Page 26 of Knowing Mr. Darcy
And that night, Elizabeth dreamt dreams of Mr. Wickham, ever so many dreams of Mr. Wickham, quite shocking and improper dreams, dreams in which his breath was hot on the back of her neck as he breathed,I was looking at you.
IN ALL THAThad transpired, a discussion with Mary regarding Mr. Collins had yet to materialize, even though there was ample time for one before the Netherfield Ball, which was to be held the following Tuesday. There was ample time, for there was a succession of rain, which prevented any walking to Meryton or anymore socializing with any of the officers, including Mr. Wickham.
Mrs. Bennet must have found time to speak to Mr. Collins, for Mary’s first inkling of the man’s designs on her were when he claimed the first two dances on her dance card for the ball.
Mary was so startled that she could hardly speak. She stammered out a reply, and then her gaze swung to both her older sisters, a look of something like sheer betrayal on her face, and Elizabeth knew she’d blundered.
Drat.
Kitty and Lydia brayed like donkeys over the entire exchange, something that did nothing to bolster Mr. Collins’s spirits. Mrs. Bennet snapped at the younger girls, and Elizabeth could see that things were not going well. Mr. Collins had come here with the feeling he was doing the Bennet sisters a favor. He need not look at his cousins for afuture bride. He might seek one anywhere. He was going out of his way to do what he thought was the right thing, and his efforts were being denied by all the parties—asked to overlook the eldest of sisters? Barely accepted by the third?
Drat.
Elizabeth sought out Mary later on. Her sister was sitting and gazing out the window, looking wretched and horrified, and Elizabeth stood over her, licking her lips and trying to think of the right words to say.
Finally, all that came out was, “I suppose you don’t like him either.”
Mary let out a little laugh.
“Of course you don’t. Who could?” Elizabeth groaned, rubbing at her forehead. “I am sorry, Mary. You can refuse him.”
“Mama would never speak to me again.”
“Well, that sounds like a boon, actually,” muttered Elizabeth.
Mary smirked.
Elizabeth smirked.
“I wish I were pretty like you and Jane,” said Mary.
“You are pretty,” said Elizabeth.
Mary sighed.
“I think we all must not see ourselves clearly. I think we find too many faults when we consider ourselves. It is too important, isn’t it, that we measure up, so we are overly harsh on ourselves. But for other people, they see us as we actually are, and they are not so exacting with their judgments.”
“I have been thinking about never getting married,” said Mary.
“What?” Elizabeth sat down next to her sister. “But then you will be a burden on Papa or on the husbands of your sisters and someone will have to look after you.”
“I’m working on a novel,” said Mary in a small voice.
Elizabeth drew back. “Oh? What’s it about?”
“It’s about a girl who is sent to stay at a house with somerelations, and the house across the way is decrepit and falling apart, and the man who lives there is handsome and tortured and only comes out at night and maybe killed his former wife. You don’t know if he did it or not the entire time.”
“It sounds interesting,” Elizabeth admitted.
“I thought, if I could write books, then I could have some ability to not be a burden. And it sounds ever so much better than being a wife, you know? Also, I don’t think I like children.”
Elizabeth licked her lips.
“I really don’t think I want to give birth,” said Mary.
Elizabeth lifted her shoulders. “But if you never get married, by choice, Mary, people will think things.”
“People already think awful things about me,” said Mary. “When they even notice me, which they usually don’t. Believe me, I am the least interesting member of this family.”
