Ruined Forever

by D. L. Carter

  Mary hurried her step a little, not wanting to be completely alone on this road. Not that anything had ever happened to her, but she was conscious of the properties even if no one else in the family could be bothered. If she wasn't with one of her sisters she should have a maid. A young lady never walked alone! But Kitty kept increasing her lead, never once looking back, and was soon out of sight!

  Thus it was that Mary reached the vicarage on the outskirts of Meryton a solitary walker. She hesitated on the front step and straightened her bonnet and skirts. Hopefully Mr. Prescott and his wife will not think the less of her arriving alone.

  Mary’s welcome was all she could want. Her request for a copy of the sermon sent the vicar hustling off in search while Mrs. Prescott presented Mary with tea.

  Mr. Fitzwallace returned with Mr. Prescott.

  “Miss Bennet.” Mr. Fitzwallace looked around the room in a very pointed manner. “Alone? You walked all this way from Longbourn alone?”

  “Indeed not, my sister Kitty accompanied me.”

  The curate looked around again.

  “But she has … Kitty likes to visit with my aunt Phillips.” Not wanting to lie directly Mary gave the supposition she had reached on her walk. Either Kitty was with the Phillips or had gone to Lucas lodge to visit Maria.

  “Yes. Mrs. Phillips.” The curate raised his nose. “The gossip.”

  “Really, Marcus,” scolded the vicar. “It is a common enough failing.”

  “Can you say it is not the truth? The woman does more damage with her tongue than all of Napoleon’s artillery.”

  “Cruel, Marcus,” said the vicar.

  “But true,” said Mary. “I know my aunt. Indeed, I know my father’s opinion of her. He has banned her from Longbourn for the foreseeable future in retaliation for the damage she has done.”

  “Locking the barn door too late.”

  Mary nodded her agreement.

  “You have come a long way for my sermon, Miss Mary,” said the vicar. “A complement to me that I value since you are almost as much a biblical scholar as I am myself.”

  “Oh, not really. My recent studies have revealed a gap in my knowledge. I have been looking for the verses regarding the period of seclusion for mourning. No matter how hard I look I cannot find the directive to spend a year alone for a husband and the other limits for more distant relatives. I hope you can give me the references, Mr. Prescott. My sister, Jane, has been entertaining a suitor when the house is supposed to be in mourning. I have tried to remonstrate with her, as, certainly I do not have the authority to direct Mr. Bingley from the house. But I cannot but think there must be something in the Bible to the case. My sisters should be reminded of their duty to the memory of our late cousin.”

  “What disrespect to a man of the cloth!” said Mrs. Prescott, horrified. “Surely they could put off their entertaining and cards for a month! It is little enough under the circumstances.”

  “Ah, I see your difficulty,” said Mr. Fitzwallace to Mary in a much milder manner. “A dutiful daughter can hardly instruct her family in proper behavior and yet, how can you not and stand silent witness to their sins? As it happens I have something that might aid you,” he turned to examine a bookcase. “Only, how inconvenient. It is in Latin.”

  “My Latin is excellent.”

  “How astonishing,” said Mr. Fitzwallace. “But you must take care not to overheat your mind, Miss Mary.”

  “I take the proper precautions,” Mary assured him.

  “Then, Miss Mary, if you could provide me with a translation, my time being otherwise occupied, I will have your translation on hand when another family needs this guidance.”

  Mary blushed faintly, but given the gloom in the room this passed unnoticed. She accepted the pamphlet and placed it reverently in her reticule.

  Taking her leave Mary walked to her aunt’s home. Determined not to enter the building she knocked on the door and instructed the parlor maid to fetch her sister, Kitty.

  Mrs. Phillips came to the door instead.

  “Oh, Mary, why are you looking for Kitty?”

  “She accompanied me to Meryton. I assumed, when she wandered off, that she had come here.”

  “No, Mary, I have not seen her for several days,” Mrs. Phillips pasted a grieving expression on her face. “How sad I did not know you were coming. If you would wait a moment I might send a note with you to my poor sister.”

