Mary Bennett tried to temper her mother's bad manners.
"Pray convey our congratulations to Miss Lucas, Lady Lucas," she managed, her shoulders as stiff as her lips. "We hope that she will be very happy as the wife of Mr Potter. Thank you for troubling to bring us this news." With a curtsey, she escorted Lady Lucas to the front door, where her carriage waited. Lady Lucas mounted, the steps were let up, and the carriage moved off.
Lady Lucas leaned back against the cushions, and sighed with relief. One never knew how the Bennetts would react to anything, and her news must have been unpleasant to them both. But she had managed the interview well enough. The fragile peace between the two families survived a little longer.
At Longbourn, Mary rushed back to the parlour, where her mother sat in numb silence. Mary's pent-up frustration burst out in streams of tears. Her words poured in torrents around her mother's ears.
“It is all your fault, Mamma! You know it is! It you had held your tongue for just a few minutes, then he would not have left Longbourn! I should be the one to marry him, not Maria Lucas!”
Mrs Bennett also began to cry.
“You shall not say so! How should I know that he would never call again, just because he heard me speak of Lydia? I am sure that it must have been you that drove him away!”
“No Mamma, it was not I! The fault was yours, and I shall never, never forgive you!” Mary stamped her feet, and shouted. “When I am an old maid, faded and wrinkled, I hope then you will be satisfied with what you have done!”
“ Mary! How can you talk in this fashion?” protested her mother,weakly. “I have done everything for you! You know my nerves will never bear your loud voice.” She tottered to a chair. “Where are my smelling salts? I am sure I feel a spasm coming on!”
But Mary whirled on her heel, and ran up the stairs to her room. The slam of her door echoed through the house, and brought Mr Bennett from his library.
“Is something the matter, my dear?” he asked Mrs Bennett.
“Oh Mr Bennett, it is so hard!” his wife replied, mopping the tears from her cheeks. “Lady Lucas has just called to tell us that Maria is engaged to Mr Potter. Mary thinks she should be the one to marry him, and blames me for preventing it! Pray tell her not to be so cruel to her Mamma. I cannot bear it!”
But Mr Bennett declined interfering between mother and daughter, and returned to his library as fast as possible.
Mary was bitter. She continued wearing the new frivolous clothes she had acquired, but it became ever more difficult to maintain the fictional personality that had accompanied them. She saw little of Maria, a circumstance that no doubt suited them both. It would have been difficult for them to find topics for long conversations. But without Maria’s support, Mary could not continue their frivolous habits of gossiping, looking at clothes, or reading romances. More and more she found herself turning to the books that had been laid aside months ago, or spending hours at her neglected piano.
It seemed to her that Meryton talked of nothing but Maria Lucas’ marriage to Mr Potter. In public, she was proud enough to wish to conceal her disappointment. She smothered her lingering jealousy, and spoke cheerfully and positively of Maria’s prospects. But within the family, Mary was depressed, not bothering to hide her bitterness.
“I should be the one making plans for my wedding, “ she said, every day. “You and Lydia between you, Mamma, have destroyed my happiness. You can see how much you have hurt me. You should feel guilty about it. You should suffer just as much as I do! I shall never forgive you.”
Her anger even extended to her father, who had shut himself up in his library.
“He feels it,” Mary thought, “the harm that Lydia and Mamma have caused. But if he had controlled Lydia, she would not have brought scandal on us all. Why should he not suffer as much as I do?”
Whenever the ladies of Meryton met, Maria was excited and triumphant, full of plans for bride-clothes and household linen. She boasted of the size of the parsonage at Bilton, far bigger than that at Meryton. Lady Lucas glowed with delight, talking proudly of Mr Potter’s rich friends, until everyone grew tired of hearing her. In particular, the family at Longbourn was relieved when the marriage finally took place, hoping it marked the end of her speeches. Mrs Bennett had exhausted her small stock of patience, and Mary had grown heartliy tired of joining all their neighbours in envying Maria her good fortune.
