Mary Bennet of Meryton

by Barbara Randell

  Time passed quietly for Mary and Mrs Bennett. It was weeks before Mrs Bennett became at all reconciled to her new home, and Mary learned not to listen when her mother repeated her complaints about the size of the rooms at Nethergate, and the inconvenient distance from Meryton. Some weeks they saw only Mrs Phillips, and Lady Lucas, who continued to call upon them regularly. Their other friends found the distance from the village too great for walking, but not sufficient to be worth their ordering the carriage.

  So both ladies were surprised, when Mrs Phillips arrived unexpectedly.

  "Such news I have, sister!" declared Mrs Phillips, as she hurried into the parlour. "And it will be so pleasant for you and for Mary!"

  "Whatever can you mean, sister?" asked Mrs Bennett, fretfully. "I am sure you must be mistaken. Since I lost my dear Mr Bennett, I find nothing pleasant."

  "Netherfield is let again!" said Mrs Phillips. Mrs Bennett looked up in surprise. "There, I knew that would interest you."

  "Netherfield let!" exclaimed Mrs Bennett. "But who are the tenants? Are they respectable people? Shall we find them agreeable neighbours?"

  " I heard it all from the housekeeper. They are Mr and Mrs Grange, a couple but recently wed. In addition, Mrs Grange brings with her older sister, Miss Hunter," said Mrs Phillips. " Miss Hunter is almost the lady's only surviving relative."

  "Then she knows the pain of bereavement," said Mrs Bennett, with her handkerchief to her eyes. "She will understand how I grieve for my dear Mr Bennett."

  "The two sisters have lived all their previous lives in London," added Mrs Phillips.

  " How will they like the change to our country ways?" wondered Mary.

  "I am sure they will like it well enough," declared Mrs Bennett. "You know I always said that our country ways are quite as exciting as London. I wonder if they will entertain at Netherfield, as Mr Bingley did before he married my dear Jane?"

  "If they do entertain," observed Mary, "it is very unlikely that they will include us in their hospitality. Remember we are no longer the family of Longbourn. That distinction belongs to Mr Collins and Charlotte."

  "I do not know that the Collinses are better than Miss Bennett," retorted her mother. "If Mrs Grange takes my advice, she will not encourage Mr Collins by including him in any special party. He is quite encroaching enough already!"

  Mary was surprised, just a week after this conversation, to be honoured with a visit from Mrs Grange and Miss Hunter. She had expected to find the two ladies fashionable and proud, in the manner of Mis Bingley and Mrs Hurst, previous tenants of Netherfield. She was pleased to find them agreeable sensible women, dressed with excellent taste but no vulgar display. Eleanor Grange was the taller of the two, and Mary found her combination of green eyes and rich brown hair very pleasing. She was barely twenty years old, and her fresh complexion and sweet smile made her an agreeable companion. She spoke little, but what she said was cheerful and intelligent.

  Hannah Hunter, in comparison, was much less well favoured. She was at least ten years older than her sister, and her dark hair was drawn back severely so that she appeared even older. She was shorter than her sister, and had a stouter figure. Her voice was deep, almost rough at times. Her manner was a little abrupt, and might sometimes give offence. But she was clearly devoted to her sister.

  "You must know that Hannah is almost a mother to me," said Eleanor, " for she took good care of me after we had the misfortune to lose our mother almost 12 years ago." She smiled at her sister, who returned the glance warmly.

  "We also have a brother," added Eleanor. "Richard is a Commander in the navy. Since his wife died, Hannah tries to mother him as well, but he will have none of it. He says he is too old to need anyone looking after him." She laughed teasingly, and Hannah shook her head disapprovingly.

  Mrs Grange and Miss Hunter stayed with Mary only twenty minutes. In that short time, they provided her with food for reflection for days to come.

  "So precious are all new friends to me now!" she thought.

