He went on the say, “You are a very fine writer. I was able to find your address from your publisher. I hope you don’t mind that he gave it to me. He was a little apprehensive about giving it out to a stranger; but I told him that I was an old family friend.”
“You are indeed a family friend,” I told him. “You look very smart in your breeches and blue coat. May I ask what you do for a living?”
“I am an articled clerk at a solicitors’ office.”
“Really? How grand for you! You’ve really come a long way from being a chimney sweep.”
He replied, “It would never have happened without you teaching me how to read and write.”
“Thank you. That’s a sweet thing to say,” I answered.
He insisted upon taking me out to lunch; so, I took the pieces of newspaper out of my curls, tucked my hair into a bonnet, and put a shawl around my shoulder. There was a tea shop nearby, so we would not have to go far. We walked by the rag and bone shop where they sold rags that could be turned into paper and bones they could be made into manure. The costermongers were plying their wares in wheelbarrows as we passed. It was difficult to catch our breath because of the heavy pollution in the fog.
We shared a wonderful lunch and he certainly brightened my day. He asked if I had written any more books and I told him that I was writing my memoirs. He told me that he would like to read them and help get them published. To which I replied that that nobody would be interested in what I had to say.
He protested and said, “That’s not true. Many people would be interested in you because of Pride and Prejudice.”
“I am surprised to learn that you know about that book,” I told him.
He answered, “Oh, yes. You are a most fascinating character in it. You are the forgotten sister.”
I told him, “That would make a good title: The Forgotten Sister: A Sequel to Pride and Prejudice.
He asked if he could read what I written about my life so far and I readily allowed him to see my story. We spent a delightful afternoon together, reliving old times at Pemberley. I was so sorry to see him leave. He promised to visit again. I very much look forward to that day.
11th of November 1840
Hello. My name is Thomas Browne and I am a dear friend of Miss Mary Bennet. I owe her my life because without her, I would probably be dead in the streets, especially after my feet were terribly burnt when I was a chimney sweep. She insisted that I stay at Pemberley where she taught me to read and write, got me promoted to head footman, and sent me on my way in the world, prepared to seek my fortune. I loved her like a mother; especially since I never knew my own. I am so very sorry to write today that my dear friend Mary is dreadfully ill, and I fear she may not survive. I came to visit her, as I am wont to do every Saturday, and became alarmed when she didn’t answer the door. I required the assistance of her landlord to gain entry. Once inside, I was shocked to discover her lying on the floor, helpless. I was able to help her rise, and she told me that she had fallen two days ago and had been lying there on the floor ever since. I helped her to a chair and saw that she was covered in bruises from the fall. I wrapped a quilt around her and made her a cup of tea; then briefly left to find an apothecary. Upon examining her, he said that her right hip had a festering wound as a result of the fall. He asked if I could stay with her for the next few days and told me to contact him if her infection worsened. I didn’t have to be back at my place of employment until Monday morning, so I readily agreed to nursing her. That night I watched her sleeping and felt increasingly alarmed: she tossed and turned, and her cheeks were beet red and her forehead felt clammy and hot. She seemed lost in a heavy stupor. I attempted to administer the cordials the apothecary prescribed, but she didn’t have the strength to eat or drink anything. She was delirious and wild, calling out for her sister, Elizabeth. How I wished her sister were alive so she could comfort poor Mary. All she had in the world was me, and I knew that was cold comfort. I felt so sad that the poor dear had been alone, without heat or food, for so long after her terrible fall. I was filled with regret. I should have insisted that she come live with me, so this would never have happened. She deserved so much more. My heart is broken.
14th of November 1840
After three days, Mary’s life is still in danger. I went in search of the apothecary again and, upon examining her, he concluded that she has brain fever. He made a small incision in her arm and held a bowl to catch the blood draining out. It took all my courage to fight off the dizziness I felt. I didn’t want him having two patients to worry about. Next, he took out a jar of horrible looking black insects.
“Are those leeches?” I asked.
“Yes. They will suck the putrid blood out of her.”
It was dreadful to view those nasty insects feeding on dear Mary’s arms. She looks dreadfully ashen. It is difficult to get that vision out of my mind.
Her journal has been my sole companion as I have tended to her. I have read it again and again. My heart is filled with such gratitude when I think of how lucky I have been to have such a kind, sweet, and intelligent lady as Mary Bennet to care about me and help me get settled and gainfully employed. If she does not survive this ordeal, I vow to publish this journal—her life story—so that she will never be forgotten.
After reading about the French gendarme who attended to her after her sister and brother-in-law died, I made inquiries at the police station where he was employed. I wrote to him and told him how dreadfully ill Mary is and that I hope he would come visit her. Maybe if she saw him, it might give her the encouragement to keep fighting for her life. I was relieved at his response: he wrote back, promising to come at once.
