Mary Bennet: A Novella in the Personages of Pride & Prejudice Collection (4 page)

“But that is not the best bit!” Mrs. Bennet proclaimed. “You too, Mary, will benefit from Lizzie’s fortuitous marriage. Mr. Darcy shall provide you with a dowry of equal measure to Kitty’s!”

The blood drained from Mary’s extremities in an alarming rush, and she nearly dropped the teacup she held.

“A large dowry?” Mary repeated. “Ten thousand pounds?”

That sum exceeded her own father’s annual income by a factor of five!

“Why!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “With this additional lure, you shall not have to settle for a lowly law clerk!”

Mary blinked hard and deposited her teacup and saucer on the first available surface. She had hardly gotten acquainted with the idea of Mr. Hardcastle as a suitor, and now her mother was removing him from consideration.

And she did like Mr. Hardcastle.

“But—”

“Only think of it, Mary! Now you may attain a landed gentleman. Or perhaps you may gain a gentleman of title.” She waved a hand as if to erase her words. “No, not a title. That is too much for a girl with your looks. Yet you will have so many prospects. We must announce that you have money, and the gentlemen shall arrive in droves.”

Suddenly too weak to support her own weight, Mary dropped to the nearest chair. She cared nothing for property, houses, or titles. She had liked Mr. Hardcastle, the lowly law clerk.

“Well, what have you to say, dear girl?” her mother asked, eyes bright as she surveyed her middle daughter over the letter she still held.

“I— I—” Mary stuttered.

“Never fear, my dear! I will take care of every detail. I shall write to your aunt immediately. This cannot keep until the morrow. We must spread the word even now!”

“But Mr. Hardcastle?” Mary managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mrs. Bennet folded the letter, placed it on the table, and picked up her tea.

“Mr. Hardcastle indeed!” she sniffed with newfound disdain in her voice. “Who is Mr. Hardcastle? I have already quite forgotten him.”

Mary slumped farther down in the chair. Mrs. Bennet’s elated remarks droned in the background, but Mary could not help thinking that perhaps she did not want to forget Mr. Hardcastle as quickly as her mother had.

Five

Not half an hour later, Mary hovered in the doorway of her father’s study. Overwhelmed by the changes she had experienced in one short morning, she found that her world had shifted yet again with the announcement of Mr. Darcy’s dowry. Mary simply could not grasp it all.

Upon noticing his daughter’s uncharacteristic behavior, Mr. Bennet laid his book aside.

“Child, do come here,” he beckoned from behind his large, cluttered desk. “You have heard, I can see, of Mr. Darcy’s generous offer.”

Mary padded into her father’s sacred chamber and stood before him clutching at her skirt.

“Yes, Papa,” she said. “I confess it has left me feeling rather bewildered.”

“Your mother is no doubt already sounding the alert.”

Mary nodded. “She has written to Aunt Philips, and the letter is
en route
even now.” She paused, considering her words carefully. “I cannot help but think that her announcement of my newfound wealth is…impetuous.”

“Indeed.” Mr. Bennet laughed lightly. “Your mother is nothing if not impetuous. I fear little could be done to prevent her from spreading such news as this. We may as well allow her to bask in the glory of Mr. Darcy’s generosity.”

Mary grimaced. Her father, though calm and even-tempered, valued his peace too highly.

Still, he was probably correct. Nothing—not even an injunction from God himself—could have prevented Mrs. Bennet from displaying her good fortune, but that did not justify such a public announcement.

“But, Papa, are we not exhorted to avoid boasting? I have read a great deal on this subject.”

Mr. Bennet offered Mary a small smile and then gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Sit yourself down, my dear.”

Mary’s lips parted in surprise, and she took the proffered seat with reverence she usually reserved for a church pew. Many a time had she passed this very door to find Elizabeth so situated and in quiet conversation with their father, but rare were the times when Mary had occupied this place. She ran a hand along the wooden arm of the chair, determined to make the most of the opportunity.

“Your mother has many faults,” Mr. Bennet said. “But she believes herself to be doing right by you.”

“I know, Papa.”

Mrs. Bennet always had the best of intentions, but they did not always produce the corresponding results. Lydia was testament to that fact.

“Mr. Darcy’s dowry has given you a certain freedom,” Mr. Bennet continued. “Limited options were previously available to you.”

Mary understood what her father had been kind enough to leave unsaid. She was plain and awkward, and until now, she had no dowry. Therefore, she possessed none of the qualities that attracted gentlemen. A dowry made Mary Bennet desirable.

Her heart clenched at that thought. She did not want to be taken as a liability. She wanted her future husband to like her more than her money.

“It is said that money is the root of all evil,” Mary stated, finally voicing her fear in the only way she could. “Will it not attract gentlemen with mercenary motives?”

Mr. Bennet’s eyes narrowed briefly as he considered his middle daughter. “You fear that anyone who courts you would only be pursuing Mr. Darcy’s money and thus be evil?”

Mary nodded, looking away from her father’s assessing gaze.

“I believe you have been done a disservice, child,” he said, his gray-tinged eyebrows drawn down in contemplation. “You have been allowed to disappear into your studies too long without guidance. You have acquired a great deal of information, but you lack the guidance to help you develop that knowledge into true wisdom.”

Mary met his frown. “I do not take your meaning. I have studied and gained all the proper accomplishments. I am aware of the ways of the world. I simply do not know if I approve of them.”

“We have failed to teach you what it is to live in a time and place such as ours. Now that you are the only of our offspring at home, you shall have the benefit of all that you lacked as a child. Listen well, for here is the first lesson I have to teach you.”

Mary nodded, eager to hear the wisdom of her father.

