Chapter 21

My dear Mary,

My brother teases me, for each morning I come to breakfast with a smile on my face, awaiting your newest letter. At first he told me that the letters would stop, and that you would grow bored, but I told him I knew you best. And I was right! I have told him not to underestimate Miss Bennet, and he told me it is a lesson he has already well learned.

I have a little time to write, and then I must dress for dinner. Yesterday, I had the most peculiar encounter. My brother recently began an acquaintance with your aunt and uncle. He tells me that Mr. Gardiner is a fine fisherman and a 'wholesome' companion, which I think means that they can speak without bowing and ignore the social niceties that my brother detests. Your family were touring Pemberly when we returned from London - a chance meeting that has brought great happiness. I have not seen my brother so contented in years.

Yesterday, my brother accompanied me to town over some small matters, and unexpectedly directed our coachman to the inn. When I saw the lady there I knew at once that she was your sister, for you look so alike. Elizabeth is very pretty! She has the same bright eyes are you, and she carries herself with style and confidence. And what do you think - she knew me, too! Did you tell her of me, in your letters? She was easy and kind, and I loved her at once. She is coming to supper tonight, with some of our other friends. I found it strange that my brother did not tell me that she was here, for surely he has been spending time with her. I shall write again and let you know what occurs.

Mary - it is after midnight now. Everyone has retired, and I am alone. My head is pounding but I cannot sleep without asking you this: did you tell your sister about my dealings with Mr. Wickham? A chance comment by Miss Bingley threw all my mind apart, and Elizabeth replied in a way that told all that she knew the truth. She did it to protect me, I know, but - how did she know my secret? Have you told your whole family of my disgrace? Please answer quickly, for I cannot bear to think ill of you.

Georgiana.

Dear Georgiana,

I have not said a single word about you to my sister. If she has heard stories, they will be from your brother and not from myself. You would do well to ask him why your secrets were so dangerous for me to know, but so easy for a stranger to hear.I would never betray your confidence.

Mary put her pen down and stared numbly at the paper. She wanted to say more, but her fingers shook too much to write legibly. The burning fire in her belly that had wrenched the words from her pen still hurt, and she pressed her hands to her stomach in distress. Her head felt as if it was splitting.

Georgiana's secret did not matter to her - it never had, for all of Darcy's blustering. She was unhurt by her friend's accusation, for it was innocently made. It was the early part of Georgiana's letter that filled her with sickening fear. Georgiana had met Lizzie - who was so like Mary, but pretty, and easy, and kind. Her brother had introduced them himself, not with a letter but with a smile. It was obvious what his intentions were, even if his sister was too naive to see them.

Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy! What a thought. Mary had seen their flint-like sparks at Netherfield, and she let herself feel grim pride in her reading of them. The pride was not enough to disguise her self-loathing. As soon as she read her sister's name, she knew that her friendship was over. For now that Georgiana had met the pretty, easy Miss Bennet, she would not settle for the plain and awkward one again.

Mary reeled and pressed her hands to her face. She couldn't hate Miss Darcy. Who could blame her? She was rich, and educated, and polished like a jewel. Lizzie had been raised for such estimable company, and shone in its embrace. Georgiana deserved a friend like that, not a leech who turned her back at the mere mention of the word 'society'.

She knew that her mind was racing too quickly, and that her brutish thoughts were unfair. Her self-disgust felt justified, because she had surrendered without defending herself. Georgiana was worth fighting for, even against a sister who had no idea that the battle was even taking place.

Lizzie will steal Georgiana from me, and she won't even know. Mary thought in anguish, That's how easy it will be for her to break my heart.

Mary ground her teeth and clenched her hands into fists, willing them to stop shuddering. When they were controlled, she took up the pen again and wrote.

A word of caution, my dearest. My sweet sister's kindness is not for you, but for your brother's benefit. Search her eyes for sincerity, for I do not know if you will find it. She seeks to impress men, not to endear herself to women. She needs no friends beyond Jane, who shares her heart completely. I was never good enough, and you shall not be either. I do not want you to be disappointed when her regard for you falters. Do not let her use you, or your good nature, as a stepping stone to your brother's heart.

The words swayed on the page, and Mary realised that her head was spinning. She gasped and drew herself back, marvelling at the cruelty she had just committed. It could have been stopped - she could have thrown the letter into the fire - but dogged, bitter pride made her press her seal into the wax and give the packet to the servant. Then she returned to her room, threw herself onto the bed, and wept herself into darkness.

Her fever lasted for two days, and would have kept her abed for several more, if not for the screaming that woke her on the third morning. The sun had not yet risen, but it sounded as if the whole household was running about. A message had arrived from Brighton whose news made Mrs. Bennet collapse to the ground. Lydia had eloped with Mr. Wickham.