Chapter 18

"Tell no one about it," said Captain Carter. "I trust you to dispose of it how you see fit."

Before the two had finished their interview in the garden that afternoon, he left her a bulky packet. Mary asked a few questions about it, only to be sorry that she had done so. Captain Carter only gave pertinent details. It was money owed their father. It was partly by accident that he found himself in debt to Mr. Bennet. He even claimed to have done damage to property, and wished to make reparation. It baffled her, until she discovered both her sisters, later that evening, alternating in fits of tears and verbal abuse of their father. Mrs. Bennet took the affront all too personally. She argued against the injustice of her youngest being denied her yearly allowance.

"How will she get new clothes? How will she attire herself for Sundays, for parties, assemblies? Suppose we have another grand visitor in the neighbourhood, or she might go to London, like Jane. I won't have my daughter shabby!"

Mr. Bennet knew this battle was lost even before his wife rose to Lydia's defense. Of course, she could be counted on to rally, just as much as Lydia could rely on her. Mrs. Bennet made enough protest, played her cards right, and in a matter of weeks, the whole argument was nearly forgotten. Lydia had a supply of cash again. Kitty did not bother to inquire where and how anymore. Nothing good would come of it, only vain quarrels.

"You say this came from Captain Carter himself?" asked Mr. Bennet.

Mary confirmed with a nod. "He would not tell me for what it was for, or debt."

"He didn't give me much intelligence either, just a short note. 'Dear sir, allow me to return this money to you. It was lost and have no wish to keep it. There was more, but I regret I was unable to win it all back in its entirety. Any remaining differences are not the result of withholding. Kind regards, yours etc.' "

"He… won it back?"

"Well, I've been saved the rather degrading task of begging it back," he dryly replied.

"Papa, I don't understand."

"I think I do. And since both he and I wish to keep this confidential, I ask it of you. Is that reasonable?"

"I suppose so."

"Recently, it's come to my attention that Lydia and Kitty were taught some new card game in company. They were playing for higher stakes."

"Gambling!"

"Well, your sisters have paid the price for that. Apparently, the youngest has decided to borrow against her expectations, so to speak. She lost a small deal of money, reportedly to a Captain Carter."

"Why, what—How could he do such a thing?"

"Mary, before you jump to conclusions, take your own advice and give careful thought before pronouncing adverse judgment on any of your fellowmen… or your sisters for that matter. It's obvious Captain Carter was aware of their goings on, joined the game with the intention to spare them a heavy loss. Had he returned it to Lydia, I'd conclude the man is an admirer. The fact he wished it returned to her father shows an insight I did not credit him for, but I also deduce that because he entrusted its delivery to your care, suggests a motive."

"And that motive would be?"

"Oh, you want me to guess?" he chuckled. "You're too learned and wordly to be ignorant, my dear Mary. Why didn't you tell me he was an admirer?"

"Papa!" She blushed violently, mouth agape. Her astonishment almost made him nearly burst laughing. "There is no such thing going on between myself and the captain. He is an officer. Even though I do think well of him, except in this matter, we are common acquaintances. Perhaps we are friends, in a way, but no more than that."

"Mary, you need not be so squeamish and hide the truth. After all, I'm not your mother. I will not speak a word about this. Give me some credit. So, he's an officer. I've met him, know very little of him, but overall, he seems a pleasant fellow. Not so clever and handsome as Wickham, but neither is he so empty-headed as these other puppies that trail along behind your younger sisters."

"Truly Papa, I've no interest or hopes in that direction. I am not Kitty and Lydia."

"If you were to admit to having some preference, you'd be as shameless as they are... Is that what you're afraid of?"

