The Secret Life of Miss Mary Bennet by Katherine Cowley (tharntype novel english txt) 📕

Mary wondered what that meant. Some people took a debt like that very seriously. Lydia had always managed to extract a gift or trinket in situations like this, but Mary had no interest in such trifles.

Both Mr. Withrow and Lady Trafford considered her, and so Mary tried to fill the silence. “I thought you were travelling farther, for business.”

“My business was cut short, so we attempted to return in time for my nephew to join the funeral service. I regret that we were too late.” She leaned forward. “I had hoped to meet your mother.”

“If you had come during the day to view my father’s body, you would have received the opportunity.”

“What my aunt really wants,” said Mr. Withrow dryly, “is to know if she can visit Longbourn right now.”

Mr. Withrow said it as if Mary should obviously have come to that conclusion, but Lady Trafford had not been direct in her communication. Mary did not appreciate Withrow’s attitude: charming one moment when he wanted information, and almost disdainful the next. But it did not matter how Withrow treated her, so she pushed thoughts of him aside and considered Lady Trafford’s request. There would be plenty of people at Longbourn after the funeral, and Lady Trafford was a relation—albeit a distant one—so she could see no harm in it.

“We are having a funeral meal for family and friends. I believe everyone would view it as acceptable for you to join us.”

“That would be lovely.” Lady Trafford tapped the side of the carriage and said, “Thomas, if you would do us the kindness of taking us to Longbourn.”

The carriage turned around, and Mary thought it was a very good thing that she had been walking for the sake of walking, rather than for a purpose. If she had possessed a true reason for visiting Meryton, Lady Trafford’s overwhelming sense of purpose would have left no room for it. Mary did regret that the carriage had not gone a bit farther, to the other side of Meryton, for then she would have seen the exterior of the church where they were holding her father’s funeral.

She gazed out the window, and then pulled herself back so she would be less visible from the outside. There was no point in having the rest of the villagers wonder what a young Miss Bennet was doing in the company of her ladyship.

“It would have been terrible if you had not arrived at that moment and spared us from that thief,” said Lady Trafford. “Do you not agree, Henry?”

“Of course,” said Withrow. “Your assistance was invaluable. The thief even dropped the handkerchief he had taken.” He withdrew it from his pocket, so Mary could see. He glanced at his aunt and then added, “I do hope you will let us find a way to show our appreciation.”

“I suspect that you care less about material items than things of intellectual or moral worth,” Lady Trafford mused. “But surely there would be other demonstrations of gratitude you would not be opposed to. You seem to value knowledge and accomplishments. The very fact that you taught yourself to read French speaks highly of your intelligence and dedication. I know that you are not interested in training to become a governess. But is there anything that you would like to learn, Miss Bennet? An opportunity you would like to have?”

Mary remembered her desire, in the night, to be able to draw.

“I can see there is something,” said Lady Trafford. “Please, do tell us.”

“I regret never having drawing lessons,” said Mary.

“That is an admirable desire. Are there any masters in Meryton?”

Mary shook her head.

“That is regrettable. Most of the masters live in London. But I do know one, a friend who lives near my home, in Worthing. If you were to come and stay with me, I am sure he would agree to train you. I also know a French teacher who could teach you to speak as well as you read.”

The thought did tempt Mary. She had never had a private tutor, never received instruction in anything (besides dance lessons, which Mrs. Bennet saw as an essential skill for obtaining a husband). Jane and Elizabeth had, at times, received private lessons on various subjects, but by the time it was Mary’s turn to ask for lessons, Mrs. Bennet had insisted that it was an unnecessary expense. Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth had at times given her a sentence or two of instruction on various topics, but a private tutor would do so much more.

“I will consider your offer,” said Mary. “I will need to ask my—” She stopped herself. She had been about to say father.

If she asked her mother, Mrs. Bennet would agree without hesitation. To find Mary a situation with a woman of wealth and influence, even for a short time, would please her very much. She would probably hope it would throw Mary into the arms of an eligible suitor.

While a suitable suitor would be welcome, Mary’s purpose was not to find a husband. Yet staying with Lady Trafford would have certain advantages, such as being out in society without being overshadowed by any of her sisters. Each of her sisters had made trips on their own, but Mary had never done so. Before she seriously considered such a thing, it would be expedient to make inquiries about Lady Trafford and ensure she was a woman of character.

“Take whatever time you need to consider.”

They sat in silence the rest of the carriage ride to Longbourn. Mary had never felt the need to fill silence with idle conversation and was grateful that her companions did not press her to do so. Yet silence gave time for contemplation, and contemplation made way for a sense of dread, a dread for how her mother might act in front of Lady Trafford.

Chapter Four

“The private letters from Paris, contrary to the spirit of the Journals, which would indicate a general peace, speculate diffusely on a Continental