  “Unfortunately I am too long from home,” said Mary, who was aware of the ban on communication between the Phillips and Mrs. Bennet. “And I must find Kitty.”

  “Perhaps she has called on Maria Lucas.”

  “That is likely. Good day, Aunt.”

  And Mary set off alone.

  Mrs. Phillips watched her down the street then returned to her parlor. Lydia was sitting there on a couch between Wickham and another officer.

  “Lydia dear, I think it is time you were off home. Mary was just here looking for Kitty.”

  She gave her niece an arch look.

  “If you insist,” Lydia patted Wickham’s arm with her fan and rose with a bounce of curls. Mrs. Phillips hurried her to the rear door.

  “I do enjoy your visits, Lydia dear, but you must hurry else Mary see it is you and not Kitty who came out today.”

  “Thank you for being so understanding, Aunt,” said Lydia, bestowing a kiss on her aunt’s cheek and blowing another toward Wickham. “Papa has been so unreasonable this is my only chance for good society.”

  “He does not appreciate that a girl’s bloom lasts only so long. You must enjoy your youth, my dear, before the militia leave and I am happy to thwart your silly father, who is so cruel to my dearest sister.”

  Lydia ignored most of this speech since it did not concern herself and left, waving and kissing her fingers to the parlor window in case Wickham was watching. She took a rear path along the river and across a field to emerge on the Longbourn path just ahead of Mary. She knew the moment Mary spotted her for her sister called out and waved. Ignoring the summons Lydia ran on and was able to substitute herself for Kitty in time for them both to prepare for dinner.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mr. Bingley was not present for this meal, to Mary’s relief. She had been busy in her room for those hours between her return and the meal. She waited until the soup was served and the housemaid retreated before approaching a subject near to her heart.

  “I consulted with the vicar today,” she began.

  “That fool,” said her father, spooning up soup.

  “It is not for us to judge our vicar,” replied Mary, sternly. “He is our authority on matters moral and religious.”

  “He is an ignorant bully,” replied Mr. Bennet. “Who has used his pulpit to spread malice against this family. I ask you, Mary, who seems to be our family authority on matters biblical, is there a parable regarding throwing of the first stone?”

  “The parable of the men of the city against the adulteress,” said Mary, instantly.

  “Yes, that is the one. While our lord instructed them to look for their own sins first and extend mercy to other sinners, one thing that is never addressed in that story is whether or not the woman was guilty. One important matter for you, Mary, to keep in mind is, your sister Lizzy is entirely innocent of wrongdoing in the matter of the death of Mr. Collins, therefore she has no sin on her soul!”

  Elizabeth barely dared to raise her gaze from her plate during this exchange. She could not believe Mary was so offended that she would take the vicar and the late Mr. Collin’s side against her own family. Perhaps she had misjudged Mary. Perhaps her shy, withdrawn sister had been sincerely attracted to Mr. Collins. Certainly her manner and her studies prepared her for the life of a vicar's wife.

  With her next words Mary removed all sympathy from Elizabeth’s heart.

  “I also addressed the matter of mourning with him and he and the curate, and Mrs. Prescott as well, agree with me that the current behavior of certain ladies of this house is quite
unacceptable.”

  “What is this?” cried Mrs. Bennet. “What are you saying, Mary?”

  “Why, I only wanted confirmation that it is vastly inappropriate for Jane and Lizzy to be entertaining suitors when Mr. Collins is barely buried. A month is all we are required to grant him by society, and that is little enough, but Lizzy should not be contemplating an alliance. The biblical scholar, Enguien De Forest said, if a woman’s husband should depart life in a state of grace with God then the wife or fiancée is also to consider herself as to have departed life and to spend her days in contemplation of life eternal and remain chaste.”

  “Of what are you speaking?” demanded Mr. Bennet.

  “He gave me a liturgical pamphlet to translate.”

  “Fetch this pamphlet at once!”

  It was not necessary for Mary to leave the table. She had the page, and her first translation, with her, tucked into her Bible. Mr. Bennet took it and scanned the original Latin before throwing it down in disgust.

  “By what right does that fool of a vicar give you the ramblings of a Fifteenth Century Dominican monk?”

