Mary Bennet and the Return of the Soldier

by Carrie Mollenkopf

  “Mama, I believe Reverend Morton is referring to the amount of time Atlas and I spend together.”

  “I don’t see what that has to do with anything. Everyone in town is pleased to have you work as a sort of nurse… especially the ladies… I shall not tolerate any slander upon your character!”

  Mr. Bennet now sat back in his chair with an amused look. Being privy to Atlas’ intentions, he found the entire situation highly entertaining and prepared himself for his wife’s hysterics.

  “Oh Mama! Calm yourself. We… I mean I … had wanted to wait… but seeing the problem now…”

  “Wait for what? Out with it girl! What has he done?” screeched Mrs. Bennet as she pointed an accusatory finger in Atlas’ direction.

  Atlas put the teapot he was holding down on the table and stood behind Mary for support against her mother’s tirade.

  “Atlas has asked me to marry him … and I have accepted.”

  “Ahh! My dear girl! I knew it… how terrible of you to tease me so! You see Reverend it has all been quite proper!”

  Feeling accomplished, Reverend Morton smiled at the couple and nodded his approval, despite his underlying twinge of jealousy.

  “So the banns maybe announced next Sunday?”

  “Well…We…I would prefer to wait another two months yet.”

  “Whatever for? The sooner the better, I should think!” argued Mrs. Bennet as she looked to her husband and the reverend for agreement.

  “It is the end of January, the earliest we could be married would be early March… There simply is not enough time…I would love to have Lizzie present, but she is expecting a baby about the same time… and then there is Easter…. And I have not even begun any sort of arrangements….”

  Mary knew she was ranting in an uncharacteristic way, but expected it to be tolerated as simply the excitement of a prospective bride. Fortunately, Reverend Morton raised a hand to silence her ravings.

  “I see the complications…there is no expressed requirement that a wedding take place immediately” He interjected with a sigh.

  “But I want you two wed before the end of summer.”

  “Agreed…and we shall be pleased to have you perform the ceremony.”

  *****

  For the rest of the luncheon, Atlas and Mary could hardly eat. A wave of happy relief filled him, while nervous embarrassment threatened to redden her cheeks as Mrs. Bennet endlessly prattled about preparations that were months away. It was not soon enough that they were able to say their goodbyes and leave the now harried Reverend in peace.

  Having taken separate carriages since Mary’s parents wanted to stop by Netherfield to visit their grandsons, Altas assisted his now acknowledged fiancée into his curricle. They had originally planned to take a pleasant drive, but now an awkward silence wedged between them and for nearly a quarter of an hour neither spoke until the sounds of Meryton were well behind them.

  “You could have simply said nothing…” Atlas began, but was stopped by Mary swiftly kissing his lips to silence any argument.

  “I wanted to… a bit overdue, don’t you agree.”

  Atlas only smiled and pulled the curricle over to the side of the road. “There is something else that is overdue,” he said reaching into his pocket for the small case that rested there over his heart.

  “I know how you love old traditions… and you are aware that my father was a history professor, so indulge me for a moment,” he began as he removed a gold circlet set with a small ruby in the shape of a teardrop from the case and placed it on the third finger of Mary’s left hand.

  “Engagement rings have been used for centuries. The oldest legends go back to the Egyptians who wore braided strands of reeds to signify their shared bond. Later, in some royal families, it was a symbol of ownership. I prefer to think of it as a reminder of my love when we are not together.”

  Mary was speechless, the cold metal instantly warmed and fit perfectly. Holding her hand up in the sun, flashes of crimson radiated off the center stone.

  “It’s beautiful… I fear losing or damaging it.”

  “It is meant to be worn… there is a matching band for when we are wed.”

  “I feel ashamed not having anything for you…Christmas was quite forgotten.”

  “Today, you have given me the best present for which I could ever ask. We shall have plenty of more Christmases in which you can knit me stockings.”

