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Chapter Text

"Have you heard," said Mrs. Bennett to Lady Lucas one afternoon, "That Netherfield has been brought again! By some Dr. Grant, I heard Jane say."

"Indeed!" Lady Lucas responded, "I had thought that a few years would pass before I heard of Netherfield since the Bingleys have left it."

"I do not know much of the fact except that a Dr. Grant has brought it. Nothing much except that he is a respectable gentleman is known." Lady Lucas once again expressed her astonishment at the turn of circumstances. She and the other members of the party, consisting of the Lucas siblings and two Bennett sisters along with their mother. The Lucas house was frequented much more by the Bennett family now that three of its daughters were married and well settled.

Interesting as the new occupants of Netherfield might be to Mrs. Bennett and Mrs. Lucas, Mary did not wish for anything other than to be shut up in her room and peruse the recent book she wanted to study.

Mary half heartedly listened to Mrs. Bennett relating Mr. Bingley's assurance that the Grants were a most pleasant family. However, the poor man and his wife were not as discussed as the Crawford siblings, the children of Mrs. Grant's sister. They had been recently lost their parent and had decided that settling with the Grants was the most appropriate course of action. Not much was known of them either, except that they were worldly , charming and of a marriageable age. Despite having witnessed three marriages in a short time span, Mrs. Bennett had yet to lose her zeal for marriage of her daughters.

Such paltry gossip would not have met Mary's dislike half so much had not the intent behind them known. Mary was the most recent source of her mother's distress. At three and twenty, she had had no proposals or the slightest prospect of marriage. Kitty, Mrs. Bennett was assured, would get married by the end of the year. It was already rumored that Kitty was secretly engaged to Mr. Lancaster and nothing but Kitty's earnest pleas would have assured Mary of it being only a rumor.

Maria Lucas besides whispered, "It is exciting, is it not!" The young Ms. Lucas, though sweet and of friendly disposition, could hardly be considered a suitable enough companion for she had nothing to offer to Mary by her non sensical talks. Upon Mary's curt nod of question, Maria excitedly said, "To have such charming people as our neighbors!"

"We do not know if they are half so charming as everyone thinks them to be," Mary replied. This did not dull young Ms. Lucas' excitement in the slightest. "Well, they come from a wealthy family. I am sure they need not even be half as charming as everyone says; their status is more than enough."

***
The Crawford siblings were indeed just as appealing as people had thought them to be. They were wealthy, lively, young and beautiful; it was of no doubt that it would be a long time before anyone ceased to talk of them.

However, Mary had not had the chance of seeing either the Grants or the Crawfords till the recent Meryton ball. Mary had not even thought of attending the event were it not for Mrs. Bennett's persistence.

Henry Crawford was not handsome but quite near to it and his friendly and likeable disposition more than supplied the minor defects in his looks. His sister, Mary Crawford, however, was pretty and fashionable and there was something in her that reminded Mary of Caroline Bingley. Though, Miss Crawford was sharper, somehow.

Henry Crawford, Mary was almost sorry to note, was nothing like Mr. Bingley. He was friendly and well liked but he had not the sincerity that her sister's husband displayed. Mary could tell that he also had no humility by the way he carried himself and the smirk on his face that indicated that he thought himself superior to his present company.

Mary, within first fifteen minutes of her study of the Crawfords, found them self absorbed and not worth applying the powers of her rational mind which were better applied elsewhere. So thinking, she endeavored to at least play one song on the piano forte during the night. She had practiced and studied various songs and she had no mind to let her efforts go to waste.

The first two dances, however, gave Mary no chance to be anywhere near the piano forte. Mary observed with a slight smile how Kitty danced and laughed with Mr. Lancaster. Mr. Lancaster was older than Kitty and as different from her as one could be; he lacked Kitty's fondness for fashion and balls and had more experience and power of judgement that Kitty's youthful mind lacked. However, their mutual affection was stronger than any hurdle defects of their personalities could pose. Were they to be engaged tomorrow, Mary would have no difficulty approving them.

Mary, herself, shared the first two dances with William Lucas, who was twenty now and no longer the trouble making boy that he used to be.

"Upon my word," William whispered during the dance, "Mary Crawford is the prettiest creature I have set my eyes on."

"She is graceful," Mary could only admit as much while dancing and thinking of a response. William smiled. "Why? Are the Crawfords not good enough for the great Mary Bennett?"

"My opinion on the subject does not matter. I have only known them for few minutes." Mary's neutral answer was not enough for William who persisted to know her opinion on the subject. Aghast, Mary exasperatedly announced him to be the most impertinent boy she had ever met. Her partner only smiled teasingly and pressed her to tell what she thought of the Crawfords.

"They are vain and proud and self absorbed as far as I have observed," Mary at last declared which did not sit well with William. He commented, at last, that she was a very difficult person to please and they parted ways.

William's teasing had affected Mary so that she could not, even with her glasses, observe that the pair next to them was Henry Crawford himself and Miss King. Henry may not have remembered what little he had conversed with his partner but he could tell Mary's assessment of his character to his sister when they met during breaks between the dances.

Upon telling to her sister about how a strange lady had insulted them, Miss Crawford only laughed.

"Well, she was not wrong. We are as self absorbed and vain as they come, my dear brother." Henry only stared at his sister; he could not comprehend how she could let go of such a thing by such ease.

"Oh, leave the woman alone. Tell me, how was the dance with Miss King. Am I to get a sister anytime soon?"

Henry frowned. "You know I have no interest in love." Then adding in a lower voice, "Not after what has happened."

"If not love, then have interest in money", Miss Crawford's lower voice did not hid the sharpness of her statement. "You and I have been fools before, brother. We must not allow our emotions to blind us again. You have to know the importance of a match with a wealthy person has for us."

After a stretch of silence, Henry said in a normal voice, "Miss King dances very well." Mary smiled; perhaps moving to country side was not as bad as it sounded.

***

"Mary there is a perfectly fine library at our house; why must we venture outside in such dreary weather for a book!" Kitty cried. She was unable to understand why one had to take pains for a book when there were several within the house.

"The weather is not as dreary as you make it out to be," Mary said slowly, "And I have read all the books in our library." Mary interrupted whatever Kitty was going to say next, "I have read all the books more than once."

Kitty groaned- it was not as if she hated books; she liked a good novel every now and then but Mary's obsession with them was quite insane. Did she not crave the company of people? Even the shy, sweet Jane was more outgoing than Mary.

"You can always go the library on your own. What is the need to drag me out?"

"You know mother will not let me. She believes my lack of interest in 'feminine things' is the reason why I never get a proposal. Have you ever heard such a thing? My interests are feminine enough! I do not see why-"

"Fine!" Kitty interrupted Mary impatiently, not willing to hear another long complaints about their mother from Mary. "I will accompany you but we must return by dinner."

Mary smiled. She was willing to agree a thousand conditions as long as her wish of going to the library was fulfilled.

***
The day at the library had been even more better than Mary could have imagined. Her attention had been caught by a book titled 'A Vindication of the Rights of Women' by Mary Wollstonecraft and it had completely consumed her attention. The book challenged several of her long held beliefs and she was pleasantly surprised by it. Even Kitty had ended up finding a book.

The evening had fallen in no time and Kitty had to remind Mary that they had go home. Mary borrowed the book with a slight pang in her heart; she wished she could have bought the novel but she had not enough money for it.

The walk from library to home was a pleasant one; since the library was not far from Meryton, neither of the sisters had felt that walking there would be so great an exertion. In amiable silence walked the sisters, each engrossed in her own thoughts, when they were spotted by three people whom they had never expected to meet - Mr. Lancaster along with Miss and Mr. Crawford.

Mary hoped that they would ignore them for she was in no mood for talking; her mind was too roused by the book she was holding in her hands to devote it to anyone else. However, the party approached them and Mary wondered why someone like Mr. Lancaster, who was by all means a sensible gentleman, spend his time with someone like Crawfords.

"What a coincidence!" cried Miss Crawford after the pleasantries had been done with, "To find you both here. I had never thought I would be so honored as to meet my friend here."

Friend? Surely, it must not be Mary for they had not so much as talked till now. It must Kitty then and Mary concluded that both had met at the Meryton ball. Kitty's attentions were chiefly engaged by Mr. Lancaster and Miss Crawford. The former's were reciprocated as enthusiastically as possible and the latter's were not unwelcome for Kitty had always hoped for as charming and worldly a friend as Miss Crawford.

Mr. Crawford remained surprisingly silent after he had bowed and wished the sisters a good evening. Mary's affection to the gentleman was not so deep as to inspire curiosity. Both walked side by side without speaking a word and Mary was soon distracted by her book. It took her, therefore, a minute, to realize that Mr. Crawford had asked her a question.

"Were you present at the Meryton ball?" he asked in so low tone that one would not blame Mary for almost missing the question. Mary affirmed that she was and it was all silence again till Mr. Crawford made observations on the fine weather and Mary replied sparsely.

"You are not very talkative, are you madam?" Mr. Crawford asked finally when all kinds of trees had been discussed and he could no longer hold a conversation solely about weather.

"I do not find the purpose in meaningless talks," Mary stiffly replied. What did this man mean? It was not Mary's fault that he was not a charming conversationist.

"As much as you do in a good book, you forgot to add," Mr. Crawford said in a manner that might have been mistaken as teasing but Mary knew it to be mockery. She had had enough censure her entire life for favoring books over people. Mary had no other reply than to say that he was right; Mr. Crawford bowed slightly at that.

"What are you two talking of?" Miss Crawford cried, perhaps feeling left out by Kitty and Mr. Lancaster who seemed unaware of anything but themselves. Mr. Crawford said that it was about Miss Bennet's scholarly aptitudes.

"Upon my word!" Miss Crawford said, gazing at Mary's hand which held the book. "You do seem a learned person. You must be bored by Henry's anecdotes on our uncle's Irish groom."

"My anecdotes are just fine!" Mr. Crawford defended himself , "Besides, you were also talking to Miss Bennet about your multiple dance partners. It must be infinitely boring. At least my anecdotes are funny."

"It does not matter," Miss Crawford said, "whose anecdotes are funnier, for intelligent people (gesturing at Mary) like her have much more to do than listen to useless stories. They have to do moralizing and analyzing for the entire world. You have to forgive my brother," Miss Crawford now addressed Mary directly, "for disturbing you in such a manner."

Mary's cheeks colored, out of what she knew not. Out of embarrassment at doing the same thing Miss Crawford had accused her of? Out of a sense of shame for awkwardness? Never had she felt so confused, so embarrassed, so - she scarcely knew what to think of the sudden lump in her throat. She was not going to cry! At length, she tried to speak something but was saved the effort by Mr. Crawford.

"It seems our walk has come to an end," the gentleman announced and Mary realized that they had reached Longbourn. As the party told their goodbyes and left, Mary did not know whether she should feel disappointed or relieved.

***

"How are your new companions?" Mrs. Grant asked Henry which shocked him for now she seldom spoke to him after they had moved to Netherfield.

"I cannot tell on first meeting itself, madam," Henry answered , "But they are delightful companions, especially Kitty Bennet to my sister."

"And Miss Mary Bennet to you," The sister replied back, "One would have thought you were quite mad for her from the way you defended her."

"And the Mary I knew never resorted to putting others down!"

"Oh, since when do you give three straws about others! You were not like this before Fanny-"

"Mary!" Henry cried, all the color lost from his countenance. This was the first time he had heard her name and it did not exactly bring up fond memories. As composedly as he could manage, Henry left the room.

Mrs. Grant said nothing, only shook her head. She had no desire to come between the brother and sister ever again; it was their doing that had almost ruined her family's reputation. She cared not, therefore, that her niece had never looked so pale or so speechless in all her life.

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Mary and Henry had only each other; this was something they both knew since childhood. Their parents had died when they had been young. The Admiral and wife cared naught for them. Why should they, when they had their own children to look after. No matter how reckless or thoughtless or selfish or scandalous a thing one of them did, the other had no reproach or judgement, only support.

After they had moved, or since the event, there had borne an unspeakable but unavoidable void between them. Mary was changed for the worst. The usually cheerful and even tempered Mary was fretful and irritable at every small thing now. The servant's badly cooked meal, the breaking of her quill while writing letters, a smallest tear in her gown were reproached as if they killed her.

Henry, however, had not changed much except for a sense of shame and a bruised ego. His was not a nature to dwell on the past. As much as he had come to admire Miss Price, had done things for her he had never done for any other woman, his attachment to her had not been able to withstand either the test of time or his impatient nature. All fault was solely his, he accepted, but beyond that he had no regrets.

"Henry," a soft voice startled Henry out of his thoughts. "Are you coming for dinner today?"

Henry did not point how Mary could have sent a servant to call him, only shook his head in denial. "I am not hungry today sister."

Mary frowned in the petulant manner of a child not having their whims fulfilled. "Are you angry with me?"

"I am not angry with you," Henry sighed. "I just wish to know what has come upon you. You are no saint but even you would not go after a poor creature like Miss Bennet in such a manner."

Mary sat besides him on the bed and laid her head on his shoulder. "I miss him," she whispered to the fabric of his clothes. Henry willed himself not to sigh. Mary's attachment to Fanny's cousin had been deeper than Henry's had been to her. He knew not how to console someone lovelorn. So Henry only kissed the side of her head, hoping she knew that he was there for her.

***

Mary!" Kitty cried, her sharp voice cutting through Mary's thoughts. "Ms. Crawford has invited us to dinner at Netherfield!"

Mary did not know how to reply to her sister's announcement for a while; what should she say to such a thing? Miss Crawford and Kitty had become friends, it was only natural that the former would extend such an opportunity for the latter. Mary knew that she had not been invited and she could not make anything that she was not a part of her business.

"Do you not want to go to the dinner party?" Kitty's brow furrowed at the lack of enthusiasm that Mary displayed.

"My wishes do not matter for I have not been invited." Mary pointed out, not unkindly, for she had ere learned to not be bitter when people preferred her sisters over her.

"But you have been invited!" Kitty extended the letter to Mary. Mary read the contents and was surprised that both she and her sister had been invited by Miss Crawford.

Mary tried to form her thoughts on the subject but could not get over that someone had willingly asked for her company. A childish giddiness arose in her breast and all attempts to rationalize or neutralize the situation were vain. She finally ceased to suppress her smile and decided it was only natural that she should be happy that people like Crawfords had invited her to dinner.

"How you smile, Mary!" Kitty cried. "Indeed, I have never seen you so happy except for when you are in a library." Before Mary could say anything, Kitty had already become concerned about what clothes she would wear and how she had no good clothes and how they would have to purchase them. This time, however, Mary did not stop her sister's ramblings and so passed the time till they were called downstairs for dinner.

Chapter Text

The day for dinner came too quickly and Mary was much less prepared than she would have liked to. Not only did she not know who else was invited to the party, she was sure that apart from her sister, she probably did not know anybody else. Her initial excitement at being invited only gave rise to dread and anxiety the more she thought about it.

Too engrossed in her thoughts, Mary missed how whole of the Netherfield was as unchanged as she had seen it last time. The furniture, the walls, the entire style of the room was no different than the Bingleys' had left it; only minor differences could be spotted.

To Mary's pleasant surprise and relief, only Mr. Lancaster and his sister were an addition to the party apart from her and her sister and the hosts. Mr. Lancaster was as gentlemanly a man as ever could be and Miss Lancaster, though no friend of Mary's, was not an objectionable companion; Mary thought her too shy to attempt to draw Mary into meaningless conversations.

Mrs. Grant after greeting the young ones left them to their own amusements. The Crawfords were very warm in their welcome, even Miss Crawford did not seem upset at seeing Mary there. Perhaps, she had meant her comment in harmless fun and Mary had taken it the wrong way.

Kitty sat besides Mr. Lancaster to nobody's surprise. Mary, not wanting to be too far from her sister, sat on her other side, only to have her partner on the other side to be Mr. Crawford. Mary could only hope that he did not try to talk to her about how the weather was today.

"Well, the Meryton ball was one of the best balls I have ever attended," Miss Crawford remarked. "I have attended many charming balls, and to be sure, Meryton ball is now one of them. How stupid I was to think that the country would be such a dull place to live!"

"Well," Mr. Lancaster drawled with a smile, "The country does offer a variety of people to surround yourself with; there is never a dull moment here." He then asked if Miss Bennet agreed with him and Kitty blushed, not used to having her opinion sought so sincerely by anyone, and answered tolerably calmly that she could not agree more with Mr. Lancaster.

"When is the next ball?" Miss Crawford inquired. At not finding any answer, she declared that they might hold a ball at Netherfield themselves. At this, Mr. Crawford, though in support of her idea, reminded her that they needed Dr. Grant's permission first.

"Oh, do not worry about that," Mrs. Grant spoke up for the first time in the evening. " I am sure he could have no problem devoting an evening to young people's amusements. My husband and I are always talking of how when we were young, we never had enough balls to satisfy ourselves."

"You are very kind, madam!" Kitty cried, perhaps the most excited out of everyone in the company at the prospect of a ball so soon. Mrs. Grant thanked her laughingly and then asked Miss Lancaster, who had been silent till now, whether she liked the proposal or not.

"I do like it, madam," Miss Lancaster spoke quietly, her voice gentle and her gaze fixed on the floor. She was even shyer that Jane was! "I am very glad and grateful that you are the one to organize it."

Not in the slightest discouraged by Miss Lancaster's bashful answers, Mrs. Grant asked whether she had been at the Meryton ball or not. This time, Mr. Lancaster answered that his sister had been at the ball, thanking her concern.

"Mind not, if I am being too rude," Mrs. Grant said next to Miss Lancaster, "But did you meet either Mary or Henry at the ball?"

Miss Lancaster managed to answer that she had not the honor of being introduced there. At this, Mrs. Grant expressed how good at dancing Henry was and how he could benefit from an elegant partner like Miss Lancaster.

Mr. Crawford said nothing, expressed nothing, at his aunt's attempts to from a match between himself and Miss Lancaster. Only Mary could see his tightened jaw and she wondered why Mr. Crawford would be against such a match; Miss Lancaster, though shy, was of good nature and came from a wealthy family.

The dinner came before Mrs. Grant could go on any further. Thankfully, for the remainder of the evening there was no attempt to match Miss Lancaster and Mr. Crawford and the latter's good humor came as quickly as it had gone.

***

Mary knew her mother to be a lover of schemes. Some of them, Mary privately admitted, were well thought. She only wished these schemes were applied to things better than gossip and marriage of her daughters.

It had been a mistake when Mary had decided to read her book in the living room where her mother gossiped to her father who only listened to it half heartedly. Generally, Mary was not expected to be a part of their tête-à-tête but today her mother actively sought her attention.

"Mary, dear," her mother said in a cheerful tone, "Do you remember your cousin, William Collins?"

"Of course, mother."

"He has the best offer for you, dear child." At this, Mary's father raised an eyebrow. "I know you will not reject it."

"My dear," Mr. Bennet turned to his wife, "What are you talking of? Since when have you started including my nephew in such schemes, even though he can never be as good at them as you are. Surely, you need a better partner at this."

Mrs. Bennet only ignored her husband's sarcasm, being long used to it, and continued thus, "He proposes that you visit him at his home. He wishes you to meet Brigham Ford, a young gentleman who wishes to become a clergyman like your good cousin."

"How can I help a gentleman who I have never met, mother? I have the least knowledge on how to become a clergyman." Mary tried to be obtuse in hopes that her mother did not mean what Mary thought she meant.

"Do not speak nonsense, darling!" Mrs. Bennet stared at her daughter. "Mr. Collins wishes you to marry Brigham Ford."

"Marry him!" Mary exclaimed. Her worst fears had been confirmed by her mother. She tried to think of an argument as her mother, heedless of her surroundings, ranted on how good a match it would be, how kind her cousin and so on.

There was not one argument that Mary could use to refuse her mother. That she did not wish to marry would only be taken as her shyness, that she wished to be accomplished would only be said to be nonsensical , for women did not want such things. Only her being engaged to somebody else could stop her mother.

" I am engaged to somebody else!" a voice cried, interrupting her mother's talks of how gentlemanly a man Mr. Ford was. It took Mary a few minutes to realize that the voice had been hers; her cheeks and ears were flushed deeply at this.

"Mary!" her mother only stared at her, unable to comprehend her daughter's words. She tried to open her mouth but nothing came out of it and then she shut it. At last, she only asked, in a feeble voice, whether Mary was not joking. She must know how sensitive her nerves were and jesting on such matters made it even worse for her them.

"I am not joking!" Mary raised her voice before lowering it. "I have been courting a gentleman for a while, and - and we are in love and I-I-I-I promised him to not tell anyone of it until he had my father's permission." Mary was never good at speaking about her truthful observations; how she could speak such blatant lies with such ease, she did not want to comprehend.

Mr. Bennet's mouth twisted in a sarcastic smile. "Well, how long have you and your-" Mr. Bennet's lips quirked downwards "admirer been in love, dear? To be sure, you are more cunning than I had thought you to be."

Mary blushed. "We have not courted for too long, father. But my attachment to him forbids me to take anyone else seriously. Mother, I cannot go to Mr. Collins' house. Thank him for his consideration but I must decline it."

"When are we to meet this gentleman, Mary?" Mr. Bennet asked briskly, all humor long faded from his countenance.

