Chapter 33

To Miss Bingley,

I would rather oblige you with a conversation, but I know better that it will not fare well for either of us. So, I'll write to you what I wish to say.

For as long as we've had to live under the same roof together, it would've been much more pleasant if we had been friends. I did try, Miss Bingley. It became clear that any attempt at solicitude would be met with contempt. I was resigned. Yet, when the insults came, perhaps I ought to have known better. For I most obligingly returned your insults with my own, never once believing I should come to regret it. I saw myself a much better person than you, but in truth, we were both behaving the same. For that is my shame. After this, I'll never again make another remark of insult, but I will state this last one, which I know will be a hard blow.

You are a bitter woman, Miss Bingley. Shame on us, that we must all sit at the same table as yourself and be acknowledged family relations. It's very obvious to everyone that you are ashamed of your brother's choices of family relations, and ashamed that a poorer, happier woman was chosen to be Mrs. Darcy. This attitude in spite of even your own family and their humble origins! Because you have a large dowry and fine clothes, connections in town, living in a great house, you expect more. For such grandiose notions of your own rank, the only person being fooled by these pretensions is yourself. If you desire to measure everyone by their class, so be it; everyone will measure you by the same standard. If you judge harshly, the world judges you harshly. For that, I am very sorry for you. For I can see, deep down, that you despise yourself. Better to live in your imagination than see yourself as you really are, as others see you. As long as you never understand that, you are your own punishment. Perhaps the saddest truth of all, is that you have family who love you regardless. Charles would do anything in his power, if it would make you happy—he told me so. His character and values, you find contemptible. And you fail to realize how fortunate you are to have Jane for a sister-in-law. If your brother had married a woman like you, someone with equal regard for high rank and social graces, she'd likely have been less tolerant of you. Why should I have to put up with the vulgar manners and insolence of a tradesman's daughter? she would say, and have turned you out of the house long ago. Out of regard for you, for Charles, and the peace of the family, Jane has borne with condescension and thankless treatment all these months and years. None of my other sisters would've been so kind, myself least of all. She cares about you, and so does Charles and your sister, Louisa.

I understand you are to leave the Grove House very soon. You've probably guessed already as to how Jane learned about your scheme against Miss Sothern. I should hardly be surprised that your spite turned direction at the last moment. As far as concerns the conversation between yourself and Colonel Fitzwilliam, you may rely on my discretion. Your position is already humiliating enough. Since that conversation with Jane yesterday afternoon and that awful encounter on the grounds, I've since informed Jane to the truth of what really happened. Of what you observed on the night of the ball, I swear upon my honour, both myself and Signore Andreozzi are innocent of your accusations. We both are secured by the testimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was a bystander. For we were not alone when our conversation took place. If you say otherwise, all three of us are more than capable of proving your charge false.

Well, I have done with this, and said all I have to say. Perhaps you think me spiteful, and maybe that is not entirely incorrect, I'll own. We are both spiteful by nature. I must thank you, however, for one thing. Whenever you wished to shame me, you actually taught me to rise above it. I thank you for teaching that to all of us. Maybe next time, you'll think twice before scolding a servant unjustly or turning up your nose on a gathering. If you can learn to see yourself through the eyes of others, I will have done the world a great service.

Sincerely,

K. Bennet

It was at Jane's insistence that Kitty address some message to her. There was to be very little opportunity, but it was demanded by some necessity. If Miss Bingley felt she had even a shred of proof of impropriety, on the part of Kitty's conduct, this would crush a rumor before it started. The letter was slipped under the door in the early hours the following day. Shockingly enough, the maid had packed all her trunks. Mr. Montgomery was not required. Caroline Bingley took her leave before breakfast, looking very pale from grief, dressed in dark blue traveling attire that matched the overcast morning. The deep wounds made her countenance tigerish, absolutely determined against any betraying any emotion. Charles stood by the front door, with Jane by his side having taken the same resolution as her sister-in-law. Mr. Murray rushed down after to bid his cousin farewell and safe journey, the single one to offer any warmth or sympathy. He was thanked for it, assured her journey would be tolerable. Mrs. Montgomery was then handed a letter and ordered to send it out post haste. For it must reach her sister before her arrival. Even her cousin, later on, could not help admit his shock at her shortness, and her ungracious "Good day!" to her brother and no word to Jane. Did she feel any pain or break her heart over Kitty's words? Kitty knew she would never know that for certain, but for a certainty, no scandalous whispers about the Bingley, Bennet, or Andreozzi family ever came to pass.

Mary sat wringing her hands, sitting in suspense at the piano forte. How loud the clock clacked from over the hearth, and with the summer came the intensity and humidity to make London feel almost intolerable. The thought of removing to Pemberley grew more wonderful by the day. Of course, her next appointment with the doctor fast approached, and Mary, unwilling to admit, felt worse than the day before. This bloating, this full sensation and the anxieties of the last two days, diminished any appetite for food. All of yesterday's events haunted her quiet and solitary moments, and in such rapid succession that one blow fell after another.