Mr Potter was admired to the last. His final sermon exhorted his listeners to be kind and honest. Mary wondered bitterly whether he had been honest enough to admit even to himself, why he had so suddenly diverted his fancy to Maria Lucas from Mary Bennett. And what definition of kindness, she questioned, would include his behaviour to herself? During their last conversation, he had asked permission to approach Mr Bennett. The next time she saw him, he was betrothed to Maria Lucas. Since then, he had made no attempt to speak or write to Mary, to explain or excuse himself. Her respect for him had entirely disappeared, replaced by contempt of his cowardice.
Mr and Mrs Potter left for the parsonage at Bilton at the beginning of the month. Almost at once, Mary Bennett fell ill with a severe cold. She was tired out with her efforts to appear unaffected by the marriage of Mrs and Mr Potter. She no longer cared for the opinion of her neighbours, but shut herself up in her room, to lie back in her chair shedding weary tears over what might have been.
Sometimes her mother knocked at her door, and begged her to come out. Sometimes it was her father who knocked, ordering her to come to the dinner table. But she ignored them both. Why should she eat, to prolong her miserable life? She was determined to stay in her room until she died. She propped herself against the pillows, and wrote in her journal.
Yesterday, I read the entries I made in this journal just a year ago. Then we were all in upheaval, preparing for the wedding of my sisters, Jane and Elizabeth. My mother thought only of their new clothes, and how to turn them off so well, that the fine friends of Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley should not be ashamed of us all. I know that she spent ten times the money my father was prepared for. But he forgave her even that. With such rich sons-in-law, why should he ever again fear the reproaches of unpaid tradesman's bills?
During this time, no-one gave a thought to me. Kitty at least had some share in the preparations, for she was to move to live with Mr and Mrs Bingley, as company for Jane. Mrs Elizabeth Darcy had no such need for her own sister, as Miss Georgina Darcy continued to live in her brother's house at Pemberley. So I was left behind at Longbourn, when all the others had gone. There is always one daughter whose task it is to support her parents in their old age. I should have known that this task would fall to me.
Next week it will be 5 months since Mr Potter came among us. I wore the green silk - one of the new gowns I had persuaded Mamma to order for me after the departure of my sisters - when Mr Potter first came to dinner. Sarah, Mamma's maid, helped me with my hair. For the first time, we arranged it in a fashion that Jane invented-- with soft curls across my forehead, the rest drawn into a knot behind, except for a few curls that fell from above my ears. When I looked in the mirror, I hardly knew myself. Also for the first time, I wondered if I too had inherited something of my mother's beauty.
Mamma approved of my appearance, as she twitched my sash and flowers.
"Now that is something like!” she said. "But Mary, you must learn to smile. Do not be always thinking of something clever to say. It is for the gentlemen to be clever, and for you to learn from them!"
I believe I would have answered her sharply, pointing out that the only clever man of my acquaintance was my Uncle Gardiner. But my father came in then, and I had the satisfaction of knowing that I had surprised him. He even complimented me on my appearance.
Mr Potter came to our dinner with the Dr Watson and his wife, as a new curate should. I did not have time to notice him much, during the evening -- I was too busy helping my mother with all the duties that had previously fallen to my older sisters. Now the whole business of the tea and
coffee in the drawing room fell upon me. I only remember that he seemed quite willing to carry coffee cups to other guests.
I have not previously recorded the details of my contacts with Mr Potter. At the time, I was too busy and happy to spend time with my journal. Now I know it is right to record it all. When I am buried, someone will read my journal, and know the reason for my death.
In this despondent frame of mind, she spent some hours recording the events of the past months. She dwelt lingeringly on the painful emotions which had beset her on hearing of Mr Potter’s betrothal. She described the jealousy that had overwhelmed her, seeing Maria Potter leave the church porch on her new husband’s arm. She set down in detail all the splendours of the carriage that carried the newly-weds to their home at Bilton. She recorded the bitterness that overwhelmed her after their departure.