This was going to take more than a few repeated denials. Mary took a seat before his desk. "My preference, for a companion and for marriage, would be a man of more settled character and profession. What my younger sisters so easily forget is that there's more to soldiers than regimentals and graceful dancing. They are here in Meryton for a purpose, for training, preparation for war. That's a hard life of uncertainty, for any wife, wondering whether he will return home alive. Not only that. You know my feelings about war. Many would disagree with me. It's a necessity for kings and countries. It means the difference between survival and perishing. But personally, I'm against it. No disrespect to the militia. I would want a peaceful life and a peaceful man. My ideal would be a clergyman, or school-master, or… country doctor. Such professions serve their fellowman. I'd like to feel useful, and be useful to my husband."

"Your feelings do you credit, my dear." Unhappily expecting to be entertained, Mr. Bennet was forced to be serious. It was not his way. Giving comfort was not his forte. Laughing oneself out of misery and predicament solved many problems, and remedied self-pity when it could not do so. It worked with Lizzy, but not the rest of his children. "It's one reason I do not worry about you and your reputation amongst the neighbourhood. But Mary, if you think yourself immune to natural feelings, if you think your thoughts loftier than those of your neighbours, you really are a silly girl. I remember the performance at Netherfield this last autumn."

"Oh Papa." Her head hung.

"You volunteered your talent, unasked I might add, and would willingly have played on and be the evening's entertainment. Obviously now, you reflect back on it with some regret."

"I do."

"My point is, child, you are not immune to common failings, such as vanity and conceit. You are also not immune to falling in love with a good man." He meant to let her speak, then realizing what he actually said: "Now, please, by all means, don't fall in love. I'm not endorsing that. Just recognize love for what it is; not a philosophical way, not just an emotion, but really, part of human nature. Captain Carter, I leave him to your better judgment."

Despite all the festivities and public diversion in the neighbourhood, it still did not settle things for Mary. For what her father did not address was Captain Carter's own prowess and skill in this game that involved gambling. To be so good at it, enough to win back the majority of the money, he'd have to have played and practiced a good deal. It did not alter her opinion of the man, a decent man, but gave him a shadow. Of course, had Mary been more entangled in romantic expectations, this development would've proven more disturbing. But she was not in love, thankfully. Therefore, such shade of character did not concern her when she was not about to join herself to the man and his shadow.

It did heighten her concerns for Kitty and Lydia. Although engaged, and while Kitty entertained romantic notions of another, both were still quite enamored by Mr. Wickham. Once men or women announced themselves to be engaged, it's the wisest thing for any third parties to either detach from them or banish secret pinings to the confines of a diary. They still continued to seek his company, and those of his close associates. Whenever Mary King was absent at an evening party, there was no hesitation, no second thought of the lady, no reservations over the consequences of making an engaged girl jealous. Miss King was a friend of their own circle, yet a nobody. Any flirtations were disguised by affirmations of mere friendship for Mr. Wickham.

By late February, mild weather softened the cold in the air and the hard earth. Snow hadn't quite melted yet, but any ponds or running streams that had frozen over were liquid again. Military drills and practice commenced once more. Farmers prepared their land for seeds. Letters went out, and family members in Meryton were traveling again to see those distant relations, unreachable during the inconvenience and danger of icy conditions. Lizzy took advantage of her time without Jane, to keep up the maintenance of the gardens and beds of herbs. She tended the mint plant, though it required little help from any gardener, as promised.

"Where would you like to put it, Mary?" asked Lizzy.

"I don't know."

"How about over here? We just need to pull this dead bush out, and it'll cheer up this whole corner of the house."

Lizzy industriously gave instruction and charged Mary, with either direct care or by instruction to the gardeners, to look after all their hard, green work. Bound for Kent in three days' time, she eagerly looked forward to visiting Charlotte.

"Shall you be taking along any specimens for Charlotte's garden?"

"The lavender has done very well. I might pluck a sample for her. I'd rather trim off our roses and bring that as a gift. However, I'm told Lady Catherine grows them in abundance, and Mr. Collins is well-supplied for them. Besides, I don't know how much space we will have in the carriage for all our trunks and a pot of dirt."

Mary smiled at the thought, knowing her sisters. Plants were considered the highest form of gift, while a million other girls would rather have jewels.