Lizzy took her sister's revelation with solemn dignity and true concern. Later, when Mr. Darcy was called forth to be apprised of Mary's situation, they both accepted the gravity of the situation without one word of reproach or one look of contempt. Disappointed? Mary did not blame them if they expressed it so themselves when alone, but in her presence and in their attitude, they treated her ignorance and her blunder with an overwhelming degree of compassion. Mr. Darcy decided to take Mary's contract to his lawyer, consult with him on what measures could be taken. That alone lifted a heavy burden from her heart. Why had she been so afraid, she thought, of Mr. Darcy finding out about it? Of course, that was all upstairs and behind closed doors. In the music room, Mr. Cummings waited.

It began with mutual joy and delight over the previous evening, and what fun that was to turn Miss Quinn's mean-spirited joke into real entertainment. His father had expressed his great pleasure and compliments to Miss Bennet. The blow came gradually.

"We are quite a pair, Mary. After last night, it convinced me of one thing I've been debating some weeks. I don't know what your plans are for your future, but whatever it is, I wish to be apart of it. Will you do me the honour, Mary Bennet, of sharing it with me? Will you marry me?"

Of course, the silence could be assumed as shock, though it was far from it. Mary imagined the delighted face of her mother at Longbourn, when she returned to announce her engagement. The whole family would come to London for the wedding ceremony, and in the years to come, more engagements and concerts, exhibitions, salons. Then, after all was over, to go home to a house of her own, equally as fine as the house in Grovsnor Square. Children? Perhaps. He patiently waited until the charm was broken with: "I thank you, Mr. Cummings, but no. I'm afraid I must say no."

"No… No?"

"I'm sorry, sir."

"I don't understand… Was it… Did… I'm sorry. I'm rather baffled. I was sure we were of the same mind, in that respect. Was I mistaken in your intentions?"

"No. You were not mistaken. I desired it too. It's… It's not so… Forgive me, Mr. Cummings. I know how disappointing this must be. This is not a misunderstanding of intentions. Mr. Cummings, since coming to London, my life has changed, and I do not like all the ways in which it has changed. I came to pursue a career in music. As you know, it's been my dream for some years. But the life I'm living now, this is not the dream. You know about my contract. I have consulted with my family about it, and they've agreed to help me resolve the matter."

"I'm glad to hear that, but what does that have to do with us?"

"How do you feel about it, Mr. Cummings?"

"I am glad."

"But…"

"Well, if I were you, I should think you'd be sorry after having come so far. You're a famous name now. Published. You are just starting out. If you endure a little longer, you may make your own fortune. Be independent. Isn't that what you've always desired? You told me as much."

"In principle, I would agree with you. But is it really worth it? How long is a little longer? How much must really be endured? What must I endure? And you are aware of the reasons behind it. My health prevents me from my full potential. As much as it saddens me, I am only capable of giving what I have; if I promise more than my capabilities, that is a lie. If I were to try living a lie, I will reap what I sow: a weakened constitution and weakened body."

"Well, can you not speak to Lady Herncastle once more? Or, I might speak on your behalf? She did vouch for giving consideration to your constitution."

"Thank you, Mr. Cummings, but I feel that is my own duty. I don't expect much sympathy from her quarter. It is in her better financial interests that she tolerate some inconveniences, to tolerate some improper conduct on the part of the society members. But I cannot blame her entirely. I've overlooked a good deal because she was kind to me, and so far, she has worked to promote my advantages. Now I see how stupid and naive I've been, about myself, about the Starlight Circle, and what I'm really pursuing. I should not like to give up a musical career, but if I pursue it, I'd feel better doing so on my own terms. I would rather struggle alone than have it handed to me on a platter, at the cost of my soul."

"But… If you choose that, why should that matter to us?"

"You're not happy about it. You may accept my choice, but you clearly don't agree with it. Don't you think that would be rather difficult as husband and wife?"

"Mary, eventually, all husbands and wives meet with disagreements and a little vexation. That doesn't mean they're unsuited… This is quite a drastic change from your assertions just last night."

"What assertions?"

"That you could never respect yourself if you did not honour your promises. That you would do so, even without a written contract."

She ought to have known it, right then. Remembering their conversation:"… That is worth honouring my word. There might be some inconveniences along the way. Many women and men have done it before me, and many more will go after me." "Please, don't take my father's call for dancing as a command to sit here all night. Mary, won't you please have a share in it? Give someone else the task." That was odd to her, then and presently, the transition from depth to shallows. Not all the good humour and diversion in one night, she admitted, compensated for disconnection. A more sensitive person would've heard her and felt something was wrong… He did not care, not enough.

