Mary Bennet: A Novella in the Personages of Pride & Prejudice Collection (2 page)

Mrs. Philips shook her head at Mrs. Bennet’s theatrics. “There is no need for panic, I assure you. Miss Hardcastle has not yet paid her call.”

Mrs. Bennet flopped onto a nearby sofa, dislodging at least three cushions in the process. Mary took the adjacent seat, lowering herself in a much more careful manner.

“Good morning, Aunt Philips,” Mary said, readjusting the cushions around her.

“It is a lovely morning, is it not?” her aunt replied, waving a hand at the brave streak of sunlight that peeked through her excessively ornate draperies. “I do hope your introduction to the Hardcastle siblings will render it even brighter.”

Mary blinked rapidly. She sucked in a few quick breaths, leaving her slightly lightheaded.

“The Hardcastle
siblings
?” she blurted.

“Why, yes.” Mrs. Philips looked puzzled. “Miss Hardcastle and her brother, Mr. Hardcastle.”

Now Mary understood why her mother deemed this meeting so important. “I am to be introduced to a gentleman?” she demanded.

The two older women sat in silence, shocked at Mary’s uncharacteristic outburst.

Taking a slower, deeper breath, Mary attempted to recover her composure. She shifted in her seat and spoke with great deliberation. “I was given to understand that Miss Hardcastle
alone
would be calling.”

“Oh no!” her aunt exclaimed. “Mr. Philips vowed that Mr. Hardcastle too would call upon us, and he will make the necessary introduction. Is that not kind of him?”

Upon this announcement, Mary felt the opposite of pleasure. Her eyes darted to her mother, who regarded her with a mixture of delight and expectation. Mary could not return her mother’s beaming smile, for she comprehended the situation with terrible clarity. This was far from an innocent morning call to meet a new young lady. This was a matchmaking arrangement of the least subtle variety.

She could not afford to fall prey to her unstable emotions. She must compose herself.

Mary momentarily closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she managed to say, “It is very kind of my uncle.”

Mrs. Philips exchanged a glance with Mrs. Bennet and then returned her attention to Mary. “You must be quite lonely now that your sisters have all married or gone from home.”

Mary opened her mouth to respond, but her mother was faster.

“Mary could never be lonely. Oh no! We have been in each other’s company constantly, and we have so much to occupy our time. During the day, we go to the milliner or the dressmaker, and in the evenings, Mary reads to me, though I do not always approve of her choice of material. What is so awful about novels? She says she will not read them, but I do so prefer a dashing hero over her axioms and parables. I shall break her of sermon-reading, for no one wants to hear sermons…not even in church!”

Before Mrs. Bennet could leap to yet another subject, a knock sounded at the door.

Mary jolted and spun in her seat. She licked her suddenly parched lips and wondered how she would ever survive the morning.

“Oh!” Mrs. Bennet cried, sitting upright and adjusting her gown. “Your posture, Mary! Do sit up straight, and remember what I said in the carriage. We will have none of your morbid musings today!”

Mary stiffened her spine and wished she might disappear beneath the rug before the guests entered. But that was not to be.

Instead, the servant swung open the door and announced Miss Hardcastle.

Mary’s lips dropped open. Rather than feeling relief that Mr. Hardcastle was not at the door, she experienced only horror.

Miss Hardcastle was the stuff of which nightmares are composed: curling blonde hair, wide blue eyes, and a willowy figure. Though Mary could hardly claim fashion expertise, she could see very well that Miss Hardcastle took care with her wardrobe. Her cornflower blue dress—though modest and unadorned—flattered her figure and coloring.

This young lady’s beauty far surpassed even her sister Jane’s.

Mary stood, quickly assessing her own appearance. She wore a muted green dress and sturdy boots, and her straight hair was done up simply. Compared to Miss Hardcastle, she might as well have been another piece of upholstered furniture that littered the room.

This
was the woman her mother wanted her to befriend? This beauty? Why must Mary always be outshone by her companions?