  In the following weeks, Mary's contacts with the Netherfield ladies continued. She took regular exercise in the woods behind the gatehouse. While walking, she often met with Mrs Grange and Miss Hunter, and they strolled together for some hours. The friendship grew rapidly, and they began to call each other 'Eleanor' and 'Mary' and 'Hannah'. They began by discussing the weather and the warmth of the sun; and complaining of the steepness of the hills, and the depth of the mud below the stiles. A further two or three meetings, and they progressed to the quality of the meat supplied by the local butcher, and the iniquities of the local servants. Then at last they began to speak of more interesting and important things, like music and books.

  "Soon I will discover whether either of the two ladies may fill, in some small measure, the gap that Phoebe Watson has left in my life" Mary thought to herself.

  Phoebe continued to be a kind and reliable correspondent. Almost every week, Mary heard all the concerns of the family in the Cathedral Close, where Dr Watson had forged a fine reputation - though that at least Mary had expected. Phoebe herself had been warmly accepted, and counted the wives of the other clergy as her friends. She told of dinners and suppers, concerts and other entertainments. Mary read of her activities with a small sigh of envy. But the presence of the Netherfield ladies now lessened her discontent.

  Commander Hunter is visiting his sisters this week, she wrote in her journal some time later. He joined our morning's ramble today, and showed himself as wellbred (though perhaps not as intelligent) as both his sisters. In countenance, he strongly resembles his sister Hannah, and like her, his voice is deep and his manner sometimes abrupt. He talked of the many distant lands he has visited, and of life on board his ship. He made detailed observations during his travels, of conditions in other lands, and is always ready to share his observations with his listeners. He has seen many interesting places, but found each of them sadly wanting in some way. None had all the comforts and benefits of England.! Still I listened to him with interest. It was such a change from our usual conversations of the weather, and our neighbours' doings. He provided bare information on which my imagination built a mountain of fantasy, and I almost thought myself a member of his crew. He leaves tomorrow to rejoin his ship, bound for the Indies, and we will all feel the loss of his conversation. It may be years before his sisters see him again.

  "How I suffer. A poor friendless widow, whom no-one consideres or remembers. My poor nerves will hardly survive another day."

  Mary and her mother sat together in the parlour. Mrs Bennett sat with her hands in her lap, while Mary was surrounded by piles of linen to be mended. She looked up as the maidservant entered.

  "Mamma, here is a treat. You have a letter from my uncle Gardiner. Shall I read it for you?"

  "It is probably just to tell us that the weather is fine in London, or that they have been to the theatre. I am sure there is nothing there to interest us."

  "On the contrary, Mamma, I know you will be interested in this. Just listen. My uncle writes that Lydia Wickham has been to see him. 'She particularly asks that she be permitted to visit her mother in Meryton, and that she should be allowed to stay at Nethergate for some weeks.'"

  Mrs Bennett sat up, her face glowing with delight.

  "How delightful! Write to my brother at once, Mary!" she exclaimed. "Say that Lydia shall come as soon as she chooses, and stay as long as she likes! We shall love to have her with us."

  Mary wrote as directed, but was not happy. She wondered why a visit should be proposed at this time, and suspected that it was shortage of money that drove Lydia to seek shelter with her mother. Mr Gardiner's letter hinted that since the death of Mr Wickham, Lydia had been living with a group of friends on the outskirts of the city of London. Lydia was always giddy thoughtless and expensive, and living in the city must have its own expenses.

  "We are in no position to provide for her expensive tastes, though Mamma has no idea of how little money I manage with," thought Mary. "If she
should make Lydia some large gifts, I do not know how we shall manage. But I should not worry about such things now. Lydia may have grown more responsible about money."

  Mrs Bennett gave no thought to possible problems. She was merely longing to see her favourite daughter again.

  Lydia arrived, and Mary realised that she was not at all changed since their last meeting, just after her marriage to George Wickham, although nearly fifteen years had passed. She still thought only of clothes and pleasures, and abused her mother roundly for living so far from Meryton. She walked there once to renew her friendship with Penelope Harrington. On the way, she was overtaken by the carriage of Mr Grange, who took her up beside him. She came home eager to discover all she could about this interesting new neighbour.

