that last little bit of money. Aunt Phillips can confirm the tale."
"What? How do you know all that?"
"I observed their whispered conversation last party we attended at Lucas Lodge."
"… You could be wrong."
"I don't think so."
"You're not smarter than everyone else, Mary."
"I did not say so—"
"But you act so," testily replied Kitty. "Mary, we are not nuns in a convent. Even if you don't wish to get a husband, don't hinder all of us from trying. It's not wrong, you know, to want these things that make us happy."
"That's not my intention at all."
"With all my heart, I wish there were a librarian, clerk, or curate out there that will make you just as happy and agree with your heart."
"Save the sweet thoughts and wishful thinking for Jane to bestow. With all my heart, I wish my sisters were better judges of character."
For as much as Kitty wished to escape such disagreeable sister, she couldn't retreat upstairs. Lydia's musings could only be salt to a wound, and Kitty could not make herself agreeable enough to join intelligible conversation near the fire. She settled for the window seat, furthering the progress of her threaded K.B. in each corner. Most ladies should've settled for a single corner. No thought given that four might outdo subtlety.
Shameful thing that the earlier half her day gave her great pride, while the second half turned out to be irritably bitter. In the late and sleeping hours, as well as the early morning upon the departure of the Gardiners and Jane, Mary's thoughts were chastening. With two sentences, she had underhandedly insulted all her sisters, from Jane to Lydia. It was Jane's own fault, after believing so strongly in the good intentions of all people, to be wounded by the shallow, superficial notice of Mr. Bingley. If Mr. Wickham proved true to suspicions, Mary could not wish for it sooner. The sooner disappointments were inflicted, the sooner Kitty, Lydia, and Lizzy's eyes would be opened.
As the weeks passed, regardless of the rumours about Mr. Wickham in Miss King's parlour, Lizzy paid no mind to gossip. Her eyebrow rose, she blushed, simpered, and expressed very little surprise at the defection of her admirer. So serene, she appeared. So unaffected, her countenance and manner, it must be choice. While she would have certainly been a more interesting and pitied object, it was a nobler way than being heartbroken. Within a matter of four weeks or more, it was finally confirmed that Mr. Wickham and Miss King were engaged.
To clarify to a couple of previous reviews. To a guest called SinSin, sorry to disappoint but yes, this is canon: Jane/Bingley, Lizzy/Darcy, Lydia/Wickham. I have read one story like that, with Jane/Colonel Fitzwilliam. It was interesting. Wouldn't say it feels wrong, just feels different. I can see your reasoning. Mr. Bingley can come off as fickle and undeserving of Jane, but as I mentioned in a previous update note, I'm willing to delve deeper into that. We don't see their dynamic, the development of their relationship in the novel. Without those details, I kind of feel the same way. That's why I want to delve into that later. Maybe, just to offer a different perspective. If you wish to follow...
To arkadyLea: I roughly guess that Mary's age would be eighteen. I'm not necessarily saying that she would've been 'of age'. I don't know if it's 18 or 21. What English common law considered the age of adult in early 1800s. Captain Carter was taking a wild guess, trying to scare some sense into Mr. Jones. Didn't mean to be confusing. Thank you for your input!
Another guest reviewer unnamed has asked about Captain Carter's prospects. As far as what he makes in a year, I'm sorry I don't have an answer for that. I'd have to do research. That line in the book where Mrs. Bennet said, of Mr. Wickham: "Poor young man. If only he had 5 or 6 thousand a year, I should be happy to see him married to any of the girls." When I read an annotated version of P&P, it was explained that this line was an exaggeration on Mrs. Bennet's part. But if you compare P&P to a novel like Vanity Fair, it was possible for a foot soldier to live on his pay and support a wife, as long as he didn't live beyond his means.
Thank you for visiting and following. Thank you for continuing to encourage my story's fluff, as well as the drama. I hope the rest of your shift goes smoothly and the day goes quickly. OR I hope you get back to sleep soon!