"I think I was being self-righteous in that assertion. We have all failed people in our lives, failed to keep our word at times, despite the best intentions. Should it be that we are never worth respect from our fellowmen ever again?"

"Of course not."

"This is not a subject I take lightly. I am very sorry to inflict so much pain, but I think this will be better for us both."

"Why did you not confide this to me? You made a decision rather quickly, without consulting me, without giving me opportunity to offer my support. If you weren't so quick to judge, I'd have—"

"Perhaps quickly made, but, it is my decision, Mr. Cummings. I do not need to consult you where it concerns my music. In marriage, yes, and if we were married, your point would be valid."

"It strikes me as an excuse for fickleness."

Oh no… No. Of course, Mary would not argue his right to feel that in his heart, and it felt very deserved. But Captain Carter would never have said it. When he'd made a similar but more tactful statement, and she had put him in place, he earned respect by sincere apology. When she'd turned him out of Longbourn that last time, she was the one to have wronged him—yet he was the one to apologize!

Before Mary could make any answer to him, an icy and less sympathetic response it should've been, a movement from the window caught the eye. He'd come back! Mr. Pollock returned, ringing the bell and answered by the butler. Mr. Cummings observed it, too, and bristled as it unfolded before them. The butler politely entered and asked whether Miss Bennet would see the caller.

"Yes, please show him in."

"Mary, you mustn't! The man could be dangerous!"

"Sir, please send the gentleman in," she repeated. "I don't believe he's so dangerous. If there is anything troubling, at least you are here, and the butler is just out in the hall. Mr. Pollock has been to call here several times."

"I think that inadvisable…" Before further protest, the young man was ushered in. To be admitted, finally, humbled and astonished him. Very unlike his behaviour at the theater that evening, this sickly fellow rather meekly proceeded into the room, bowed, and addressed Miss Bennet with a decorum and manners that, for once, exceeded the gentleman in the room.

"Thank you so much for seeing me, Miss Bennet," he replied.

"Are you very tired, sir? Won't you sit down? I'll ring for tea."

"That is most kind, but I will not stay long. I've been desiring to meet you, see you for some weeks. I'm sorry if I've called at inconvenient times previously."

"I take it this is a matter of great importance, by your perseverance." Mary sat down on a chair opposite of him on the settee. Mr. Cummings remained standing. "Have you been calling in hopes to meet with Miss Sothern?"

"I've already attempted to meet Miss Sothern on multiple occasions," he confessed. "Unsuccessfully. My last attempt during that night of the opera was not to be. Since I've not succeeded with her, I've thought I might come to you."

"I see. Mr. Pollock, I don't know how well… acquainted you and Miss Sothern are, or the nature of your acquaintance, but—"

"That's why I've come to you. She's refused all my messages and has been avoiding me. At first, I refused to believe it, but now… Miss Bennet, I'm a poet. I belong to a society as well. All my fellows and myself, we're like brothers, trying to attain to the dreams of publication. In that way, you and I and the women of the Starlight have a good deal in common. Miss Sothern seemed to take quite a liking to me. We were very fond of each other, I thought," he staggered on, sadly. "I'll not relate and burden you with the sorrows brought on by that. If it were merely a jilting, I'd get on with my life. For I once thought she was everything I dreamed of. We wrote poetry together… Why that ended suddenly, I know not. But when it ended, it wasn't until later I realized, out of my manuscript, just a mangled thing that barely holds pages together, a few pages were missing."

"Missing!"

"Indeed. I'd supposed I lost them by my own foolish handling. But I.. which you'll find very unbecoming, scandalized by hearing me confess, that I followed her for some time. I would see her coming here very often, and I'd see her leave with what looked like a manuscript of music."

"Well… I did make a copy of music for her to take on holiday."

"It created a suspicion in me, Miss Bennet. I feared, if anything untoward… You are a composer now, very recently published. I feared, if I was not incorrect, that she might be stealing your music."

Once his audience got over their initial shock, Mary, the more she questioned, the whole history of her friendship with Rietta Sothern came to the fore. How was it, while knowing the background of all the other members, that so little was really known of her? Why had she been so keen to not be seen, to avoid Mr. Pollock at the theater, to avoid his company and notice at every opportunity he attempted? Even when Mr. Cummings, herself, and Georgiana had questioned her and expressed concern, she brushed it off and could not remember this man's name.

"Do you speak French by chance, Mr. Pollock?"

"I do not."

"I do know a little, but perhaps, Mr. Cummings, you know some French?"

Thankfully, he was not so resistant and resentful, as to turn his eye callously. Mary's original draft of her musical score, the aria, was presented to him. He translated the verses to English. With a few stanzas, Mary went cold and numb as Mr. Pollock started to voice the next words, ahead of those read aloud. Some of the translation and wording had changed but slightly.