"Soon," Mary answered too quickly. "At the ball. That Mr. Grant is throwing. He'll introduce himself to you then, father."

***

All nights upto the ball, Mary had spent restless and sleepless. Thankfully, nobody had asked her any further about her non existent admirer. Her mother had overcame her shock enough to congratulate Mary and write a reply to Mr. Collins to decline his kind offer stating that her daughter was already courting someone else. Mr. Bennet had said nothing after the scene in the morning. Kitty only giggled whenever she even saw Mary and the latter saw to it that her sister did not ask any unwanted questions.

She had tried to come up with any gentleman that would help her in the - situation - she found herself in. None came to her mind. Gentlemen, or men, in general were a foreign breed to her. Even women who were not of her family were unknown to her. There was no one truly that Mary could ask help of.

Mr. Lancaster was Kitty's admirer; no one would believe that it was secretly Mary who he coveted. William Lucas was a good option but he was too carefree to take anything seriously. As much as he and Mary had developed a peculiar friendship, he was not the person to be approached.

After thinking for a long while, Mary reached to a conclusion that the man must not be someone the Bennets knew intimately. That made Mary abandon all hopes for the few cousins that had come to her mind. None of them were particularly close to her and no one would believe that they had been secretly engaged.

Hopeless, for never had she encountered such a predicament, Mary steadfastly read her books for longer hours than she usually did and rarely saw anyone from her family. The day for the ball came and so did Mary's dread and horror. She wished she could make an excuse of being sick but she had been well till yesterday and if they called for a doctor, her lie would be caught.

In her gloom, Mary hardly noticed, or even cared, how beautifully the hall had been decorated . Everyone was in awe of it and Mary wished Kitty would shut up about everyone's dresses and what not.

"It is so pretty!" Kitty cried for what seemed like the hundredth time. "I could have never expected that the Crawfords would be so good at arranging balls!"

"And I could have never expected somebody to talk of nonsensical things as much as you do!" Mary finally snapped. Mrs. Bennet then scolded Mary for abusing her sister so and having no compassion for her poor nerves. Mary apologized, ashamed of her lack of control on herself, and Kitty accepted it.

It was a relief that Mr. Bennet had declined to attend the event. Mary knew that her father knew of her lies but since he had not said a word of it, his daughtercould only hope that he would not be the one to reveal all of her lies. Only Kitty and Mrs. Bennet were the ones who believed Mary to be true and were more than curious to see who this man was who had captured Mary's heart.

The first two dances, Mary had planned, she would play at the piano forte in order to escape her mother's incessant questioning. And music would give her the benefit of calming her nerves and thinking of a logical solution to her problem without having to accept her lies to anybody. However, her plan was foiled by the person she had last expected to do so : Mr. Crawford.
He had approached her and Kitty, looking restless, as if he were in a hurry. His bow and pleasantries were said in a tone of such a disinterest and distraction that even Mary was slightly concerned for him. However, welcoming the Bennet sisters had not been his object; it was to ask Mary for the first two dances.

"Will you give me the honor, Miss Bennet," said Mr. Crawford, his eyes glancing in search for somebody else in the crowd before settling on Mary. "Of being your partner for the first two dances, if you are not already engaged?"

Before Mary could form a proper reply, Kitty all but cried, "Dear Mary!" and Mary knew what her sister was thinking; that Mr. Crawford was the man Mary had been talking of. With her mind already in a state of distress and not wanting Kitty to say out aloud her thoughts, Mary could only give a rushed consent. Her answer bewildered Mr. Crawford, even amused him, but he accepted it all the same and bowed and left the sisters.

Mary was in no condition to listen to her sister's chatter. What could Mr. Crawford mean by this? The few times they had been in each other's company, he had never shown any peculiar interest in her. Now what did he mean by giving her such an honor? By offering to be her partner for the first two dances? He must know there were ladies more than willing to have his attention, who loved him much better than Mary did. At last, she had become calm enough to realize that she needed Mr. Crawford's help in this, no matter what his intentions had been while asking her to dance.

However, as Mr. Crawford led her to the dance, in her agitation, Mary had no words to convey her situation. She was mortified, beyond embarrassed, that she who always prided herself on her self reliance, was now left to ask a stranger's help. And that man to be Mr. Crawford! And all of this to be her own doing!

"Do you believe," Mary began feebly, "In the duty of a Christian to love their neighbor?"

Mr. Crawford raised his brows, searched her face for any traces of humor, and being convinced that she was not joking, he could only answer that he believed in it.

"Then, you must help me, sir!" Mary cried before regaining her sense of calm. In a lowered tone, she requested, "Please, sir, I must ask for your help. You are the only one that can bestow it on me."

Henry did not know whether or not laugh at the lady's request. What was it that Henry Crawford could possibly help someone with? He was the last person one was reminded when thinking of doing the Christian duty of loving one's neighbor. Good Lord, had Miss Bennet gone mad? Perhaps reading too many books did that to a person. However, not knowing what he was saying, he surprised both him and his partner by agreeing to help her.

The dance ended but Mary and Mr. Crawford were yet to let go of each other. Amused, curious, bewildered, Henry only followed Miss Bennet to a less crowded part of the hall. With great agitation and hurry did Mary tell her tale. She could not even look at Mr. Crawford as she told how of her mother's schemes, with great embarrassment she recounted her own response to it and revealed Kitty's mistaken belief of Mr. Crawford being Mary's admirer. Knowing Kitty, half the hall already thought Mr. Crawford to be Mary's lover.

Both were stumped into silence as Mary stopped speaking; the lady too busy avoiding Mr. Crawford's eye nd fidgeting with her gloves and trying in vain to control all of the feelings that rushed through her. The gentleman was too stunned to speak at first but he gathered his wits better than Mary did. Mary sneaked a glance and was glad to see that Mr. Crawford did not appear to be angry at least. He was engrossed in his thoughts and never had Mary burned more with a desperate sense of curiosity to know what the gentleman was thinking of.

"Well, Miss Bennet," Mr. Crawford said at last, "You and I are to be engaged then!" Mary could only sputter a shocked "Sir!" at this.

Henry chuckled at the expression of shock on her face and said, "Miss Bennet, do not sound so offended at the idea! It does not help my sense of ego." At Miss Bennet's narrowed eyes, he rushed to assure her that he was only joking.

"The only way out of this - " Mr. Crawford said, "-predicament is to act our way out of it. It need not be for long. And I have been told," Mr. Crawford smiled mischievously at this, "how great I am at acting."

Mary did not say a word; the whole scheme seemed so out of the world. She had read novels that made better sense than all of this. But Mr. Crawford was right; there was no other solution to the problem. They had to act as if they were wildly in love or Mary would be forced to the censure of everyone. The thought of everybody rejecting her and hating her was revolting. She could not stand the idea of it!

"You are right, sir," Mary agreed half heartedly. "I must thank for all the trouble you have to undertake for me!" Mr. Crawford dismissed it playfully. He pressed Miss Bennet's hand in reassurance and both of them parted ways with feelings that I, dear reader, cannot express in words.

Nobody knew what Miss Bennet and Mr. Crawford were talking of but the shy expression of the lady, the gentleman's smile and their pressed hands said it all. Mrs. Bennet needed no other confirmation of their being so in love with each other that they could not stand others' interference. With what delight did Mrs. Bennet relate this to everyone, the author cannot tell in mere words. To have all of her daughters married! And all of them to wealthy gentlemen! She congratulated herself, told it to anyone who would listen to her and by the end of the evening, it was confirmed : Mary Bennet had been engaged to Henry Crawford all this time.

Chapter Text

Henry had never seen his sister so quite in his entire life. An entire carriage ride from a ball and not a word about it! No talk of dresses and fashion, no gossip, no snickering over gossip loving old hags. Though he disliked his sister knowing of his - situation- with Miss Bennet, he was hardly upset about it. He never thought of past for he saw no good in uselessly obsessing over it. He would wait till Mary said something of it; until then there was nothing he could do.

At last, they reached Netherfield, and so ended Mary's silence. "What were you thinking Henry?" she all but shouted at her brother. Henry feigned innocence but his charms were no good for his sister who had learnt to see past them. She repeated her question, almost pleading, that the news of his engagement with Miss Bennet was nothing but a rumor.

Henry sighed. "It breaks my heart, dear sister, but it is true. Miss Bennet and I are in love with each other! Your blessing-" A sharp laugh cut off Henry's dramatic declaration of love. Minutes passed before Mary could cease laughing and a few tears escaped her eyes as she tried to be sober.

"You are in love, indeed!" Mary lightly bumped her shoulder with her brother's. "What an actor you are, brother. You should be in a play; your talents are wasted here." When Henry failed to respond in his usual joking manner and he only gazed at the ground, shock overcame Mary. She could not fathom if her brother, her Henry, was truly in love with that dull spinster. She only stared at him and prevailed at last at getting an answer out of him.

"I am not in love with Miss Bennet," Henry began carefully, "But I am engaged to her."

"Henry, I do not understand what kind of a cruel prank you are playing on me. Surely, you are not engaged to -", Mary's mouth tightened, "to Miss Bennet." When a stiff nod confirmed her fears, Miss Crawford's expression might have bemused an outsider; her mouth dropped open, her eyes as wide as they could be and her inability to say a word despite desperately wishing to do so.

"What on Earth, Henry!" she at last cried, quite tormented to find any thing else to say. "What of-" Mary checked herself for the fear of waking the Grants and hissed in a low voice, "What of Miss Lancaster? Our aunt had such high hopes from your partnership; what will she and Dr. Grant say to you marrying a dull, plain girl with no connections, no money of hers!"

Henry's jaw clenched at the name of Miss Lancaster. It was the prospect of being with that girl that had made him ask Miss Bennet to dance in the first place. He had barely tolerated his aunt's matchmaking ever since that dinner and it was in desperation to escape that , which made him come with the plan of pretending to court Miss Bennet. Besides, it was not as if Henry was in any danger of being attached to Miss Bennet.

"It is Miss Lancaster who is too dull for my tastes," Henry said bitterly. "You know how much I detest people like her. Too shy, too good(Henry practically spit at this), too moral for someone like me!" Both brother and sister were startled at this declaration. Henry, though uncaring of most people in his life, hardly hated anybody like this.

"Henry," Mary said gently, pity clear in her tone, "Is this about-"

"Good night, sister," Henry said briskly and bowed clumsily and erratically, as if he had no control on himself.

***

"How in love Mr. Crawford is with our Mary!" Mrs. Bennet said to her husband after the entire house had retired to bed. "And how sly Mary is! Hiding such a thing from all of us. You should have seen how he pressed her hand, how he looked at her and, oh! How shyly she gazed at him!"

"So, Mary was right, after all," Mr. Bennet dryly observed. No matter what his wife believed, he still found it hard to believe that Mary had been in love with Mr. Crawford. He knew nothing of the gentleman but Mary was not the kind of person to accept a man she knew so little of.

"How surprised I was to find that he had danced the first two dances with our Mary!" Mrs. Bennet continued to narrate her observations at the ball, not caring how her husband had lost any interest in listening her. "And the rest of the night he scarcely looked at anyone but Mary."

"Yes, for how else is one to know if a gentleman loves a lady? Him staring at her is the only proof he can give of his affection! " Mrs. Bennet , having long learnt to accept her husband's comments, took it as a sign of him wanting to sleep. She happily gave into sleep, no troubles plaguing her mind. Mr. Bennet, however, could only wish for his wife's easy sleep, his thoughts constantly plagued with the strange turn of events.

***

Music was the most elegant art form that had ever existed. Mary had loved it since she was a child; she had never been anybody's favorite and music had been her solace since then. She did not repent being born into a humble household nor did she have any complaints about it. However, there were times such as these when she wished that they could afford an instrument. She wished to be immersed in music and forget all about her troubles. She even flattered herself by thinking the Crawfords might have a piano (they did not, sadly, Mary had noted no musical instrument) and that she would be allowed to play it but a stop must be put to such thoughts. Mr. Crawford may have agreed to help her but Mary knew that it was not borne out of any special attachment to her
; he had other motives.

"Mary!" Kitty cried, bursting into the room. "Guess who has come to visit us!"

"The Queen?", Mary dryly answered, irritated that her solitude was interrupted by the arrival of someone she probably did not care about. At this, Kitty whined and Mary rolled her eyes but could not help the small smile that formed. Her sister behaved like a child sometimes despite being eighteen.

"Fine, be as you want. I will not tell who it is that has come." Kitty's child like remark only elicited another sigh from her elder sister.

"Forgive me, dear sister," Mary said, "Please do tell who it is that has graced our humble abode?"

At this, Kitty brightened, "Mr. Crawford has come to meet you, Mary!" Kitty's loud shriek of excitement gave Mary time to absorb the shock of his sudden arrival. Perhaps, he regretted helping her and wished to withdraw from their agreement. 'And he has every right to..' Mary tried to reason but this logic did not make the lingering feelings of disappointment disappear.

Mary was dragged to the living room by Kitty not caring how unprepared her sister was to see Mr. Crawford. The gentleman bowed at both the sisters, and for once Mary was glad that her mother was at Lady Lucas' house and gossiping nonsense with her.

"Miss Bennet," Mr. Crawford addressed Mary in a low tone, "Do you wish to walk in the park with me? It is a very beautiful day, in fact, is it not(he said turning to Kitty)?" Mary gave her consent and to the park the pair went. Throughout the carriage ride, little words passed between them and Mary used this time to imagine the things she would say once Mr. Crawford said he no longer wanted to help her. That it was perfectly fine, that she was very grateful for the time he had bestowed, that Mary will handle everything just fine. The walk soon started and Mary's dread did not lessen amongst the beautiful trees and flowers.

In her anxiety, Mary could not help but be the one to break the silence between them. "I must thank you, sir, for helping me at the ball. And it is perfectly fine that you wish to end this pretense at once. I understand that there are other ladies far more anxious for your attention-"

"Miss Bennet," Henry proclaimed, amusedly ceasing her rant. "I do not wish to end the agreement between us. Besides, we have not even started yet. I cannot bear to see your sister upset at the prospect of our courtship ending so early."

After gathering her wits, Mary stared at the gentleman, fixing him with a look of curiosity and suspicion. "If you do not mind, sir, can I ask you a question?"

"You may, madam," came the easy answer.

"Why do you wish to help me? It is no lie that you have no attachment to me and you do not love my sister so much that for her sake you are helping me. And I cannot think of a reason and only you can help me out this time, sir."

Mr. Crawford was momentarily amazed at Mary's bluntness and stared at her before composing himself. "Very well, Miss Bennet. But I must say that my reasons are not very noble."

Mary smiled sardonically, "People seldom do things that are not for their own selfish interests. I can hardly judge you, sir, for doing what every other human does."

"Well, then," Henry sighed, "I asked you for the dance because I wished to escape my aunt's matchmaking. And it was only out of desperation to escape her attempts that I agreed to help you." At this, Mary only hummed thoughtfully. She was curious why someone so young and so handsome did not wish to marry but it was not her business to know his reasons.

"If not for breaking our arrangement," Mary asked, "then why did you want to meet me?"

Henry's eyes brightened at this and mischievously smiling, he answered, "Well, we must have some enjoyment from our arrangement. And we must do something to convince people of our love for each other."

"But we cannot be too much in love," Mary pressed, "Our arrangement cannot be permanent."

"Then how is it that you break my heart, Miss Bennet. Everybody knows that I can never do such a thing to a lady."

"I believe differently, sir, for my observations tell me that you are quite the heartbreaker. Every lady in Longbourn is devastated that you are to be engaged to somebody else. Their affection is the fault of both the parties involved."

"Is that so? And what about you Miss Bennet? ", he said in a low tone of playful gallantry, "Are you not quite glad that you were saved the heartache by me?"

"Oh, you needn't worry about my heart, Mr. Crawford. You are the last person it is in danger from."

Henry smiled at Miss Bennet; perhaps this arrangement was not as dreadful as he had thought originally.

***

If anyone was unconvinced of Mary Bennet and Henry Crawford's love for each other, then him asking her to a walk was certainly confirming. Even Miss Crawford who had been in complete disagreement with the idea of that woman with her brother could not help but give it some merit. Mrs. Grant was sorely disappointed in Henry's choice; the girl had not made any impression when she had dined at Netherfield and was the worst sort a person could be. So arrogant, so ill mannered, so distasteful were her moral sermons. The girl lacked good connections and had only two thousand pounds an income compared to Henry's seven thousand a year. Good Lord, was such a thing to be tolerated!

Whatever were her aunt's feelings towards her brother's choice, Miss Crawford could not help but want to give Miss Bennet a chance. Her inviting Miss Bennet to dinner would not be well received by her aunt, she was aware, but for the sake of her brother it must be done. However, it must be added that Miss Bennet was not invited alone but her sister and the Lancasters were too. Mary could not spend hours in the company of that dull woman, even if her brother could.

And what did the lovers think of the newfound attention? Mary was not a person who could boast of having many friends, so, except for Maria Lucas' energetic and jealous congratulations and Lady Lucas' awkward blessings, Mary did not know or care of what others thought. Henry was long used and always strived to have everybody's attention to himself and found peculiar joy from shocking the mothers, aunts, daughters, nieces all alike and grin inwardly at their foolishness.

The invitation was the source of Mrs. Bennet's utmost delight. Kitty was shocked but pleased at being included in the invitation. Mr. Bennet had become convinced to some degree of the lovers' attachment to each other but as long s Henry Crawford did not approach him, he had no objection. Mary received the news with tolerable calm. She was mildly irritated that so soon she had to be at a social event but was comforted by the fact that Mr. Crawford was there. They were not friends yet, but these past days, he had proved to be a valuable companion.

The dinner party was received with cold politeness by Mrs. Grant and indifference by Dr. Grant. Mary Crawford was all joy for the Lancasters and Kitty and was able to congratulate Miss Bennet with her usual playful charm. Henry's welcome was charming and playfully impudent to all, even Miss Bennet, who he had come like better.

"Well, forgive me for my impudence," Miss Crawford directed the question to Mary who barely hid a wince at being the center of attention. "But how did you and my brother become so taken with each other that he did not even tell his sister of it?"

Mary stared at Mr. Crawford for a moment but finding his gaze steadily downwards she was at a loss of words. "How can I tell of your brother's feelings?" Mary tried weakly.

"But you must know," Miss Crawford cried, "Are not people in love supposed to know everything about each other? Especially two people who are so violently in love that they care three straws about anyone else?"

"We are not violently in love," Mary protested, her cheeks warming, "I despise the phrase 'violently in love'. What does such a thing mean? It is quite ridiculous to believe that I would know what Mr. Crawford is thinking all the time just because I love him; I cannot boast of knowing the magic to read minds."

Miss Crawford blinked at her the same way some people did when Mary made her observations on human follies and they took it to be her vanity. No word was said for a while and Mary blushed and blushed by every passing second. Her stomach knotted with dread. Had she unknowingly hurt Miss Crawford? She quite regretted speaking her mind so freely and not having the ability to guess what others thought of it. Sometimes, she really wished she had the magic to read minds.

"I am sorry but I must steal Miss Bennet for a while," Mr. Crawford said, his voice cutting through the thick air, "I had promised to teach her how to play whist." Mary wordlessly stared at him; he had promised no such thing and neither had Mary asked for it. But still she could not find words to declare his falsehood and let herself be drawn away.

He ordered a servant to bring the cards and then drawing himself slightly closer, he whispered, "You must not mind my sister. She always speaks her mind; that is how she makes friends."

"Should not she be the one you should be telling this to?" Mary blurted out. "I was the one who had spoken her mind so freely and offended your sister." With a short laugh, Mr. Crawford denied her accusation and declared that his sister was not someone who was easily offended and if she was, she deserved it every now and then.

"How can you speak so of your sister?" Mary wondered.

Mr. Crawford shrugged, "She and I have both gotten things too easily in life, it is not wrong to say that we deserve someone to censure us every now and then." Seeing that Mary was about to protest, Mr. Crawford added, "Even if the person did not mean to censure us."

"Well, you could have thought of a better excuse, sir," Mary said him truthfully. "Kitty knows that I do not care about such games. What if she were to find out about your lie?"

"Kitty's nature is not like yours, Miss Bennet," Mr. Crawford reminded her, "She is not someone who doubts others easily. And," Mr. Crawford pointed to Kitty, Miss Crawford and Mr. Lancaster laughing and talking, "I do not think that anyone is paying attention to us."

"Can I play the piano, instead?" Mary said those words before she was aware of their utterance.

"The piano was taken by Mr. Bingley when he left Netherfield to us," Mr. Crawford shrugged apologetically, "And we only owned a harp for Mary's sake. I have always preferred to listen to music rather than practice it."

Here, both were called by others for the dinner had been served. Everyone gave them sly looks for they had noticed that not one card was used; they had spent the entire time talking to each other. Mary, oblivious to these, only furrowed her brow when Kitty giggled as Mary took her seat besides her.

"What were you and Mr. Crawford talking of?" Kitty asked with barely concealed glee.

"What were you and Mr. Lancaster talking of?" Mary retorted but instead of blushing or stuttering, Kitty only sighed sadly.

"We did not talk much. He prefers Miss Crawford over me." At Kitty's sad and jealous tone, Mary only stared at her. Did she not know how much Mr. Lancaster preferred Kitty's company above anyone else's? She never got the chance to tell her thoughts out loud.