  Mary elbowed him with her undamaged arm and Atlas nudged the horse back onto the road. “You are positively insufferable!”

  “Indeed, but now I am all yours, insufferable and otherwise. By now your mother will have managed to tell half the county.”

  ~Seventeen~

  Mary and Atlas arrived at the Timmons’ cottage at the perfect time, well after luncheon, but far too early for tea. They did not want to impose on the limited food stores of the family, and it was much more than a social call. The wreckage of Mary’s carriage had been dragged into a shed on the property, awaiting possible repairs.

  After declining refreshments, Maggie Timmons led the couple to the building once used to house surplus casks of cider. A spicy scent tickled their noses when she opened one of the large sliding doors to allow easy access.

  “No one has been near it since,” she said as she stood in the doorway with her hands under her apron.

  Mary walked the perimeter of the interior, dirty windows allowed a dim light to permeate, illuminating the motes of dust disturbed by their movements. Reaching for an overhead lantern, Atlas lit the wick and held it high for a better inspection. It was a small miracle that Mary had survived the accident at all. The entire driver’s side had been crushed inward, shards of wood that had comprised the seat poked daggers through the remains of the upholstery. The sticky ooze of honey covered the interior, clearly telling the fate of Mary’s purchase. Fortunately, the contents of her Christmas baskets had been salvaged and distributed to the expectant families by Maggie herself as she relayed what had become of Mary. Now, only three of the four wheels were still attached to the frame, while the remainder, well beyond further use was propped up against a wall. Holding up a section of the wayward wheel, Atlas ran his hand along the spindles that once been attached to the center hub. Sharp ends reached like claws from where it had broken on the rutted road.

  “How long has it been since your carriage was inspected by Ben?” Atlas asked with a touch of irritation. Could Mary’s accident have been prevented by simple maintenance?

  “Every time I take it out, but remember, he is just a boy. We have not had a formally trained groom at Longbourn for some time. With only three horses, it is hardly necessary. I would never blame him.”

  “No I suppose not,” Atlas agreed and tossed the offending remnant back next to the rest of the broken wheel.

  Maggie had remained silently observing as a young boy joined her. He bore the same sandy hair and fair complexion as his mother, Artie Timmons, at age twelve was already some inches taller. Pulling on her sleeve, he whispered something in her ear, causing her to frown. Gripping him by the arm, she now thrust her son forward to where Atlas and Mary were trying to salvage what they could.

  “Artie has something he needs to tell you,” she said without releasing her viselike hold as the boy squirmed uncomfortably.

  “I…I…saw someone… messin’ wit Miss Mary’s carriage,” he stammered.

  “What do you mean?” Atlas demanded.

  Not wanting to further frighten the terrified boy, Mary lay a restraining hand on Atlas and spoke softly to encourage him.

  “No one is going to hurt you, but it is very important that you tell us everything, “she prodded gently.

  “I wasn’t doin’ nothing, just pettin’ the horses when he come in… so I hid. I was supposed to be gettin’ some liniment for Mr. Andrews.”

  “There is nothing wrong with that. Mr. Andrews is wonderful with horses… was it he you saw?”

  “No, not him… but he’ll be angry with me for dawd
ling… I need my job miss…”

  “Don’t worry about Mr. Andrews, just tell me about the man you saw. What did he look like? What was he doing?”

  “It were a soldier… I didn’t see his face, only the red coat… I was up in the hayloft…so he couldn’t see me. He was rubbing something on the wheels and then left.”

  Mary and Atlas exchanged puzzled looks. What could that have been? The only soldier in residence was Wickham, and he did frequently ride the only non-carriage horse Longbourn possessed. Mr. Bennet had allowed him free access to Saturn, his stallion. Although Mary’s father could not abide George Wickham, he did acknowledge the man’s affinity for horses, and the poor beast needed the exercise. However, Wickham bore no amiability towards Mary beyond general civilities when required. Had he done something to cause her accident?

  “Can you show us?” Atlas requested.