"It's yours!" gasped Mary.

"But she changed some," remarked Mr. Pollock.

"Just enough," added Mr. Cummings, "to dodge a charge of plagiarism."

Rietta would be returning today, come to finish the score together before the exhibition in two more days. She promised she'd return in time for it. In the time between their fateful conversation yesterday to this moment, Mary had many variations of a conversation turn over in her fancy. Denunciation and a scathing lecture was perhaps the dominant form. Her tongue wold take Miss Rietta Sothern to the pulpit and shove her off of it, in the strongest language of judgment. Sometimes, she looked her in the eye and begged to know why, or how could she do such a thing to an impoverished, disadvantaged, unpublished poet? That would be useless. Mary was speaking to someone with a dismembered conscience. In her sleep, she asked the girl whether any of it was real? Was their friendship ever true and sincere? Or would she have betrayed Mary too? Never once did she imagine that pleading for a change of heart, to put right her wrongs, would have any effect on a calculating mind.

Of course, that ominous discourse between the threesome did not end with a decision to wait idly. Mary sought out Miss Sothern at her place of residence, only to find that she was not yet home. Perhaps, that wasn't impossible; she might still be on her way to town. Just in case, she also called at Lady Herncastle's residence. Received happily be her ladyship and led to the drawing room, a forced encounter with Miss Quinn, Miss Longsbury, and several others brought even more disturbing results. None of them had yet heard that Rietta had returned. Miss Quinn smiled, like she never had before, expressing surprise that such good friends as they are, how could Mary be kept in the dark about it? The date of her return had been in vague terms.

"I'm sure she wouldn't lie to you," cooed Miss Quinn. "For my part, I've never known her to tell a lie. But there's a first for everything. Omissions and riddles are more her way."

"Is that why you dislike her?" Mary asked.

"I don't speak for myself alone."

"It's true," agreed Miss Longsbury. Unlike the sneer of the golden blond face, her unbiased, grim expression plunged deeper to the heart. "I'd say, in my honest opinion, you are her greatest threat. You can be aged out of singing and performing, but that cannot necessarily be said of a composer."

Miss Quinn's nose wrinkled. "Oh, she's no threat to Rietta! She is young, at the height of her career, sings and plays. This girl can't even sing."

Mary swallowed. "I never made any claims to being her equal, or yours."

"Nonsense. You believe that in your heart, even if you don't say it. Take my advice, Miss Bennet. Rietta has the kind of aspirations that honest people like you deign to acknowledge about themselves. If I were you, and the foremost member of the Starlight Circle—my own rival—takes such a liking and interest in me, I'd be asking why." If the girl weren't so nasty, less deceitful and malicious, she might have been a real friend. Neither she or Miss Longsbury were really enemies. Catty girls at times, perhaps, just like the rest of them; in comparison, they were relatively harmless. Mary waited until Lady Herncastle returned and did not stay long.

She longed for the moment, best to be speedily dispatched and done with; for it could not happen sooner. Every word and action had to be taken with care, rehearsed mentally. Any detours might give Rietta an advantage over her. The door bell rang. Rietta was admitted, and in she came, with Mary's transcribed copy in her hand, full of new marks and notations, and a grand smile.

"Forgive my long absence, dear friend! I should never have gone, and I'm glad to be back home. Caroline Bingley is such a troublesome friend, taking me away from much better friends than herself. I'm sorry you must have her for a sister. Have you rung for tea yet? Shall we get started?"

Did Kitty leave anything out? Is there anything you'd like to tell your Caroline Bingley? I wouldn't let her leave without giving Kitty something to say to her.

Well, there's one more fish to fry before this story ends. Maybe a fish and a half actually, and the frying pan is sizzling.

This chapter was a surprise for me because I already had a different plan. Mr. Cummings, all along, has been a gentleman OC. Some reviewers thought he was a suspicious character in Mary's world, but no, he was never meant to be a villainous character. Just a regular nice guy, no dark secrets or anything. There is a small part of me that sides with him. In the 1999 adaptation of Mansfield Park, that scene where Henry Crawford visits Fanny after she accepted him, then says I've changed my mind, I actually felt sorry for him. That's not by the book but still well done, and very realistic. It's very easy to sympathize with him, having the tables turned on him. It's also easy to sympathize with Fanny, who had good reason to change her mind. Still, I don't see Mr. Cummings just taking this gentlemanly and gracefully. Even nice people can lose their temper and be a real jerk.

Speaking of Mansfield Park, there may be a MP FF to come out after this is over. It's still developing, not even written yet. I don't expect much of it, but I promise one thing, if it does take form, it will be nowhere near the length of this FF. For one reason, Mansfield Park is not a favorite novel by Jane Austen, but it's still very interesting to me. I'll talk more about it towards the end.

Have a nice week all!