Chapter Text

Before Mary could further gauge the sudden change in Kitty's moods; the conversation of the party had shifted to a house which was to be improved by Mr. Crawford. He captured everybody's attention by the animation in his eyes that rarely was there; his countenance grew more and more lively as he described how he was to undertake the project, what changes the house would undergo and so on. Mary could scarcely believe that a man like Mr. Crawford - an incorrigible flirt without any apparent aim in his life - could have so much passion for something. She wondered if he could love an inanimate house so much - then how come marriage give repulse him so?

"Your dedication to this project is admirable, Crawford," Mr. Lancaster complimented, "And when are you going to start working on the house?"

"It is not a house," Mr. Crawford said with slight impatience, "it is a manor. And a very old fashioned one, mind you. I met its owner when I had recently moved to Netherfield - some clergyman's son - who had recently inherited the manor from his mother's side. Though, it is a great beauty; you cannot fault him for wanting to improve it. I suppose it will take some weeks or a month, at most."

Mr. Lancaster raised his brows in admiration; Kitty's bad mood seemed to have been momentarily lifted. Miss Crawford and Mrs. Grant looked disinterested; perhaps they were used to Mr. Crawford's 'projects'.

"Would you be fine if we went on a trip there, aunt?" Mr. Crawford asked, his eyes set intently on his aunt.

"Dear, when have I and Dr. Grant ever refused you from doing such things? My husband is always telling me how excursions and such are necessary for the young people and I cannot help but agree with him there."

Then Mr. Crawford asked for everybody else's consent. Mr. Lancaster, coincidentally, had not much work and could spare two weeks for amusement. Kitty's acceptance was the most enthusiastic of all.

"And what of you, Miss Bennet?" Mr. Crawford turned to Mary, "Are you to accompany us on this trip?"

Mary opened her mouth and then closed it. She had no answer; she had liked the idea of visiting the manor but she also did not wish to spend weeks far from home; away from her books and her music sheets.

Mary tried to speak up but Mr. Crawford beat her to it. "Oh, come Miss Bennet. I am sure your books will not rot if you spend some time away from them!" Mary would have snapped at him but something in his good natured tone made her guilty for wanting to do so.

Everybody was now looking fixedly at Mary; even the sullen Mrs. Grant's eyes were sparked with interest, Miss Crawford's expression said that she knew Mary was going to deny the offer. Kitty and Mr. Lancaster looked expectantly at her. Flushing, she fixed her gaze at the table in front of her.

After thinking for a while, Mary sighed; "Fine, Mr. Crawford. But Kitty and I must ask our parent's permission -" Mary trailed off as everybody's attention from her shifted after her initial acceptance of the offer. Mary stifled the urge to hit her head on the table.

***

Mrs. Bennet was all delight at such a scheme; there was nothing more she could want more from her life now. Mary engaged and Kitty soon to be engaged (for, of course Mr. Lancaster was going to ask for Kitty's hand any time soon) and three of her daughters already married. This was some success to be had!

Mr. Bennet had no problem with Mary and Kitty going on the trip - they were both women now - even thought he wished that they were children yet and he had had better relations with them. But - he flicked to the next page of the newspaper - nobody could go in past and his daughters were happy with their choices. Who was he to interfere?

All kinds of preparations had to be done; new clothes were to be shopped for("No, Mary, I am not letting you go to that trip in those drab clothes of yours."), people were to be told of it and everything was to be done in a week, as they left on Monday.

By and by, Mary came to know more of the place Mr. Crawford wished to improve. It was Brownlowe manor and had once belonged to some very important family but was abandoned due to some disaster. It was something out of a novel and Mary would not have believed were it not for Mr. Crawford's earnest looks as he told about it.

Mr. Crawford had visited twice during the week before departure. He had become an instant favorite of Mrs. Bennet by the virtue of his charms and all kinds of adventures he told them of. Mr. Bennet had only met him for a few minutes but did not find Mr. Crawford to be as foolish and detestable as he had though him to be. Even Mary did not object to him visiting her house like this in future, even if it was to sustain their ruse.

"Do you never get tired of reading books, Miss Bennet?" Mr. Crawford cried amusedly on his second visit. Before Mary could answer that one never got tired of reading a good book, Mrs. Bennet took it upon herself to express how much she disliked this habit of Mary's.

"I love all my children equally, Mr. Crawford," Mrs. Bennet said, "But I must say that I do not like how much obsessed Mary is with books; none of her sisters - even Lizzy - are so attached to books like Mary is."

"I am not obsessed, mother," Mary defended even though her cheeks warmed slightly, "I only prefer the company of books over people."

"And why is that?" Mr. Crawford asked the question with his gaze fixed on Mary.

"Because, books tell us so much of the world. They have all lessons for us to be learned while still providing us with enjoyment. What more could one want from anything?" Of course, these were not the only reasons Mary liked books but found herself unable to say anything beyond that.

"But how can you know of the world if you do not participate in it?"," Mr. Crawford's eyes (they were very blue; Mary noted) gazed at her with curiosity.

Mary had no answer to that. Mr. Crawford's eyes smiled. "Do not worry, Miss Bennet. I'll teach how to make your life more amusing and interesting."

"My life is interesting enough!" Mary cried, her cheeks becoming impossibly red.

"Then why do you look like a sullen child deprived of their favorite toy at every ball, every gathering?" Mr. Crawford challenged.

"Maybe because," Mary snapped, "I do not like to be surrounded by foolish people all the time." Regretting the words the moment they dropped out of her mouth, Mary had not expected Mr. Crawford to laugh (genuinely, not in a mocking manner) at it. Mary only stared at him and before Mr. Crawford could say anything, Mrs. Bennet decided to take the matters in her own hand.

"Mary does not know what she says," Mrs. Bennet shook her head in disapproval, "She has been too blunt for her own good."

"Do not worry, Mrs. Bennet," Mr. Crawford smiled "That is why I like her."

Chapter Text

It was late at night; the Bennet household had retired to sleep. It was a cool night with breeze flowing in through the window but Mary found herself unable to sleep. In vain she attempted to read her book or write about something - her mind was still stuck on Mr. Crawford's words when he had visited in the evening.

'That is why I like her,' he had said. What did he mean by it? What did he wish to prove by smiling in such a manner? He had no attachment to her beyond the ruse they were upholding. Mary was sure that she could never covet a man like Mr. Crawford - arrogant, flirtatious and unprincipled. Then what trick was he playing? What joy could he gain in wanting Mary to think that he had any sort of tender feelings for her?

Mary sat up on her bed and exhaled softly. She buried her head in her hands and wished she knew what Mr. Crawford was thinking when he declared (so carelessly, so unthinkingly) that he liked her. She was no reader of minds but what she did know was that this farce had to end soon.

***

"Good day, Miss Bennet!" Henry cheerfully proclaimed, perhaps enjoying just a smidgen how grumpy she looked. "Are you excited to head to the Brownlowe manor?" He helped Miss Bennet climb the carriage, who then snatched her hand from his as if it were on fire. His brow furrowed but he did not dwell much on it; he was going to complete one of his most ambitious projects and not even Miss Bennet's crankiness could put a damper on his high spirits.

Humming a song under his breath, Henry directed his horses, happy that he was the master of his carriage ride. He was also glad that his sister and Kitty had decided to come with Mr. Lancaster, instead. Their chatter would have only annoyed and Miss Bennet, who was accompanying him, had not said beyond ten words to him this morning.

The air was fresh and the sun smiled gently on Henry who hummed the song (he did not know which) louder than he was before. The road they were travelling on was mostly clear. Brownlowe came to Henry's mind and even though he had only seen it once, he still remembered its rustic beauty. He could not wait-

"Mr. Crawford, please stop singing," Miss Bennet's request was tensely demanded, her usual monotone gone. Perhaps, her mother had taken away her books and now she was acting like a child whose books had been snatched from her.

"Why? Do you not like it?" Henry answered in an easy, unaffected manner. "I must say you ruined my dreams of singing in an opera."

"Must you always joke about everything?" Miss Bennet's demanding voice surprised Henry. He could not move his eyes away from the road and he had no idea what kind of expression Miss Bennet had on her face. He could have guessed her mood if he had been able to see what was written on her face.

"Well, somebody has to," Henry replied, "Besides, I have made it a personal mission of mine to make your life more amusing in these three weeks we are at Brownlowe." Miss Bennet squeaked in indignation, claiming that her life was amusing enough, thank you very much, but Henry only laughed at it. Thus bickering and laughing and jesting (for the most part), the pair reached Brownlowe manor.

***

Mary had wanted to end this ruse by the end of this day but it was becoming quite difficult. This only served to annoy Mary more and more. The entire ride - a perfect opportunity to bring up the subject - Mr. Crawford had spent it joking and infuriating Mary. When they reached Brownlowe, she had been quite taken in by its rustic beauty to think of anything else.

The manor stood tall and grey and for a moment Mary felt as if she were in a gothic novel. The garden surrounding the house was all but gone. Only sparse trees were left and only fallen leaves greeted them. Mary was starting to realize why Mr. Crawford could not stop talking about this place. She was no good at building but she could understand the pleasure in wanting to rebuild this house.

Mr. Lancaster, Kitty and Miss Crawford had joined them not much after Mary and Mr. Crawford had reached Brownlowe. As there was no construction going on today, the Bennets, Lancasters and Crawfords were the only people in the house.

The entire day they had spent exploring the manor. It had a number of rooms, each unique in its own way. The paintings revealed that the family that had lived there were quite an important one (if the manor was not enough of an indicator, the paintings sure were). The unsmiling, elegant faces stared back at Mary and her fancies were quite wild when she thought of how the family might have been.

However, the room that had interested her the most was the one with an old piano in it. Since only a few rooms were cleaned by now, this one was quite dusty, even the piano was covered with dirt. Mary felt sorry that such a beautiful instrument because of time and negligence had been reduced to such a state.

Now it was evening and Mary and Kitty had retired to rest before dinner in one of the cleaned rooms. It was bigger than any room Mary had ever been in and its faded walls only added to its odd beauty. The manor had occupied so much of her mind that even the book in her hand could not occupy her interest for much long.

"Where do you think," Kitty asked in a small voice, "we will stay tomorrow?"

"Here, at Brownlowe. Where else would we stay?"

"But the workers will come tomorrow and so does the master of this house. I am not sure we will be kept here for three weeks like Mr. Crawford."

Mary pursed her lips to stifle the incoming yawn. "Perhaps, we will stay at some other place while Mr. Crawford improves this house."

"Hmm," Kitty simply said, "I think we will made to stay in some nearby house. I heard Miss Crawford say to Mr. Lancaster that this house's master has agreed to let us stay at his own house for the meanwhile."

"That was-" Mary furrowed her brows, "this is awfully kind of him."

Kitty shrugged," Mr. Crawford is helping him and besides he is a clergyman…"

"Do you think we can buy clothes here?" Kitty suddenly said, "I would like to have the dress that Miss Crawford had worn during that dinner."

Mary stared at her sister. She had thought Kitty had only been momentarily jealous of Miss Crawford. "Your dresses are fine enough," Mary said in a gruff tone. "Why should you want to be like Miss Crawford at all?"

At this, Kitty flushed. "Never mind, Mary. You will not understand." Before Mary could force Kitty to say what she meant, they were both called for dinner.

***
So tired was Mary by the end of the dinner that her wish to talk with Mr. Crawford had been wiped out from her mind. Everything during the dinner had been nice - from the food to the conversation. Even Mary found that Mr. Crawford's tales were not quite as foolish as she had thought (not that she had said this out loud, of course); she even laughed at some of them.

I need not tell the reader how unreliable the human memory is. Fortunately (or unfortunately), Mary's resentment towards Mr. Crawford had melted away and she found him a tolerable enough companion when he was not teasing or harping her about how boring her life was.

Merry was everybody as they transitioned, quite early in the morning, from Brownlowe manor to the Ford household (as Mr. Ford was the owner of Brownlowe manor). Though sad at not being able to be at the place that had so captivated her, there was some reassurance to be found in Mr. Crawford telling everybody that they could visit the manor whenever the work was not being done on it.

Mr. Ford was younger than Mary had expected him to be. He had a rather thin figure and a sallow face but was not too dislikable as to be downright ugly.

"Thank you, Mr. Ford," Mr. Crawford shook hands with the gentleman as a feeling seized Mary that she had heard of Mr. Ford before.

"I should be the one thanking you," Mr. Ford's tone was polite and soft, "You are the one helping me rebuild my house." Mr. Crawford waved off the praise - something Mary had not expected him to do. Perhaps he was not as arrogant as much as Mary though him to be.

Mr. Ford's house was not as big or grand as Brownlowe by any means but it was warm and cozy in its own way. It was perhaps too neat for Mary to think anybody lived here. Mary theorized that he was an orphan and that is why he was letting six people stay with him for so long, apart from out of gratitude for Mr. Crawford.

Mr. Ford and Mr. Crawford left the house shortly but still the feeling that she had at least heard of Mr. Ford sometime before persisted.

Kitty and Mary settled in their rooms. Unlike Brownlowe, the walls were cream colored and the size of the room was twice as small as their previous one. Their luggage had yet to arrive so both of them sat on the bed not having any access to their toiletries. The silence lasted shorter than Mary had expected.

"I cannot imagine how awkward it must be for you," Kitty said in a sympathetic tone, "To be staying in Mr. Ford's house right now."

"What do you mean?"

Kitty's eyes softened. "You need not hide your feelings from me. Besides, Mr. Ford and Mr. Crawford are gone and will not return any time soon."

Mary tried to think of what tragedy had befallen upon her that had ignited Kitty's kind feelings but her mind could not think of any. She said as much to Kitty who only drew closer and the pity in her eyes grew.

"I know how you must feel," Kitty whispered , "Staying in the house of a man whom you have rejected." Mary's mouth hung open; never in her life had she ever received a proposal from somebody, let alone be able to reject them .

"Do not act like you do not know what I am talking of!" Kitty's voice became snappish , "He was the same person Mr. Collins wanted you to marry!"

Oh.

***

The discovery had not raised in Mary anything other than a sense of awkwardness and a trifle of guilt. She had not even met Mr. Ford till yesterday so she could not feel any sadness for rejecting a man she barely knew of. Besides, everybody thought Mr. Crawford and Mary engaged - there was no reason that Mr. Ford would try to renew his offers and even that would be only if he had any sort of tenderness for Mary. But apart from bowing and exchanging pleasantries, Mr. Ford had not approached Mary much, so she did not think it wise to bring up the matter to anybody and had requested Kitty to do the same.

The first two days Mary spent in Mr. Ford's house with only Kitty and Miss Crawford for company. She spent much of it reading either her books or studying her music sheets. The third day was too much for Miss Crawford to be stifled in such a dull house with no amusements- she appealed to her brother and Mr. Lancaster and further reminded her brother that it was his duty to provide them with amusements.

Mr. Crawford sighed and Mary noted with some concern how weary his countenance was. He ran a hand through his hair and said weakly, "I do not know of any amusements around here. I am just as unaware of this place as you are."

"Well," Mr. Ford said in a grave voice that did not suit his thin frame , "I suppose, we can go and explore ---shire; it is a very old town. It is full of amusements for young people like you." He coughed before adding , "and myself, of course." He nodded in a comical sort of manner like his head would get detached from his body but Miss Crawford's attention was already diverted after the declaration of going out. All kinds of plans were being drawn out about all kinds of amusements they can do tomorrow.

Chapter Text

The next day, the entire Ford household was in a bustle. Everybody could not wait to roam around ----shire. Even Mary could not help but be affected by their excitement and reasoned that nothing worse could come of it.

This time, however, Mary and Miss Crawford sat in the same carriage with Mr. Crawford and Kitty was to be with Mr. Lancaster. Mr. Ford had politely declined as he had to help Mr. Collins with some clerical duties. Mary mulled on how near the Collins's house must be to Mr. Ford's. They must be close friends if Mr. Collins had wanted one of his cousins to marry Mr. Ford.

"So," Miss Crawford began, breaking through Mary's idle thoughts, "Miss Bennet, are you not glad Henry brought us all on this trip? And you would be surprised to know that he never told me of it before that dinner. How sneaky he has become! Do you not think so?"

"Oi!" Mr. Crawford cried, not moving his gaze from the road , "Do not complain to my beloved about me. Besides, she is too in love with me to say anything ill about me."

"Perhaps, Mr. Crawford overestimates my affection for him. I do-"

Mr. Crawford clicked his tongue against his teeth, interrupting Mary effectively. "I do not remember anything except for you confessing your undying love for me. And I being the gentleman-"

"I had done no such thing!" Mary said in a high pitched tone, her cheeks warm with indignation rather than the air. "Your memory is faulty! You should get it checked by a doctor."

"You two are quite the pair!" Miss Crawford cried in bemusement and a trifle of delight. Mary resolutely averted her gaze outside the carriage, too embarrassed to say anything; Mr. Crawford only laughed.

***

Mary felt the yellow dress between her fingers, delighted at how soft its material was. How pretty its owner would look in it, she thought a trifle morosely, since the owner could not be Mary. She had not bought any money of hers and was too stubborn to ask anybody else (even Kitty, who had brought her savings). So, she only lingered awkwardly in the background, unable to buy dresses with Miss Crawford and Kitty and not bold enough to seek Mr. Crawford's and Mr. Lancaster's company.

"You should buy the dress," A voice whispered from behind Mary who was so startled that she let out a small cry. She wrinkled her nose and pursed her lips when she realized it was only Mr. Crawford who was smiling widely as if he had won a lottery.

"What are you doing here?" Mary made no effort to hide the annoyance in her voice. After all, Mr. Crawford was the one who had barged in a shop for ladies' dresses. To add to Mary's further disdain, he only shrugged and offered no explanation otherwise.

At Mary's continued persistence, he finally said, "I only come here to rescue you." Then bending down to Mary as if sharing some secret with her, "I have never seen even Romeo looking at Juliet with such longing as you were looking at the dress. It is pretty, to be fair."

"Mr. Crawford," Mary began but closed her mouth; she would only end up snapping at him and make a scene for everybody. She dragged him outside and demanded (something which surprised both of them) where Mr. Lancaster was and why was Mr. Crawford not with him.

"Lancaster found some friend from his college days," Mr. Crawford shrugged, "I thought of finding you ladies and grant you the favor of my company."

"Oh, how noble of you, sir!" Mary regretted the sharpness in her voice as soon as Mr. Crawford's smile dimmed down. His blue eyes flashed intensely as he searched for something in her countenance.

"Why do you dislike me so much?" Mr. Crawford asked in a low voice. "Have I done something to offend you?" The seriousness of his voice scared Mary. He sounded as if he- as if he genuinely cared of her opinion about him. A few days ago, she would have told that she did dislike him but now she could not. She found his company tolerable. Sometimes, even more than tolerable.

"You have not offended me, Mr. Crawford," Mary answered truthfully but taking care at the same time. "Besides," she looked up at him and smiled , "We are friends, are we not?" Mr. Crawford's answering smile made Mary's chest swell with gladness.

***

"I cannot imagine," Mr. Crawford remarked , "How it must have been like to grow up with four sisters. I am glad I have only one," His gaze travelled to his own sister who was watching with an inert sort of curiosity Kitty bargain with the shop's owner.

"Well, it was not as bad as you imagine." Mary said rather truthfully. She did not feel too bad lingering in the corner now as she was with Mr. Crawford. The shop was mostly empty and too small for many people to comment on it. "Three of my sisters are married and only Kitty and I remain."

"So I have heard." Mr. Crawford said but before he could say anything further, a nettled Kitty and bored Miss Crawford approached them.

"Pray, Henry," Miss Crawford seemed surprised at spotting her brother. "Are you so in love with Miss Bennet that you cannot endure a few hours of separation?"

Mr. Crawford only shrugged while Mary told her that Mr. Lancaster was meeting a friend of his and Mr. Crawford had come here only to seek company.

"What friend?" Kitty's voice peeked with curiosity. " Oh! It must be Mr. Castle - Mr. Lancaster had told me of his friend from his college days who lived nearby." At everyone's teasing looks, Kitty flushed and mumbled something inaudible. She was saved by any further jest at her expense by Mr. Lancaster.

"I am not obsessed with you!" she cried before the realization of what she had said sunk. Her face turned even redder than possible. Covering her face with her hands, she ran away before anybody could say anything. Mary had to bite the inside of her cheeks to prevent laughing out at the look of pure confusion and devastation on Mr. Lancaster's face.

***

The rest of the day went merrily; there was much to see in ----shire. Just as Mr. Ford had said, the town and its old fashioned ways invited everybody's fancy. Even Kitty had lost her mortification enough to glance at Mr. Lancaster every now and then to make out his mood. Mr. Lancaster, however, still had not understood what had happened and even the most earnest of his requests only drew laughter from Mr. Crawford and more teasing from Miss Crawford. Mary pitied and would have said something had not she thought that it would upset Kitty.

Kitty stuck with Mary all the time; too embarrassed to seek anybody else. Even Mr. Crawford and Mary's occasional bickering did not draw more than weak smiles from Kitty.

Poor Kitty! She was not shy by any means but such a thing would have been mortifying for anybody (perhaps not Lydia - she would have turned the situation into a ridiculous joke). She tried gently as she could to cheer her up and partially succeeded in her attempts to do so.