“You have misunderstood the verse you summarized earlier. The
love
of money is the root of all evil, not money itself. Mr. Darcy’s money has the potential to make you secure for the rest of your days, dear girl. Consider what may become of you after your mother and I expire. The house is entailed upon your cousin Mr. Collins, and your mother will be forced upon one of your sisters. If you remain unmarried, you shall become their dependent as well.”

“Spinsters who seek refuge in the homes of relatives become little more than servants.”

Mary had not the least wish to be seen and yet unnoticed in one of her sister’s households.

“For good or ill,” Mr. Bennet said, “money buys marriage, which brings security, and you must not discount or fear that. We must accept reality for what it is. A wealthy man rarely marries a poor woman, for he must shore up his wealth. And a landed gentleman must not be allowed to consider a poor woman, for he has many laborers to support. He may lose his family’s living altogether. Not all who seek your fortune are evil. A gentleman will use your fortune for good, and he will not neglect his duty to care for you. Some—those who are poor, who gamble, or who labor in trade—may seek you for nefarious reasons. You must be wary.”

Mr. Hardcastle’s visage leapt into Mary’s mind, and she dismissed it quickly. Her father was correct. No sensible woman bound herself to a tradesman if she could possibly help it, no matter what sentiments he elicited in her heart.

A sensible woman did not allow emotion to guide her, and Mary was nothing if not a sensible woman.

“Thanks to your mother’s helpful dissemination of information, suitors will come. Some will be mercenary and full of avarice, and some will have more prudent motives.” Here, Mr. Bennet paused and gave Mary a meaningful look. “You and Kitty have an advantage over your sisters, for Mr. Darcy’s dowry frees you. You shall have your pick of the gentlemen now, child. But choose wisely which of them is worthy of you.”

Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair and regarded Mary with an artless expression.

“Do you comprehend me, Mary?” he asked. “Choose for yourself whom you will wed.”

“I—I believe I understand, Papa,” she said. He had said plainly that she ought to question the motives of her suitors, but something beyond the literal hid in his words, something that eluded her.

Again, Mr. Hardcastle leapt to mind, and Mary blushed. Feeling foolish for allowing herself to think upon him, Mary rose, exited her father’s study, and took refuge in her bedchamber, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Her father told her to accept reality as it was, and she must do that.

She must face the truth.

Mr. Hardcastle was not the gentleman for her.

Six

Once the news of Mary’s dowry spread, suitors appeared. Although Mrs. Bennet’s prediction about the size of the horde of gentleman was greatly overestimated, they were indeed drawn by the lure of money.

At first, Mary felt the absurdity of the situation with particular keenness.

She could not ignore the fact that she had been flung upon the marriage market as a liability, something to be taken only because the financial incentive proved attractive enough.

But as the days passed, Mary seemed to rise in the esteem of Meryton society in general. She could not prevent herself from feeling flattered. Moreover, her mother’s joy could not be contained within the walls of Longbourn.

Each morning, Mary sat with her mother in Mrs. Philips’s sitting room and listened as Mrs. Bennet discussed her marital prospects. This morning, Miss Hardcastle had joined them.

Though Mary had begun to enjoy these mornings, she could not decide how to behave in Miss Hardcastle’s presence. Before the change in her financial circumstances, Mr. Hardcastle had been the focus of Mrs. Bennet’s matchmaking, and now he was no longer an option.

Miss Hardcastle must be aware of this fact, though Mary’s aunt and mother seemed to have forgotten it. They continued to discuss gentlemen without regard for the young woman whose brother had been removed from consideration.

For her part, Miss Hardcastle appeared unconcerned. She read quietly as the other women talked around her.

“My dear,” Mrs. Bennet crooned to her daughter, “I knew one day you would shine like your sisters! Finally,
this
is your time. Many a mother has offered up her son as a potential match, but I am careful. I shall only allow the best to pursue you.”

“I should not feel half so flattered as I do,” Mary mused aloud. “Mere days ago these gentlemen were strangers to me, and I have met none of them in person.”

“Pooh!” Mrs. Bennet said. “Why must you be so serious, Mary? Can you not enjoy being admired for the first time in your life?”

“Indeed, child,” Mrs. Philips said. “Your mother will not pack you off to the first suitor who steps through the door. We shall find the proper gentleman.”

Mary glanced guiltily at Miss Hardcastle, who looked up from her book long enough to offer her a small smile.

“How am I to know the proper gentleman unless I first make his acquaintance?” Mary asked her mother.

“Oh!” Mrs. Bennet huffed, exhaling so forcefully that the curls around her face fluttered in the breeze. “You see, Sister! You see what I must endure. Mary is ever taxing my nerves and ruining anything that is amusing.”

“No, Mary is quite correct,” Mrs. Philips said with a terrifying gleam in her eyes. “Mary ought to meet her suitors.”

Sensing her sister’s devilish intent, Mrs. Bennet leaned forward, causing deep creases in her gown that Hill would be required to remove later.

“Let us have a small dinner party in Mary’s honor,” Mrs. Philips proposed.

Mary inhaled sharply as emotions—elation, fear, longing, regret—swelled all at once within her.

To be the guest of honor at a dinner party—to be the center of attention, to be seen—that was more than she had ever dreamed.

“A party!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, giggling. “I am ever in favor of a party. Mary, what say you?”

Before Mary could respond, her aunt spoke again.

“And of course, it would also serve to introduce Mr. and Miss Hardcastle to the neighborhood at large. Perhaps we might make three matches!”

Three matches? They now intended to match Mr. Hardcastle with someone else?

What a terrible idea!

“What an excellent idea!” Mrs. Bennet proclaimed. “We shall invite only those who are deemed acceptable suitors.” She turned to Miss Hardcastle as though she were one of her royal subjects. “But do not fear, Miss Hardcastle. After Mary has made her selection of gentleman, there shall be more than enough left over for you.”