by Jayne Bamber
Sir Gerald was there, looking over his script and preparing to make his next appearance as Egeus, and it was very nearly time for Mary and Mr. Tilney to enter and discover the two sets of sleeping lovers, though Lydia and Mr. Audley were both giggling loudly, and lying rather near one another – and were in no way convincing anyone that they were actually asleep.
Their entrance was made, their speeches given, and then the actors all withdrew – the scene was changed, and chairs were brought forth for Mary, Mr. Tilney, Sir Gerald, and the two pairs of lovers to witness the play-within-a-play while the fairies all retreated to the music room to watch from afar.
The play-within-a-play was duly ridiculous, and Mary’s lines were delivered with accuracy and wit, which earned her a great many looks of approval from Mr. Tilney, seated at her side in the possessive pose of a newlywed man. Their scene ended, they withdrew, carrying their chairs along with them, and Mrs. Sutton and Captain Wentworth entered with Mr. Crawford to make their closing remarks. As Mr. Crawford spoke the final words, Captain Wentworth drew Mrs. Sutton into a convincingly romantic embrace to signify the reconciliation of the faerie king and his queen, and then there was a moment of silence before their audience commenced their applause.
At this, the play-actors all rushed out onto their makeshift stage at once, giving a great many exaggerated bows and curtsies to their small audience, and they were all admired at length. The performers all took turns congratulating one another in the warmest of language, the principal lovers in particular. Mr. Rushworth commended himself on remembering all of his seven-and-fifty speeches, and Mr. Tilney lavished Mary with all the praise she might have expected him to give her, though she still could not account for his good opinion of her.
“What a fine performance, and you have had half the time to rehearse as the rest of us,” he said. “It was well done of you, Miss Bennet; I cannot thank you enough for obliging us by participating. You make a most worthy Queen of the Amazons.”
Mary demurred, and muttered some bashful thanks, too distracted in observing all her companions to pay Mr. Tilney half the attention he seemed to wish her to. As Mrs. Sutton had quit the room immediately upon the theatrical’s conclusion, Mary resolved to keep a close eye on Lydia, who was on the verge of escaping with Mr. Audley when Mary intercepted her.
Mr. Audley was all charm, as ever, observing to Mary that he only wished to offer his counterpart all the congratulations of such a splendid performance, and Lydia gave Mary a very hard look.
She dared not scold her sister amongst so large a group, and was spared any need to do so as Sir Gerald cheerfully called for some champagne to be brought in, and a toast was made to the success of their endeavor, and they were all dismissed forthwith to dress for dinner.
Mary followed her sister upstairs, determined that she must speak to Lydia about her behavior toward Mr. Audley. “Lydia,” said she, entering her sister’s room once she had removed her costume and changed into an appropriate evening gown. “I must commend you on your mastery of Shakespeare, but I feel obliged to speak with you, if Mrs. Sutton has not already done so – I would only wish to know that you have separated what may have taken place as a part in a play, from reality, as regards Mr. Audley.”
Lydia, who was still completing her toilette, turned around to roll her eyes at Mary. “You mean to suggest that Mr. Audley was only making love to me in the play, not in real life. I am not a simpleton, Mary – I know the difference. As it happens however, Mr. Audley is in love with me, and practically told me as much before we ever began the theatrical.”
“What? Is this true?”
“Yes! He loves me, and I love him.”
“Lydia, tell me the truth, what has passed between you?”
Lydia screwed up her face. “It is none of your concern, Mary. I am certain he is very near to proposing – he was likely on the verge of doing so when you boorishly interrupted us from sneaking away – I will not have you frighten him away now.”
“You wound me, Lydia. I should never wish to dissuade the honorable intentions of any gentleman who might wish to pay you his addresses – I only wish to ascertain if his intentions are honorable.”
“Ugh,” Lydia groaned, tossing down her hairbrush. “You must think the worst of me, and everyone else! Does it never grow dull being such a bore?”