"Well, the dress you bought," Mary said conversationally, not wanting the awkward silence to engulf them, "was very pretty. It would look very good on you." For the first time in the evening, Kitty smiled genuinely and asked, rather like an eager child, if Mary really thought so. Mary shook her head in affirmative which seemed to please her although it did not entirely lift up her bad mood.

Their next destination was the nearby park. Unlike the one near Meryton, this one was larger and had more variety of flowers and plants. The thought of walking in the cool shade of trees, after spending so much time in that heated, dingy shop made Mary sigh with relief. Everybody else seemed to welcome the idea just like Mary. Miss Crawford even said, "Never have I wanted to among trees so much more than before."

Kitty's spirits were now lifted enough but still she did not drift apart from Mary as the latter had expected. She was surprised that her sister would want her company over those of such lively people. They both even found many topics to talk on - the Brownlowe manor, the books Mary was reading, what accessories Kitty would like to complement her newly bought dress with and how enjoyable this trip had been so far.

"Miss Bennet," a low, somewhat shaky voice interrupted their talk, "I did not wish to interrupt (Mr. Lancaster said in a somewhat alarmed tone when both the ladies turned around to see him) but merely ask Miss Bennet (looking at Kitty whose gaze was rooted on the ground) about something."

Kitty mumbled something inaudible before asking, her gaze no longer trained on the ground but her discomfort was apparent, "What did you wish to ask?"

Mr. Lancaster opened his mouth before closing it. He did so once more before meekly asking, "How was your day?" Mary stared at him but felt pity when she saw how nervous the gentleman himself was. Before Kitty could answer, Miss Crawford borrowed her under the pretext of wanting to ask Mary what a flower that she had spotted was called.

"Dear Lord!" Miss Crawford whispered once they were sufficiently far from Mr. Lancaster and Kitty, "Were you planning to hear their entire conversation?"

"Well, Mr. Lancaster never said that he wanted to talk to Kitty privately." Mary defended herself.

Miss Crawford stared at her strangely before "Surely, you must know that Mr. Lancaster wishes to marry your sister. What if he were proposing to her this minute and you would have only stood there awkwardly."

"It does not seem," Mr. Crawford suddenly came out of nowhere but this time Mary was quicker to spot him, "That Lancaster wishes to propose to your sister, Miss Bennet."

"What are you talking of, Henry?" Miss Crawford said confusedly and Mary realized that she knew nothing of either Kitty's jealously of her or had any feelings for Mr. Lancaster. "Even a child can tell how much Miss Bennet and Mr. Lancaster love each other. When else would Mr. Lancaster propose to her if not now?"

Mr. Crawford's mouth apologetically as he subtly pointed towards the pair. He did not say anything but he did not need to. Kitty was staring at the ground, fidgeting with her gloves. Mr. Lancaster, too, in a manner so unlike that of his usual affable gallantry, was rubbing his neck with hand and there did not seem to be much conversation between them, either.

Mary wished, almost desperately, what they were talking of. She hoped, nay prayed, that both of them had not been exhausted of their affection for each other because of a small, awkward incident.

***

The dinner was not as bad as Mary had thought it to be. She did not get a single chance to talk to Kitty alone, even though curiosity burned through her. She wished to know what Mr. Lancaster and Kitty had conversed about. Neither of their countenances were much different than their usual ones. Mr. Lancaster was as friendly and calm as always and Kitty was as excitable and childlike. However, it was obvious, even to Mary, that something about their actions were forced. What if Kitty had rejected Mr. Lancaster in a fit of emotion? What if-

"Miss Bennet," Mr. Crawford's voice whispered from her besides, "You know that you look like an old spinster when you are anxious and worried?"

Mary made a face. "I beg your pardon!" she said in such a tone of offense that everybody around the table stared at Mary. She flushed and turned her gaze to the ground which was partially obscured by her long dress. In some time, everyone returned to what they were doing originally.

"Mr. Crawford," Mary hissed through her teeth but took care that her voice was lowered, "I do not look like an old spinster! And I am not anxious or worried about anything!"

Mr. Crawford only shrugged. "You seemed pretty worried to me. I had to call your name three times before I got your attention." Oh, dear. Had she really been so immersed in her thoughts that she did not listen to her name being called for three times. Softly, Mary mumbled an apology to Mr. Crawford.

"I will only accept your apology," Mr. Crawford paused, no doubt for dramatic effect (Mary really hated that she had ever apologized to him), "If you tell me what was worrying you."

Mary opened her mouth to deny that she had ever been worried in the first place but knew that was a lie. She only averted her gaze to indicate that she did not wish to have this conversation with him. Resolutely, avoiding Mary's hint, he only elbowed her gently from the side and pleaded to know what was troubling her.

"You are worse than a child, Mr. Crawford." Mary's exasperated declaration had no effect on Mr. Crawford.

"Oh, come Miss Bennet," he said in a persuasive tone," We are friends, are we not? Friends share their worries with each other." Why, if Mr. Crawford was not the most impertinent person Mary had ever met! She ran her gaze around the table. Miss Crawford and Kitty were chatting about something, Mr. Lancaster was a polite listener to their conversation. A servant had informed that Mr. Ford would come home tomorrow and was very sorry that he could not attend to his guests.

"I am worried about Kitty," Mary admitted in a low tone, "I do not wish her and Mr. Lancaster's affection for each other is extinguished because of a single incident." Mr. Crawford only nodded, humming in a thoughtful manner.

"I do not think anything," Mr. Crawford said after a moment's meditation, "That everything between them will be severed just because of an awkward moment." The, laughingly he turned to Mary and said, "You worry too much, Miss Bennet. Here, I thought that you had some grave, secret illness that you were suffering from."

Mary did not take much notice of Mr. Crawford's teasing manner as she narrowed her eyes and gazed at Kitty whose laughter seemed strained. For Kitty's sake, she hoped Mr. Crawford was right.

Chapter Text

The Bennet household was expected to be silent for the three weeks Kitty and Mary were gone to Brownlowe manor. However, within the end of the first week, this illusion was ruined by a letter from the fourth daughter, Lydia Wickham.

Dear mother,
How silly it is that it has been such a long time since I've written you all a letter! But it is to expected since I'm a married woman and a mother of a daughter. Catherine is the darling of our neighborhood. Oh! Only if you and my sisters were here to see how everybody gushes over her fair curls and plump cheeks! Though (do not tell my husband I said so) she can be a handful, especially since I am to give birth to her sibling. It is so fretful here and Wickham is gone again (though I assure you that he regretted doing so; oh you should see how he adores me and Cathy). I am alone with no one to take care of me; it is so dreadful that a woman cannot go to balls and dance as she wishes just because she has to give birth to a child! How boring! Everybody says that the balls are dull without my presence there and I have to say I agree.

Anyways, I wrote this letter to ask for your permission to let me stay at your house (for my home lies with my darling Wickham; you must remember that I am a married lady, dear mama) till I invite this baby to the world. I am so alone here mother and I have nobody good enough to take care of me. Wickham approves of my plan (he seldom ever refuses me or Cathy anything; he loves to spoil us that way) and it is only your and dear papa's approval that stands in the way. I cannot wait to come to Longbourn and see how much has changed. Besides, Kitty and Mary might benefit from my advice since I am a married woman and all.

I have chattered enough(or written enough) about myself. I await your response that I am sure will be in everybody's favor.

Yours,
Lydia Wickham

After Mrs. Bennet had read the letter aloud, Mr. Bennet only exhaled softly and returned to his book. Mrs. Bennet only stared at him and awaited her husband's answer. When he did not say anything on the subject first, Mrs. Bennet was forced to be the one who did.

"Mr. Bennet, what do you think of this?"

Mr. Bennet feigned a look of innocence. "Oh, yes. The book is very excellent, my dear. You should read it sometimes; perhaps, it will prove more entertaining than gossiping about Miss King's gown with Lady Lucas."

"Oh, hush!" Mrs. Bennet stared at her husband in shock. How could he be so harsh on her nerves? Surely, he knew how sensitive they were. "I do not care jot about that book! I was talking of our daughter's letter."

Mr. Bennet sighed. There was no escaping this conversation. "Mrs. Bennet, you know we cannot have Lydia here."

"Nonsense! Of course we can! She is our daughter. Who will look after her if not her own parents? How the girl's heart would break if she knew how much her father abhorred her very presence."

"My dear, you wrong me. It is in her benefit that I speak that she stay at her home (as she herself pointed out). It does one no good to indulge in every whim of our child's."

"My goodness," Mrs. Bennet gasped, "To say that your child seeking your help is a whim! To be sure, I have never seen anyone abuse their own daughter so."

Mr. Bennet's mouth tightened. "My dear, think what you wish. But my decision stays final. Lydia will not be coming here."

***

Unaware of their sister's letter and having many amusements at their disposal, the sisters merrily spent their first week of stay at Mr. Ford's house. As they had such good company, they had all but forgotten to write beyond a few words after their arrival to the Bennet household.

Mary and Mr. Crawford's friendship was steadily blooming and since they were engaged in everybody's eyes, nobody questioned if they teased each other or chose each other's company over the others'. Miss Crawford was becoming a tolerable enough companion but she and Mary still kept their distance from each other. Kitty and Mary were also constant companions in absence of Mr. Crawford and Mr. Lancaster. Both sisters were becoming aware of each other's characters more so than they had been all these years. In Kitty, Mary found a good friend and it seemed that Kitty shared the sentiment.

All the town had not been seen in the first week itself. Mr. Crawford had to go for days to the Brownlowe manor and Mr. Ford was not fond of going out in order to amuse others. This irregularity of the gentlemen's schedules ensured that the ladies stayed home for three days of the week.

On Tuesday, the plan was made to visit some hills that were near ---shire. The idea appealed to everybody instantly. To be in company of nature and its glory - Mary could not have asked for more. Luckily, Mr. Crawford was free of obligations that day (and so he proposed the idea) and even Mr. Ford agreed to go there, acknowledging the need to mix with society every now and then.

The hills were a pretty sight and in the front of shining sun, they seemed to come alive. All kinds of trees and plants and flowers were to be found there. Such beauty made even the ladies not care about their gowns and how stained they would become. The sun smiling softly on the grass which smelled so sweet and fresh in early morning that it was enough enticement for everybody to walk on. Even Mary, who usually detested exercise, was compelled to stretch her limbs for awhile.

After few merry hours of roaming together, everybody sat down to rest at the first bench they could find.

"Dear me!" Miss Crawford said in a slightly breathless manner, "I never thought I could walk this much and still want to do so!" Silently, Mary agreed with the statement in her head.

Mr. Crawford stood up, suddenly. "Well, then, we should all keep walking. There are so many sights here. Sitting here and being dull hardly suits people of our age."

"Behaving like a restless puppy," Mary muttered under her breath, "Also hardly suits a gentleman your age." Despite Mary's efforts to not let her comment be heard, Mr. Crawford seemed to have heard it anyways as he laughingly extended a hand towards Mary.

"Oh, come Miss Bennet. Do not be so sour on such a lovely morning. " Mary scowled but did not say anything otherwise; she was too tired to do so. When she did not accept Mr. Crawford's invitation, he pulled a face eerily similar to the way a whining child did.

"Well, somebody," Mr. Crawford said in a dramatic manner to suggest how much of a long suffering he had endured, "Must come with me since my beloved refuses to come with me." Everybody except for Mary laughed at Mr. Crawford's antics; his 'beloved' only soured her countenance further.

When his declarations of agonies (and Kitty's giggles) did not stop, Mary grumbled and accepted to go ahead with him while everybody else rested for awhile.

"Mr. Crawford," Mary said once they were far enough, "You truly do behave like a spoilt child, sometimes."

"Well," Mr. Crawford was unfazed by Mary's accusations, "Like my sister once said - 'There is no cure for selfishness.' "

"Must your selfishness always include forcing me to do things I do not want to?" Mary's exasperated demands only drew out a laugh from Mr. Crawford. Undeterred, Mary pressed on, "Why could you not have asked Mr. Lancaster? Or Mr. Ford? Or even your sister? I do not like being disturbed while I am resting."

"But, none of them are as enjoyable a company as you Miss Bennet." Though his manner was joking, his tone suggested sincerity. Mary almost missed the next words that came out of his mouth. "Besides," Mr. Crawford added, "You do need to exercise more. I am only doing you a favor."

Mary huffed and pinched her nose; there was no use arguing with Mr. Crawford. They walked on for a while in silence before Mary begged that they sit somewhere. Mr. Crawford pressed that they walk a bit more and pointed out that they would have to walk double the distance if they went back where others were.

"Mr. Crawford!" Mary cried, "If I do not sit down somewhere this instance then I am going to fall down. And then you would have to carry me all the way." Mr. Crawford seemed a trifle surprised but sighed and reluctantly admitted that they could sit on a spot under the trees. It was not much dirty and would not spoil their clothes. Mary could care less about her gown.

Drawing her knees to her chest so as to make space for Mr. Crawford, Mary heaved a sigh of relief. She had never enjoyed walking and such activities (she could not fathom why Lizzie enjoyed walking and rambling so much) and there was only so much the beauty of nature could keep her going.

Aimlessly, (trying to silence her heavy breaths; she had never envied Mr. Crawford so much as she did now as she noted how he had not even shed a drop of sweat), Mary picked up a broken twig and drew random figures on the soil, nearby. Soon, Mr. Crawford joined her.

After getting bored of drawing tiny figurines in soil, Mary glanced at Mr. Crawford's and was shocked to see how good he was at drawing. His countenance was of intense concentration as his brows were furrowed slightly and the tip of his tongue was poking out of his mouth. It was a rather endearing sight.

"Do you wish," Mary asked casually looking at Mr. Crawford's half finished, but nonetheless beautiful castle, "To improve houses your whole life?" The gentleman was drawn out of his reverie and hummed thoughtfully at her question.

"I do enjoy the activity," Mr. Crawford admitted, "But I do not have any sort of life long plans to be committed to it. Besides, I have enough income to sustain my whole life without having to do any kind of work."

"Well, you should consider it," Mary said truthfully, "You are very good at it." Letting out an embarrassed chuckle, Mr. Crawford nudged Mary's sides gently. "And what is it that the great Mary Bennet wishes to do? Become a writer?"

Mary laughed. "I do not have any wish to become a writer." Then after thinking, she added, "Or, perhaps any other job. The society would never accept it."

"Why not?" Mr. Crawford said as if he were genuinely confused. "There are many accomplished female writers. And you can always be a governess."

"Even if I did become a writer," Mary pointed out, "My work would not deemed equal to my male counterparts. I would rather be invisible than be judged for the sole fact that I am a woman."

At this, an unreadable look crossed Mr. Crawford's face. Was he dejected at Mary's answer? Had she been too truthful? Though she could not guess what was going through Mr. Crawford's mind, what she had realized was the reason why Mr. Crawford was so popular with ladies. Mary had been perhaps hasty to declare him not handsome because he was - with his dashing smile, his sharp light grey eyes and his blond curls. To shake herself from such thoughts, she gently nudged Mr. Crawford with her side and teased him about how much of a bore he was being. Had he finally developed a functional mind?

"I was just thinking," the gentleman said as if he had not heard Mary's comments at all, "That how unfair life is for some people and how we do not recognise our own privilege at times." Mary only stared at him; she had never expected him to be have the capacity to be so perceptive. Perhaps, Mary had judged him too harshly on their first meeting.

"Besides," Mr. Crawford continued, his eyes warm as he gazed at Mary, "You should follow your passion and let the world know what you are capable of rather than be invisible your entire life. Who cares how others unfairly judge your work? Perhaps, it will be you who is remembered for posterity and not those male writers who think so highly of themselves."

Mary swallowed a lump, unable to say anything at all. Fortunately, she was saved the effort to think of any coherent answer when Miss Crawford found the two of them and was shocked at the discovery.

"Dear Lord!" she cried, "What are you two doing there? How dirty your gown must be, Miss Bennet! And Henry, did you not go ahead so that you could walk? What is the meaning of this all?" Mr. Crawford said nothing, only silently helped an equally speechless Mary up on her feet.

Mr. Crawford did not take long, to Mary's relief, to recover himself. He was laughing and joking and teasing with others after a short spell of silence. Everybody was used to Mary's silence and nobody questioned, not even Kitty who seemed to have made up with Mr. Lancaster. Not knowing (or perhaps even caring) what effect the conversation had on Mr. Crawford, it had stunned Mary.

Mary had never demanded any grand ambitions from her life. She had known since she was fifteen, perhaps even earlier, that only beauty and the ability to find and keep a husband were the only aims of a woman's life. She had been irritated by it in her younger years but had gradually learnt to silence her voice on such matters. She was fortunate that she had found her books and her music. But now, Mr. Crawford's casual yet earnest words made Mary want to think of a life where she was not just a man's wife. Where she was … more.

Chapter Text

The night had fallen but Mary was yet to sleep. Kitty, long used to her sister reading until late hours, did not care much for the burning candle (the only source of light in the room). She reckoned that Mary was still getting adjusted to the new place, even if a week had passed. But, Mary was not a sociable person and rarely went to visit other's houses let alone live there for weeks.

Mary had been stuck on the same line of her book since an hour (she guessed) but her attention was still not commanded by the book's contents. What Mr. Crawford had told her of becoming a writer had stuck in her head. Could she really become an author? The very thought was baffling and the reasonable part of her mind ordered her not to pay attention to such foolish thoughts. But another part, the one that usually stayed dormant, rebelled and asked - almost pleaded -  Mary to not abandon the thought. To give it a chance.

It was true, that there were female authors publishing their works and gaining money and recognition in return. But they were very small in number and mostly did that to support them and their families. The very thought of writing for the sole purpose of money and recognition did not sit well with Mary. Was writing not an art in itself? Is there not something beyond worldly desires that motivated a man to wake up from his bed every day?

Mary shook her head to rid herself of such thoughts. Moralizing in such situations was of no use. Perhaps, she needed someone's advice. "Do you think I would be a good author?" The words escaped Mary's mouth before she could register them.

Kitty awoke from her fragile slumber to gaze at Mary in mild annoyance and shock. "What?" Mary shook her head sideways. "Do not worry, sister. It was nothing. I apologize if I disturbed you."

"It was not nothing," Kitty stifled a yawn, "You were asking if you would be a good author or not?" Mary, almost shyly but mostly mortified, nodded in affirmative.

"Well," Kitty pursed her lips, "Are you already not an author? Perhaps, not a published one. But when you were fifteen, you used to write so much, I would wonder how your head did not explode." Kitty let out a short laugh but Mary only stared at her in shock; she had never expected Kitty of all people to notice that.

Kitty continued, a frown appearing on her face. "But then you stopped one day." Kitty shrugged, a helpless gesture that did nothing to calm the sudden onslaught of emotions that consumed Mary.

To her horror, Mary blinked back tears. She had never thought that anybody, even her own sister, cared for her ambitions. She had abandoned all hopes of becoming an author when she had realized that it was a fruitless endeavor; she would be all but shunned by everyone she loved if she chose to become an author.

"Do you wish," Kitty's cheerful voice sounded far away, "To publish your work?" She clapped her hands, "That is wonderful!"

"I do not know," Mary said softly, "What I am going to do. We should go to sleep, we have to wake up early tomorrow." Kitty only simplemindedly shrugged her shoulder and went to sleep. Mary snuffed the candle's flame, only one question persisting in her mind - Was it worth pursuing something that she had given up on so long ago?

                                                      ***

Clergymen were the worst creatures on earth, Henry thought as he barely stifled a scowl from marring his features. He was in the midst of the few minutes of rest he took everyday from his work. The day had been pleasantly merry but was ruined by Mr. Ford's arrival.

Henry had only agreed on Mr. Ford's offer because he admired Brownlowe and was convinced that it could be one of the best houses in England by his efforts. He did not feel even half the respect for the owner of the house that he admired so much.

Mr. Ford had not a handsome feature in his face, he was so thin Henry feared that a strong gust of wind might carry him away someday, and his countenance was that of a sick boy of seventeen who was suffering a deadly disease. Henry would rather not like to remember Mr. Ford's reading of 'Fordyce's Sermons' as a means to entertain his guests. And it had not escaped Henry's notice the way Mr. Ford stared at Mary.

"Sir," Mr. Ford fidgeted with his hands, "Do you think you can spare tomorrow? You see, I have invited some clergymen friends of mine for the evening." Something must have passed over Henry's face  for Mr. Ford was quick to defend his idea. "You need not worry, they are only a few in number and it will be a small gathering. Besides, you would get to meet Mr. Collins."

Henry forced his mouth to not form a scowl but it was really hard not to when Mr. Ford talked so highly of someone; he was not sure that he would have the strength to tolerate more than one clergyman simultaneously.

Henry expressed as much gratitude as he could muster but was really sorry that he could not attend the event because he could not leave Brownlowe for a day alone. If the work halted even for a day, it would not be finished by the time Mr. Ford had envisioned it to be.

"Oh, you need not worry about that," Mr. Ford said lightly, "I would not mind if the house was ready a day or two after than when it was intended to."

"But, I will feel very bad, " Henry pressed, desperate not to attend that event at any cost, "If I do not fulfill my promise to you."

To Henry's surprise, Mr. Ford was more stubborn than he had taken him to be. He pressed on as courteously as he could. He even mentioned how unhappy Miss Bennet would be on Henry's absence. Odious little man!

