Mary looked around the room. Although Longbourn was filled with family and friends, she felt alone. She regretted not attending the funeral with Elizabeth and Kitty, for perhaps the words spoken would have given her strength.
All of her sisters seemed to be coping with their father’s death. Elizabeth sat with Charlotte Collins, conversing, Jane seemed a little strained, but continued to comfort Mrs. Bennet, and Kitty was engaged in an animated conversation with Lady Trafford. Mary was apart, and no one sought her out.
The men rejoined the women in the drawing room. Kitty gracefully detached herself from Lady Trafford and met her nephew, Mr. Withrow, next to the fire. He acted as if everything were normal, as if he had not searched her father’s things and then spoken falsehoods.
Kitty flirted with him, even touching his arm once, in a manner that made it appear as if it were accidental, though Mary knew it was not. Mr. Withrow was the sort of man who would like a girl like Kitty. Mary wondered what sort of man would like a girl like her. Of course, emotional sentiment had only a small part to play in marriage, so if Mary ever did marry, it did not matter whether the man she married liked her or not. And marriages always came with their own sets of problems and difficulties. She watched Mr. Collins and Charlotte. They seemed to tolerate each other well, but it was not a situation of ease. Her parents’ marriage had been much the same way. Most of the young ladies Mary knew sought for marriage as a way to complete or fulfill themselves. Yet that was not the purpose or effect of matrimony: one needed to find meaning elsewhere.
If she stayed with her mother, marriage or relying on her sisters were her only possible paths, and she would not even know how to begin seeking for marriage. It would be better to focus on something she could obtain with certainty: a broader education. The thought of venturing out on her own frightened her a little, but today she had confronted a thief. Surely she could do this as well.
Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth stood nearby, so Mary rose from her chair and joined them.
After a minute or two of inconsequential conversation, Mary decided to broach her real purpose.
“Mr. Darcy, how well do you know Lady Trafford and Mr. Withrow?”
“Lady Trafford and her late husband were friends with my parents. I saw quite a bit of her during my youth, and I spent ample time with her son. I know Withrow as well.”
“I see,” said Mary. “Lady Trafford has offered that I could come stay with her and take lessons in French and drawing.”
Darcy raised his eyebrows. “That is very generous of her.”
“Before I accept, I wanted to ask your opinion on Lady Trafford’s character. As well as Mr. Withrow’s.”
“No harm would befall you at Castle Durrington. They are trustworthy and reputable in all their dealings.” He paused. “She can be a bit unusual at times, but she is a good woman. If you want to go, I can see no reason why you should not.”
“Thank you,” said Mary, reassured by his words. “What about Mr. Withrow?”
“He is a respectable gentleman, and a good man.”
She thought of mentioning that Mr. Withrow had been in her parents’ room, but she did not know what he had been doing, and she had no proof beyond her word, so she decided against it.
Mrs. Bennet gestured to Mary from across the room, where she reclined in a large comfortable chair and spoke with Lady Trafford. “Come here, Mary,” said Mrs. Bennet loudly. “We are speaking of you.”
Lady Trafford gave Mary a knowing smile. Mary excused herself from the Darcys and joined her mother and Lady Trafford.
“I have told Mrs. Bennet of my offer to train you.”
“You should have informed me at once,” said Mrs. Bennet. “And to think, you could stay at a castle!”
“I was still trying to make my decision. I do not desire to be an inconvenience to Lady Trafford.”
“It will be no inconvenience at all, Miss Bennet.”
“Surely it is owed to us, Mary, for you to have such an opportunity. Especially as you are not beautiful like your sisters, and you have had no suitors.”
“I have already made up my mind, Mother.”
“You cannot possibly think to turn down Lady Trafford’s offer! What an inconsiderate child you are.”
“I did not say how I had made up my mind.”
“What do you say, Miss Bennet? Will you join me at Castle Durrington?”
“How big is your library?” asked Mary. “And do you have a pianoforte?”
Chapter Five
“[Bonaparte] did not think it prudent to attempt any pursuit [of the enemy army]. ‘The rain fell in torrents—never was the French army assailed by such bad weather.’ Bonaparte always [blames] the weather [for] any disaster he meets with.”
–The Courier, London, September 8, 1813
Mary despised carriages, especially public ones. She had spent a full day in travel from Meryton to London surrounded by tedious strangers, young and old. This had been followed by two days with the Gardiners in London, enjoying the company of her young cousins, which unfortunately was only a brief respite before another miserable day in a public carriage with an old woman who had no sense of proper morals or manners, and a constant rain pounding on the roof. The inn in Horsham had left much to be desired, and then she had taken yet another public carriage for the thirteen miles to Washington.
Now she waited on a bench, still miles from Worthing, with her luggage piled on the ground behind her. She removed Lady Trafford’s letter of instructions.
At the carriage station in Washington you will be met by one of my servants, either Thomas Parker or Joseph Tubbs. He will drive you the remaining seven