And a strange thing happened during this time. As her health improved, and her journal entries lengthened, Mary began to see the past months in a new light. She had been acting a part, copying the sort of thoughtless silly girl her sister Lydia had been, and that Maria still was. That personality had attracted Mr Potter. If Mary had married him, he would have expected her to continue in that way for the rest of her life. But Mary was already heartlily sick of the pretence, longing for a quieter, more sensible existance.
So it was that Mary stopped regretting the loss of Mr Potter. She even began to feel some gratitude towards Maria, who had removed Mr Potter, and so saved Mary from the results of her own foolish behaviour. Thus it was in a very different frame of mind, a few days later, that she responded to a friend’s greeting at her bedroom door.
"Oh, Phoebe, it is so good to see you!" She drew Phoebe Watson into her room gladly. "When did you return? How is your father?" She turned to the window, and threw wide the curtains, letting in the sunlight for the first time in days.
Phoebe Watson was the sister of Meryton's parson, Dr Watson. Usually she acted as housekeeper for her widowed father, but was released at times to visit her brother and his family. Her last visit had coincided with the announcement of Maria's betrothal. She had provided welcome company for Mary's morning walks when Maria Lucas had decided that it would be more comfortable if she and Mary did not spend so much time together.
"I am pleased to see you too." Phoebe smiled as she took Mary's hands, and led her to sit where the sun's rays fell into the room. "My father is well, and is gone with his friend Mr Crabb to Brighton for some weeks, so I came yesterday to stay with my brother at the parsonage. I heard this morning that you were unwell, so I came to see you directly. Pray tell me what ails you?"
"I have had a chill, but that is passed." Mary dropped her eyes. "Did you miss ......Mr Potter at service this morning?" she asked, uncertainly.
"Why yes. Is it true, then, that you suffer because of the young man's marriage and departure?" asked Phoebe.
"He should have married me!" Mary said defensively. "And he would have done so, if Mamma had only kept her tongue under control!"
"I am sorry that you have been disappointed," Phoebe returned, "but I will not conceal from you that I found Mr Potter not so attractive as you seem to have done. Did you not think that his chin was very pointed? And his whiskers grow so quickly, it seems that he is always in want of soap and water." Phoebe was just a few years older than Mary, but long years spent alone with her father had trained her to speak bluntly, when occasion demanded.
Mary's eyes opened wide, but she refused to be diverted.
"But Phoebe, I should have been married! I would have been mistress of my own house!"
Phoebe considered this seriously.
"That would certainly be a great step forward," she agreed, "but Mr Potter is neither rich nor handsome, I also found him selfish and rather dull. But perhaps he did not seem so to you."
Mary smoothed her skirt over her knees for a long moment before replying.
"Phoebe, I will be honest with you. I was very distressed that Mr Potter chose to marry Maria Lucas." She glanced up fleetingly. "But in these past few days I have come to realise that I was very lucky to have avoided marriage with him." She blushed a little, as she went on smoothing the fabric. "But I made such a fuss to my family about being broken hearted, that I am almost too embarrassed to admit that I was so completely wrong!" She looked up at her friend. "What shall I do?"
"Do? Why nothing!" said Phoebe, laughing but determined. "Those who did not know you were distressed will never learn of it from your behaviour, and those who did know of it will honour your strength of mind in behaving so bravely! You cannot fail!"
That very afternoon, Mary escorted Phoebe Watson through the garden, and halfway back to the parsonage. She joined her parents at dinner, cheerful but a little embarrassed.
"I am glad to see you returned to us, Mary, " her father said. "I had begun to think of sending for the doctor, but your visitor today has forestalled me."
"I am glad you came downstairs, too, Mary," said her mother. "Now you can pour the coffee tonight, and save me the effort. I do not know how I managed while you had shut yourself away. It was too bad of you."
None of them referred to the cause of her trouble. The name of Mr Potter was only mentioned when Lady Lucas came to call.
In the weeks ahead, Mary tried very hard to forget her recent disappointment. But all her family and friends seemed determined to convince her of the benefits of the married state. Lady Lucas called to share the news that Mr and Mrs Potter were happily installed in the parsonage at Bilton.