"Well, I suppose I cannot afford to lose Miss Bennet's esteem," Henry admitted defeat. He did not wish any further attempts the clergyman would make to involve Henry in his party. Bestowing Henry a thin smile, Mr. Ford bade his goodbye and went away. Henry narrowed his eyes - what an insufferable being!

                                                                ***

"You are very silent today," Miss Bennet observed from Henry's side, "Did you finally see yourself in the mirror? I am sorry that you had to find out the truth this way."

Henry barely suppressed his smile. "Thank you for your concern but one tends not to talk while they are eating their dinner. Unlike," Henry pointedly looked at Miss Bennet, "Some people I know. Besides, what truth are you talking of?"

 "The truth about," Miss Bennet dropped her voice as if whispering some secret, "How you are not as handsome and charming as you think you are."

"Why, Miss Bennet, I did not know you spent so much time thinking about my looks. It is very flattering."

Miss Bennet's cheeks reddened. "I did not- I do not- I mean-" She huffed in a very unladylike manner, "You are the most diabolical person I have ever met!"

"More diabolical than clergymen?" Henry said without thinking twice.

"You were sad because of clergymen," Miss Bennet cast a look of disbelieved suspicion, "Need I remind you that we are staying in a clergyman's house."

"I am well aware, thank you Miss Bennet. But I do not like that the clergyman has invited other clergymen."

"What is it that you have against clergymen?" Miss Bennet cried in a tone of wonder. Before Henry could answer her question, Mr. Ford inquired after what they were talking of with such enthusiasm.

"Oh, nothing really," Henry said casually, "We were only talking of how much Miss Bennet is obsessed with my looks."

"I beg your pardon!" Miss Bennet cried, her cheeks flaming and her brown eyes narrowed in indignation. Henry barely stifled his laughter at the site. Perhaps, the gathering would not be so bad if Miss Bennet was there with him.

Chapter Text

Mary had never seen Mr. Crawford's countenance so grave and serious before. Unlike his usual behavior, he was standing at the back of the room and barely talking to anybody. Laughter bubbled in Mary's throat when she observed how sullen he was.

Miss Crawford had declared herself sick (and did not sound as sorry as she pretended to be for not attending the gathering) but Kitty, however, did not seem as uninterested as she had thought she would be. Perhaps, it was because she and Mr. Lancaster had overcome their situation and were friends again. Mary hoped nothing happened to ruin their reconciliation and soon Mr. Lancaster would propose to Kitty.

Mary, though desperately wishing that she were in her room (writing something), did not experience too much dread. She had always enjoyed having philosophical discussions and what better people to have them with than clergymen. Mr. Ford was, contrary to Mr. Crawford's belief, a tolerable - even charming, person to keep company with.

Mr. Crawford interrupted Mary and Mr. Ford's talks with an apology in low, serious tones. "I apologize for the interruption but I must leave."

"Why?" Mary cried, uncaring of how unladylike and demanding she sounded. Mr. Crawford's grey eyes glinted with an urgency she had never seen before.

"My aunt," Mr. Crawford began, though he sounded reluctant, "She is very sick and she has asked for my presence. A servant delivered the message a few minutes ago. I am very sorry-" his awkward apology was cut off by Mr. Ford who begged Mr. Crawford for any assistance he required.

"I will tell Miss Crawford-"

"Oh no!" Mr. Crawford said it so quickly and loudly, grabbing Mary's elbow that she could hardly contain her shock. Withdrawing his hand, he let it run across his curls. "I do not wish to disturb her since she is ill. Do not tell her until I say so."

Mary frowned but nodded in acquiescence. She had never seen Mr. Crawford lose the command over his feelings in such a manner before. She did not even protest when he requested her to accompany him. The carriage ride was silent, save for the footsteps of the horse and the whipping of the reign on the animal by the driver every now and then.

Mary had a hard time keeping a grip over her own feelings; so desperately did curiosity burn in her. She had so many questions on the tip of her tongue but barely restrained herself. Poor man was upset enough! He had no time to deal with Mary's pesky questions. Still- his countenance (-Mary did not want to say it but-) had improved. He seemed more in control of himself, his shoulders had lost their previous tenseness, his hands had steadied themselves and Mary marveled at how he kept himself in check with such ease.

The carriage turned left and Mary's brows furrowed. She may not be an outgoing person but she knew that the carriage was going in the opposite direction of their destination.

"We are not going to your aunt's house, are we?"

Mr. Crawford's jaw twitched but he said nothing. Mary's eyes widened in surprise; what was Mr. Crawford thinking? Lying to Mr. Ford and Mary for God knows what reason. Disappointment stung Mary sharply in the chest; she knew Mr. Crawford was no saint but even he would not be so selfish as to make an excuse of his aunt being ill just to escape a gathering?

"Why did you lie Mr. Crawford?" Mary marveled at how calm she sounded. "Where are we going, Mr. Crawford?" The man in question still did not answer. Mary could only gape at him in surprise. "Why would do such a thing?"

Mr. Crawford's head turned sharply in her direction, perhaps shocked at how Mary's voice cracked at the last question. "I do not know where we are going…." he admitted, his eyes downcast as if afraid of Mary's reaction.

Thousand questions were on the tip of Mary's tongue but she was too stunned to answer the question. Clenching her jaw, Mary turned her face towards the window of the carriage but took in little of the scenery surrounding her.

"Take me back," Mary said, in a low but firm tone. "I do not know why you are acting so irrationally but I can tolerate no more of this. I want to go back."

"Mary," Mr. Crawford said faintly as if hoping that the hopelessness in his tone would be enough to convince her.

"Mr. Crawford," Mary's eyes narrowed, "Either tell me why you would make up such a ridiculous excuse for no apparent reason at all." Mr. Crawford floundered at Mary's ultimatum but Mary did not let go of her resolve.

"Fine," Mr. Crawford sighed, "I know you will not believe but if I had not done - what I did - then you would have witnessed one of the biggest fights you have ever seen." Mary wanted to ask 'What is the meaning of all this?' but checked her tongue and let Mr. Crawford continue.

Mr. Crawford fidgeted with his hands. "A person that I used to be acquainted with was there. I do not think it would be in anyone's best interest if we ever met again."

"Who is this person?" Mary was unable to hold her curiosity any longer.

"Bertram," Mr. Crawford said in a forceful tone, "Edmund Bertram. He is a clergyman and, really, I should have known better."

Curiosity overwhelmed any amount of annoyance Mary had felt initially.  Who was this Edmund Bertram? Why did Mr. Crawford hate him so much? He was a clergyman. Surely he could not be too bad.

"I had," Mr. Crawford tapped his fingers on his thigh, "Proposed to his cousin. And it was not a happy affair," He laughed humorlessly. Mary frowned; she had thought it impossible that Mr. Crawford would love a woman so much that he would propose marriage to her. All the same, she felt bad that he had been rejected. Even he, Mary thought, did not deserve to suffer heartbreak.

"You still should not have ran away," Mary pointed out though there was no chastisement in her voice.

"He is married to her now. I do not think he would be overjoyed to see me." Mary pursed her lips; Mr. Crawford needed assurance. It had never been in Mary's nature to console others. She wanted to say that it was all in the past; it was illogical to worry about in the present but Mary held her tongue.

"There was this gentleman," Mary blurted without thinking, "Mr. Carter. He was a soldier and his troop was assigned to Meryton." Mr. Crawford's interest was piqued; his earlier sadness seemed to have dissipated somewhat.

"He was handsome and he was witty and clever and was a delightful companion to have." Mary's cheeks tinged pink and she was grateful that Mr. Crawford could not see it in the evening light. "I did not love him but I fancied him a trifle." Mary shrugged. "Nothing ever happened. He was more interested in my sister Lydia, it seemed."

Mr. Crawford's face crumpled with concern. "Did they get married, then?"

"Oh, no," Mary laughed breathlessly. "She married a friend of his - Wickham. They have a daughter. Catherine. Mr. Carter and Lydia only ever flirted with each other."

Understanding dawned on Mr. Crawford's face but Mary averted her gaze quickly. Why had she told him about Mr. Carter? She had never said this to anyone. And while she had never loved Mr. Carter she did not want anybody's pity.

A warm hand lightly place atop on Mary's hand. "Mr. Carter was a fool for not giving you any attention." Mary was not sure if she was blushing because of Mr. Crawford's touch or his warm, affectionate tone. She decided to not think and only revel in the warmth of Mr. Crawford.

Chapter Text

Mary and Lydia had never been close. Unlike Lizzy and Jane or Mary and Kitty (now), Lydia and Mary were as different as two people. From Mary's tall height to her dull brown eyes and drab sense of choice and her love for solitude and books, everything contrasted her from Lydia who was petite with her green eyes and red hair and vibrant gowns and her love for merriment. Since their childhood, Mary had always looked down upon her sister (never admitting how jealous she was that Lydia had everything Mary wanted : beauty, joy, friends and admirers) and after the latter's marriage, Mary had all the more reason to resent her sister. But it was not until the letter from Mrs. Bennet arrived did Mary realize just how much she was unnerved by Lydia.

The entire Sunday had went well. Mr. Ford (to Mary's great surprise) had no inkling of suspicion. The clergymen had left by the time Mary and Mr. Crawford had returned. The day had bloomed into a warm and sunny one but not too hot. Mary loved such mornings and to her delight she had been able to devote it entirely to her book.

It was in the afternoon when she had left her room and only Mr. and Miss Crawford were in the living room. Kitty must have been in the garden which she had taken a great liking to. She had not even touched her tea when the letter arrived. Its contents took Mary by complete unaware and shook her more than she cared to admit.

She ran her gaze across the letter; the beginning of it was familiar to Mary. Her mother had asked how she and Kitty were, assured them her nerves were just fine - not to worry and hinted, not in a very guarded manner, about Mary and Kitty's upcoming marriages (as if it were fixed). It was not the prospect of getting married to Mr. Crawford that had Mary's stomach roll with dread. It was the prospect of Lydia coming to the Bennet household and her mother expecting them to take care of their sister and her unborn child.

She read the letter as many times as her eyes allowed her to without blinking for a second. To Mary's disappointment, the letter was real, the handwriting in it belonged to her mother and Lydia was awaiting their arrival.

"Dear Lord!" It was not until Mr. Crawford cried did Mary relax her grip on the letter which was almost crumpled by the sheer force with which she was holding it. "What on Earth is in that letter?"

Mary had always prided herself on guarding her countenance (as well as her affections) well but she could only imagine how terribly pale she must have gone and how her dull wide eyes would seem to Mr. Crawford. Miss Crawford's shock was mild and easily got over with.

"My sister," Mary grit her teeth, "Is going to stay at my house for awhile." This was the only piece of information that Mary could give without letting her emotions get the best of her.

"Well, one would assume," Mr. Crawford said carefully, "That your sister ought to be in the same house as you."

"Not when she is married!" Mary snapped before regret forced her to say in a softer voice, "I was only surprised at the news." She laughed nervously. "She does not visit us much after her marriage."

Mr. Crawford must have deduced that Lydia was the sister Mary was talking of for, unlike teasing Mary as usual, diverted the attention to some other subject. "Well, we just rearranged Brownlowe's library yesterday. It is a beauty, I must say. I think Miss Bennet would like it."

"But Brownlowe is under construction," Mary protested weakly, not wanting anyone to see her in such an unguarded state. It was bad enough that Mr. Crawford and his sister had already done so.

"There is now work going on today," Mr. Crawford said in a casual tone, "We can visit it after taking Mr. Ford's permission."

Mary smiled, even though it was a trifle strained. "Thank you, Mr. Crawford."

***

Brownlowe was almost unrecognizable now, even though Mary was visiting it two weeks later than she had first done so. The garden was no longer barren save for the wild grass (which was now cut down), but small plants bordered its periphery. The mansion no longer seemed as an anomaly stuck in a wrong time and Mary was amazed at how Mr. Crawford had transformed it into a habitable place without snatching much of its beauty.

Inside was not as beautiful as its exterior; it was still unfinished and a pungent smell followed them wherever they went. Still, Mary was so fixated on Lydia's arrival that she did not mind how everything was in a disarray and its foul smell as much as she should.

It was only upon reaching the library that Mary actually smiled. Her lips quirked upwards without her permission; the sight of books had always cheered her up. It was not as grand as a library of such a mansion ought to be but it was a work in progress, so Mary let it go.

"The library is," Mary had almost forgotten that Mr. Ford had accompanied them too. "Wonderful, is it not?" Mary only nodded and barely restrained from rolling her eyes when Mr. Crawford, in faux shyness, took credit for it all.

"Libraries are wonderful, in general," Mary murmured, "But this one has not been stocked fully yet." She did not pose it as a question for it was obvious that not all the shelves were filled with books.

"Can I read one of the books?" Mary asked timidly. Mr. Ford was about to open his mouth to say something when Mr. Crawford suggested that the two gentlemen take a look around the house. After a few protest, which were all overcome by Mr. Crawford, reluctantly parted. He gazed at Mary; disappointment and regret evident in his eyes.

Mary flushed but let Mr. Crawford drag Mr. Ford away. She was glad that she was left alone and her heart was heavy with gratefulness her instinct told her that Mr. Crawford had brought her here and then willingly volunteered to spend time in Mr. Ford's company for her. But she quickly shut those thoughts away and pulled a copy of 'The History of Sir Charles Grandison.'

***

Time passed by so quickly that Mary did not even realize that it was near evening when Mr. Crawford retuned. Mary's spirits had been lifted by now and she felt ashamed for reacting so irrationally. She had behaved like an errant child even though she was three and twenty. It was perfectly natural that Lydia should want to visit her parents and sisters at such a time. There was no need for Mary to be so irritated by it. Besides, she still had two weeks left to spend here.

When the three came back to Mr. Ford's house, to Mary's slight dismay, they were all playing whist and Miss Crawford greeted them with glee and playfulness. "Oh, Mr. Ford, I hope you will not mind that we started playing without you. It was me who wanted Mr. Lancaster to teach me the game. And such a delight this game is! You three must play with us too!"

Mr. Ford politely agreed to Miss Crawford's invitation. Mr. Crawford was amused and laughingly joined them. Kitty, though not appearing as pleased as Miss Crawford, was tolerably composed. Mary only hoped there was no jealousy reignited on her part. And even though Mary wanted to go to her room and lie down, she could not put down everybody's friendly entreaties to join the game.

Chapter Text

Writing again was not easy but Mary enjoyed it nonetheless. She was tired of pretending that her (and other women's) sole purpose was to exist as an ornament; only to be pretty and nothing else. She was tired of denying her own ambitions in order to please others. Most of all, she had missed being curled up in her bed, the scratching of quill against the paper, being transported to other world and having no worries.

However, being a child writing stories for amusement and being older and writing them for a living had a huge difference. All ideas she had so far were childish nonsense. Any reader would throw away her book after just reading one page of it. But still, she was hopeful that gathering all of the stories she wanted to tell appeared to be a good place to start. So absorbed was she in detailing her story about pirates, she did not hear the door of her room creak behind her and missed Kitty's soft voice asking her about something.

"Are you writing?" A voice whispered from her shoulder, making Mary slightly jump. She put a hand on her chest and let out a breath when she saw a grinning Kitty. Kitty did not mind in the slightest Mary's half hearted rebukes and Mary stopped pretending to be mad mid-lecture.

"I was writing," Mary crossed her arms across her chest, "Before someone interrupted me." Mary's words were not harsh or unkind for she was used to her sister's childlike nature.

"So, pirates," Kitty's face was split wide, as if she were deliberately enjoying teasing Mary, "I never thought you would ever write such a story."

Mary narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Give up on your fantasies, Kitty," Kitty deepened her voice slightly to (very poorly, one might add) imitate Mary's voice. "Such things do not happen in reality."

"I was not writing about pirates. I was writing about annoying sisters." Kitty only raised an eyebrow, as if challenging Mary. The older sister only huffed and told Kitty to leave her alone. Kitty only laughed.

Her laughter was, fortunately, cut short by Mr. Lancaster's arrival. Mary almost wanted to laugh at how awkward Mr. Lancaster genuinely appeared even on the threshold of Mary's room.

"Can I," Mr. Lancaster began, fidgeting with his cuffs, "Talk to Miss Bennet. Kitty. Alone." Then he hastily added, "Or in presence of Miss Bennet, if it is so."

Kitty blushed. "I was going to the garden." Mr. Lancaster's shoulders relaxed as if grateful that Kitty had not dismissed the idea immediately. "You can talk with me there."

"I would be happy to oblige you," Mr. Lancaster said, a trifle breathlessly, a small smile appearing on his lips. Mary waved off Mr. Lancaster's apology with a wave of her hand. Imitating Kitty's previous action, Mary beamed. It was her turn to tease Kitty mercilessly.

***
Mary did not meet Kitty for the rest of the day. But Mary was not upset about it since she deduced that Mr. Lancaster and Kitty may need some time alone. They were going to be married, after all. Mary was delighted at the very thought of it. Besides, Mary had planned to spend most of her time in her room, coming up with ideas for her novel.

The next day, strangely, Kitty was awake before Mary and had left the room by the time the latter had even opened her eyes. But Mary paid no heed to it, even if it was odd that Kitty, who was not an early riser by any means, had woken up before Mary. At breakfast, Kitty was nowhere to be seen and a strange silence had spread over all.

Mary sought out Mr. Crawford and gave him a curious look but only got a terse shake of his head in response. Mary frowned but reluctantly drank the tea that had been served. After everybody had eaten, Mr. Lancaster declared he had something to announce.

"I intend to leave this evening," Mr. Lancaster said with hunched shoulders, his countenance unusually subdued. "Some urgent work calls me. But I have been very glad for your company, especially to Mr. Ford who I cannot thank enough."

Mr. Ford had never been more pleased and had never seen a more truer gentleman than Mr. Lancaster. While the clergyman was busy lamenting Mr. Lancaster's departure, Mary demanded answers from Mr. Crawford. He was a friend of Mr. Lancaster; surely, he would know why Mr. Lancaster was announcing his leave instead of his engagement with her sister.

"I do not know," Mr. Crawford whispered, sounding sincere and a trifle apologetic. "After talking with your sister last evening, he has not spoken a word. Nothing I could say or do would make him utter a syllable. Even I found about his plans to leave just this morning like everybody else."

Mary gazed at Mr. Lancaster and she had never seen the gentleman, nay a person so dismayed, so miserable, so heartbroken. What had he and Kitty talked of?

It was only in evening that Mary found the answer to her question. She entered her room, seeking respite and solitude so that she could work on her novel. However, her plans were abandoned when she found Kitty's head buried in her arms, sobbing.

"Dear Lord!" Mary cried, "What happened, Kitty?" Her sister only sobbed loudly upon perceiving Mary and for a while, she only awkwardly hovered above Kitty, beyond her wits on how to console her sister. Mary herself tried not to cry and Kitty was of a sanguine disposition that resembled Jane's at times.

"I rejected him!" Kitty whispered feebly at last, her voice filled with self loathing and misery. "He told me how much he loved and I rejected him!" Then, she seized Mary's hands and her expression was so desperate that Mary almost snatched her hands back out of instinct. "I love him so much! Why can't we be together?"

"Because you refused his offer," Mary blurted out, almost unthinkingly. "If you are love him so much, then why would you reject him?"

"He deserves better than me!" Kitty screamed, as if the confession had been torn out of her throat. "He has no business being seen with someone like me." Then she sobered a bit and hiccupped. "He should be with someone more worldly, more charming, more pretty (she whispered the last word as if she were ashamed of not fulfilling that criteria), someone unlike me."

"He loves you!" Mary cried, finding her words at last. "Everyone during breakfast saw how miserable, how heartbroken the poor man was! There is no one who can doubt that man's affection for you!"

"Heartbroken, was he?" Kitty gritted, her voice bitter. "One would have assumed how happy he must have been now that I have left him alone. He can now propose to anyone he likes!"

"If he had loved somebody else, then why would he have proposed to you?" Mary exasperatedly said.

"Out of pity," Kitty said, even though the question in her voice was clear enough. "Oh, spare me you looks, Mary! I did the right thing! Besides, not ever lady has the fortune of having poor ladies like us being loved by gentlemen like Mr. Crawford!"

Mary decidedly did not blush as Kitty was fool enough to not perceive Mr. Lancaster's affections for her. What did she know about her and Mr. Crawford? "Kitty," Mary kept her voice deliberately patient yet firm, "Mr. Lancaster does not care that you are not some rich, elegant lady. He loves you as you are. I do not know why you think otherwise."

Kitty wiped her tears with the back of her hand, tilting her chin stubbornly upwards. "You should not talk of things you know nothing of."

"I know enough," Mary snapped, "To see how foolishly and pettily you are behaving!"

"You don't understand anything!" Kitty screamed and left the room hastily. She then spent her entire evening, even the dinner, in the garden.

Chapter Text

"Kitty has lost her ability to behave like a rational person!" Miss Bennet shrieked, as if she was not behaving any less pettishly by complaining about her sister to Henry. Not that he terribly minded it. In fact, it fascinated him how much contrasting a person could be. Miss Bennet was the best example of it. She had turned out to be much more than who had initially thought her to be.

The Brownlowe garden was yet to be qualified as a garden. The grass growing was tiny and much of it was only on the periphery. The afternoon had melted away to give way to a sluggish, cold evening. However, it did not remain sluggish for long when Miss Bennet essentially barged into Brownlowe to share her grievances.