"Are you sure you're well enough to be out and walking yet? You were poorly off three days ago."

"I'm recovering."

"You look pale, Mary."

"I've been instructed that walking does some good. Besides, I've always had a pale complexion. I'm no different at nineteen than I was at nine."

"You've just turned nineteen, you recall. Don't act like that is so old."

"I feel old at times." Despite the dour declaration, Mary's smile still provoked humour.

"Wait until you're one and twenty, or three and twenty… and then three and forty. If Mama knew we know her true age, she'll be very cross."

Mary shrugged. "Why is that such a secret to keep from us? All of us have access to the family Bible."

"Unlike you, she—"

"Lizzy! Mary! Come quick! Denny and Carter are here, and guess who else? Wickham!"

Lydia had good reason to come running out to them, bubbling and overjoyed. It was one of those rare occasions that Mr. Wickham was without Miss King on his arm. Lizzy accepted the happy occasion with commonplace pleasure. Mary's indifference almost bordered along distaste. Mr. Wickham was his usual self, smiles and charming manners to everyone. Denny was received as zealously welcome as Wickham. Kitty, more animated than usual, monopolized him for awhile, before Lydia felt left out enough to join the conversation. In their walk through the garden, through the copses, everyone was a group joined. Mr. Wickham and Lizzy said little to each other, at first.

"I should like it dearly if Papa would put a swing here," suggested Lydia. "Under this very tree. It would be so charming, don't you think, Denny?"

"Can't argue that. You'd have some pleasant views, and once you're going high enough, it's rather exhilarating."

"To be a pendulum?" retorted Mary. "After five minutes, the novelty of such 'exhilaration' is worn out."

"Oh, who asked you?" snapped Lydia.

"Papa prefers a garden to harmonize with nature," added Lizzy. "And that is a more economical way to keep the grounds. But even if there were unlimited riches, beauty can be overdone with an immaculate lawn and statues."

"You mustn't say such things when you visit Rosings Park," warned Mr. Wickham. "Unless you are sorely lacking intellectual stimulation that you'd like to argue your viewpoint with Lady Catherine de Bourgh."

Lizzy laughed. "For my friend and my cousin's sake, I shall not attempt such a wicked thought as contradicting her opinions on horticulture."

Lydia was lost. "What is horticulture?"

Mary lost her patience. "The study of plants and gardens."

Kitty lost her tact. "It's amazing enough our sister can read. She loves gardens, but hates to get her hands dirty. Don't you? However, she'll have a dozen hothouses when she marries the son of a baronet." Before another row of sisterly rivalry burst, Lizzy scolded in the fewest and most nonverbal means possible. The hints were taken. If it could not be spoken, Lydia hoped to think her insults loud enough for Kitty's mind to read.

Upon better things, Kitty directed her attention. "Perhaps we might have a demonstration of your archery, Mr. Denny! We've plenty of space for it. You, Wickham, Carter, and Pratt. I hear high praise from Colonel Forster."

"Kitty, don't you think you ought to ask Papa for permission before you host a tournament on his own property?" said Mary. "Lizzy, I think I shall return to the house. I'm going back to my studies. Shall I ring for tea, or do you all wish to peruse your outdoor sports?"

Irritable and disgusted with herself being apart of this scene, Mary demanded and took her departure abruptly. Lizzy looked after her with a shock. She had altered so quickly in a matter of minutes. True, she was not entirely well from her last miseries. But it was shocking, not to see her attempts to reprove Kitty and Lydia rebuffed, but to be included in the reproof. Very little did Mary's spirits improve in the drawing room. Studies now included matters and reviews of history, essentially the kings, queens, and major players of English history. Thankfully, Mrs. Bennet had taken to calling on Mrs. Phillips, and running other errands in town. She'd have had a few minutes of quiet, if not for the interruption of Captain Carter, letting himself in through the side door.

"Is everything alright here?"

"Everything is quite alright, sir. And why do you inquire?"

"Mary, you were rather rude to your sisters, particularly Elizabeth."

