“I don’t understand,” said Mary. “I didn’t do anything selfish. What are you talking of?”
Kitty rolled her eyes. “That is exactly what Lydia would have done. Do you not recall when she nearly ruined us all by eloping with a man who almost refused to marry her? Then, when she did come back, she had no clue she had done anything wrong. That is you, Mary. You ruined Jane’s and Elizabeth’s wedding breakfast by taking all the attention to yourself. You played so loudly that no one could speak or do anything else but stare at you. And you did it forfifteen minutes.
“It would have been bad enough if you had played for five minutes, but no, you had to take all the attention for a quarter of an hour. And then, when you got the response you so rightly deserved, which was no response at all, you rushed out of the room and didn’t come back, not even to see your sisters off.”
Mary stared at Kitty, not knowing what to say. This interpretation of the situation had never occurred to her, but the fury in Kitty’s eyes and the urgency with which she spoke pointed to the idea that at the very least Kitty viewed Mary’s behavior in such a light.
With the memory of her own pain still fresh in her mind, Mary could not truly comprehend all that Kitty was trying to say, nor could she determine how to respond. Though her mind could think of no words, her stomach seemed to know just what to do. It revolted.
“Mama,” said Mary, “I suddenly have no appetite. May I be excused from dinner?”
Mama opened her mouth to reply, but Kitty spoke first. “That is just like your selfishness,” she said. “You shove yourself forward when no one wants you to. Then, when your presenceiswanted, you run away. Well, good riddance, I say. Go, run away up to your room. Dinner will be all the better without your pithy comments and your pointless, unsympathetic, and unwanted advice.”
Mary did not wait for Mama’s permission. She bolted from the room, ran up the stairs, and reached the safety of her room just in time to empty the meagre contents of her stomach into the chamber pot.
Only when her stomach was empty and her mouth had been rinsed to rid it of the taste of bile did Mary’s mind catch up and begin to understand Kitty’s words.
If Kitty was correct, everything Mary had ever done, all her work, her self-sacrifice, her pain and discomfort, all of it wasn’t just for nothing. Rather it was the reason she was unloved. Instead of garnering praise and gratitude with her efforts, she had only succeeded in alienating herself further.
It is a hard, hard thing when a person realizes they have wasted a large portion of their life. Additionally, it is devastating when someone finds that they are not the person they thought they were.
Mary never set out to be selfish. She had good intentions. She wished to be of service to others simply to gain just a bit of notice, only a little bit of attention. If Kitty was to be believed, however, she had never considered whether her “helpfulness” was truly helpful. She had never considered how others might perceive her actions in any way.
Mary sat in her darkened room for the rest of the night, simply staring into the fire or gazing out the window, as her mind gradually came to grips with this new perspective on her life. Sleep that night was not easy to find, but she did eventually manage to get some rest.
In the morning, when Sarah came in to help Mary dress, she allowed it, but she asked Sarah to see if a maid could bring her some toast and tea to her room. “If Mama asks why, simply tell her I am not feeling particularly well,” Mary explained.
As usual, Sarah made no objections or comments. She simply did as she was told. Twenty minutes later, a tray with lukewarm tea and cold toast arrived.
Mary consumed it slowly, since her stomach was still not particularly happy to be receiving food. As for Mary, she was simply happy to not have to face her family.
Mary spent the rest of the day in her room. Sometimes, she thought about her life, recollecting the many things she had read and the many hours of self-suppression that it took to play the piano accurately. Sometimes, she thought about nothing in particular.
As time passed, something within Mary began to change.
She was not certain whether she should be grateful that no one disturbed her musings or to simply chalk it up to yet another example of how no one truly cared about Mary in any way. In the end, it made little difference. When Mary awoke the following morning, she was a new woman.
No longer would she practice or play the piano unless she wanted to. No longer would she spend hours forcing knowledge into her unwilling mind. No longer would she seek approval or gratitude from anyone.
If Mary’s family and neighbors truly believed Mary was selfish, then that was exactly what she would be. If no one would show her any affection, she would manufacture it herself. She would do what she wanted to do, how she wanted to do it, and she would take no one’s concerns into consideration other than her own.
Her family was surprised to see Mary descend to breakfast that morning in such a calm manner. She said nothing as she buttered her toast and poured her tea. Instead, she listened to Kitty chatter about her plans to visit Maria Lucas.
When there was a pause in Kitty’s flow of words, Mary said, “Mama, I would like to walk into Meryton today. I have some shopping I would like to do.”
“Alone?” asked Mama.
“There is no one to accompany me,” said Mary. “Three of my sisters are gone, and Kitty clearly has plans for the day. Besides, I think it might be pleasant to walk on my own. If I recall, Elizabeth did so quite often.”
“I suppose you are correct,” said Mama. “Very well. You may go. I do hope the experience cheers you up a bit.”
Mary smiled a tiny little secretive smile. “I’m sure it shall,” she said.
She made no other conversation until just before Kitty was ready to leave the table. Then she said, “Kitty, I would like to thank you for your words to me two days ago.” She made no explanation as to why she would say such a thing, and Kitty clearly was confused. However, when Mary did not continue, Kitty simply shrugged and flounced out of the room.
Chapter 3
I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit…I was spoilt by my parents, who…allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing;Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice (p. 214).