"Perhaps," Henry spoke, assured that Miss Bennet was not going to burst out anytime soon, "You should allow your sister some time to reflect on her behavior." When Miss Bennet gave him a look of exasperation, Henry hastened to add. "You must admit that patience is not quite your forte but people need time to overcome their grievances."

"I am patient enough to tolerate you!" Miss Bennet snapped and Henry sighed. If only she could notice how childlike her behavior currently was.

"I am not saying that you are a bad sister," Henry said," Only that you need to be patient with Kitty while dealing with her. She is a very sensitive being and you are too frank for somebody like her, especially when she is heartbroken. Besides," Henry added, "Would you rather I lie to you? I do not think either of us would like that much."

Mary's annoyance crumbled as quickly as it had come. "You are correct," she grumbled as if having a hard time admitting her folly, "Kitty needs time to recover. She will tell me everything when she is ready to." Henry smiled smugly, ready to tease Miss Bennet when she stopped him by touching his hand.

 "Thank you," she said in a low voice that made Henry forget to breath for a moment, "For being honest with me." Her brown eyes were the same shade as that of sunset as they bore into his grey ones. Henry swallowed thickly, unable to do anything but weakly squeeze Miss Bennet's hand back.

                                                                     ***

The dinner was one of  the quietest affairs in his life since Henry had chosen to sit besides someone other than Miss Bennet for the first time. All other conversations appeared to be coming from a place far away since his mind was preoccupied with other thoughts. Apart from fiddling with his food, Henry made no other noise, unlike the everybody else who were busy  partaking in small talk every now and then and the clatter of spoons against the dishes.

"Henry," his sister's voice startled Henry into awareness, "What are you thinking of so intently that you neglect dinner this way." Mary's face was a mixture of amusement and concern.

Henry cleared his throat. "Nothing much." The answer was not enough as the smile dropped from Mary's face and her eyes furrowed concernedly.

"Is this about," Mary dropped her tone to a hissing whisper, "her?" Henry's shoulders slumped further; he wished it was about Fanny. But the truth was that Henry had not even thought once about the latter recently. Henry shook his head, "It is even worse this time."

Mary's eyes widened comically. "Does Miss Bennet know?"

"Dear Lord, Mary!" Henry hissed, uncaring of the noise his spoon falling on the table made. "You might as well as shout about it to the whole room." At Mary's embarrassed countenance, Henry sighed and lowered his voice, "No, she does not."

Unable to stop himself, Henry turned his gaze towards Miss Bennet, who was directly opposite to him. She was eyeing both of them with furrowed brows; Henry swallowed and turned away. Something poked at his chest but he ignored it.

To his vast relief, nobody other than Miss Bennet had paid a fragment of attention to Henry and his sister. Mr. Ford thought it unwise and indecorous to open one's mouth other than to eat during dinner. Kitty was too familiar with the brother and sister's bickering or perhaps she had no interest left in others since Mr. Lancaster had left.

"Well, then what troubles you so much?" For a moment, an urge grasped Henry to spill his secrets. To tell his sister how much he had come to adore Miss Bennet. How much he loved her. How much he was scared of his newfound feelings. He instead shoved food in his mouth, if only to avoid giving any answer. The food tasted sour in his mouth.

With effort, Henry smiled, even if his eyes were rooted on his plate. "It is nothing that concerns you. Just a lover's quarrel."

                                                        ***

Henry had never thought himself an unlucky man, or even had any faith in the concept to begin with. But today, everything just seemed to test his patience. The breakfast was one of the worst he had ever had, the coffee was too bitter for his taste. The workers worked too slowly and tested Henry's patience. More than once, he snapped at a poor fellow only to regret it later. His day was only made worse by the presence of Mr. Ford and Miss Bennet at Brownlowe.

The sun shined so sharply today that in no time Henry was covered with sweat. He massaged his temples, feeling as if glass shards were piercing through his brain. As much as he tried, he could not find it in himself to not stare at the pair of Miss Bennet and Mr. Ford conversing in the garden from the window of Brownlowe's main room.

Avoiding Miss Bennet was harder than he had initially thought, especially when others were ready to bestow that attention on her. For instance, Mr. Ford. Henry's jaw clenched as he watched that good-for-nothing clergyman talk to Mary and act as if he were worthy of even a minute of Miss Bennet's time.

Clutching the letter that he was doing a poor job of pretending to read, he willed himself to look away. He had never wanted to give in to the urge of hurting someone so badly but Mr. Ford was not making it any easier. As if he were not tortured enough, Mr. Ford pressed Miss Bennet's hand which was quickly withdrawn.

The beast of jealousy had spread itself across Henry's chest and was clawing sharply at him. The  throbbing in forehead worsened. The pain of reminder at how his feelings would, perhaps never, be reciprocated stung even more. He wanted to snatch Miss Bennet from that clergyman and keep close to him but he knew it would never do. Miss Bennet was no thing to be snatched and kept contained; she was too good for such treatment.

Eyeing Miss Bennet for the last time, he watched how wonderfully her brown hair shone in sunshine. Just another reminder that he would never have what he wanted. That others were better than him when it came to claiming her heart

Before the sour, acrid threatened to consume him, Henry forcefully tore his eyes away from Miss Bennet and read his aunt's polite greeting. Before he could reach further than 'I hope you and Miss Bennet are doing well', Miss Bennet had left Mr. Ford and approached Henry instead.

"Are you ill, Mr. Crawford?" Miss Bennet asked in a voice of such sweet concern that Henry's heart ached.

""I am fine," Henry said in a rough voice. He cleared his throat. "I only have a headache. You need not worry about it." He tried to smile but he doubted his strain quirk of lips was reassuring in any manner to Miss Bennet.

Miss Bennet seemed as if he she did not believe him, the worry in her dark eyes did not diminish in the slightest. " You can share your worries with me. Besides, what are friends are for?"

Henry's heart twisted in an ugly manner. He gave Miss Bennet a curt nod in response. "Friends, indeed." Miss Bennet's face scrunched in curiosity but before she could utter another word, Henry hastily excused himself.

Chapter Text

For the entire day after her and Mr. Ford's visit to Brownlowe, Mary did not have an opportunity to see Mr. Crawford till dinner. It would have been another uneventful day if it not for the restless state Mary found herself in. Only an hour was devoted to her novel before her fretfulness took over her.

Mary had never been a friendly person. But still, she had come to cherish her newfound friendship with both Mr. Crawford and Kitty. Her sister was still upset with Mary and would not even so much as gaze in her direction. But her predicament was understandable; she had rejected (for some inexplicable reason) the man she loved. However, Mr. Crawford was nor heartbroken neither had Mary done anything to offend him. Then why was he keeping her at an arm's length? His avoidance hurt more than Mary cared to admit.

 The dinner only confirmed Mary's suspicions that Mr. Crawford was avoiding her. He sat, unlike usual, besides Kitty. Not even once did the gentleman's eye wander in her direction. His headache was all but gone as was evident by his jesting with Kitty.

Mary gripped the table cloth; she wished to know what they were talking of. A sudden desperation clawed at her. She could only tolerate to tear her gaze away from him when her nails painfully dug into her palm; the table cloth entirely crumpled in her hand.

Mr. Ford, perhaps having sensed Mary's bad spirits, tried to converse with her until the food came. "Miss Bennet, I must admit, you were not entirely wrong that day." He did not seem discouraged when Mary only produced a strained smile. "I am becoming fond of reading novels."

"Which novel are you reading now?" Mary inquired politely. Her foot tapped against the leg of the table; boredom already settling in at the prospect of conversing with Mr. Ford.

Mr. Ford straightened himself. "It is one of your favorites, Miss Bennet." He then named a book that Mary had never heard of. Mary only nodded, a wave of lethargy claiming her.

"Her favorite novel is 'The History of Charles Grandison'", Mr. Crawford's gentle tone made something flutter in Mary's stomach. Mr. Crawford shrugged, his gaze fixed on the table in front of him. "She does not care much for horror."

Mary bit the inside of her cheek to avoid saying something she would regret later. Mr. Crawford would not even spare her a single look yet he so casually declared his knowledge of Mary's taste in books. A strange heat spread across Mary's stomach; her head throbbed sharply. The arrival   of food provided sufficient enough distraction for others but Mary had lost appetite.

                                                                 ***

The night had fallen and the whole household had retired to sleep except for Henry. His head was rested on his arms as he gazed on the ceiling of his room. He had never felt so listless before, not even when Fanny had rejected him.

A knock on the door made Henry jump. "Open the door, Henry. It is only me, Mary - your sister." He did as instructed and found his sister in her nightclothes. Their aunt would have fainted if she had found her niece doing such a thing. Henry only rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Henry did not have enough patience to deal politely with others. Especially, when people barged into his room in the middle of the night.

Mary settled herself on Henry's bed. She checked the room in what little light the moon provided. Sighing, he sat besides his sister as she wrinkled her nose at how small and old fashioned the room was.

Before Henry could ask the reason for the sudden interruption, Mary questioned him about the last thing he wished to talk of. "What on Earth is going on with you and Miss Bennet?"

"Nothing," Henry rushed which did not satisfy his sister a bit. She only glared at him, the expression sharp even in the dim light.

"Henry," Mary sighed, as if reasoning with a petulant child, "I am your sister. We have never concealed anything from each other - even things that would make anyone else blush with shame. What is the matter with you and Miss Bennet?"

"Stop pretending," Henry snapped, "That you have suddenly come to care about Miss Bennet." He regretted being so stiff with his own sister but he could not tell her the truth. Henry's rudeness did not deter Mary in the slightest; she only clasped his hand with her own and pleaded what he was worried about and even offered her assistance.

Henry laughed bitterly, unable to stop himself. "How will you assist a man already ruined by love, sister?" Henry gazed outside the window, avoiding his sister. Mary's grip on his hand loosened and she was quiet for a while. The moon was only a crescent today, even the stars were few and scattered.

"Do you still love Fanny Price?" Mary asked, genuinely concerned about his welfare. Henry's annoyance melted away.

"No," He huffed, "I wish I did." His fists clenched in his palm. "At least then my heart would be safe from Miss Bennet."

"I do not understand you, Henry."

"It is better," Henry said curtly, "That you do not, sister. It will spare me the sadness of recounting everything and you the burden of wanting to solve something no one could."

Mary let out an exhale. "Do you think Miss Bennet's affection for you is not the same as yours for her?" Henry nodded, hating the developing lump in his throat. When Mary did not say anything else, Henry itched to know what her thoughts were. If she wished to judge, she should do so in front of his face

"What do wish me to say, brother?" Mary said in a weary tone, "The kind of love everybody talks of only exists in tales. I need not tell you of our past disappointments with it." She must have sensed something in Henry's countenance that she sighed.

"Miss Bennet must have," Mary's tone softened, "Agreed to your proposal for some reason. She could not be totally indifferent to you."

Henry nodded in agreement; at least she did not hate him or was unaware of his existence. Mary rose and said one last thing. " Avoiding her will not make her love you. It will make things even worse. Cherish everything she gives you; even if it is not the way you want it."

                                                         ***

Change was the only constant; Mary had read enough philosophies to know this rule of life. Yet, she was miserable over recent events. Kitty was yet to speak to Mary about things other than necessary small talk. However, Mary had yet to know of Mr. Crawford's recent moods. She had skipped breakfast, preferring her book's company over those who neglected her.

Nobody had questioned when she had excused herself and feigned a headache. It was well into afternoon when a visit startled her.

"How are you, Miss Bennet?" Mr. Ford said in a perfectly polite tone but his nervousness as still apparent. He was standing at threshold of her room, unsure if he should enter it. Mary solved his dilemma and invited him with an internal sigh.

Mary placed her book safely before folding her hands in her lap. "Mr. Ford, you are very kind. My head does not ache as much as it did in the morning."

"That is well," Mr. Ford nodded. He turned back to leave but decided against it. As if having some internal war with himself, he faced Mary with reluctance.

"Miss Bennet, I wish to address something but I fear it will upset you." Mary inquired him, mildly curious as to what he would say next.

Mr. Ford rooted his eyes on the floor. "Do you really wish to marry someone like Mr. Crawford?" Mary stared at him with wide eyes. "If you say so, I will accept it," the clergyman said in a hurried manner.

"Why do question my engagement with Mr. Crawford all of a sudden?" Mary hoped her voice did not crack as much as she thought it did.

"Well," Mr. Ford licked his lips, "That night you both went to visit Mrs. Grant, I conversed with a fellow clergyman - Mr. Bertram. He used to be acquainted with Mr. Crawford."

"I do not wish to know anything further," Mary's blood boiled that someone would judge Mr. Crawford for the only reason that he had been rejected by a lady. "I am sorry to have interrupted you but I know all what you wish to say to me."

Mr. Ford's eyes widened. "You still wish to marry him? After all that has occurred? After everything that he has done?"

"Yes, I still wish to marry him," Mary declared, "I do not care of his past for  I know what a man he is now. A man worthy of mine or any lady's love, if he so wished." With barely suppressed anguish, she said, "I really wish you would leave the room. I do not wish to listen anything against the man I love."

Chapter Text

Ladies, seldom, if ever, made grand professions of love. They felt as much, if not more, of love that the gentlemen did. However, it is not their own fault that they could never express their innermost thoughts; in a world chiefly designed for men, how could they?

Mary's hands twined in her lap, the gesture doing little to quell the fiery feeling in her breast. It had been a few hours (even though it felt as if only few minutes had passed) since Mr. Ford had left her room. So senselessly had she declared her love for Mr. Crawford that she was still partially shocked at the incident.

Rubbing her fingers harshly over her knuckles, she ordered herself to be restrained, but her gaze still flew towards her window. Towards Brownlowe. Towards Henry Crawford. He was the decidedly not the kind of gentleman Mary had envisioned for herself. He was too unbothered, too teasing, too unrestrained, too….many things that she could never encapsulate.

The garden of Brownlowe was empty, Mr. Crawford not visible from where she was. For a moment, she allowed herself to deny any sort of affection towards the wayward gentleman. But her confession had been too honest, too spontaneous to be denied. The words felt as if they had been snatched from the deepest parts of herself involuntarily.

"Are you coming for dinner?" Kitty's question startled Mary. She was standing in the room, her hands folded across her chest.  Mary had never noticed her entering the room.  Thankfully, she only raised an eyebrow at Mary's odd behavior. But instead of quelling her curiosity, Kitty only flattened her lips and repeated her question.

"Dinner," Mary said in a breathless tone, as if only now becoming aware of her surroundings, "Of course, I am coming to dinner. We all need food, do we not," she laughed nervously at the last sentence. Kitty turned away and Mary sighed. She wished her sister was not upset with her; she dearly wished her companionship now.

                                                               ***

Love was of no use to humans, Mary fretted. In vain did writers and poets waste their breath on such a fruitless subject. Perhaps Lizzie would have laughed at her for having such thoughts; normally even she would have scolded herself were her senses in her control.

Scowling, she snatched another glance in Mr. Crawford's direction, her eyes having a mind of their own time. Only this time, he was gazing back at her with a reluctant smile on his face. Her stomach turned on itself and she withdrew her face in another direction.

Mary forcefully shoved food in her mouth; she had never considered if Mr. Crawford knew of her feelings. She had dismissed the notion of him reciprocating them the moment the notion had entered her head. He was no older than thirty, earned seven thousand a year and probably had more worthy female suitors were it not for their ruse.

Ruse. That was all it had been. No matter how real Mary's affection was for him, what use was it of if his regard for her was not the same. This farce had to end. Mary did not care how many suitors her mother would bring in next; she could no longer pretend that her esteem for him was only an illusion.

                                                                 ***

"Mr. Crawford," Mr. Ford said the next day, "I cannot thank you enough for the help you have bestowed me." Henry refrained from saying that the clergyman's gratitude sounded false.

"Do you think that Brownlowe is ready?" Mr. Ford asked and Henry could not hide his surprise. During their acquaintance, he hardly been a frank person, resorting to flattery to seek help.

"Well, it is," Henry carefully said, "But, I think that a few changes are still needed."

"Oh, you need not worry about that," Mr. Ford's cheer was forced, "You have already helped me so much. I feel bad keeping you from your home for so long."

"Do you wish me to go back home?" Henry teased but it was only partially a jest. Mr. Ford only shook his head and politely said that he and his friends were free to stay at his house for as long as they wished. Henry could see that Mr. Ford's wishes were different than what he claimed them to be.

"You need not worry," Henry forced a smile, "I was only saying to my sister how we need not impose any longer on Mr. Ford's hospitality." For the first time, Mr. Ford appeared to be genuinely happy.

The rest of the party was not terribly sad to hear of their earlier than intended departure. Miss Crawford had lost her interest in Brownlowe, Kitty wished to not stay at the place that had bred such misery for her and as for Miss Bennet…it was hard to say what she thought of it. She was yet to be seen, having skipped the breakfast claiming that she did not feel too well.

The afternoon provided a good opportunity for Henry to  talk to Miss Bennet. Kitty and Mary were nowhere to be seen. Mr. Ford had left Brownlowe to attend to his clerical duties. Having decided to profess his love for Miss Bennet ought to have rendered him nervous but he only felt pleasant anticipation.

Miss Bennet was terribly pale and for a moment his reluctance overcame before his overwhelming need to tell of his admiration won over.

"Are you feeling well?"

Miss Bennet had an odd expression on her face. "I am better than I was in the morning. Thank you for your concern."

Henry smiled. "I am glad you are well, then." He did not say this as a way of courtesy for he was genuinely gratified that Miss Bennet was no longer ill.

"Is this all you came for?" Miss Bennet's tone was neutral but her eyes were filled with hope, "To know of my health?"

"That is not all I wish to talk about." Miss Bennet's expression gave nothing away. This surprised Henry because her face usually told what she felt. Either she did not care to be in Henry's company anymore or she was cautiously not revealing anything. He did not know what terrified him more.

"Miss Bennet," Henry's voice wavered, "Mary, there is something I wish to say and I hope you will allow me a chance at least."

Miss Bennet's face crumbled in curiosity for a second before it assumed its indifference again. That was not very encouraging, Henry thought, trying not to grimace. He tried to articulate his thoughts but failed rather pathetically.

Henry opened his mouth and closed it each time; feeling more worse each time. His stomach turned on itself and he could not believe his own foolishness. Miss Benet's cold face was no help either. It was only when he had given up when Miss Bennet opened her mouth.

"I know what you wish to speak of," Henry's gaze snapped in her direction. He did not know whether to be relieved or sad.

"You wish to end our ruse, do you not?" Miss Bennet's voice trembled with emotion and she bit her lip in order to stop the tumult of it all. "I am not angry, Mr. Crawford. You need not fear my censure. Besides," she laughed breathlessly, "We could not have carried on in this manner forever, could we have? I am sure you have some lady worthy of-"

"I have not found anyone!" Henry finally found his voice. "Well, anyone besides you, Miss Bennet." It was the lady's turn to be shocked. A rush of confidence flooded him. "I know I am not the most affectionate person, but how could you think it was anyone but you? You are not only my dearest friend but the only one who knows the kind of person and still likes me." Turning his gaze to the floor, he added quietly, "Or tolerates me."

Shock, disgust, polite refusal, even pity was what Henry had expected. Instead, Miss Bennet threw her arms around him and kissed him.

Chapter Text

Mary was seven when she had fallen off a tree she had climbed upon. Her childish brain had been convinced that if she jumped off the tree, she would fly. For a few moments, she had soared in the sky before she fell down. Kissing Mr. Crawford made her feel like the seven year old child, the swooping sensation intense in her stomach. Only this time, she would not fall for Mr. Crawfo- Henry's arms would save her.

After an eternity or perhaps only a few minutes, they pulled back, gasping for air. However, their foreheads were still attached.

"That was not very unladylike, Miss Bennet," Henry teased, though he sounded hoarse. Pleasure engulfed Mary warmly when she realized that she was the cause of his breathlessness. Her eyes were closed (still) but she could sense that his happiness matched hers.

"Did you not enjoy it?" Mary quipped. Henry only responded by kissing her again. Unlike the first one, this was slow and languid. The swooping sensation intensified manifolds and she would have collapsed if not for Mr. Crawford's arms that clasped around her body.

***

Mary did not regret leaving behind Mr. Ford's house or Brownlowe as much as she ought to have. He had done all the duties of a host and they would have been good friends if it were not for his disapproval of her choice in Mr. Crawford. However, Mary still thanked him and Mr. Ford was polite in answering that the honor was all his. His ungracious behavior did not upset Mary for she was too happy to mind it.

The journey home was a pleasant one. She shared a carriage with Mr. Crawford, Kitty and Miss Crawford. Even the presence of others did not deter Mary from bantering with Mr. Crawford. A few weeks, nay, days ago, she would have been too embarrassed to engage in such manner but now she did not care much for propriety. Perhaps, she was too blinded by love or perhaps she had changed over the course of these few months.

They reached the Bennet house too early for Mary to savor her time with Mr. Crawford. To Mary's disappointment, he only kissed her knuckles and gave her a cheeky grin in the way of bidding her adieu. However, it soon melted when she thought of how much more future had for both of them.