  “I have it from Mr. Fitzwallace, the curate. A scholar!”

  “What is an Anglican curate doing promoting Catholic doctrine in our church?”

  “Catholic?” Mrs. Bennet’s head came up. “Mary, what are you about?”

  “Mary’s going hence to a nunnery,” laughed Lydia. “Go soon, Mary, and spare us all your Friday-faced pronouncements!”

  “Mary is not going to a nunnery,” cried her mother. “Oh, what would the neighborhood say? Mary converting! I could never face my friends.”

  “It would not be so very bad,” said Elizabeth. “There is general feeling that Catholics should not be punished. Father, is that not so? Are we not in expectation of the law being changed?”

  “I will not have it,” said Mrs. Bennet. “And if this is what your studies are taking to you, Miss Mary, then I forbid it. Forbid it, I say.”

  “But you do not forbid courtships taking place in our house when we should be turning our thoughts to the transient nature of man,” protested Mary. “I could not stand by and see such behavior continue to the danger of our souls!”

  “Mary, enough!” said her father. “I have indulged your interest in matters religious long enough, to the detriment of your general demeanor and manners. I should have intervened earlier, but as I have said of late, I was a lazy father and not inclined to put myself out for my children. Report to my bookroom after luncheon, Mary and you and I will go over a course of study that will demonstrate to you that there is more to life than waiting for death!”

  “But I have not carried my point!” protested Mary.

  “Mary, our Lizzy was not married to, nor betrothed to, Mr. Collins. She is not obligated by law nor religion to throw her life into the grave with Mr. Collins.” Her father spoke calmly and with a faint smile. “In fact, most scholars I discussed the matter with at university, were of the opinion that the reason why the Catholic church promoted that idea was so they could lay claim to the man’s property and the woman’s dowry and throw helpless women against their wills into nunneries to live out their lives in religious poverty. Can you see the difference, Mary, between that case and ours?”

  “Lizzy has no dowry.”

  Elizabeth winced.

  “They were not promised to each other,” said Mr. Bennet, with some heat.

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes but said nothing. Truly, there was little enough to say. Mary fell silent, petulant and put out to have her arguments dismissed and feelings ignored.

  “On the subject of courtships,” said Mrs. Bennet. “We shall be out of mourning in a week or so…”

  “One and twenty days,” corrected Mary.

  Her mother made a sour face.

  “As may be, Mary, but that is no reason why we cannot plan. Mr. Bingley has been quite faithful in his friendship. We should acknowledge this with an invitation. A small dinner with cards after should be acceptable.”

  “Whatever you decide, my dear,” said her husband, seeming to deflate as his anger left him.

  For once he did not forget a promise offered to his children. As he rose at the end of the meal Mr. Bennet gave Mary a very pointed look and gestured toward the hallway. Mary followed along, back straight, hands folded, wearing an expression more appropriate for the scaffold.

  Lydia opened her mouth to comment but Elizabeth placed her hand firmly on Lydia’s.

  “You have done quite enough to make Mary unhappy.”

  “And what of you? In Meryton, you are all they can talk about.”

  “Oh, and what do you know of the gossip of Meryton?” inquired Elizabeth. “And don’t think to deceive me, Lydia. Jane and I both saw you run out of the garden.”

  “Lydia, what are you about?” demanded her mother. “You will make it harder for me to persuade your father to forgive you if you gad about. Now all of you, best behavior until your father is calm. Jane, Lizzy, I will need you to help to write the invitations. There is no reason for them not to go out now.”

  ***

  The following Sunday Mr. Bennet decreed that all should attend services, himself included. Lydia’s joy at this exemption to what she referred to as her unjust imprisonment was tempered by the fact her father chose her bonnet for her. After some deliberation he emerged from Mary's chamber bearing a large, undecorated sheltering thing suitable for a girl not yet out, that did not provide options for flirting, and he further directed that she should remain at his side before, during and after the service. No amount of pouting or appeals to her mother gained Lydia the slightest change in her costume.