"Forgive me I made you and your friends uncomfortable by my manners. In comparison, my rudeness was the lesser evil of my sisters and their forward behaviour. And I hardly think it your place to criticize the relations between sisters."

"Perhaps, it's not," he admitted. "I have my own opinions on that, but I'll leave it be. Is everything alright with you? You don't seem yourself."

He presumed to sit on the couch across from her. It was almost vexing to observe such magnanimous forgiveness. While disapproval had not been erased from eye or brow, he allowed her unjust infliction to pass. Before she could think to utter another cross word, she glanced back down on her current chapter: a biographical narration of Queen Mary I. What happened to those subjects that so displeased her by being honest?

"My own namesake," she shuddered. "Our mother, when she was naming her children, wished to christen us after royalty."

"Really? I don't know of any queens named Lydia, at least not off the top of my head."

"From what I've been told, she was almost named Anne. However, there were three Annes already being baptized in the parish at that time. And our father reminded her of all the wives and children of King Henry the VIII. That hadn't occurred to her, and so she went through the Bible hunting for an alternative. And so, my sister Lydia was born."

"Less common."

"I'd rathter wish to think my name came from the Bible, instead of a religious persecutor. And I'd also like not to resemble the temperament of such person." To that, he chuckled, slightly appeased. "I don't mean to be so harsh, Captain Carter. I don't wish to wound my sisters, especially not Lizzy. I just can't help worry."

"What worries you?"

"… What kind of man is Mr. Wickham, do you think? In your opinion, Captain, do you think him an upright, decent man?"

"I don't know him all that well. He seems an agreeable man, and good company. Makes friends quickly amongst the officers, of all ranks, above and equal. He's an ensign, but if he were higher in the ranks, I don't see him being conceited about it. We shall see when there are promotions."

"If one of your sisters took a fancy to him, would you feel the same about the man?"

His silence was as much an answer. It gave food for thought. Well-chosen words.

"I recall one rainy day, when you all came to visit Longbourn, here in this very room. Mr. Wickham was relating to us his sad account of a recent falling out with the Darcy family. I happened to catch your eye upon crucial highlights. If I may be so bold, to say I know you well enough, by your expression, you seemed skeptical."

"Well, perhaps you can say that, because you do know me well enough. I did find his narrative and corresponding actions rather… questionable. If he has such love and esteem for his late godfather, with no wish to blacken the family name, why was he airing his grievances? Considering, if even half of his accusations are true, then Mr. Darcy is guilty of fraud. If that is indeed the case, Mr. Wickham is within his right to seek legal redress and compensation. That would be the proper thing to do, go before the courts, instead of gossiping in a parlour."

"That's only part of it. If he's an innocent man, why was he previously so secretive on the subject? It's all a contradiction. So you must understand why I am anxious for Elizabeth."

"What is it you fear?"

"Mr. Wickham is not a gentleman. Whatever the truth behind his history with the Darcy family, his behaviour was proof, to me at least, that he can be underhanded. He would like to incite prejudice, to the point we don't care to hear any evidence that might absolve Mr. Darcy. Even his countenance… When you suffer an injustice, such as loosing your sister, it's very difficult, very painful to talk about it."

"Of course. But Mary, that may be true of me, though not necessarily every man."

"Regardless, being turned out of the house and denied your share, your place in your adopted family, for a man such as him, that is a tragic circumstance... When you speak of your family's tragedy, I see it in your face. When Mr. Wickham spoke of his, there's no pain."

"Mary—"

"Well, he doesn't appear to be in any mental anguish. He can jump from a painful memory to gallantry in a heartbeat."

"Now, do be cautious in that regard. Mary, I admit, we do share those doubts in common. I think him a clever man. I think he knows just the right things to say, when to speak, and who is going to be most receptive. Clearly, he is very much liked and respected in your family. Be that as it may, these suspicions are merely our own feelings. We have no evidence otherwise. I'd also remind you that your sister, Elizabeth, knows how to act with decorum and good judgment."