But, as it was in Mary's fate, her blissfulness did not last for long as it was Lydia was the one to receive her sisters. Mary stiffened as all joy from past days left her. She had forgotten (or was compelled to forget due to recent events) that Lydia was to stay with them for months.

"La, how much you both have changed!" Lydia exclaimed, embracing Kitty. " And Mary, you sly creature!" said she, turning to greet her elder sister. "You never said that you were engaged!"

Lydia was no longer the sixteen year old who had ran away with Mr. Wickham. She appeared to be much older than she actually was and had matured into a woman. But her character was still that of the wild, untamed girl who flirted with every gentleman in sight and had nothing meaningful to say.

Mr. Bennet was in library which shocked none since his love for books was well known. Mrs. Bennet had fretted about Kitty and Mary's but now laid in bed, claiming her nerves plagued her. Therefore, Lydia was to be their only companion for the afternoon.

Mary wished to reach her room but Lydia would not permit so. She begged both of her sisters to regale her with tales of Brownlowe.

"We had not gone to see the Queen's palace, dear sister," Mary remarked dryly, "You need not be so enthused about it." As it was on every occasion, Lydia ignored Mary altogether. Kitty weakly said that her head ached and she wished to rest. No entreaties, requests could make her stay. At last, Lydia let her sister go with a frown. Mary did not have Kitty's luck.

"What is the matter with Kitty?" Lydia asked, her eyes filled with genuine concern. It shocked Mary more than it ought to.

"You had better ask her," Mary said, "I do not think she would be happy if I talked about her behind her back."

"Nonsense!" Lydia waved a hand. "I am her sister. I should know what upsets her so." Mary was dumb with shock for a moment. Old Lydia would have moved on from the subject five minutes into it, caring for no one but herself. However, this Lydia was sincere in her worries about her sister.

Mary flattened her lips. "Well, if you insist so. But do not tell Kitty that I was the one who informed you of it all. And do not let mother know of it." Lydia nodded, an uncharacteristically grave gesture from her uncaring sister.

Mary lowered her voice and came closer to Lydia. "Kitty rejected Mr. Lancaster and is heartbroken over it."

"What!" exclaimed Lydia. "Why would Kitty do that? She had loved Mr. Lancaster for so long, I was sure that I would be attending their wedding by the end of this year!"

"I thought so, too," Mary said gently, "She has not talked to me since and claims that she is not good enough for somebody like Mr. Lancaster."

Lydia appeared to be deep in thought for a moment. "I wish I could move around like I used to." She sighed. "Thank goodness, Cathy is asleep or…" Lydia trailed off and Mary guiltily realized that she had quite forgotten about her sister's first child.

"Oh, do not make that face," Lydia said, sounding more like her usual self. "You are worrying too much." Then grinning as if conspiring some great plan, "We will reunite the lovers, just you wait!"

However, before Lydia could elaborate on her grand scheme, Mrs. Bennet interrupted them, shocked to find both of her daughters home. Thankfully, she did not fuss much and only talked of her nerves for fifteen minutes.

For the first time, Mary had her mother's undivided attention and with gratification and slight shock, she received it. She was not unaware that the compliment of her regards were only because Mary was engaged to Mr. Crawford. She wondered how long such distinctions would last.

"Why on earth has Kitty not come to greet me yet?" Mrs. Bennet wondered. Mary informed her that she had a headache and was resting in her room. Mrs. Bennet only flattened her lips in disappointment, having expected that Kitty would deliver the good news of her being engaged to Mr. Lancaster. But here Kitty was, nursing a headache in her room and talking to no one.

Before her mother could ask any more questions about Kitty, Mary changed the subject to her and Mr. Crawford's engagement. Mrs. Bennet then became engrossed in planning Mary's marriage, Kitty all but forgotten.

The dinner was underwhelming. Mr. Bennet said once that he was glad Mary and Kitty were home and remained silent for the entirety. Mrs. Bennet was determined to have Kitty confess about her and Mr. Lancaster's engagement but Kitty would not utter much to her mother's disappointment. Lydia was more than happy to be the principal speaker throughout the dinner.

Her daughter, Cathy sat in her lap and Mary wondered how much of a spitting image she was of her mother. She had Lydia's mischievous eyes and her tall figure, only her light hair bore any resemblance to her father.

"My Cathy is the delight of everybody!" Lydia said, "She is the liveliest spirit I have ever seen. Always running around and being friends with others," Lydia affectionately kissed her daughter's head and Mary was once again stuck at how much Lydia had changed.

In the midst, Kitty excused herself and ran away to her room. Everybody stared at Mary but she could not say the real reason of Kitty's odd behavior. Her mother would not be able to tolerate
that Kitty had rejected Mr. Lancaster and would attack Kitty with all kinds of complaints. Kitty was no Lizzie and would not find any humor in it.

Mary, finding the first chance, ran to her room. She inquired after Kitty's health but only received a stiff nod in response. Sighing, she laid on her bed, trying to make sense of her sister.

Chapter Text

The only thing left that would secure the lovers' joy was the permission of Mary's father. Mutual agreement had confirmed that their wishes aligned perfectly and no more wait was to be had. Mrs. Bennet's happiness knew no bounds the moment Mr. Crawford entered the Bennet household. She self congratulated herself, shared it with her daughters and even exclaimed it to Mr. Crawford about how glad she was that he was about to marry her daughter.

It was decided in Longbourn that Mary and Mr. Crawford were to be married. There was nobody in Longbourn who questioned it and it was a settled thing. Still, this did little to alleviate Mary's anxiety. Even Mr. Crawford's cheeky grin and a stolen kiss provided but temporary relief.

Some time passed before Mary was called to her father's library. To her surprise, Mr. Crawford was still there, his gaze fixed determinedly on the floor. Mr. Bennet wore a grave look and resignation colored his tone when he asked, "Mary, this gentleman here wishes to ask for your hand in marriage. Do you truly wish to be this gentleman's bride?"

Mary affirmed that it was true. Mr. Bennet, once again, asked if she was sure that Mr. Crawford was the correct choice. At Mary's confused nod, he sighed. "Well, your cousin does not think that this man is to be trusted with your hand and had written to me on the disadvantages of the match. I would wish to know your decision after you've read this letter."

"Mr. Bennet, a news of the most distressing kind has reached me. Your daughter wishes to marry Mr. Crawford -  a man of inferior character and not all worthy of an alliance. I am aware that has seven thousand a year but it does not change the fact that Mr. Crawford's past is scandalous. It pains me to even write of such things as these but for the sake of you and my dear cousin, I must endeavor to bring truth to light.

Mr. Crawford's previous residence was at Mansfield Park, near -----, which was owned by the most worthy gentleman, Sir Thomas. When he had arrived, he and his sister had found eager and ready friends in Sir Thomas' children. One of them - Edmund Bertram, a fellow clergyman (who had kindly told me his story  and another fellow clergyman - Mr. Ford even when it was painful for him to recount the past).My patron, the esteemed Lady Catherin de Bourgh' s late husband, Sir Lewis de Bourgh, was a great friend of Sir Thomas and Lady Catherine vouches for the man and his children's' honor.

Anyways, Mr. Crawford soon found himself to be in love with Sir Thomas' niece who lived with them and proposed marriage to her. The sensible lady - Miss Fanny Price (though I suppose I should write Mrs. Bertram for she is married to my friend Mr. Bertram and has proved to be a worthy companion to him ) rejected him knowing him to be a flirt of the worst kind and undeserving of her hand in marriage.

The next part of the letter, I have included after much deliberation, though there are times one must make hard choices. I wish you would keep care of my friend's honor and tell of this to as little number of people as possible. Mr. Crawford, indignant at the lady's rejection and overcome by the desire for revenge ran away with the eldest Bertram daughter - Maria who was married at that time to somebody else.

It was a horrid event for the family, however, both were caught and the eldest daughter was divorced by her husband and banished some place else by her father. The Crawfords were removed from the Bertrams' circle and it was a misfortune that Netherfield was the place they chose to settle.

We all know the disadvantages and the miseries improper matches prove and for the sake of our family's honor you must prevent this union. It has been forsaken once already, it must not happen twice. I know that Mary will be heartbroken but it is not worth spending your life with a most disgraceful and dishonorable person

Yours,

William Collins

One can hardly doubt what a shock the letter proved to Mary. She colored then paled and trembled all over. If she had any thoughts of how the letter would be initially, she could never have expected the contents. She felt all sorts of emotions that were to be felt on such an occasion but the betrayal stuck her acutely - as if a lightning bolt had fallen upon her. It was only when Mr. Bennet gently pried the letter out of her hand did Mary realize how tightly she had clenched it. The tumult of her mind was extreme but she tried to control herself.

Turning to Mr. Crawford, she only said, in a voice of force calm, "Is it true?" The gentleman's countenance, which she had not noticed till now, could only be described as helpless. In contrast to Mary, whose cheeks flamed, he had lost all color. He tried to hold her hand and gave up when Mary would not allow him to do so.

"Mary, I can-"

"Is it true? I do not have time for any other useless excuses!" Both the gentlemen stared wide eyed at Mary whose shortly kept resolve had broken. Perhaps she had perceived a flash of fear in is grey eyes but he stole away his gaze and fixed it to the ground.

"It is true," Mr. Crawford said in a low tone and Mary's heart squeezed painfully in her chest, the feeling akin to being stabbed. "But," he quickly snapped his head, "I have changed. If you would give me an opportunity, I will prove to be worthy of you. I pro-"

"Do not promise things you do not mean," Mary gritted her teeth. She clenched her jaw tightly to not say anything further for it would only worsen it all. Mr. Crawford, however, was bent on exasperating Mary as much as he could by pleading for her forgiveness and how much of a changed man he truly was. However, when he told her how much he loved her, she could not help saying:

"If you had loved me, you would have told me everything about you! Just like I had!"

Before Mr. Crawford could go on, Mr. Bennet, having gathered his wits, asked Mr. Crawford as politely as he could, to leave and not cause any further scenes. This proved to be the last nail in coffin for Henry, whose face had lost color and was as unfeeling as that of statue. He only gave a terse nod and hastily walked out of the house.

As soon as the man went out, Mary could not help herself and ran straight to her room even though her knees were weak. Finally, she cried, letting all of the anguish caused by the past moments to consume her. Distantly, she could hear Mrs. Bennet's and Lydia's astonished questions but cared not about them.

Very bitterly did she accurse Mr. Crawford. Everything that had endeared him to her seemed false. He was an abominable, dishonest, rude flirt who cared naught for anybody but himself. Selfish, selfish man! And so cruel too! To trifle with Mary's feelings in such a manner. However, soon all her warring emotions turned to blame Mary.

How much had she always prided herself on her intelligence! How much superior she thought herself to Lydia only because she had read a few books when she was no better than her! How could she have given her attentions to so undeserving a man! All her pride left her and all that  was left now was a dull resentment to everything on earth.

Chapter Text

"What use were those books of her?" Mrs. Bennet complained to Lady Lucas who was the only one who could still patiently listen to the complains she made about Mary after a week. One would think that she was the one left heartbroken and not her daughter.

Mary bore her mother's attacks with as much patience and steadiness as her character would allow. However, she avoided her mother more often than not. Mr. Bennet had never been close to Mary and had always thought her rather arrogant but could not help being sad at his daughter's heartbreak. However, he was a man of few words and nothing he said, however little, could console her.

Kitty was the only person who could provide any semblance of comfort to Mary. Her anger towards Mary had long disappeared and she was grateful that she could retain her beloved sister's good opinion. Both sisters felt more for the other's heartbreak more than they did for their own. However, it had taken Kitty a week to bring the subject of Mr. Crawford in front of Mary.

"Mary, forgive me if I pain you," Kitty said, "But if you would like, you can tell me what happened." Hastily, she added, " I do not wish to make you upset and you need not say a word if you want to but it would be better if you talked of it to someone."

Mary sighed. "It is not that I do not wish to tell you ,sister. But I still have a hard time to believe of what has happened."  Then, a thought entered her brain. "Or, perhaps, I could. You are my sister and who better to talk about my pain than you."

After she related the incidence to her sister, Mary felt unburdened. The occurrence of it was painful, no doubt, but telling it all to Kitty did not bother her as much as she had thought it would.

Kitty, after hearing it all with shock, fell into deep thought. For a while, she did not say anything and a part of Mary bitterly wondered if Kitty was silently laughing at her for being so foolish. But, no, such thoughts must not be given importance for Kitty, though naïve and child like, would never wish ill on anybody, let alone her sister. At length, unable to bear the silence, she pleaded that Kitty share her thoughts.

"Oh, I was only thinking how sad this whole affair is!" Kitty exclaimed. "To think that Mr. Crawford would do such a thing! And how painful it all must have been to you! I wonder where you find the strength to bear it all. I declare that I would not have borne it half as forbearance."

Mary blushed, partly out of pain of remembrance and partly out of Kitty's praises. She felt their compliment but they were not true. She told such and Kitty exclaimed that she sincerely believed all she had said. Seeing that the topic would be fruitless to pursue further, Mary changed the subject.

"Kitty, now that you are no longer upset at me," At this, Kitty winced, "Can you tell me why you were so upset with me?"

Kitty colored in embarrassment and averted her gaze. "I was never upset with you." Then coloring even more, she fidgeted with the hem of her dress. "I was envious of you." Kitty whispered lowly as if it were a shameful secret.

Mary blinked. "Envious? Of me? For what?" Mary could not fathom what Mary had that Kitty could be envious of. Mary had neither looks nor enough senses (as it had turned out, no amount of books she had read could prove otherwise) and none of her parents showed her any special affection.

"What are you talking of, sister?" Mary wondered out aloud.

"Well, I have always felt inferior to you all, though I am ashamed of it," Kitty confessed, "Jane is beautiful and affectionate, Lizzy is playful and sensible and a favorite of our father, and you are wise even if you do not think so and even Lydia is well liked by everybody." Shrugging, she said, " I always thought of myself as plain and undeserving."

"Kitty!" Mary's eyes were wide, "Do not abuse yourself so! I am not so wise and sensible as you think me and I am not half as  skilled at embroidery and painting and music as you are! I cannot fathom why I would be your, or anyone's, object of envy."

"Well, it was not you in particular, I envied," Kitty pointed out, "All these past few months I have realized how everyone else is better at everything than I am. No matter how much I tried, I could never have Mr. Lancaster's love when he had women like Miss Crawford surrounded him. And it felt like a mockery that you had Mr. Crawford while I had no one."

Before Mary could say anything, Kitty rushed. "I am truly sorry and ashamed for my behavior. You did not deserve half the censure I had hurled at you." Mary eagerly forgave her and pointed out that there was no reason to envy her and Mr. Crawford for he did not love her.

"Mary, do not be foolish!" Kitty said, "Mr. Crawford might have made mistakes but no one who has seen you both can doubt his love for you!"

Mary did not say anything for she had nothing had to offer. She only bid Kitty good night with excuse that she was tired. Her sister did not ask any questions thankfully and Mary resolutely did not think about Kitty's statement for hours.

                                                                      ***

Weeks passed by and the ache in Mary's heart only dulled but was still ever present. For all his dishonesty and follies, Mr. Crawford was the first person Mary had ever loved. He had grown on Mary steadily and unknowingly. He had shown her a partiality and affection seldom offered to her and  had all the charm of first love.

"Dear, how much it rains!" Kitty exclaimed on evening when she and Mary and Lydia were gathered in the living room. Lydia and her daughter Catherine had become talk of the town for the latter's yet to be born sister. Lydia and Mary were polite but a distance still remained. No matter how much Lydia genuinely sympathized with her sister, she could never understand how it was to lose somebody's affection in such a way.

As of late, Mary only scribbled her thoughts in her journal, too tired to be doing anything else. She could not write any stories when she was in such distress and keeping her diary was the only way of preserving her energy.

"Lydia, are you well?" Kitty asked in a voice of genuine concern that made Mary snap her head in their direction. Lydia indeed had become pale and she clutched her stomach as if she were in pain. At once, Mary was by her side.

"I am fine," Lydia answered with great difficulty to Mary and Kitty's concerns. Both sisters exchanged a worried glance.

"Are you.." trailed off Mary but Lydia shook her head, her entire face a horrid shade of red and purple. Mary was scared; she had never assisted a birthing lady and had only ever read about it in passing. Mrs. Bennet did not talk of such things with her daughters in liberty, least of all to Mary, whom she never favored.

"The time has not come yet," Lydia answered in a strained, painful tone. "The doctor had said that two months still remain before my child comes." Mary swallowed; Lydia's condition was visibly worsening.

"Perhaps, we should ask mother," came Kitty's suggestion though she sounded far away. And Mrs. Bennet was summoned who was out of her wits to see her darling daughter in such a state. But she only dismissed it, albeit hesitantly, that every mother to be went through such pain. There was no need to panic and some tension left Mary's shoulders; perhaps her mother was right, after all she had given birth to five daughters. She, of all people, ought to know what it was like.

Suddenly, a scream pierced through the air. Lydia's. "Call a doctor! A birthing maid! Anybody!" In shock, the three ladies watched, all trembling at the sight of it. This was even beyond Mrs. Bennet's expertise; surely, the child was not along the way. Two months still remained and it was rare that a premature one was ever born.

However, Lydia shouted again, and Mary ran and begged her father's assistance who was quite alarmed at the affair. Noticing the heavy rain outside, he sighed. It would be quite difficult to find any doctor at such a time. However, he could not send his wife or his daughters and no servants could be trusted with such a task. Only Mr. Bennet had to do it.

Though anxious of what might happen, this was agreed upon as the best course of action and Mr. Bennet left in a hurry. Meanwhile, Kitty grasped her sister's hand and assured her that she would get treatment soon. Mary busied herself by putting a wet cloth from the other side on Lydia's forehead.

Her hands trembled, however, for Lydia writhed and moaned in pain; the amount of which Mary could not fathom. Sometimes she called for Wickham, sometimes for Catherine which generated anxiety in all the ladies but they soothed it by reassuring themselves and Lydia that Mr. Bennet would soon arrive.

Thunder roared outside and Mary shivered violently. This distressed Lydia even more who moaned out loud for Wickham and Mary's heart broke for her sister. She could not fathom why she had ever disliked Lydia half so much or thought her undeservedly fortunate when she was not.

"Lydia, do not worry," Mary whispered to her sister, though her sister most likely did not hear her. "I am with you."

Chapter Text

The ladies' anxiety was put at ease by the arrival of Mr. Bennet, who was wet and pale but all their attention was taken up by the midwife who had arrived. The midwife was a stout, middle aged woman with a stoic look on her face that assured Mary somewhat. The worthy woman took a glance in her patient's direction and immediately ordered her placement to a warm, dark room.

With some difficulty, Lydia was carried on by her sisters. Then, a bucket of hot water, a cloth were ordered and brought in. The patient was laid entirely on her left side by Kitty while Mary explained how the there were still two months left for the child to com. \This made the midwife's lips purse but curtly she said that this would be a long and cumbersome process. Both Mary and Kitty glanced at each other, determination stark on their faces.

How the child came into the world and how many hours the ladies toiled for it to happen will not be detailed here. It is not the object of this work to tell about the birthing process. It was nearly midnight when Lydia's son was safely snuggled in her arms and the midwife proceeded to go home.

Mary and Kitty were exhausted but the sight of the newborn baby in his mother's arms warmed them both. All the hard work they had done was worth the sight. It was not long before that the sisters delivered the good news to their father and mother.

Both were overjoyed at the success and Mr. Bennet decided it wise to write to Wickham about the circumstances in the morning. However, nobody noticed how tired and lifeless Mr. Bennet had become.

                                                                  ***

The local apothecary visited them the next day and was amazed at how both mother and child were alive and healthy. It was rare that a premature birth should see two survivors. He congratulated the family and after a checkup, declared that both mother and child needed rest for at least a month. Otherwise, there was not much to worry about.

A letter to Wickham was speedily sent and the reply which was given was charming and delightful but lacked substance. It seemed as if Wickham were putting on a farce for he was in the least hurry to meet his wife. However, Lydia, whenever she was awake, worried and fretted over her dear Wickham and it took several reassurances from Kitty and Mary to convince her of Wickham's hearty health.

Almost much of Mary's time was now spent in nursing Lydia and her son along with Kitty. The remaining time that was left after eating and toilette was devoted to books. However, as busy as she had become, Mr. Crawford still remained at the back of her mind. She could not resist thinking how he would react to it all, if he would praise or tease her or do both. With great effort, she pushed such thoughts to the back of her mind but they still showed up every now and then.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Bennet had all the households in the neighborhood, especially the Lucases, to showoff her grandson's birth. Mrs. Phillip visited the Bennet household and so did Mrs. Gardiner. Only the latter was of any help to Mary and Kitty.

Mrs. Gardiner, along with her children, brought much needed cheerfulness in the Bennet household. Greatly was she surprised to see the wild Lydia so weak and needy. However, even more marked was astonishment at how Kitty and Mary had changed.

Mary had became a sensible, caring woman and had long shed her pedantic ways. Kitty was no the naïve and empty headed flirt who followed Lydia like a pet. Mrs. Gardiner, though still very much attached to Jane and Elizabeth, was pleased to be Mary and Kitty's companion. Both the nieces certainly did not mind such a  pragmatic, level headed woman who had much experience than either of them. It did not take long before Kitty confided in Mrs. Gardiner about Mr. Lancaster.

