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

confounding!
    His obvious affection for his own sister, who bent the will of others to her liking, seemed to prove the truth of his words. Miss Hardcastle could not be termed pious, and she certainly was not given to reflection and contemplation. Why, she had manipulated Mr. Philips with her femininity and been quite pleased with herself. Was not that sinful behavior?
    Yet Mr. Hardcastle adored her.
    Mary opened the nearest book to the place she had marked earlier.
    “The men will complain of your reserve. They will assure you that a franker behavior would make you more amiable. But, trust me, they are not sincere when they tell you so. I acknowledge that on some occasions it might render you more agreeable as companions, but it would make you less amiable as women; an important distinction, which many of your sex are unaware of.”
    There was the warning, plain as ink on paper.
    Gentlemen lied, and they sullied the reputations of young women.
    Was Mr. Hardcastle another Mr. Wickham, a tempter?
    Even the logical portion of Mary’s mind told her that this could not be the case. Mr. Hardcastle had apparently approved of her before Mr. Darcy’s dowry had come to be common knowledge.
    But this was not Mary’s worst problem. His assessment of her character tore at her soul.
    If Mr. Hardcastle was accurate in his observation that Mary displayed her intelligence and accomplishments immodestly, then she had failed herself and her family in the most horrific manner possible.
    Mary slammed that book closed as well and buried her face in her palms. Everything contradicted everything else, and she simply did not know what to do.

    Against her better judgment, Mary went to her mother’s bedchamber and tapped at the door.
    “Who is there?” Mrs. Bennet cried as if she feared the house might have been overtaken by barbarians.
    “It is me, Mama,” Mary said with a sigh.
    “Mary? Do come inside, and stop that infernal tapping. It is ever so taxing on my poor nerves.”
    Mary rolled her eyes, regretting her decision to seek her mother’s counsel, but she entered anyway.
    Mrs. Bennet reclined on the bed in a lacy white gown and cap. Encircled by pillows, she all but disappeared amid the bed linens. She raised sharp blue eyes to her daughter and took in her disheveled appearance and red-rimmed eyes.
    “Is something the matter, Mary?” she asked, her voice softer.
    At her mother’s unexpected concern, tears threatened to spill down Mary’s cheeks.
    “What is it, my dear?” Mrs. Bennet asked, truly concerned.
    Mary edged closer to the bed and sat gently upon it. “Ever since Mr. Darcy made his offer of a dowry, I have felt unsettled. I have never before had suitors, and I fear that I might make a mistake. I do not want to disappoint you, Mama.”
    Or myself , she added internally.
    Mrs. Bennet laid a consoling hand on Mary’s arm. Surprised at the uncharacteristically maternal gesture, Mary stared mutely at her mother’s fingertips.
    “You think far too much,” Mrs. Bennet declared. “I can see that you have turned this matter over and over in your poor mind. Too much thinking results in nothing but damage. Why, your eyes are red and your skin is sallow. If you ponder this much longer, you will be quite as homely as Charlotte Lucas.”
    Mary did not bother reminding her mother that homely Charlotte had lately married.
    They sat in silence as Mrs. Bennet continued to stroke her arm.
    “Shall I tell you what to think?” Mrs. Bennet asked at length.
    For once, Mary thought it might be nice to hear her mother’s advice. She nodded.
    “I too have given the matter of your dowry a great deal of thought, my dear, and I believe that Mr. Randall is the prize you must seek.”
    “Mr. Randall?” Mary repeated in surprise.
    “Yes, Mr. George Randall. He is the perfect gentleman. As he is the only son of a widower, you will have no mother-in-law to trouble you. And he is the heir to the large estate of Ashworth.”
    Mrs. Bennet