“All broken hearts heal in time, Lizzy. We shall just give her love and attention, and eventually, things will come around right.”
“In the meantime, I should write to Papa and let him know we are glad he did not enter into an engagement with that Mrs. Withers. I did write that Mary had arrived safely, but I was reluctant to say anything about the recent events until I heard more details from my sister. But it is clear she is not going to say more—at least not to me.” She leaned over to blow out the candle on the nightstand. “Perhaps once I write to Papa, I shall have a clearer idea of how to help her.”
***
The next afternoon, Mary sat in her room, staring blankly out the window when she heard a knock at her door. Although she did not wish for any company, she called out, “Come in.” Perhaps it was just a maid bringing tea.
Instead, Georgiana entered, carrying Lavinia Jane. She smiled shyly at Mary and held the baby up.
“Miss Lavinia Jane is most displeased her auntie Mary has not been to the nursery to visit her yet on this visit,” she said in a teasing voice. “She insisted I bring her to you.” Georgiana walked over and set the baby firmly in Mary’s lap. “She has grown quite a bit since you were last here, has she not?” she asked as she pulled a chair over to the window seat.
“Indeed,” Mary murmured, offering a finger for her niece to grab. Lavinia promptly pulled it into her mouth, making Mary smile. She noted Lavinia was improving in looks. The pinched, angry face she recalled from before was gone, having filled out nicely. In fact, her overall appearance was plumper and healthy looking, and—heavens!—was that a dimple in her right cheek? It seemed her niece would be comely, after all.
“Are you feeling better, Mary?” Georgiana asked gently. “We are all dreadfully worried about your distress over the situation at Longbourn.”
“My heart is still so heavy, Georgiana,” Mary replied in a faltering voice.
“Well, of course—to learn that someone you considered a bosom friend should betray not only your father but you as well must be exceedingly painful. But can you not rejoice even a little in the fact that you made this discovery in time? Imagine the agony if the marriage had gone ahead only for your dear Papa to learn the truth too late. Then he would be trapped.”
“The truth…” Mary bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. “The truth is so painful. But so are the lies.”
Georgiana cocked her head. “What lies do you speak of? Do you mean those by Mrs. With—”
Mary broke in with a small sob. “I have always prided myself on being honest. I wish to always tell the truth.”
“Well, and so you have—to the betterment of the situation despite this initial sorrow that accompanies it. You will feel differently in time I expect.”
“I shall never forgive myself for ruining Papa’s chance at happiness.” Mary shook her head, then handed Lavinia back to Georgiana. “Will you please excuse me? I wish to lie down. I feel a headache coming on.”
“Of course. But please say that I can persuade you to come downstairs soon to join me in some duets on the pianoforte. I have purchased new music I have been most eager to try, and your sister refuses to attempt them. However, I know you would be able to play them with me.”
“Perhaps,” Mary whispered, studying her hands in her lap.
After waiting another moment, Georgiana squeezed Mary’s arm, shifted her niece onto her hip, and quietly slipped out of the room.
After returning Lavinia to the nursery, Georgiana went to her own room to think on her conversation with Mary.
Curious. Why does Mary say she cannot forgive herself? She has saved her father from a probable fortune hunter and a most imprudent marriage. That should make her feel pride—not shame. Unless there is more to the story. Could there be something Mary is not telling us? What could she have done that she thinks is so unforgivable?
Chapter 31
Amelia and Robert were in the parlor, quietly discussing the recent events and Mr. Bennet’s decision to halt all communication with her for now. They wanted privacy for their talk, and when Phillip went out for a walk, it seemed a good time. But even after more than an hour, they were no closer to understanding why Mary would have told her father such falsehoods.
“I still do not comprehend it, Robert—why would she wish to sever the relationship between Mr. Bennet and me? He led me to believe she was happy to hear of our attachment. And she even assured me of her approbation herself, saying she looked forward to turning the household management over to me! I was so happy and eager to be a guiding influence on her once Eugene and I were married.” She gave a start. “Could that be it? Is she jealous of me?”
“That does not seem like the Mary we know,” Robert replied. “She is always considerate and kind. Why, more than once I have seen her taking soup or freshly baked bread to a tenant who is ailing. And when I complimented her on it, she merely said that she felt blessed to be a blessing to others. Hateful acts are simply not in her character.”
“Perhaps we do not know her as well as we thought? Oh! I do not even have the ability to speak to her and try to straighten this out! I confess, Robert, I am quite vexed. I counted her as a dear friend—the first I made in this community. I know she has oft been lonely and that she feels unloved. Perhaps there is a broken heart in her past and she fears the same for her father? No, that cannot be it. She has never had a prior romance to my knowledge. Why, she has never even had a Season in London.”
Robert shook his head with a soft chuckle. “A season does not seem like something Mary would enjoy. And personally, I should certainly hate to see her go through that ordeal—be paraded at balls and assemblies just for the thought of securing a husband? I know it is common for young ladies, but how can there be a true meeting of the minds in such a short time? I could not choose a bride based just on flirtation and dancing. Mary is far too cerebral to form an attachment based solely on a few smiles, compliments, and turns around the ballroom.”
The door opened and Ellen walked in with a tray laden with a teapot, cups and saucers, and a plate of fresh scones. The sweet odor wafted over to Amelia and Robert as she set the tray down and began to arrange everything on the table.
“I agree,” Amelia continued. “Mary is the sort of girl who might not make a good initial impression, but rather, she is one who improves upon acquaintance. And yes, she certainly is not one to attempt to catch a man by flirting.”
Ellen gave a little giggle, then covered her mouth, lowered her eyes, and bobbed a curtsey. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Withers, Mr. Yarby. I did not mean to overhear, but I have known Miss Mary for many years, and nobody would ever call her a flirt.”
“That’s all right, Ellen,” Amelia said. “But please tell me—since you are better acquainted with her—have you ever known Mary to be the sort to spread false stories about anyone?”
