Changeling Child - Part 5

Prologue

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

The year Mary Bennet turned nineteen, Netherfield Park was let at last.

Mary rarely paid attention to gossip until it became fact, in an often-vain attempt to sound sensible and avoid Lydia’s gloating when Mary was proven wrong. Nevertheless, she would have had to be deaf and blind not to know of the new arrivals, who were to take possession some time before Michaelmas. That explained the shopkeepers discussing whether or not to increase their wares from London, when Mary went to see if any new music was to be found.

Mary did manage to avoid the explosion of gossip for a day or so, but then Mama discovered from Mrs Long that the new resident who had taken the lease was a single young man in possession of a fortune.

When Aunt Phillips brought word that the new resident would be bringing guests (the speculated number of available gentlemen varied wildly), Mary escaped to the Hermitage as quickly as possible.

A fortnight passed before the inhabitants of Longbourn had opportunity to meet the ellusive Mr Bingley.

Mary was unsurprised, the gentleman would have been busy returning calls from those pillars of the community who had welcomed him to the neighbourhood, and it was hardly Mr Bingley’s fault that he had returned Papa’s call while the ladies of the house were on a call of their own.

‘A Social Guide for Young Gentlewomen’, the latest etiquette book by A Lady, went into detail on just how much work was involved when moving residence, even from the Country to a London Townhouse. Servants beyond the skeleton staff that manned an empty estate had to be interviewed, vetted and hired, the Steward and Housekeeper had to be consulted on menus and what expectations the Family had for their time in residence... it sounded quite exhausting just reading about it!

On the day of the Meryton Assembly, Mama was quite a-flutter with preparations. Of course Mr Bingley and his guest would be there! Naturally her daughters must make as fine a showing as possible, before some other young woman in want of a husband could catch the Gentlemen's notice! Papa was being entirely unreasonable in demanding quiet while there was so much to be done to get ready!

Mary tucked a book into her reticule, having little doubt of spending the evening watching her sisters dance.

The Netherfield party appeared fashionably late, late enough for a grand entrance, and just barely before it would have been considered rude.

Mr Bingley, a handsome and engaging young man, was all politeness, requesting introductions from Sir William and the gentlemen who had called upon him. Mary found herself prepared to like him, even if the rest of his party were... markedly less sociable.

Mama lamented that Papa had stayed home, forcing her to wait for Sir William to perform introductions, fussing with Aunt Phillips in hissed whispers, not unlike two offended geese. Mary spent the time studying Mr Bingley’s guests, while her sisters finished their current sets. How dissimilar they all were, seemingly united only in their connection to Mr Bingley!

Not counting the man himself, there were two gentlemen, and two ladies. One gentleman seemed more interested in the refreshment table than the introductions being made, and the lady he escorted, undoubtably his wife, was very nearly over-dressed for the occasion, looking around her with an expression that Mary chose to interpret as bafflement. The other lady, equally done up as though she anticipated a London Ballroom in the middle of Hertfordshire, gazed about her with what Mary could only call a polite sneer.

The final member of the party, a tall man dressed in sober but very well tailored clothing, hung back from the people pressing as close as propriety allowed. Not from intimidation or insecurity, she thought, but Mary couldn’t decide whether he disdained the company he found himself in, or was simply uncomfortable around people he didn’t know well. She could certainly sympathise with the latter.

Mama’s whispering was starting to draw notice, and Mary couldn’t keep referring to the Netherfield party by her own mental descriptions forever. She slid forward, “Mama, do you know their names?”

Suitably distracted, Mama gestured with what, for her, was unusual subtlety. “The tall one is Mr Darcy, from Derbyshire, a friend of Mr Bingley. I will have to write our sister Gardiner to see if she knows of him from her time in Lambton. The blonde lady is Mr Bingley’s sister, Mrs Hurst, and her husband Mr Hurst. The other lady is Miss Caroline Bingley, who is still unmarried, though with a dowery like hers, I am sure she will have her choice of partners.”

Mama might not be the most discerning of women, but her ability to extract all kinds of information from the gossip that buzzed around them was a never-ending source of wonder to Mary. She might have said so, but Sir William was slowly wending his way toward them, and the musicians were winding up for the final flourish of the current set. Mama fluttered, “Pinch your cheeks, Mary, you do not wish to look so pale. Oh, pray that your sisters get off the dance floor before Sir Willaim reaches us!”

