This time Ellen laughed outright. “Gracious me, no! Everyone in Longbourn and Meryton knows that while Mary Bennet is no great beauty, she can always be counted on to be truthful, polite, and thoughtful. Why—just the other day when she called to visit, I was scrubbing the front steps and told her to go on in, but she said she wouldn’t dream of putting her dirty boots where I had just washed and would walk around to the back. Now that’s fine manners to my mind. But then, she is a gentleman’s daughter after all.”
Ellen, done with setting the tea things out, began to leave, but Amelia called her back.
“When was that, Ellen—that day you mentioned when Miss Bennet came by?”
“A couple days back. It was that sunny, warm day when you and Mr. Phillip Yarby had your wine and cake out in the back. But whatever she come for, she didn’t stay long. Just a minute or so later, seems like, she rushed right out of the garden—hardly even said goodbye.”
Amelia and Robert exchanged a stunned look.
“She rushed out, you say?” Amelia asked.
“Indeed, ma’am. Like the devil were after her, come to think of it. I thought she had forgot something back at Longbourn. But she did not return.”
“That will be all, Ellen, thank you,” Amelia said. When they were alone, she said, “Oh no. Robert, do you recall what we were talking about that afternoon?”
“I do—all too well. The three of us were making sport of Kitty’s attempts to spend time alone with me with her faux Bible questions. You don’t…you don’t think Mary heard that, do you? And she is upset with us for laughing at her sister?”
“No, Robert, I think it is far worse than that. I believe Mary heard just part of our conversation and believed we were making fun of her. For she has also brought her questions about scripture to you several times, has she not?”
“Yes, but I welcome talks with Mary—they are lively and interesting. I admire the way her mind works.” He sat heavily at the table. “So, you think she overheard some of our comments but did not stay long enough to realize we spoke of Kitty?”
“It must be. For I know, if I had been eavesdropping and heard something so…well, cruel— for there is no other word for it—I would have been utterly devastated to learn people I counted as friends were laughing at me, and I should have fled at once. And Ellen just said she had barely gone around back before she returned and departed! Oh, that must be why she has said such terrible lies about us! She is trying to salvage her dignity.”
Mr. Yarby sighed. “I agree it makes sense. She must hope that, by telling these tales, Mr. Bennet will get rid of us both. For who could bear to be around people she thought were her friends, after believing them possible of such hateful words? I feel utterly wretched to even imagine we may have hurt her feelings.”
“I must write her at Pemberley at once,” Amelia announced. “I shall explain everything, apologize for making sport of Kitty, and assure Mary that our affection for her is steadfast and true.”
“And what of Mr. Bennet?”
“First, I must make things right with Mary. Only then can there be a chance for Eugene and me to be happy.”
Chapter 32
Finally, nearly two weeks after her arrival, Mary left her room more often and began to participate in the daily routine of Pemberley though she was still rather quiet and obviously low in spirits. One day, she and Georgiana were in the morning room after breakfast. Both were longing for a brisk walk, but it had rained every day for the past week, and it was simply too soggy, so they occupied their time with needlework while waiting for Lizzy, who was having her regular morning conference with the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds.
The door opened and both looked up to see a footman enter, bearing a silver salver upon which sat a thick envelope. He walked up to Mary, bowed, and extended the tray to her. She saw her name written on the envelope and picked it up, curious. Expecting a letter from her father or perhaps Kitty, she did not recognize the handwriting at first. Then she gasped and dropped the folded paper in her lap as if it had burned her.
“Mary, is something amiss?” asked Georgiana, pausing in her work. “Who is your letter from?”
Mary’s heart was pounding so hard she was certain Georgiana could hear it. She took a deep breath and said in a strangled voice, “It is from Mrs. Withers.”
“It may bear good news. Perhaps she has an explanation for what you overheard. It is still possible you were mistaken…is it not?” Georgiana asked gently.
Mary sprang up from her chair and went to the fireplace where she hesitated only a moment before throwing the missive in the flames. She stood there, fists tightly clenched, watching it burn. Then she turned to Georgiana with a fierce expression.
“I can have no interest in anything she will have written! And I shall treat any further correspondence from her in the exact same manner.”
She returned to her seat and picked up her needlework, but discovered her eyes were so tear-filled, she could not see what she was doing.
“Pray excuse me, Georgiana,” she muttered, laying it aside and rising. “I wish to return to my room.”
Before Georgiana could reply, Mary rushed out. Georgiana quickly went to the fireplace to see if any of the letter could be salvaged, but found only ash.
***
Two days later, the weather had turned so lovely that Georgiana persuaded Mary to go for a walk in the gardens though the grounds were still damp. After an hour or so of rambling on the gravel paths around the estate, and remaining mostly silent, they came to a bench by the pond and sat to rest.
Georgiana studied Mary for a time. Finally, she spoke.
