It was a matter of some consternation to the middle Miss Bennet that her connection to the Darcys would be concealed to those females about her. The convenience, then, of her elder sisters' own departures could not be understated. As one prepared her trousseau for London and the other for Rosings, Mary's more modest preparations were utterly disregarded.
As it transpired, Mr. Bennet's awkward tenderness towards his middle daughter allowed him to mollify his own tongue. For once, he did not let his amusement betray his role in the deception. He volunteered a few words: 'patronage', and 'companion', and as an afterthought the noun of 'Mary'. 'Darcy' was mumbled in such a way that it could be misheard. Mr. Bennet did not care to rouse his wife's curiosity.
Her mother's indifferent permission thus coerced, Mary was unceremoniously dispatched in the post. Her drab travel garments were wrapped around her so that she matched the parcels that were lashed onto the roof. She took up as little space as possible in the corner of the carriage.
She had been directed to change at Bromley. The London coach was already rattling away before she felt a deep urge to turn around. The thought of meeting Georgiana had pleased her, but it had been an innocent pleasure. As Mary travelled into the opulent metropolis, the lady whose invitation was tucked into her bodice became a creature of society. How the thought scared her!
She disembarked and barely had a chance to wander through the station before her elbow was caught by a man wearing dark green livery. He handed her into a sprung carriage which glided over the cobblestones.
It took hours to travel through the chaos of London. The sky grew dark.
Mary wished herself home again.
Then the carriage began to slow, and she peeked out of the curtain and caught her breath. A beautiful park was situated in a square of four grand houses. They were less imposing than she had expected; they were made of white stone, and gave a feeling of freshness and simplicity. Bright lamps spilled light down their softly bowed steps and into the street. Even this late at night, they were far from the dark, gothic mansions she had envisioned.
Mary had no idea that the neat row of houses were the most fashionable addresses in London. They did not look old, or notable, or important. If she had suspected the truth she would have begged the coachman to turn around. As it was, her ignorance allowed her to ascend the broad steps with very little hesitation.
What kind of greeting did she expect? Certainly not the single, matronly maid who smiled as she took her bonnet – nor the comfortable softness of the beeswax candle she held. Mary's experience of Netherfield, and the novels she had read, told her that there should be swarms of footmen and decadent, gleaming candelabra.
The maid smiled at her confusion.
"I am the housekeeper, Miss Bennet. Miss Darcy excited herself to exhaustion making ready for your arrival, and when the post was delayed I sent her to bed. She will be grieved that she missed your arrival, but she will at least be in good health in the morning."
"Is she ill?"
"Oh, no Miss! But she is unused to company, and it makes her nervous."
Mary, who had rather too much experience with her mother's nerves, frowned. The housekeeper took her cloak and shook it out.
"My mistress suspected you would find travelling an ordeal. We have readied a tray in your room, and you will not be disturbed."
In an instant, Mary was moved to tears. Georgiana had teased out the sum of her character from the scrawl of her hand. She had known how daunting the journey would be. It spoke of a mind far more compassionate than any she had met before. This great home must be full of staff and luxuries, but all the newest guest required was a friendly welcome and a warm bed.
It must have upset Georgiana to delay her own pleasure – or, perhaps, she had retired early by design.
As she nestled between the cotton sheets Mary smiled and felt her nervousness bleed away.
She was awoken by an uproar in the room below. Mary peered down from her balcony and saw two women milling beneath. A white glove waved in the air with each emphatic exclamation. Mary hoped that the harsh voice was not Georgiana's, before she recognised it.
Caroline Bingley shook her head wildly. Her hair stood on end, betraying the recent presence of a bonnet. Mary ducked behind the lace curtain so she would not be seen.
"It is the height of… I cannot begin to… how dare she?" Caroline demanded. A softer voice murmured something, and the woman shook her head again, "No, I will not be still! What gives her the right to intrude upon my privacy?"
"I thought you were at home? Even I received a card, and you know I never call on people."
"You hate meeting strangers as much as I do." The furious woman sneered, "Why must you make allowances for Miss Bennet?"
Mary's blood ran cold. She curled her fingers around the wooden window frame and closed her eyes. Her heart pounded in her ears so loudly that she could not hear the rest of the conversation.
Was this a joke? Had they played a cruel trick on her? The young woman sank to the floor and buried her head in her hands. How could she have been so stupid? The Darcys had used her to play a trick on the Bingleys. How they must have laughed as they planned it! It was doubtless revenge for her family's conduct at Netherfield Park. Mary straightened up. If it were not so understandable she would not have believed it. She was too aware of her family's impropriety to think that they were not openly mocked.
She resolved to leave as soon as possible. She looked about for her trunk, but it was still in the servants quarters. No doubt they were pressing her petticoats and laughing at the cheap, chunky lace. The nightdress that had been laid out for her was made of finer silk than her most expensive ball-gown. Everything, every tiny consideration Georgiana had given her, laughed in her face.
Mary rang the bell and waited, trembling, in the middle of the room. She would not be cowed. She would demand to go home, and they would listen to her. Ridiculous or not, she was still a Bennet. She would not suffer any slur against their name.
The door opened and Mary drew a deep breath. It was not a servant. The woman whispered into the room on silken slippers, and her eyes were as limpid as a doe's. Mary would have pulled her hair as if she was Kitty, but the expression on Georgiana's face was as wretched as her own.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, and then burst into tears.
Mary found herself comforting the girl, holding her in her arms and kissing her forehead like one of her own sisters. Georgiana could not stop weeping. Between her sobs, the other girl could make out fragments of words,
"I'm sorry… just burst in and… I don't know what… why was she so angry?... I only said…"
"It… it's okay." Mary struggled to speak, "Buh… buh… but…"
"She was talking about your sister." Georgiana snuffled and wiped her eyes, "You sister Jane is in town, isn't she? She called on Caroline unannounced."
Mary's mouth fell open. She couldn't imagine Jane doing anything so improper. Then she remembered the snide tilt of Caroline's head, and the syrupy, vague way she wrote letters to Jane. It would not have been an accident. Jane must have believed that an invitation had been offered, and she would have been mortified at the rebuff. Georgiana scowled and stamped her foot as she glared back at the door.
"She's a monster."
"Jane?"
"No! Caroline. She tells me such awful lies, but when I try to correct her she is as sharp as a knife. Fitzwilliam tells me I must learn to ignore her, as he does, but I cannot! And now she has sunk her claws into your dear sister, and I cannot bear it."
"Jane will be fine," Mary said wryly, "She cannot s…see badness in anyone. If she was rude to Caroline then it w… was an accident."
"You are upset." Georgiana's eyes shone again, "You are the one who has been hurt, and I am the one in tears! Forgive me."
Mary spoke without thinking, "I thought you w…were arguing about… about me."
"About you! She doesn't know you're here." Seeing the expression on Mary's face, the girl quickly added, "Nobody does. I did not want us to be disturbed."
As she said that the girls met each other's eyes. Both blushed and stepped back. Mary made a wobbly curtsey,
"Miss Darcy."
"Miss Bennet," Georgiana's curtsey was grace incarnate, "It is a pleasure to meet you."
"Yes," Mary said dazedly, and then they both started to laugh.