"Of course. But I contest, that she is acting in blindness when it comes to him. When Mr. Wickham first arrived, he showed a clear preference for Lizzy. He's often been a guest here at her request. He's saved the first dances for her at parties. Our family, our neighbours were starting to remark upon it. Then, some months go by, his attentions turn to Miss King, recently made the mistress of a large fortune… Lizzy was not visibly upset by his defection. No hostility, no resentment. She seemed to take it as a matter of course. That's not a natural response to an admirer's disloyalty. My sister Jane experienced jilting recently, and she took it with despondency. That's a natural reaction."

"You're saying—you don't believe it?"

"No. I believe, deep down, that Lizzy was wounded. Not heartbroken, but she was wounded. The odd thing about it is, that she can see his motives for what they are: mercenary. Only she does not call it mercenary. To her, it's practicality. I do not wonder at it. I feel like for one to swallow wounded pride is easier than being an object of pity to others. She would rather deny ever having been in love than grieve for it."

"That is a strong motive for concealing her emotions. I have to admire that. She made the conscious choice not to be offended, though she certainly had a right to be. That is remarkable self-command. Based on that observation, you should trust your sister, Mary."

"But her partiality is clear. Mr. Darcy is her greatest enemy. She was the first person to know his story. Mr. Wickham confided in her when he first came to Meryton. They have a common ground that Miss King does not share. And suppose..."

"Suppose..."

"Suppose… Now, I do not wish it, but suppose something occurred to break off their engagement, what then? Mr. Wickham will once again be a single man with no attachments. Lizzy might reconsider her feelings for him. Mr. Wickham might change his mind about her. And when any of the shadows of his past come out, when he's discovered to be a scoundrel, it may be too late for Lizzy."

"Let's not name-call. He's not a scoundrel."

"He is a fortune hunter!"

"Yes, we can safely call him that, but again, I warn you not to be overly confident. In my studies of medicine, that's a mistake we are constantly warned against: overconfidence in our opinion, our experience, our instincts. We get too sure of ourselves, set in our own ways, we may miss critical information that could mean the difference between life and death. You must learn to do the same."

"I wish I could talk to Lizzy, and tell her how I feel."

"If this is a subject for counsel, perhaps it should come from your mother or father."

"Our father will not discourage it. He sees no harm in Mr. Wickham. Our mother, well, I need not explain more."

"Proceed cautiously, Mary. I really wish you'd think the better of it."

"…But I must," she whispered, shaking her head.

A mind made up on the subject was not to be convinced by well-meaning advice. Nineteen years of experience exceeded the forty-some odd years of both her parents. The difference between the age of nineteen and twenty were but thirteen months. No outsider could properly judge the situation between two sisters. A hundred arguments could be made. None would override righteous indignation and concern.

When the day had arrived for Lizzy to make her journey, to London then Kent the next day, Mary had that brief opportunity. Trunks were packed, only two. She happily looked forward to seeing Charlotte again. Their letters had not slowed down. Some of that previous warmth and confidence in their friendship had recovered from the initial shock. Thoughts also went to Jane, who had been dealt a hard blow during her time away. Jane had revealed some details in her letters to put an end to any suspense. She had given up all hope of Mr. Bingley, and any further correspondence with his sister. All for the best to be concluded.

"Shall I bring you back anything from town?"

"Simply love and greetings to our aunt and uncle and the children."

"Really? Is there anything you might want?"

"I don't need another fan or parasol. Thank you, sister." Their man, Thomas, came in to remove the trunks and take them downstairs. Mrs. Bennet, out in the hallway, was quite perplexed and distrustful that Lizzy had packed so lightly. She was bound to need more of her clothes than that.

"Lizzy… I hope that you will pardon my behaviour of the other day."

"That's quite alright, Mary," she shrugged. "You did worry me, but I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Perhaps I ought to have explained better, but I don't really know how to go about it."