  The Bennet's carriage was quite uncomfortably crowded, but the usual bickering was absent. All were silent in expectation not of God’s word, but of facing the townspeople of Meryton.

  They arrived in the road beside the church in good time, but their carriage did not stop in its usual place. Mrs. Bennet leaned out the tiny window, frowning, then sat back to stare at her husband.

  “Mr. Golding’s carriage is in our spot! Of all the nerve.”

  “Indeed,” said Mr. Bennet, and nothing else.

  When they eventually found a place to halt and descended from the carriage Mrs. Bennet looked around for her cronies.

  “Oh, there is Alice Drumm. What a morning, Mrs. Drumm. So chill for the time of year.”

  Mrs. Drumm turned to Mrs. Fielding who was standing nearby.

  “Did you say something, Mrs. Fielding?”

  “Not I,” said Mrs. Fielding, then the two women walked away.

  Mrs. Bennet turned startled tear filled eyes to her husband.

  “My dear,” she quavered.

  “Never mind them,” her husband came to her side and settled her hand on his sleeve. “Chin up and shame the devil. Longbourn is a finer estate than either of those biddies can claim. Now, let us go and face those gossips down.”

  Lydia attempted to take advantage of her father’s distraction but it was Mrs. Bennet who caught her hand.

  “Stay near me, Lydia, dear. Today is not a good day to wander off.”

  “Excellent, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet. “Pride and dignity will carry the day. High drama and nerves shall not. Do you understand me? No nerves or flutterings today, if you would.”

  “I shall try.”

  The usual crowd we standing near the church entrance. The chatter was low voiced and from the edges came louder comments. Unpleasant voices saying cruel and vicious words. Jane, walking side by side with Lizzy, went pale and tightened her grip on her Bible. Lizzy affected to be deaf though her heart bled for her sisters. Kitty lowered her head and made no attempt to draw any attention. Mary walked as she always did, confident that none of the words being said referred to her.

  Inside the church was little better. Mr. Fitzwallace read the lesson in calm clear tones - his topic Cain and Abel – for the second time in two weeks.

  Mr. Prescott spoke of rendering unto Caesar - equating it to offer
ing respect to God’s representatives.

  Mr. Bennet sat growing angrier and angrier as song followed lesson and all heads bowed to pray for God’s mercy on sinners both near and far away.

  When the service finally ended, the Bennet family rose. As one of the old established families in the neighborhood they owned a pew in the forefront of the church. Usually they were granted passage down the nave. Today the path was crowded with people in no particular hurry to depart the building. When the family attempted to pass through, the girls were jostled and pushed, stepped on by booted feet, pressed uncomfortably against the backs of pews.

  One man, while looking Elizabeth in the eye, stepped into her, crushing her cruelly against the cold solid edge of the back of a pew, stepped on her foot and, with an evil smirk, raised a hand as if to press against her bosom. Before his hand could land on its target another gloved hand appeared over his shoulder gripping the man hard and pulling him away from Elizabeth.

  “Sir, have a care where you walk,” said Darcy. His voice low and dangerous. “You are jostling a lady.”

  “There is no lady here,” snarled the man Elizabeth had known from her earliest years and had, until this moment, rather liked.

  “She is more a gentlewoman than you are a gentleman,” said Darcy. “She has more nobility of spirit than you have soul.”

  Darcy gave the offender a sharp shove then extended his elbow toward Elizabeth. Bingley waited in his shadow to offer the same service to Jane. With these tall men leading, the whole of the family was able to escape the church.

  As they walked out from under the eaves they heard a woman’s voice.

  “She’ll be his mistress by the end of summer, you mark my words.”

  Another replied, clearly. “Well, she’s good for nothing else.”

  “Chin up. Keep walking,” commanded Darcy in a clear ringing voice. “They are not worthy of your notice.”

  Elizabeth bit her lip to hold back tears but held her head up hoping Jane had not heard.

  On horseback, Bingley and Darcy followed the Bennet carriage all the way to Longbourn. When they arrived all the ladies of the house ran upstairs leaving Mr. Bennet to offer the gentlemen a glass of brandy before sending them on their way.