“Certainly I shall never tire of being proper, just as you never think of it! Truly, Lydia, I am not come to quiz you, nor be spoken to so harshly. Has Mr. Audley explicitly stated his intentions to you, or is this some fantasy of yours? What does Mrs. Sutton say about it?”
“Mrs. Sutton says that Captain Wentworth is richer, to be sure, but Mr. Audley is a good man; if only my brothers will give me some little dowry, I am sure I should be able to wed.”
“You certainly presume a great deal,” Mary replied. “Has Mrs. Sutton really encouraged you to apply to our brothers-in-law for money, to purchase your husband?”
Lydia folded her arms and glared at Mary. “She has not outright said that it should be thus, but it has certainly been implied.”
“And have you any notion of how our brothers might react to such an application? Do you believe they would favor Mr. Audley’s suit, if it is sincere?” Mary moved toward her sister, taking Lydia’s hand to express the sincerity of her concern. “I do not ask these things to vex you, Sister. I care for you, that you are not being misled, or ill-used by any man. It has happened to me, and I would not wish such an experience on anyone whom I hold dear.”
Lydia grimaced at her. “You may have been jilted, but I am sure I shall not be.”
“Lydia! Apologize to your sister immediately,” Mrs. Sutton growled, stalking silently into the room.
Lydia groaned and rolled her eyes once more. “I am sorry, Mary. Sorry that you cannot catch a man, as I have. Really Caroline, I think it is the hardest thing in the world for Mary to plague me, when she is only jealous. Mr. Audley and I shall be wed – you shall see.”
Putting aside her offense, Mary looked questioningly at Mrs. Sutton. “I do hope it is so – what truth is there in this?”
“I suppose that is for Lydia to tell us,” Mrs. Sutton replied. “I have been watching them as closely as I am able, and of course they have often been practicing their speeches in company with Georgiana and Mr. Willoughby. I am certain there has been no impropriety, but Mr. Audley’s interest is apparent – he appears to be respectable enough in his intentions, which have been quite clear – I can at least verify that it is not a mere whim of Lydia’s.”
Mary nodded, somewhat satisfied by Mrs. Sutton’s reply. “Has he made his intentions known to you?”
“He has not, though we have been in Kent but a month, you know. It would prove him to be sensible and worthy indeed, should he choose to wait a little while longer to pay his addresses directly. Lydia may be expecting them, but it does not follow that he would desire to act so quickly. At any rate, it may all come to nothing. I shall be obliged to return to London in the morning, and may be there as long as a week. I had thought to bring Lydia with me.”
Lydia stamped her foot and shrieked with displeasure. “Go to London? Now? When Mr. Audley is so in love with me? He may yet propose to me this very evening! It is not fair!”
“Lydia,” Mrs. Sutton said sternly. “Compose yourself immediately. Such unseemly behavior is not becoming of a lady of your station, nor will it recommend you to anyone. Particularly not one who has the power to remove you from the country at once.”
Mary was astonished to see what an effect this had on Lydia, who took in a deep breath, closing her eyes for a minute as she breathed out, and appeared instantly collected. Mary had never seen her sister so thoroughly chastened.
“I had thought not to return to Kent,” Mrs. Sutton admitted. She began to look rather pained, rubbing at her temples for a moment before sitting down on the end of Lydia’s bed. “What a mess. I should certainly not wish to separate you from your young man – I am not that cruel. If he is so nea
r to making you an offer, something not likely to occur again any time soon – no, I am sure your family would be pleased with the match – he must be accepted…. But I must go to London. If I should encounter the Darcys there… well, I can say I have left you in the care of two of your sisters, one of whom is married, and of course you are a perfectly acceptable chaperone, too, Miss Bennet…. Oh, let me think….”
Mary observed both Lydia and Mrs. Sutton with growing concern. Mrs. Sutton had appeared strangely agitated all afternoon, even misspeaking a few of her speeches during the theatrical. Lydia looked so distraught that she had actually fallen silent for once, and sat down at her dressing table with a look of agony on her face. Mary was rather moved to see her sister so stricken – if Mr. Audley was truly as in love with Lydia as she seemed to believe– as in love with her as she appeared to be with him – it was cruel indeed that they should be separated now.