Jane had just finished dancing with Mr Price, the heir of Windemere, a nearby estate somewhere between Lucas Lodge and Longbourn in size and income, who found his own debut into Society overshadowed by Mr Bingley’s arrival. The prestige of dancing with Jane, and her gentle warmth toward everyone, would ease that sting nicely. Kitty and Lydia had gravitated toward the Lucas boys, and Lizzy spent the set teasing Mr Harris, an associate of Uncle Phillips, into a humbler frame of mind. None of them lingered with their partners, no doubt sensing Mama’s agitation even more clearly than Mary had.

The introductions went smoothly, and Mr Bingley was unsurprisingly moved to ask Jane for the next set. Elizabeth lacked a partner, and sat to converse with Charlotte not far from the same corner where Mary retreated with her book.

Flitting around the room like a butterfly, socialising with everyone but favouring only a few, Mama was positioned to be waiting for Jane when the set ended, and Mr Bingley solicited the promise of a second set before he made the rounds of his own party while the musicians refreshed themselves.

Mr Darcy seemed agitated, holding himself reserved from everyone. Perhaps there had been a recent tragedy in his family, or perhaps he was like Papa, who found society exhausting in all but the smallest measures. Mary was too far to hear what Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley were saying, but from the way Lizzy’s eyebrow arched higher and higher, it must be a fascinating conversation.

When Mr Bingley had to seek out Miss King for the next set, Lizzy and Charlotte came to join Mary. Jane had escaped Mama, and gladly took refuge in the corner. Lizzy welcomed her with a smile, the second Bennet sister clearly bursting with the effort of holding her tongue.

Both of them would deny it utterly, but it was at moments like this, with an opinion to voice or a witicism to share, that Lizzy really did resemble Mama. “Well, Jane, you must pride yourself on being complimented as the only handsome woman in the room.”

Jane smiled ever so slightly, “I must do no such thing, for I declare that there are many handsome women in the room.”

Few credited Jane as much more than a pretty face and a gentle spirit, but Jane had Mama’s gift for reading a room, and enough of Papa’s wit to tease in return. Like Mary, Jane preferred to keep herself at a distance with all but her most intimate friends. Unlike Mary, Jane drew enough attention to herself that it was a prudent choice.

Lizzy wove a tale of a thoroughly disagreeable Mr Darcy, who might as well have stayed home if all he intended to do was stalk about looking dour, and insulting young ladies who hadn’t even been given the opportunity to insult him in turn!

Why Jane and Charlotte looked so amused at Lizzy’s impassioned ire, Mary could not fathom. Jane laid a hand on Lizzy’s wrist before she could upset the glass of punch that Mary had been neglecting. “I wonder if perhaps he is like Mary. They seem to share a discomfort in company.”

That, Mary thought, as she tried in vain to focus on her book of musical theory, was an understatement. Company in a drawing room was barely tolerable, constrained to a polite half hour before Mary could escape. Assembleys - loud, noisy affairs with nowhere quiet to escape to - were akin to torture. At least a private ball might allow a trip to the powder room for a moment of quiet to collect herself, cards, or a library.

But Proper Young Ladies attended assemblies, and thus, so did Mary.

Jane, whose eyes had not stopped drifting to where Mr Bingley danced, attempted to cajole Lizzy into better humour. “You were not offended when Mary snapped at you that she had no desire to dance at the last assembly. Perhaps it is wounded pride that makes you so swift to dislike him?”

One day, Mary would persuade Lizzy to teach her how one held a grudge without being decried as bitter and resentful. Mama was not the only one with a sharp tongue. “Mary is less inclined to place the fault on others when she feels unsociable. Still, if he is as distasteful as I perceive, no doubt he will have many other opportunities to offend me.”

Mary closed her book with a snap, admitting defeat for the present. “I envy your ability to laugh yourself into better spirits so easily, Elizabeth.”

The wittiest of the Bennet sisters patted her hand. “It takes only practice, Mary.”

If that were true, Mary would have mastered the talent long before now. “And the ability not to dwell on what has upset you. I wonder if I shall ever improve.”

Jane patted her hand. “You are doing much better, Mary. Perhaps you are simply too close to see.”

They all jumped when Sir William’s voice came from nearby. “Miss Mary Bennet, may I make known to you Mr Darcy, of Pemberley in Derbyshire.”

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