  "He is a married man," Mary told her sternly. "You must look elsewhere for someone to flirt with." Lydia merely laughed, and timed her future walks to Meryton so well that she managed to be taken up by Mr Grange several times, causing a deal of discussion among their neighbours. Mary worried about what Mrs Grange must think of her sister's behaviour, but she dared not enquire. She knew that Hannah Hunter was very displeased. When Mary attempted to remonstrate with her, Lydia tossed her head.

  "Oh, Mary! You are so serious! You have not changed in the slightest way, since we were all girls together!"

  "Nor have you, Lydia," she replied, "and I am sorry for it. But I beg you to have a care for the reputation of Mr Grange and his wife, if you have none for your own."

  "But I must have some male company," Lydia pouted. "I could not survive three days together, as you and Mamma do, shut up here together in a house full of women. I should be bored to death!'

  Mrs Wickham also renewed her acquaintance with Thomas Lucas, the eldest son of Sir William and Lady Lucas. This young man was his father's heir, and was working hard to learn the management of his father's estates. Their friends had noted with pleasure, that Thomas was becoming increasingly friendly with Penelope Harrington, a match that would please both families, and unite two of the oldest and largest local estates. But after Mrs Wickham met him in Penelope Harrington's parlour, Mr Lucas found reason to call at Nethergate almost every day, and Lydia made him very welcome. Lady Lucas could not conceal her uneasiness when she visited Mary, and Mary could make no excuses for Lydia. She was embarrased and ashamed of her sister's conduct.

  Mrs Bennett of course, was delighted with everything Lydia did. She was pleased that both Mr Grange and Mr Luces visited them.

  "For it would be sad indeed," she said, "if Lydia should be bored when she visits me! She has so many entertainments in London, you know, that she could not live as quiet as you and I."

  Mary suspected that Lydia had received some presents from her mother, but could no be sure of it. She worried continually that Lydia’s behaviour will cause real harm to her friends Eleanor Grange and Penelope Harrington.

  But to Mary's relief, Lydia's scheming came to nothing. First, Lady Lucas called to tell them that her son Thomes had gone suddenly to spend some months with his uncle in another county. The visit had been talked of in the past, but was now suddenly brought forward. Mary had no doubt that Sir William acted to detach his son from Lydia’s company. Thomas had nothing besides what his father gave him, and could not defy his father's order.

  Mary told Lady Lucas that she thought Thomas would benefit from his visit away from home. Lady Lucas shook her hand warmly.

  "I knew you would understand and approve," she said. "I only wish your sister had half your conduct."

  Mary silently agreed with her.

  But that was not the end. A few days later, Mary and Lydia learned that Mr and Mrs Grange, and Miss Hunter, had left Netherfield. They were to spend several weeks with a cousin of Mr Grange in the Lake District. Mary knew that she would miss both Eleanor and Harriet sadly, but she rejoiced that they were gone, in safety and as a family.

  Deserted by both her escorts, Lydia soon began to sulk with boredom. In a few days, she announced that she must return to London, to collect her allowance from Mr Gardiner. Mrs Bennett attempted to dissuade her, but Mary did not. Lydia left on the stage the next morning.

  After her sister had gone, Mary reflected on the last weeks. It was very depressing to realise that despite everything, Lydia was quite unchanged. She was still the selfish, extravagant flirt that she had been at fifteen. She had lost everything, her reputation, her husband and child, but was entirely determined to continue her chosen way of life. Mary could not begin to understand her. But then Mary thought of her mother. Mrs Bennett too was untouched by Lydia's history. Perhaps it was not surprising that Lydia thought her losses were unimportant, when her own mother agreed with her.

  With Lydia, Mrs Grange and Miss Hunter all gone from Meryton, Mary Bennett spent a very quiet few weeks. She walked in the woods, worked in the house, and wrote letters in her room. Her only distractions were her mother's continual gentle complaints. The time was restful, but she was glad to welcome the ladies when they returned to Netherfield.

  They resumed their friendship, just as if it had never been disturbed. But a new and exciting circumstance had changed the family. Miss Hunter and Mr Grange were proud and protective of Eleanor, who was expecting her first child in the autumn. In consequence, they would not permit Eleanor to take long walks each morning, restricting her to gentle strolls in the gardens near the house. However, Hannah kept up her exercise, so once again Mary had company on her rambles.