  Artie nodded and leaned heavily against the wreckage to lift one of the wheels that was still attached to the carriage slightly off the ground. As the vehicle was askew it’s framing from the accident, the wheel moved freely, wobbling slightly on its axle. He moved his fingers slowly along one of the spindles as if in a caress. The bright yellow paint shone from underneath as his motions removed the remains of mud that now crusted the spokes.

  “He had some sort of paste, like what we use to work the harness. It were dark.”

  “Why would Wickham rub saddle soap into my carriage wheels?”

  “Sometimes we do that to hide scrapes and such in the paint. It’s the same stuff used for furniture polish, only a different color.”

  “Hardly the actions of a person wishing me ill,” Mary said aloud, but something in her stomach was feeling unsettled. Mary did not trust her brother in law, especially when Lydia held her to blame for their fathers decision to not providing a dowry. As a child, Lydia had always been playing cruel pranks. More than once, her attempts at fun had required the services of Dr. Crowley. It would not surprise Mary one bit if Lydia had suggested some sort of practical joke. Keeping her thoughts to herself, she thanked the Timmons for taking care of the carriage and promised its removal by the end of the week. When she returned to Longbourn, Mary would have words with her sister… very strong words.

  ~Eighteen~

  It was not until the end of the week that Mary had a chance for private conversation with Lydia. Her return to the surgery, as well as household duties had left her exhausted. Lydia, now that their chambers no longer adjoined, was much harder to find between her myriad of social engagements that kept her from Longbourn. Atlas too, had returned to his quarters above the surgery. With a party to announce their engagement planned for Saturday, and Mary well on the road to recovery, all aspects of propriety must be maintained.

  “I have no idea what you are talking about! Why should I care about your silly carriage? Besides, Wickham has hardly been here with the new responsibilities he has been given. I rarely see him myself.” Lydia pouted when Mary confronted her on Friday afternoon.

  “You swear that you did not tamper with my carriage? It was not one of your jokes?”

  “Really Mary! Haven’t you gotten enough attention lately? First your accident and now this grand party… No one bothered to celebrate my engagement… we did not even have a party afterwards.”

  “Lydia… you know that was not possible, besides you did not have an engagement… you eloped!”

  “Ah yes… it was rather romantic… but there still should have been a party. Hardly any of my friends even knew I had gotten married at all. Papa always did favor you and Lizzie, the very thought of it gives me a headache… and I have been without any medicine for days.”

  Mary eyed her sister critically as Lydia threw herself down on her bed and dramatically placed the back of her hand over her eyes. She had to admit, Lydia’s hands did shake considerably, but her eyes were no longer dilated. It was probably for the best that she did not have any laudanum. Mary remembered all too well how Atlas had to wean her off the terrible stuff after her arm was broken. Even now, with the cumbersome sling no longer needed, Mary could almost taste the instant calming effects of opium… and recall the strange dreams that had accompanied its use. Shaking her head to clear the memory, Mary once again focused on her sister, still in mid tantrum.

  “Well I can make excuses for your absence if you do not want to attend…”

  Lydia instantly sat up, all evidence of headache forgotten.

  “Oh no you won’t. People will talk and I am not about to miss out on any of the fun… even if it is for you. Besides, I have a small list of friends that I have invited... surely you don’t mind?”

  Mary rolled her eyes and left Lydia to her own devices. Trust her youngest sister to turn any event into something that only focused on herself. Despite Lydia’s dramatics, Mary was worried about her. Lydia still showed clear evidence of opium abuse. Where was she getting it? Unfortunately, with the engagement party scheduled for the following evening, Mary had much to do. Plus, there was an additional sister who caused her some concern. Kitty would now be the only Bennet daughter unmarried. Mary did not want her to feel unwanted, formulating a solution, she went to find Kitty. So preoccupied, Mary did not notice Wickham lurking in the shadows of the servant’s stair as she left Lydia’s chamber. He had overheard the entire conversation between the sisters. Emerging once she was gone, he joined his wife, listening with sympathy as she unleashed her jealousies upon him. Soothing her brow and muttering agreement that she had been slighted, he poured her a cup of tea heavily laced with laudanum. If he were to prepare a dose large enough to silence Mary permanently, he needed some solace.

