“Mary, forgive me, but I must speak my mind. I am not even sure why I think this, but I have a very strong feeling that your unhappiness with the situation about Mr. Yarby and Mrs. Withers is not entirely about this plot to trap Mr. Bennet in a marriage. Is there, perhaps another reason you ran away from Longbourn and continue to be so melancholy? Could it be…something that impacts you more than your father?”
Mary’s lower lip trembled a moment, then she bent over, covered her face and began to sob. “Oh, Georgiana, I lied—I lied about everything! There is no plot, there never was. Amelia and Mr. Yarby are not the wicked, conniving opportunists I painted them to be. Indeed, they are two of the kindest, most wonderful people I have ever known. And now I have ruined Papa’s chance of happiness forever! Oh, what have I done?” Her crying became so violent she could not continue speaking. She rocked back and forth in agonized weeping while Georgiana patted her back and waited.
When Mary finally gained control of her emotions, she required the use of not only her own handkerchief, but Georgiana’s as well. She sat, exhausted, with a numb expression.
“Can you explain why you lied about them?” Georgiana asked after a moment.
“I lied because my own pride was hurt. I did overhear them talking, but it was not about Papa; it was about me. They were…making fun of me,” Mary’s voice cracked, and she struggled to keep the tears from flowing again.
“Oh, that must have been very painful. But it is still not quite clear to me. Why should they make sport of you? If they are the kind and generous people you say they are, why would they behave in such a manner?”
“Because…” Mary’s voice faltered a moment before she continued in a rush, daring to say the words out loud for the first time, “Because I so desperately love Mr. Yarby, and they have found me out. I believe I have loved him from the first moment I saw him in Papa’s library when he came to interview for the living at Longbourn. And I thought, if he could appreciate my interest in the Bible, then he would know how smart I am and overlook my plain looks and fall in love with me too. So, every other week or so, I contrived to come up with scriptural passages that needed explanation and then visit him to discuss them. I…I so enjoyed our talks, and I naively thought he did, as well. But I was fooling myself. On that awful day, I walked towards the back of the parsonage and Mr. Yarby, his brother, and Amelia were there talking and I heard them.” Her voice became anguished again. “They saw my feeble plot to get closer to Mr. Yarby for what it was and they were laughing at me! They called me ‘pathetic.’ That is why I left Longbourn and came to Pemberley. How could I ever face them again? To see Amelia every day when she marries Papa, knowing she thought me a complete and utter fool? I could not bear it.”
Mary turned her face to Georgiana for the first time. “So, I lied. I fabricated the story of them trying to trap Papa into marriage and her not loving him. And then I fled here like the coward I am. I wanted my father to break with her and fire Yarby so they would be gone and my agony over—you see?”
Georgiana embraced Mary. Crying once more, Mary sank down, resting her head in her friend’s lap. “I am so ashamed. There can be no excuse for what I did. I always have done my best to be a good Christian woman; instead, my actions show me to be the most selfish, hateful creature possible.”
Georgiana stroked Mary’s hair. “But you can still make things right, can you not? You can write your father and tell him the truth before it is too late and he dismisses Mr. Yarby. Then, in time, the pain you feel now will fade, and you can show your face to them again—perhaps even rekindle the friendships of before.”
“Never! Such agonies of the spirit could never leave me!”
“Yes, they can and they will. Sit up, Mary, I wish to tell you a story.”
Mary sat up, sniffed, and gave Georgiana her attention.
“Some five years ago, I was persuaded to think myself in love. I was only fifteen—a child! What did I know of love? Yet I heard his flattery, his kind words of admiration and love, and I believed them. But this man—I can’t call him a gentleman—had an evil plan in mind. He asked me to elope with him when I was staying at Ramsgate with my paid companion, and I foolishly agreed. The elopement request alone should have been a sign to me that this was not an honorable romance, for who would want to marry in secret and in haste if the love was sincere enough to wait properly for the banns to be read? I have a considerable inheritance of my own, you see, and he wanted to get his hands on it. I was too young to realize his true motive was not my love but my money.”
Georgiana gave a small smile. “Fortunately, my brother arrived unexpectedly to visit me in Ramsgate, and I told him of the plot, else I might have found myself saddled in marriage to a man with little in the way of honor, kindness, or reputation. And not only was my heart broken, like yours, but I also suffered the most terrible bouts of shame and humiliation—how could I have been so stupid not to have seen him for the disreputable fortune hunter he was?” She shook her head in remembrance.
“It quite put me off the idea of romance, I can tell you. It is why, at twenty, I have not yet had a Season in London. But, Mary, I relate this story to assure you that, while I still may have an occasional pang of regret over my actions, the pain has faded far away. Time does heal all wounds, believe me.”
“But you were the victim of that sad story, Georgiana, while I…I am the perpetrator of mine! My behavior was reprehensible. I have acted against every moral code I grew up with—as a gentleman’s daughter, as a Bennet, and worst of all, as a Christian. How can I ever find forgiveness?”
“Does the Bible not say: And when ye stand praying, forgive, if ye have ought against any: that your Father also which is in Heaven may forgive you your trespasses?” Georgiana patted Mary’s hand. “If you can somehow find forgiveness for the hurtful things your friends said about you, then you will be forgiven for your lies. I do not say it will be easy, but there is a path if you will take it.”
“That is from the book of Mark, chapter eleven,” Mary murmured. “Oh, but Georgiana, my trespasses seem so very, very bad.”
The sun had gone behind some dark clouds. Georgiana looked up and frowned.
“It is chilly, and it looks as if it may rain again. Let us return to the house, shall we? We don’t have to talk about this further today. But I think you will see in time that you need to return to Longbourn and make things right.”
“I do not think I have the courage. I should much rather stay here and be the maiden aunt to Thomas and Lavinia. It seems safer.”
Georgiana laughed. “Oh, believe it, Mary, if you stay here, I shall make you endure the London Season next year with me. That daunting possibility alone might be enough to send you running back to Longbourn.”
Mary gave a small laugh and nodded. Linking arms, the two young women made their way back to the house. When they entered Pemberley, an exhausted Mary went to her room to rest. Georgiana went to find Elizabeth.
***
“I am all astonishment at your tale, Georgiana!” Elizabeth exclaimed when Georgiana finished relating all that she and Mary had discussed. “I should have realized there was more to my sister’s story. Now it makes sense why she has been so morose. I must speak to her at once and force her to rectify matters.”
“I would caution you against that, Lizzy. She is in such a fragile state of mind just now. In fact, I do not believe you should even let her know that you are aware of the whole story—not yet at any rate. It might force her to run away again—and where would she go? She might put herself in terrible danger.” Georgiana shook her head firmly. “No. I believe we should give her a few more days to come to her own conclusion over what she needs to do. In her heart she knows she must make amends.”
Elizabeth made a helpless gesture. “I still cannot fathom it all! For Mary to tell such falsehoods—that harm not only her friends, but our father too? It is inconceivable. Mary has never lied!”
Georgiana gave Elizabeth a sad smile. “But, Lizzy—Mary has never had her heart broken.”
Chapter 33