  Hannah was devoted to her sister, and spent many hours caring for her , and bearing her company. Eleanor accepted her attentions gratefully and sweetly.

  "How I wish Mamma would learn a little of her manners," Mary thought. "It is so tiring to have all my best efforts criticised, and all my hours filled with her endless complaints, of the weather, the house, her family, her friends, and her health. It almost makes me envy old Mrs Barnes, in the village, who is so deaf that her daughter must shout into her ear to be heard!"

  Soon after, Commander Hunter returned unexpectedly to Netherfield from his travels, a little older, a little more lined of face, a little more abrupt in his manner.

  "It is so delightful to have him returned to us," said Eleanor, from her place on the sofa. "I know he will be gone within a few weeks, but we will spoil him mightily while he is here! Crumpets for tea every evening. Game pie for dinner almost every night, because that is his favourite. And lots of Mr Grange's best brandy!"

  Mary and Hannah laughed, but Mr Hunter flushed with embarrasment.

  "Now, Eleanor, do not talk such nonsense. Your friend will think me a very poor fellow!"

  Mary shook her head.

  "You misjudge me, sir. Crumpets and game pie are favourites with me as well. But I will gladly give you my share of Mr Grange's brandy."

  Mr Hunter smiled, but she saw that he was still uneasy. So she turned the conversation to admiration of the lace cap that Mrs Grange was making for her baby, and Mr Hunter was left in peace for a time.

  He walked with Mary and Hannah every morning, and again talked at length of his voyages. Mary listened, and asked many questions, while Hannah interposed an occasional observation.

  "I am afraid you are bored, Hannah, "observed her brother one morning, as he handed the ladies down from a stile. "You have barely spoken this morning."

  "That is true," Hannah said, "but it does not mean that I am not attending. And Mary listens so attentively, that you cannot need another audience."

  "I am very interested in what you say of the Indies, Mr Hunter. I am certainly not bored with your conversation," said Mary.

  But Mary had begun to wish that Mr Hunter would find some other occupation to replace their regular walks. Mr Hunter had the highest possible opinion of his own abilities. He was fond of talking of all the times the Governer had asked his advice on the best management of his servants, or the ship's captain had relied on him to control the rebellious sailors. He began to direct the ladies' exercise, and to wonder how they had managed for months pas
t, without his guidance.

  "We are not so helpless as you imagine, brother," retorted Hannah. "We manage very well while you are away, do we not, Miss Bennett?"

  "You must remember that I have the misfortune to have no brother of my own," Mary reminded him with a smile. "And my sisters' husbands all live at some distance. So I have been forced to rely on my own efforts, without a brother to support me. I have not found it so difficult."

  Mr Hunter shook his head in disbelief. "It is not natural for a woman to have so much responsibility," he said sadly. "You have my deepest pity, Miss Bennett."

  But Miss Bennett did not want his pity. She left Hannah and Mr Hunter, to return to the gatehouse quite out of humour with him.

  On the whole, Mary continued to enjoy their walks. Any new company brightened her days, giving her new ideas, new personalities to consider, and new vistas for her imagination to explore. Mr Hunter represented a class she had seldom contacted, a wellbred, much-travelled man of about her own age. When she was alone at Nethergate, she spent many hours thinking over his words. She ignored the worst of his self-centredness, but concentrated on his descriptions of stange lands and new people. She imagined that she too journeyed to strange lands. It was likely to be her only chance to escape domestic confines.

  One evening, Mr Hunter visited Mrs Bennett at the gatehouse . Mary had missed her morning walk, as Mrs Bennett had been unusually fretful the previous night, and had woken with a slight chill. He called to enquire after Mary's health, but stayed for an hour to listen to her mother's complaints of the house and her family. Mrs Bennett so rarely met anyone new that she would not let him escape. He bore it all very patiently, but Mary was sure that this one taste of her mother's company would be enough to ensure he did not repeat his visit.