“Allow me to present Miss Hardcastle,” Mrs. Philips said, sending forward her charge. The young woman stepped gracefully through the narrow space allowed by the older woman’s abundant furnishings and beamed at Mary.

Mary forced herself to smile in return as they exchanged curtsies.

“I am ever so pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet,” Miss Hardcastle said, her voice soft and kind.

Though Miss Hardcastle’s reserved tone eased Mary’s nerves, she felt great paranoia over misspeaking.

“Thank you. I am ever so pleased to make
your
acquaintance…too.”

Mary blushed at her obvious parroting. Anyone who heard her must think her a simpleton. She must say something to assure Miss Hardcastle that she was not the town fool.

“Erm,” she muttered.

Furiously, she searched her thoughts for the right words to mark the occasion of forming an acquaintance she had no desire to make.

A thousand quotations and aphorisms leapt to mind, but she must not speak them.

Miss Hardcastle waited, her eyes expectant.

Finally, Mary surrendered and said, “It is said that ‘safety lies in virtuous friendship and rational conversation,’ but I fear that is merely a paraphrase of the original.”

Beside her, Mrs. Bennet groaned in disapproval, but Miss Hardcastle laughed with delight, took Mary by the arm, and led her to a sofa. “Oh, my dear new friend, what an odd thing to say! May I call you Mary?”

Before Mary could decline, Miss Hardcastle continued, “And you shall call me Penelope, for I can tell we are to be fast friends, are we not?”

Mary swallowed. Her head spun as she tried to clutch one of Miss Hardcastle’s thoughts.

“Yes,” Miss Hardcastle said, answering her own question. “We shall be good friends indeed. But Meryton is full of kind people, is it not? I do not believe I have visited a friendlier place in the whole of my life. Everyone I have met has been so very kind to me.”

It was Mary’s moment to speak, but fearing her mother’s disapproval if she utilized another quotation, she blurted, “That is because you are so very beautiful. Of course, they would be kind to you.”

When Mary realized what she said, her head snapped back, and she barely restrained herself from clapping both hands over her lips like a dolt.

“That is to say…,” Mary sputtered, her face reddening in frustration and humiliation. Her eyes darted to her mother, and she wished a thousand times that the word “moralizing” had never been uttered. Mary seemed to possess only two options: either she must quote from her memory or let slip her most inappropriate thoughts. The former was unacceptable to her mother, and the latter was abhorrent to herself.

Finally, Mary made the only possible decision. She said, “‘Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart: so doth the sweetness of a man’s friend by hearty counsel.’”

“Dear Mary,” Penelope said, laughing again. “You are indeed one of the oddest creatures I ever met. Your quotations put me in mind of my own dear brother, for he takes great pleasure in debating literature of all sorts. Have you been to Mr. Philips’s law office to make the acquaintance of Simon?”

“I should think not!” Mary said, feeling on more comfortable footing now that she had a rule of etiquette to guide her conversation. “A young lady requires a proper introduction to make the acquaintance of any of the opposite sex, whether or not they are employed by a relation.”

“Yes, of course,” Penelope agreed. “It is only that I have met so many people already that it seems they must also have met my brother. Well, it is of little import. You shall be introduced, and you shall get along famously. I am certain of it.”

“I look forward to making his acquaintance,” Mary said by rote. She most certainly did not look forward to meeting anyone now that her communication abilities had been crippled. She would make an utter fool of herself.

Of course, if Mr. Hardcastle were anything like his sister in appearance, he would be far too handsome to look upon Mary with a friendly eye.

Three

“You shall be pleased to discover that Mr. Hardcastle should arrive soon,” Mrs. Philips said from the opposite sofa.

With those words only just uttered, the door opened, and two gentlemen entered.

“Oh! Here is my brother now,” Miss Hardcastle said, clapping her hands in delight.