“Perhaps… perhaps a short separation of but a week will not be so very hard,” Mary ventured, earnestly desirous of cheering her two overwrought companions. “Does not absence make the heart grow fonder?”
“No indeed,” Lydia wailed. “If I am taken away to London, Mr. Audley must believe that I do not care for him, or that my family will not approve of the match.”
Mary turned to Mrs. Sutton. “If Lydia were to remain in Kent while you are in Town, how long would you remain in Kent after your return? Long enough for things to be quite settled between them?”
Mrs. Sutton’s face was contorted with misery. “I do not know – truly I have no wish to stay in Kent so much longer. Lydia, are you quite confident he is so near making you an offer? Could it be accomplished in the week of my absence, if it were made known that your own departure was so imminent?”
“Oh yes, I am sure of it,” Lydia cried. “I know he would not let me leave without making his proposal to me. La! That might be just the thing to help him get on with it! And then if we do have to go back to London – though why we should return to Town just as everyone else shall be leaving, I cannot imagine – but at least Mr. Audley might go with us, you know, and talk to my uncle, and Mr. Darcy. They will give me some money to marry, I know they shall.”
Mary considered – if the Darcys did give Lydia any dowry, it would merely be for the convenience and relief of seeing her respectably settled before the silly creature caused them any public disgrace, and therefore well worth a good sum. It was asking a lot, yet not impossible – if Mr. Audley really did intend to marry her. “I think it a sound plan,” Mary said at last. “And you know, there is no need to rush things – if you and Mr. Audley should wish a greater space of time to get better acquainted, you might stay on at Rosings – surely you are not so bound to Mrs. Sutton, as Kate is our sister – there can be no question of you needing to set a date for your departure at all.”
Here Mrs. Sutton looked up with a look of tremendous sadness, and attempted to laugh. “You rotten girl, Lydia – I honestly do not know how I shall get on without you to vex me into good cheer – I am sure my good cheer serves no greater purpose than to annoy you.”
Lydia gave Mrs. Sutton a smile of defiant affection. “Does this mean you agree?”
“I agree. You may remain here, so long as you resume your daily lessons with Harriet, and obey both of your sisters in all things – they shall write to me directly if you do not, and then I shall come back and carry you off no matter how much Mr. Audley protests. Are you quite sure of his regard for you, dearest? I should hate to see you as disappointed as I have been – that is, as I would be, on your behalf.”
“Oh yes,” Lydia exclaimed. “He has spoken to me of his admiration. If you had ever really been in love, I am sure you would understand. It is in all of his looks, all of his speeches to me – I just know. He has spoken to me at great length, paid me marked attentions which you yourself have witnessed, and asked a great many questions about my life, my history, and my family. I am sure he is interested in me, and is aware of my attachment to him. He even called me clever! No one has ever called me clever.”
Mary was momentarily distracted by Lydia’s suggestion that Mrs. Sutton, a married woman, had never been in love, and began to wonder at Mrs. Sutton’s apparent unhappiness, and her need to go to London, but forced herself to focus first on her sister. Henry Audley had presented himself as a fortune hunter to her when they met in London, at least as much as any second son must be obliged to be. He had always seemed perfectly aware, in all his conversations with Mary, that she was quite penniless, with little but her charms to recommend her. He must know the same of Lydia. That he had called her clever could only mean that he was really in love with her! Mary felt a great swelling of joy, and a little pride, in her heart for her younger sister.
“I will do all that I can to assist you, dear sister,” Mary replied. “I know you have always been wont to bristle at my suggestions, but you must trust me in this, and I shall ever be your ally. I promise you this. And Mrs. Sutton, I do wish you well in your journey to Town. If you require anyone to vex you into better cheer, I am sure Lizzy would be happy to see you.”
Satisfied that all had been resolved in her favor, Lydia declared she had been away from her beloved for long enough, and was ready to go down to dinner, whether Mrs. Sutton would join them or not.