Sensing the agitation, Lizzy sat on the bed and bid her to do likewise. "What is it?"

"Lizzy, it wasn't my intention to be rude, especially when the officers were here. But when it comes to Mr. Wickham, I have my reservations about him. I… I… I have observed some things, both in his character and lacking from it."

"Mary, what are you trying to say? Has Mr. Wickham behaved improperly towards you?"

"No! No, no. Nothing like that," Mary's tongue stumbled. "Simply that… I think you ought to be careful… with regards to him, what you say or how you behave around him."

"You think I ought to be careful? How have I lacked in that regard?"

"How do we know whether or not Mr. Wickham's stories are true? You laugh and joke about Lady Catherine de Bourgh, a woman you've never met before. He's spoken quite abusively of Mr. Darcy and his sister. Even if such things are true, I don't think it becoming in a gentleman to disparage his fellowman behind their backs."

"… Mary, it may surprise you, but you're not alone in your concerns. Our Aunt Gardiner has also expressed some disapprobation about a match, but that was months ago now. Any match between us would've been imprudent. He's not established in his career and does not have a suitable income. Any thoughts of that have long since passed."

"But you two are still good friends, so it seems."

"Yes, we are, and I hope we always shall," declared Lizzy determinedly. "Regardless having chosen and gone different directions—"

"No Lizzy, he chose a different direction, not yourself. Far be it from me to agree with Lydia and Kitty, but it's really to be wondered at that he would settle for Mary King, as a wife. When I've observed them together at parties and in company, I don't see a happy marriage coming of it."

"Mary!"

"She's a sweet girl. I've nothing against her, but she's terribly shy. She's unused to the ways of the world, having led such a sheltered life. What could they possibly have in common? How will they make each other happy in married life?"

"If you are concerned, perhaps you ought to advise Mary King."

"But it does not change your opinion of him?"

"Other people are capable of the same powers of observation, Mary," with a firmer tone. "But I'll humour you. I don't see their connection as one based on love. Perhaps on her side, but he's taken account of what is important, and he will be content with her as a companion. If they are happy in the lot they've chosen, it can still be a happy union; a sad lesson of reality to be learned from Charlotte."

"I do not wish to anger you."

"I'm not angry, Mary. But to put your concerns to rest, I'll also vouchsafe you this. Even if Miss King were not in the picture, even if Mr. Wickham were free, it would be most impudent for me to enter such a match because I do not love him."

"Well, of course! You shouldn't be in love with an engaged man."

"Mary, this is hypothetical. Even when I had the chance to declare my feelings openly, I did not because there were no feelings to voice. I find him a charming companion. I wish one day to meet another with half his merits. Yet, as it is, I'd rather retain the charm of good friendship than struggle to keep charm alive in a marriage of many tribulations… Now, let it rest. Don't be over anxious about it. As soon as the militia decamp from Meryton, we'll all be back to normal. I will wish them the couple very happy. We are going to resume our pestering of the publishers in London, until we get an acceptance. And once we have a reason to get you to London, we will see what else we can do."

"What do you mean?"

Lizzy was cheerful again, contagious feelings after that hint of things to come. While no communications of that kind existed between Elizabeth and Captain Carter, they were of one mind on this subject. And Lizzy, headstrong and foolish by her mother's affirmation, would not be cowed by 'no.' Between them both, Mary felt hopeful her cause would stand a chance.

Well, another installment! Do you think Mary is right? Do you think Lizzy was completely unaffected, or was she covering up her hurt? In the novel, she doesn't seem to feel offended by Wickham's defection, but I always read that part with suspicion.

Some of you suggested, from the last chapter, that Lydia deserved to be reduced to the place of a servant for a few days, then bring in a governess. That would be a good reality check for her, I agree. Too bad nobody in the novel thought of that sooner.

Chapter 19 will be an interesting one. There's a section of the book, while Lizzy is off in Kent, where the novel leaves Hertfordshire and follows her. That leaves a lot untold. What is going on at Longbourn in the meantime?