"They are very well settled," said the lady's mother. "And I can just whisper that Maria is in receipt of the best of news - she is expecting a child in the Spring." She looked uncertainly at Mary, as if wondering how the news would be received.
"That is very happy news," returned Mary, vigorously. She was determined not to permit Lady Lucas to suspect her of any lingering interest in Mr Potter. Perhaps the gentleman had been so indiscrete as to confess his dealings with Mary Bennett. Miss Bennett herself would never breathe a word of them in the future. She would rather die. But this type of conversation must unsettle her peace whenever it took place.
Lady Lucas spoke too of her daughter Mrs Collins, and her growing family.
"I had a letter from my dear daughter Charlotte last week. Your cousin Mr Collins is a good husband to her; she also is expecting a child. The parsonage at Huntsford is becoming uncomfortably crowded, and Mr Collins will soon be forced to consider removing to a larger home."
The Bennetts knew that he would be glad to inherit possession of Longbourn. The Lucases too would be glad to have Charlotte settled so close to her family. Lady Lucas certainly looked forward to it, but was too polite to mention it in front of the Bennetts. Everything must wait for the death of Mr Bennett.
Long letters reached Longbourn from Derbyshire. Both Jane Bingley and Elizabeth Darcy were happier with their husbands that they ever were in Meryton. Jane's cheerful letters told of quiet family pleasures, and also of dinners, balls, and other entertainments, which their sister Kitty shared. Elizabeth wrote in similar style, of her pleasure in the spacious rooms, the elegant furniture, and the beautiful grounds and park, of Pemberley. She praised her attentive husband, and his sister who provided excellent company. Mary compared their busy eventful lives with her own quiet existance, and regretted for a moment the loss of Mr Potter.
Every member of the family, it seemed, was a welcome visitor to the Darcys at Pemberley, except for Mrs Bennett, who could not manage the exertion necessary for such a long journey, and Mary, who must stay at home to bear her company. Mr Bennett often visited there. He used any excuse, such as carrying a present for Lizzie's birthday. In reality, he wanted to spend hours in the Pemberley library. He then returned laden with volumes, and spent many evenings shut up in his study, poreing over these new treasures. Mary's aunt and uncle, Mr and Mrs Gardiner also visited the Darcys, and on their return to London delivered a number of Christmas boxes to Longbourn. For a few days, Mary delighted in the c
ompany of her aunt, whose good sense and encouragement she valued.
When they were alone together, she told the public story of Mr Potter's courtship, and defection. Mrs Gardiner listened attentively.
"You have a right to feel disappointment," she said at last, "though by your account the young man must be somewhat wanting in manners to have deserted you so suddenly, and transferred his interest to Miss Lucas so soon."
"But that is not the whole truth, Aunt. I wonder if you will still sympathesise when I tell you the rest."
"What can you mean, Mary? I will wait till I hear it all."
Mary now bravely described her own change of heart, which she had previously shared only with Phoebe Watson. Mrs Gardiner was amused at Mary's confession.
"I agree with your friend Phoebe," she said. "She must be a sensible person! By presenting a serene face to the world, you will receive the commendations of all your friends. You alone will know that they are not fully deserved. You may preserve that secret from all except your chosen confidants."
"I am glad you approve, Aunt. But I have some fear that he may have spoken to his wife about me. Lady Lucas seems uneasy when she calls."
"If that is so, than then you have even less cause to regret him. We must hope that Lady Lucas is so considerate as never to mention it to anyone else. But Mary, I trust that all this has not given you a dislike of the idea of marriage in general?"
"Indeed not, Aunt. I am determined to marry, just as soon as I can find a suitable husband. I would far rather work in my own house that do the same chores in my mother's. "
Mrs Gardiner nodded.
"Do everything in your power, Mary," she said, "to present a cheerful face to the world, whatever may be your private thoughts. I am glad that your experiences with Mr Potter have not left you bitter. Nothing will discourage a potential suitor more rapidly."
Mary Bennet of Meryton Page 2