“Very well,” Mrs. Sutton replied. “I am for London in the morning. I believe I shall retire – please give my excuses to everyone at dinner; I cannot possibly join you all.”
22
Kent, late April
The morning after the theatrical, life returned to normal. Mrs. Sutton departed for London after taking an early breakfast with Mary, Georgiana, and Lydia, and the three younger girls then walked to the dower house. Harriet had not ceased her studies during the theatrical, as Lydia had done, and was showing wonderful progress. Lydia and Georgiana both rejoiced for her, and though Mary might have expected her young sister to be petulant about it, she was not.
Having been appeased by Mrs. Sutton, Lydia was quite content. She sang merrily as Harriet and Georgiana accompanied her on pianoforte, and Mary was delighted to find that there was a harp at the dower house for her to practice upon. They passed two happy hours devoted to their musical accomplishments, and Mary was so pleased by her sister’s behavior that she allowed Lydia to beg off when the French tutor arrived, to the tutor’s evident relief.
The three girls walked through the gardens, basking in the fine spring weather. Of course, after two hours of unprecedented composure, it was not long before Lydia began to speak on the subject most dear to her – Mr. Audley. “I cannot think why Caroline would possibly doubt him – he is so very attached to me,” Lydia boasted. “Your Mr. Willoughby is very handsome, Georgie, but I think my Henry the finest man in the country! Oh Mary, if we could but find you such a beau!”
It occurred to Mary that her younger sister had only been so insufferable in her youth, particularly when the militia had camped in Meryton, because she had been encouraged by their mother to put herself forward, without any instruction on how to do so to best advantage – Lydia had been eager for attention without questioning whether it was to her benefit or her detriment, so long as it came from a handsome beau, and the more the better. Now that Lydia had fixed all her efforts on a single gentleman – who by all accounts appeared to return her feelings – rather than misdirecting her desire for masculine attention at every man who came her way, Lydia’s company was vastly more tolerable, and almost quite proper.
With Lydia pining after only one gentleman, rather than an entire county, Mary was able to bear her sister’s hopes for herself with perfect equanimity. Georgiana, equally contented by her own apparent conquest, was quick to agree. “Could you ever have imagined such a thing, Sister? How miserable we all were, little more than a month ago, and yet now, so perfectly happy! We had thought the worst of Mr. Audley, but I believe he is truly attached to Lydia, and dear Mr. Willoughby is so very wonderful. But what of you, Mary?”
Mary blush
ed – she was aware that Rebecca had written to Kate of her troubles with Mr. Elton, and Kate had informed her other sisters. It was kindly meant, she knew, but embarrassing nonetheless. And yet, she was touched that they should have such a care for her, and such high hopes. The esteem and admiration of so many friends and relations was by far the biggest change in her life, these last six months or more. She could only wonder if she was too settled in her ways, after a lifetime of growing up lost in the middle at Longbourn, hearing of her own insufficiency for long enough to believe in it.
She knew she would never have the degree of accomplishment of Georgiana, nor the level of confidence that Lydia had mastered without ever quite having merited it. But perhaps, if she had learned anything from her friendship with Rebecca, and her growing intimacy with the other young ladies here at Rosings, she may begin to accept that she was indeed worthy of being valued. But that she could undergo such a change so far as to capture the interest of an eligible gentleman still strained credulity in her mind; with such limited options in Kent, and such superior companions, she did not believe it likely to occur.
She knew not how to express such thoughts to her sisters, and only replied, “You have received the attentions of the two finest gentlemen in the county. That leaves me with a rather narrow selection, not that I would complain. But with only three unattached gentlemen in the area, I am unlikely to be as fortunate as you, anytime soon. Two of them, I suspect, are attached to Harriet already, and the other one is quite inscrutable!”
“There may be two such gentlemen attached to Harriet,” Lydia observed, “but she is only one girl, you know. It is like Caroline told me, she cannot marry them both! Anyhow, Lady Catherine would never allow a match with either of them, or with anyone less than a prince, when she is so possessive of her new daughter. You might think yourself quite safe in the prospect of their regard, should you strive for it.”