Mary froze. She sat transfixed as Miss Hardcastle jumped from her seat and rushed to her brother’s side, her skirt swirling around her dainty ankles.

From the other sofa, Mrs. Bennet cleared her throat, a sound that somehow managed to be fraught with meaning.

Mary’s head swiveled to her mother, and she realized that she ought to have stood by now.

She rose, and the new posture seemed to impart unto her the courage to have a good look at the gentleman whom her mother, her aunt and uncle, and perhaps even his sister expected to be Mary’s match.

Mr. Hardcastle stood a great deal taller than both his sister and Mr. Philips, and his pale skin sharply contrasted his close-cropped, mousy brown hair. High, sharp cheekbones slashed across his face, lending him rather hawkish features. His eyes were intelligent and alert, leaving Mary no doubt that he comprehended the true purpose of this meeting as well as she did.

But rather than appearing as awkward as Mary felt, Mr. Hardcastle projected aloof amusement as if he were merely observing a comedic scene and not taking part in it.

Mary watched silently as Mr. Philips presented Mr. Hardcastle to her mother, who smiled at the young man with obvious delight and unconcealed intent. She intended a match, and subtlety was not in her nature.

“Mr. Hardcastle, you do us great honor,” Mrs. Bennet enthused. “We are ever so pleased that Mr. Philips saw fit to bring you to us, are we not, Mary?”

Mr. Hardcastle’s focus shifted to Mary, and under his direct assessment, her cheeks went scarlet.

“Simon,” Miss Hardcastle entreated, relieving Mary of her brother’s focused intensity, if only momentarily. “Do allow me to introduce you to my dear friend.”

Miss Hardcastle slid her hand into the crook of her brother’s elbow and led him across the room toward Mary.

As they navigated the cluttered space, Mr. Hardcastle turned to his sister with an air of incredulity. “It perplexes me how you may make an acquaintance one moment and declare her your dear friend the next.”

“For my part,” Miss Hardcastle replied pertly, “I do not comprehend why
you
insist on making a stranger of everyone you encounter. Now, allow me to present Miss Bennet, for I predict that you will one day call her a friend.”

Mary curtsied as Mr. Hardcastle bowed, and when she ventured a look into his eyes, she discovered that they were cast of the same sapphire blue as his sister’s. However, while Miss Hardcastle looked upon the world with overt pleasure, her brother viewed the same scene with an ironical bent.

Mary gripped her skirts and wished once more that she had been aware of this scheme much earlier. Perhaps she could have avoided this unpleasant business altogether. Mr. Hardcastle clearly comprehended her mother’s matrimonial intentions and likely had decided against her.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Hardcastle said. Gone was the chiding tone he had used with his sister, and in its place was careful neutrality.

“And I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.” She repeated his words, but this time, she was victorious over her fear. This time, she continued to speak, choosing a pretty subject. “How do you find Meryton?”

“Adequate,” he replied, looking briefly away and offering no further explanation.

Mary pursed her lips. Now that the pretty subject of Meryton had been exhausted with Mr. Hardcastle’s one-word reply, she again found herself at a loss. She had often observed her sisters in conversation with gentlemen, and though she felt sure she had little talent for flirtation, she could at least seek to be clever.

But what does one say to a gentleman whom everyone in the room intends to be her match? Should she endeavor to discuss another pretty subject? The roads? The weather?

Why did this have to be so difficult?

“Adequate?” Mr. Philips repeated with a laugh, saving Mary from her dilemma. “You have quite a talent for understatement. I am certain there are those among our acquaintance who can tempt you to a better opinion.”

He winked at Mary.

Whatever relief Mary felt at Mr. Philips’s interruption quickly fled, leaving pure embarrassment in its wake.

“Oh, yes!” Mrs. Bennet agreed. “We can turn his opinion, can we not, Mary?”

Mr. Hardcastle considered Mary for a moment and offered her a knowing smile. The expression held both humor and a sort of kinship, as if they were united by this embarrassment.