21st of November 1840
I am feeling much stronger this morning and shall attempt to continue writing in my diary. Thomas Browne was such a dear to record my progress whilst I was bedridden. He is just like a son to me and I love him dearly. I was very surprised when I opened my eyes and saw Jan Baptiste, as I’m sure you may imagine. I thought I was having a dream. I never expected to see him again after he failed to write to me after I left France. One of the first things I asked him was why he had not answered my letters. He insisted that he did write letters, but they must have gotten lost in the mail. I was very surprised when he told me that Thomas had sent for him, but I’m glad he did. God bless him. I thanked Thomas and told him that he saved my life and I shall be forever in his debt. I also told him that he needed to get back to his place of employment lest he be fired. Jan Baptiste promised him that he would take care of me now. Who would have thought that I’d have two handsome men in my life wanting to look after a little church mouse like me? I am feeling very blessed today.
24th of November 1840
As I gain strength, I am increasingly able leave the house and go on short walks with Jan. Today is an unusually warm day for late November, so Jan and I went for a walk to Hyde Park. Tomorrow, we are planning to go to the Royal Academy to look at their latest exhibit. Jan takes my arm as we stroll and I’m becoming more and more attracted to him. It seems as if we are on holiday together. It’s very romantic. Who would have thought that I’d have such feelings at my age? One’s never too old to fall in love; but I mustn’t get my hopes up. Maybe he’s just being kind to an old friend?
1st of January 1841
Dear Reader: You may find this hard to believe—I can scarcely believe it myself—but I am now a married woman! Yes; that’s correct: I am a forty-five-year-old woman who is married for the first time. Today is the first day of a new year and I am off to seek my fortune in another country. My dear friends, Thomas Browne and Jan Baptiste Duvalier, nursed me back to health. Now that I have recovered from my dreadful illness, I am ready to cross the English Channel with him. At one time, I thought I’d be crossing the Atlantic Ocean and going to Virginia with a dashing young American. Now, I’m starting my life anew with a fifty-year-old French policeman and living in the city of light.
Wouldn’t mama be surprised and relieved that I am finally
married?! I was the plain one in the family who needed to work hard for knowledge and accomplishments. I think most middle children do have to work harder to be noticed. I was the awkward one who played the piano too long at parties; whose choice of “Irish airs” embarrassed those in attendance. Jane Austen wrote that I had “neither genius nor taste” and had a “pedantic air and conceited manner.” She would not have been able to pen those hurtful words had my father not conveyed them to his friend; who afterwards told his daughter. It makes me feel very betrayed by my father, I’m sorry to say.
I am happy to leave this country that only has sad memories for me. The only person I’ll miss is my young friend, Thomas Browne. I told him that he’s always welcome to come see me in Paris. When he marries and has children, I would love to meet them. He saved my life and I shall forever be in his debt.
Who knows what tomorrow may hold? All I know is that I survived, when everyone else did not. My life’s work is not yet done. There may be more books to write and more chimney sweeps to save. My husband may not have ten thousand a year, but he is my Mr. Darcy.
###
Thank you for reading The Forgotten Sister: A Sequel to Pride and Prejudice. If you liked what you read, would you please rate our book at the store where you purchased it? Thank you!
Do you want to read more about Pride and Prejudice? If so, please check out my literary essay, Marriage in Pride and Prejudice, that I wrote in graduate school.
Other Books by Louise Hathaway:
Death Among the Stacks: The Body in the Law Library
The Tustin Chronicles: A Detective Santy Mystery
The Murder at the Abbey: A Detective Santy Mystery
Honeymoon in Savannah: A Detective Santy Mystery
The Body on Ortega Highway: A Detective Santy Mystery
England in the Footsteps of its Literary Giants
Chasing My Roots: New World Finally Meets Old World
Honeymoon in New Orleans
The Missing Bachelor Farmer: A Nancy Keene Mystery
The Ghost in the Plantation: A Nancy Keene Mystery
The Buried Treasure on Route 66: A Nancy Keene Mystery
The Stolen Mask: A Nancy Keene Mystery
The Stolen Masterpiece: A Nancy Keene Mystery
Watchin’ the Detective: A Mystery Dinner Romance
Tripping Back to the 60s
The Salacious Scribes Mystery
Fighting Demons: A New Orleans Mystery
Deadly Promises: A New Orleans Mystery
50 Shades of Dead: A New Orleans Mystery
Travelers in Time Aboard the California Zephyr
Planning a Vacation? Why Not Chicago? (free)
Destination Europe: The Summer the World Changed
These titles are literary essays:
The Oedipus Complex in D.H. Lawrence’s Sons and Lovers
Nags, Sluts, and a Deepbreasted Soulmate from the Shining City: The
Women in Thomas Wolfe’s The Web and The Rock
Please visit our blog at: http://louisehathaway.blogspot.com
About Louise Hathaway:
https://bit.ly/2tXR0l0
The Forgotten Sister Page 6