  *****

  Mary found Kitty entirely without jealousy as she frantically sorted through a pile of gowns. Alternately she held one up in the cheval mirror and then discarded it with frustration. Turning to the sound of Mary’s knock, Kitty inclined her head in acknowledgement.

  “Which looks best, the yellow stripe or the apple green?” Kitty inquired.

  “Neither… wear the deep mauve. It complements your hair the most. Is there anyone in particular that you wish to impress?” Mary asked casually as she moved one of the masses of muslin to perch on the edge of the bed.

  “Oh don’t you start too… It is bad enough that positively everyone is teasing me about being last. Can you believe that Maria Lucas even called me a spinster? I am only nineteen… and she is supposed to be my friend. Ever since her parents announced her engagement she has been insufferable…even though it is to a distant cousin of Mr. Collins… hardly worth bragging.”

  Mary winced, this was the reaction that she had feared.

  “Atlas and I had wanted to wait a bit longer to make the announcement, but apparently the gossips of Meryton have been well at work.”

  Kitty turned to Mary with her eyes wide. It would be hard to believe that her prim, pious sister had committed any wrongdoing.

  “Did you do something to warrant gossip?” she asked slowly.

  “NO! Of course not.”

  “Hmm… it is always those whom we least expect…” Kitty teased and returned to her dress selection, this time holding up the suggested mauve gown.

  “So… you are not upset?”

  “Who me? Not in the slightest…although you should have seen the look on Caroline Bingley’s face when Mama came to Netherfield to share the news. One would have thought that you stole poor Dr. Sutton right out from under her… besides, I have my own secret.”

  Mary could not imagine Caroline Bingley even holding a conversation with Atlas beyond treatment of a life threatening illness. Only recently she had insisted upon being driven to London to see a Harley St. physician than dare subject her delicate person to the hands of a country doctor. Mary wondered if London doctors had a cure for snobbery. However, Caroline Bingley was not someone she cared to dwell upon, even if the woman accompanied Jane and Charles to Longbourn. It was Kitty who had her full attention. A secret? That bore consideration… especially if it involved a m
an.

  “Is that so? Is it one you are willing to share?”

  “Not yet, but let me just say that there was a reason for my staying at Netherfield besides to help Jane… a very handsome one.”

  Mary only laughed, but hoped Kitty had learned from Lydia’s marriage and would not do anything foolish.

  ~Nineteen~

  The next afternoon was grey and cold. Thick clouds threatened snow, but nothing could dampen Mary’s spirits. The entire house had practically been turned inside out in preparation. Even the celebration for Jane and Lizzie could not compare with the efforts made by Longbourn’s staff, especially that of Mrs. Kincaid. Mary had gone to see the elderly cook the moment they had returned from examining the wreckage of her carriage. She had not wanted Mama to tell the household before she had an opportunity to speak with her favorites. Surrounded by a kitchen full of well-wishers, Maybelle Kincaid had glowed with pride as if Mary were her own child. Now, with just hours before the arrival of nearly half the population of Meryton and its surrounding area, she ran her domain like a general preparing for battle.

  “No Bridget! Not like that! Those pastries will look like they came from the paddock if you are not more careful,” she admonished the already harried housemaid. Extra staff had been brought in from the village, but their lack of experience had only added to the frustration. Everything had to be perfect.

  Even Mary had been banished from the kitchens. Rising early she had donned her usual work apron and had tried to assist in the preparations, only to be shooed away by the shake of a spoon.

  “Oh no you don’t…I won’t have my girl covered with flour and raw hands… go make yourself pretty for tonight!” she had been ordered.