Mrs. Gardiner abused her niece's stupidity. "Good lord, Kitty, what could you mean by rejecting such a gentleman? Someone who you love and know so well? You should know that someone like him would not give an offer twice."  Kitty only blushed in response. Mary pitied her sister and explained to her aunt about how Kitty thought herself to be not good enough for the gentleman.

Mrs. Gardiner's eyes softened. Holding her niece's hand, she said, "My dear, why would you think that? You are prettier than most girls your age, your temper and disposition are sweet and you are intelligent. Why must you compare yourself to other ladies who have not half your worth?"

Kitty blushed again but did not steal her eyes this time. She praised her aunt and assured her that such days were past her. She was starting to realize her value. And even though Mr. Lancaster would forever remain the most amiable gentleman in her eyes, she would overcome heartbreak. Everybody was amazed at this and congratulated Kitty on her strength. Kitty accepted the praise warmly.

                                                                 ***

  However, as Lydia was recovering, Mr. Bennet had fallen ill. Nobody noticed at first for he was a solitary man and spent most of his time in library. Everybody else was busy in caring for Lydia and her son, so that something was wrong with Mr. Bennet did not come to their immediate notice. When it did, the gentleman only dismissed it as cold as a result of going in the rain to bring the midwife. However, his illness furthered and the local doctor had to be troubled again by the Bennets.

The doctor had said that it was a harmless cold and if care was taken properly, he might recover from it. However, his age contributed a great deal to his illness. Now the ladies' time was divided between taking care of Lydia, her son, Cathy and Mr. Bennet. However, Cathy did not prove to be much trouble and got along well with everybody, especially her aunt Kitty.

Wickham was written to again, this time by Mr. Gardiner, who urged his presence for not only his wife was recovering but his wife's father was also taken ill. The son had to be baptized in the church soon and it could not be done without the father's presence.

Chapter Text

It was a coincidence that Mary had happened to meet Mr. Lancaster in the market. The gentleman was the same; well mannered and friendly but there was something altered in him as well. A want of cheerfulness was clear to anyone who had known the gentleman. He asked questions about her family's well being but Mary interpreted it as him wanting to know about Kitty.

Poor Mr. Lancaster! Poor Kitty! Both were clearly in love with each other and neither of them knew of the affection they held for each other! Mary felt for both of them but could not tell the gentleman what he wished to know most. However, she was as bold as to hint about Kitty.

Pain flashed across the gentleman's countenance but he soon recovered himself. "I wish your sister is well?" he enquired before blushing and elaborating, "I meant it would not have been easy to look after a child born in such conditions. I am sure Miss Bennet and you have helped your sister to the best of your abilities."

Mary thanked him for his sincere wishes and Mr. Lancaster offered to walk her home. Finding herself unable to refuse such a genuine offer, Mary accepted it. Kitty was the first person to receive and Mary could not help but feel for her sister. Such an unexpected encounter must have stirred uncomfortable feelings on her part.

Mr. Lancaster in an awkward manner explained that he only meant to assist Mary in walking home. He had no intention to intrude. Both Kitty and Mr. Lancaster blushed and Mary, feeling bolder than ever, asked Mr. Lancaster to stay for tea.

Mr. Lancaster's eyes widened; color leaving his face. "Thank you but I fear my presence would only be unwanted since you all have much better to do."

"You are not intruding!" quipped Kitty, her cheeks an intense shade of red. "I meant," she lowered her voice, "I only meant that my parents would greatly like that you are having tea with us. And you could meet my niece Cathy too." Daring to sneak a glance at the gentleman, she saw shock plainly written on his face.

For a moment, it seemed as if the gentleman would refuse and Mary thought it imprudent to force Mr. Lancaster into a proposal so distasteful to him. However, he accepted the offer timidly and Mary could not contain her grin. Perhaps, it was not all so hopeless after all.

                                                                ***

If Mary had any doubt of Kitty and Mr. Lancaster's affection for each other, the afternoon erased it. To their credit, both of them behaved politely and is as controlled a manner as they could. However, the glances and flushed cheeks escaped nobody's notice. One moment, Mary had to nudge her sister who was staring shamelessly at Mr. Lancaster as if he would disappear in thin air the moment her eyes lifted from him.

Mrs. Bennet spoke enough for both Kitty and Mary; she could not express how delighted she was at his arrival, hinted at how pretty her daughters were (her glance boldly settled on Kitty as she did so.) and was generally merry. Mr. Lancaster bore it all, proving just how much of a gentleman he truly was.

The afternoon ended too soon; Mary could not even comprehend when the sky had started to darken. Mr. Lancaster bowed and bid them a goodbye. He was even kind enough to invite them to his house for dinner in return of their courtesy. Mrs. Bennet accepted it with alacrity, not even sparing a glance at a blushing Kitty and a sister who felt all the awkwardness it must provide to her sister.

Once both the sisters were in their room, Kitty groaned. "Oh, Mary! However, shall I survive?" Mary bit her lip to hide a smile. She merely asked what troubled Kitty.

"Do not act so insufferably!" Kitty exclaimed, "You know what I am talking of. Surely, it is about Mr. Lancaster."

"What about Mr. Lancaster?" Mary asked innocently.

"He is even more handsome than the last time I saw him," Kitty said, as if no longer able to contain herself. "And still so amiable. He bore no ill will to me and was kind enough to be polite to me, when all I deserved was his scorn. How could somebody be so good?"

Mary laughed. "Perhaps you should inform Mr. Lancaster."

Kitty glared at her sister. "Mary, he is no fool! Why should he feel anything for me after everything I did." Mary refrained from rolling her eyes and instead squeezed her sister's hand in assurance.

"He loves you, Kitty, even after everything. I do not doubt he would propose to you a second time, given that he is provided sufficient encouragement. Do not break his heart a second time, dear sister."

Kitty bit her lip, shyly glancing at Mary through her lashes. "I will try not to disappoint either of you." Mary only smiled in response.

                                                          ***

Mr. Bennet's health did not get better; however, it did not get worse either. Even Mrs. Bennet, for all her insensibility, was not oblivious to her husband's declining health. All day she complained of her nerves, scorned at how the Collins would turn all of them out as soon as Mr. Bennet died and her only relief was Lydia and her grandson's steady recovery. All she waited was for Wickham's arrival, her mind set on the idea that only he could somehow prevent from the Collins turning them for their own houses.

In vain did Mrs. Gardiner try to say that Mr. Bennet's condition was not so grave as to warrant such thinking. She begged to Mrs. Bennet to not say such things in front of Mr. Bennet as it would only upset him. Mary and Kitty did their best to not let their mother's negativity reach their father.

The doctor was still of the opinion that Mr. Bennet was in no real danger. A cold never killed anybody and did his best to ensure a frayed Mrs. Bennet that her husband would be getting the best treatment.

Often it was Mary who ended up to look after her father. Kitty and Mrs. Gardiner did their best to look after Lydia and her children; Cathy in particular favored Kitty's company to everyone else's.

Mary would, more often than not, read aloud Mr. Bennet's favorite books or the newspaper. If they did talk about something, it would be about Lydia or Mrs. Bennet or even Kitty and Mr. Lancaster once.

One evening, his coughing was worse than usual. Mary worriedly handed him a glass of water and even then his coughing did not stop. When nothing worked, Mary suggested if they should call the doctor but he waved the idea off.

"But, sir, your cough is getting worse," Mary said, panic evident in her voice. Still, wheezing, he managed to nod his head in refusal and patted the side next to him, gesturing for her to sit besides him. Biting her lip, she did as told.

"I really wish you would call for the doctor," Mary said, but once again, her request was denied. Helpless to do anything, she filled another glass of water and gave it to Mr. Bennet. He gulped it down and his coughing calmed down to an extent. Mary's shoulders relaxed.

Clearing his throat, he said in a horse voice, "I should terribly hate to break a promise but I must tell you this." Coughing again, he held up a hand to indicate a worried Mary to stop from calling anybody else.

Taking Mary's hand, he said in a thinning voice, "You must promise me first that you will not tell about this to anyone." Mary nodded though her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to what Mr. Bennet had to say.

"Do you remember the day Lydia gave birth to my grandson?" Mary nodded in agreement. "I would have died that day were it not for Mr. Crawford."

Shock stung Mary like a lightning bolt. She could not comprehend what her father was saying . "I am sorry if I sound impertinent, but I do not understand what you wish to say father."

Mr. Bennet closed his eyes and his head pointed towards Mary, though a rueful smile still remained on his face. "I do not have much memory of that day. I only remember falling out of my carriage and Mr. Crawford rescuing me." Mr. Bennet's eyes were open now, focusing intensely on Mary. "He was the one who fetched the midwife and made sure I reached home safe."

Mary tightly clenched her hands in her lap so they wouldn't shake. "You were not gone for that long. You were out only for an hour, father. Do not-" The word 'lie' caught up in Mary's throat and tightened like a noose. She turned away instead.

"I was out for at least hours, Mary," Mr. Bennet said in a gentle tone though she could detect a note of smugness in it. The daughter bit the inside of her cheek to stop from snapping at her father. She stood up, bid her father goodnight and went to her room, ignoring the way her knees trembled beneath her.

Chapter Text

I will not attempt the torment Mary underwent after she found out about Mr. Crawford's deeds. It is one thing to be lied to by somebody and another to be forced to hear good things about a person one is determined to hate.

Kitty only gasped and hugged Mary for she thought that she and Mr. Crawford still had a chance with each other. She was delighted and declared that Mr. Crawford could not be so bad after all. However, upon seeing Mary's pale face, she became grave.

"Mary, do you not love Mr. Crawford anymore?" Kitty's imploring, innocent gaze did nothing to settle Mary's turbulent emotions.

Mary sighed and enclosed her body with her arms. "I still love him," she admitted in a small voice. "But I do not know if we are right for each other. What if he lies to me again? What if he had found someone else already?" Tears stung her eyes as she finally met her sister's gaze. "What if -"

Before Mary could say further, Kitty's arms enveloped her body. "I am sorry, Mary," she said sincerely, "I never thought how it would all affect you." Mary sniffed and willed herself to be prepared for the onslaught of tears. They never came.

Kitty detached herself from Mary. "You do not have to make any decision now. Take all time you wish to have." Mary thanked Kitty for her kindness. Kitty, however, only bit her lip and asked if she could say something that might be unpleasant to hear.

Mary nodded, a dull resentment engulfing her. What could Kitty say that could be worse than the predicament she found herself in. "You do not have to accept him now or ever, if you so wish. But, do not doubt his love for you. I have seen it with my eyes how much he cares for you."

                                                                     ***

A week passed and it was time for the Bennets to go to the Lancasters' house as they had invited there by the master of the house. Kitty, though trying her hardest to appear calm, could not hide her anxiety from Mary.

"What if Lydia fell ill and no one was there to take care of her?" Kitty fidgeted with the hem of her dress.  "What if Cathy refused to eat her lunch because I was not there?"

Mary tried her best to assure her. "Kitty, I am sure that our aunt will do her best to look after Lydia, Cathy, our nephew and our father. Besides, they are getting better day by day." It was true; Lydia had found enough to strength that she could now walk from one room to another without help. Mary's nephew was surprisingly healthy for a prematurely born child and Cathy had taken a liking to Mary and Mrs. Phillips of late. Mr. Bennet's condition, though not improved, was not worse for wear.

The Lancaster residence was a pleasing sight. It lacked grandiose or false finery but was a lovely place to live in. It was a white, tall building, and Mary immediately took a liking to it. A garden was attached to it, which was the first place the ladies reached. It was a fine day which was further embellished by the sweet smelling grass and trees scattered on the edge.

"It is a fine place, to be sure," Mrs. Bennet remarked, "The lady who would end up its mistress would be truly lucky!" This was followed by an unsubtle wink in Kitty's direction, who averted her gaze away. The garden was not so long as to tire out the ladies and they all reached the house on time.

Miss Lancaster was the first one to greet them after the servants showed them the way in. She was polite yet shy and assured the ladies that her brother would be back shortly. An awkward silence followed before Kitty, albeit bashfully, praised how delightful the Lancaster residence. She was afraid of saying much lest Miss Lancaster think that it was a tactic to woo Mr. Lancaster. Luckily, Miss Lancaster warmly thanked her for her kind words.

Mrs. Bennet and Mary followed Kitty's lead and agreed that place was very charming, indeed. Miss Lancaster thanked them both and the party was in danger of running out of subjects to talk of. However, they were saved by Mr. Lancaster, who was a better host than his sister. He was all things friendly and kind. He thanked the ladies for coming, complimented their dresses and ordered for the tea to be served for the guests.

Mary was so engrossed in keeping an eye on Mr. Lancaster and Kitty's interactions (which had been only 'good afternoon' and 'you look very well' so far) that she did not notice the gentleman's guest. Her entire body burned with a feeling when she saw Mr. Crawford being greeted by both Mr. Lancaster and his sister. Mr. Lancaster apologized for inviting yet another guest but Mrs. Bennet was more than delighted to have two suitors of her daughters in the room. She never had any knowledge of Mr. Crawford's past and Mary doubted if she would even care of it as long as he married his daughter.

It took much power to command her body and return Mr. Crawford's bow. However, she could not stop the flush of her cheeks when she felt his intense gaze on her. A restlessness seized Mary; she wished to run till her legs ached, till everything blurred, till Mr. Crawford was out of her sight. Instead, she only clenched her hands in her lap and studied the table in front of her as if it were the most important relic.

Why must fate like to torture her so? Mary could barely hear Mr. Crawford's inquires after her sister and her father. Mrs. Bennet's answers appeared to be coming from far away; she could not understand a word she was saying. Besides her Kitty whispered, asking how Mary was. Forcing a smile, she answered that she was well.

Mr. Crawford did not speak much. In fact, all afternoon, Mr. Lancaster and Mrs. Bennet were the chief speakers. Miss Lancaster gave one worded answers to polite inquiries and Kitty was too busy staring at Mr. Lancaster and blushing. Mary's eyes strayed from object to object in the room; determined to not land her gaze on him.

However, Mr. Crawford remained silent, and it was too much for Mary's curiosity to bear. What could he mean by being so quiet? Why does he not torture me by speaking of whatever lady has caught his eye? Such questions were enough to melt Mary's resolve. When, timidly, he eyes did find Mr. Crawford's, she was stunned to find his focus on her.

Heat sizzled through Mary's body as their gazes met. His eyes were still the same; grey as a storm but a sadness clouded them. She was the first to look away.

                                                      ***

As worse the afternoon had proved for Mary, it had been much better for Kitty. Mary would have teased and coaxed her sister to tell the reason why she was wearing such a broad smile on her face but she was too tired. The encounter with Mr. Crawford had drained Mary.

The next day unfolded a new scene at the Bennet household; the arrival of both Mr. Lancaster and Mr. Crawford. Mrs. Bennet very slyly suggested that Kitty and Mary go on a walk with both the gentlemen. This was received with joy by Kitty and Mr. Lancaster and with dread by Mary and Mr. Crawford.

The sun had fallen not long before, leaving behind a pretty, orange evening sky. The Meryton park had never been so livelier to Mary's eyes, and despite herself, she smiled. Mr. Crawford, however, was not as relaxed as Mary, who could feel his tightened muscles underneath her fingers. Neither of them said a word, only watched from a distance Kitty and Mr. Lancaster, who had outstripped them a while ago.

In contrast to Mary's situation, her sister and her admirer were as close as they could be. Even form afar, one could tell their conversation was a passionate one. It was only when they both drew their faces close so as to kiss each other did Mary look away.

"Congratulations," said Mr. Crawford in a low voice, "It appears that your sister is engaged."

There was no escaping him now. "It does," replied Mary tightly.

Mr. Crawford breathed in deeply, as if preparing himself for a possibly tense conversation. Mary's shoulders tightened. "I know I do not deserve a trifle of your affection, but is too much to ask for your forgiveness?" The tremble in his tone did not help Mary to relax in the slightest.

After a brief pause, Mary said as calmly as she could, "You saved my father. I do not think you should be asking for my forgiveness. If anything, you should be demanding my gratitude." Mary risked a glance in the gentleman's direction, who was raking his hand through his hair. She would be lying if she said that his nervousness was expected. Usually, it was he who was the calm one and she the agitated.

"I did not do it for your gratitude," Mr. Crawford gritted the words out, "I never wanted you to know of it, ever."

"Why not?" Mary cried. "Why are you so averse to let the world not know of your noble deeds?"

"I did not do it to be noble, I did it for you!" The gentleman's exclamation dumbfounded both of them. Then in a more controlled tone, Mr. Crawford said, " I only meant that," He cleared his throat, "I did not wish you to know of this for I did not want you to feel forced to accept me out of gratitude. You need not think that you owe me anything."

A lump grew in Mary's throat. A desperate silence developed where neither knew what to say. Tears stung Mary's eyes but she firmly pushed back. Taking a deep breath, Mary said weakly, "Where were you going that day?"

"To Mansfield Park," Mr. Crawford replied, "I do not know why but I was grasped with this restlessness  to see that place." Huffing, he added, "It is absurd for I never even liked that place to begin with."

For the first time in days, Mary looked at the man by her side. His gaze was fixed on the grassy ground. He was kind, she thought, far kinder than everyone else thought him to be. Without thinking, she blurted out, "Do you still love me?"

Both froze. Mary cursed herself; the impertinence of her question stabbed her in the gut. Before she could apologize, Mr. Crawford stopped walking and gently took Mary's hand in his own. Even this simple gesture left Mary breathless.

Mr. Crawford's eyes had turned dark. "Do I still love you? Is that truly what you wish to know?" Mary nodded, not trusting her words at the moment.

"I never stopped loving you," Mr. Crawford's thumb gently traced Mary's knuckles, "I know I should not, but I can't. Even if you despise me-"

"I don't despise you," Mary's voice was low and painful, "I never despised you." It was Mr. Crawford's turn to be breathless.  "But I do not trust you." Mary's voice broke, "Not as much as I should." Mary's admission felt like a stab in the chest but she could not withhold the truth either.

"Tell me, then," Mr. Crawford's tone was desperate. "I'll do anything to win your trust. To let you know how much I love you."

"Let time heal everything. I only ask you not break my heart twice," Mary's breath hitched, "I would not be able to bear it."

Mr. Crawford kissed Mary's hand. Once. Twice Thrice. Then he left a gentle kiss on her wrist and promised, "I will do everything to protect your heart. I swear."

Mary gently bumped her forehead with Henry's and basked in the warmth surrounding. Finally, she allowed herself to smile.

Chapter Text

The journey ahead was not an easy one for the lovers. Trust is not built in a day, especially when it was broken. However, Mr. Crawford proved to be worthy - even more than Mary had expected - of Mary's love and esteem.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were happy to hear that their daughters were getting married. To Mr. Bennet's relief, both the gentlemen to whom he had entrusted his daughters' hands could not have been netter. Mrs. Bennet was overjoyed that her all of her daughters were married now, and that too to such rich gentlemen. Though, Kitty and Mary, would by no means be as rich as Jane and Elizabeth - at least, they would not be thrown out of their houses by the Collins after Mr. Bennet's death.

After having all of her daughters married, Mrs. Bennet's interest in gossip and such wavered. Her wish to be a matchmaker was all but extinguished, yet still she remained an insensible woman.

Jane and Elizabeth both sent their congratulations to their sisters. Jane's was full of kind wishes and hopes for the future while Lizzie's was teasing and playful. Nevertheless, Mary knew that both sincerely wished for their sisters' happiness.

However, it was Lydia who was the most overjoyed of the lot, even more so than Mr. Bennet. She was recovering speedily and actively participated in planning her sisters' weddings. However, Mary noticed that while she was still vivacious and unthinking as ever, she had changed.

Lydia proved to be a good mother to both of her children - Cathy and Alexander (the son's name was chosen by his father who had finally decided to come meet his children and wife). She was caring, gentle and patient. Her attachment for Wickham, however, was all but in name. It pained Mary to see her sister trapped in such a loveless marriage but there was little she could  do to help. However, she and Lydia corresponded with each other even after Mary's marriage.

It was the groom's side that was less than satisfied with Mr. Crawford's choice. Mr. Grant could not care less about Henry- let alone his bride. Mrs. Grant was cold and sullen, unable to understand Henry's attachment to such a plain, poor, pedantic girl. No matter how much Mary tried to please her, Mrs. Grant was civil to her at best and cold to her at worst.

Miss Crawford, though initially displeased at Henry's choice, grew to accept his choice. She had never been a romantic and had always the most pragmatic notions of marriage. However, even she wasn't blind to the love Henry and Mary shared. She had witnessed Henry's heartbreak over losing her and could not be more happy when they finally married. In Miss Crawford, she found a delightful companion.

As for, Mary and Henry, their marriage was successful. They had their share of disagreement and misunderstandings, of course, however, they both overcame it. Henry's carefree nature lifted Mary's unnecessary anxieties. Mary's serious and practical personality proved to help Henry become a mature and dutiful man.

With this, I keep my pen down. Mary and Henry's story may have come to an end, but you must not despair. There are thousands of storied waiting to be told.

Chapter Text

Before I start, I'd like to thank you wonderful readers. I had never expected this fic to get this much love as it did, and as imperfect as it is, I loved writing it!

Anyways, would you like an edited version of this (with more chapters and character depth) or a whole new which is loosely based on this work. Comment below! Thanks for reading!