Mary Bennet: A Novella in the Personages of Pride & Prejudice Collection by Jennifer Becton Read Free Book Online

of Verona ?” Mary asked, drawing confidence from his quotation. “Or your sister’s behavior? I can find nothing suitable to say on the latter subject.”
    “Oh!” Miss Hardcastle said with a laugh. “Do not take his position.”
    “You are right, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Hardcastle said, ignoring his sister. “Nothing can be said in her defense. She will never cease breaking with tradition, and that is why I adore her.”
    “That cannot be true,” Mary said, suddenly passionate. “I have read my whole life that a woman is to show restraint and decorum. One who breaks with tradition shows neither.”
    “Oh, come, Mary! You cannot mean that!” Miss Hardcastle said with a mixture of surprise and confusion.
    Mary shifted to face Miss Hardcastle, but it was Mr. Hardcastle who spoke next.
    “Indeed, I must agree with my sister, for you, Miss Bennet, strike me as a less-than-traditional woman.”
    Mary whirled back to Mr. Hardcastle. It was as if he had been able to read her confusion, see her attraction to him, and confirm that she was not of strong moral character. Just as all those sermons had warned her.
    Mary’s horror must have been evident on her face, for he quickly added, “Moreover, it is a quality I greatly admire.”
    “You accuse me of being an immodest, outspoken woman?” Mary demanded. “And you claim to admire those qualities?”
    Mr. Hardcastle’s expression now reflected horror as well. His eyes widened in supplication.
    “No, indeed,” he said, taking a step forward, palms up. “I do apologize for my poor word choice. I would never accuse you of being immodest, Miss Bennet, but you are far from being the ignorant female that society demands. I fear your comments on literature reveal you to be a woman of learning.”
    Mary’s lips dropped open as she absorbed his meaning.
    Every book on the subject of women’s conduct exhorted her sex to be genteel, restrained, pious, and to appear less mentally vigorous than their male counterparts. A lady must be informed and well read, but she must not reveal it.
    Furthermore, gentlemen desired a young woman to display modesty and reserve, not knowledge.
    According to those same texts, any man who claimed otherwise—to desire directness in a young lady—was insincere.
    Mary’s lips drew down in a frown and creases formed in her forehead.
    “Perhaps frankness may render a lady more agreeable at first,” she said, paraphrasing, “but it will surely make her less amiable as a woman.”
    “Piffle!” Miss Hardcastle exclaimed. “I would wager my life that those sentiments were first expressed by a man.”
    “Dr. John Gregory, in fact, said something very like that,” Mr. Hardcastle said. “And I would readily dispute him. No gentleman wants a wife who pretends to be other than precisely who she is.”
    “Everything I have read disputes that claim, sir,” Mary objected, her voice faltering slightly. “They declare any gentleman who professes otherwise to be a liar.”
    Mary did not know what response she expected from Mr. Hardcastle, but it certainly was not what she received.
    He leaned closer, eyes very serious, filling her field of vision almost entirely.
    “I assure you, Miss Bennet,” he whispered for her ears alone, “that I am no liar. I like you just as you are.”
    For the barest moment, Mary’s body ceased to function. The beat of her heart, the intake of her breath, the functioning of her mind: everything stopped and then rushed back ruthlessly, all at once. Her dry lips parted, but she continued to meet his eyes.
    Mr. Hardcastle righted himself, stepped back, and looked toward his sister, a transition for which Mary felt inordinately grateful.
    “Your usurped invitation has been given,” Mr. Hardcastle said to her, his tone returning to its former lightness. “Are you quite finished interrupting my day?”
    “Yes, quite,” Miss Hardcastle trilled before flinging her arms around her brother, who stood frozen at the ebullient