On one of these visits, Mrs. Bennet was aghast to hear the ladies speaking well not only of Elizabeth, but of Mary for her efforts in helping Mrs. Allen with the parish poor. She immediately began to criticise her plainest daughter for what she considered unladylike pursuits.
“Mary, what is this I hear about you gallivanting about with Mrs. Allen instead of attending to your duties at home?” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, her disapproval evident.
Flushing, Mary lowered her gaze, accustomed to her mother’s harsh words. “I am merely assisting Mrs. Allen with her charitable endeavours, Mother. It is a noble cause and one that I think is beneficial,” she replied quietly, her voice tinged with defensiveness.
“Noble cause or not, a young lady of your station should not be traipsing about like some common servant. You are a gentlewoman and should be seen to act like one,” Mrs. Bennet retorted, her frustration growing.
Sensing the tension between the two, Mrs. Allen interjected gently, “Mrs. Bennet, Mary’s assistance has been invaluable. She has shown remarkable compassion and dedication in helping the less fortunate. Surely you would appreciate her desire to make a positive impact in our small community. Likewise, Mary’s help eases your own burden in educating your daughters to be proper mistresses of an estate. Aiding the poor is one of a gentlewoman’s responsibilities, one that is greatly popular among the great ladies in London.”
Mrs. Bennet waved her hand dismissively. “Compassion is all well and good, but a young lady’s place is within her own home, attending to her domestic duties and preparing herself for marriage, not gallivanting about the countryside.”
Mary’s shoulders tensed at her mother’s words, but she remained composed, silently vowing to continue her efforts to help those in need regardless of her mother’s disapproval. The conversation shifted with Mary adding nothing more.
However, Mrs. Allen had a different idea and spoke to Mary about it the next day. “Mary, while I do appreciate all you have done to help me, I feel that your mother will soon forbid you from taking part. Mr. Allen has heard back from his friend, andthey have invited you to come for a visit to see if you can be of aid to their daughter. They live on a small estate near Maidstone below London. It is slightly larger than Longbourn and is well managed, and I think you could learn much while you are there. The family’s name is Winters and the daughter for you to befriend is Amelia. She is just fifteen, near your sister Kitty’s age.”
“I am uncertain that my parents will allow me to go if I ask. Do you think Mr. Allen might suggest it to my father? Perhaps departing without Mama learning of it will make it easier for me to leave?” Mary suggested.
“We will do all we can to arrange it. Mr. Allen has already suggested his friend send a carriage to collect you at the beginning of next week.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Allen. Mama has been displeased with me ever since she learned of my visits yesterday afternoon. The heir presumptive never appeared as scheduled, nor did he send word of his delay, so she is even more vociferous than usual. I would like to get away from her since I am a frequent target of her ire. I do worry what will happen to Kitty if I go, for she will inevitably become the next target.”
“Tell Miss Kitty to seek me out if she needs help. She is entirely too inclined to follow Miss Lydia wherever she leads, and the two will wreak havoc on our small town and your entire family if they are not restrained somehow,” Mrs. Allen said.
“They are too young to run wild as they do. However, Mama will not hear a word spoken against Lydia, saying she is only lively and young.”
Mrs. Allen patted the girl’s hand to reassure her. “Perhaps we can find a way to reach them as well. Do not worry too much right now since they are very young.”
“Yes, but Mama indulges Lydia and permits her to do whatever she likes. She is just thirteen years old, yet she attends events as though she is out. The neckline of her dresses gets lower and lower and is scarcely appropriate for a girl in the schoolroom,” Mary insisted.
Mrs. Allen sighed. “I know, my dear girl. While you are gone, we will see what may be done. Perhaps if she senses the censure of the neighbourhood, she would be inclined to make a change.”
Mary hesitated to scoff at such a suggestion from her mentor, knowing better than to underestimate the power of social opinion. However, she doubted that her youngest sister would be influenced by what their neighbours thought of her. Mrs. Bennet seemed blissfully unaware of anything she did not wish to acknowledge, content to invent reasons to justify her perception.
“I hope that to be true, Mrs. Allen. Thank you for your assistance and please let me know if Mr. Allen is successful in convincing Papa to allow me to go to your friend.”
Soon, their calls for the day were completed, and Mary made her way home. Since she returned home well before her mother arrived downstairs, nothing was said about her visits, but she knew it could not last.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Afew days later, plans were finalised for Mary to travel to Maidstone. Mr. Allen came and made the offer to Mr. Bennet, who realised the whole thing would be arranged with little expense to himself and agreed without bothering to consult his wife. Therefore, on Tuesday of the following week, a carriage arrived early in the morning to collect Mary and convey her to Maidstone.
Mary had never been outside of Hertfordshire having travelled but once to St. Albans and never through London. As the carriage passed through the outskirts of London, Mary was taken aback by everything she saw. Stopping once to rest the horses allowed her a brief chance to look around, together with both the maid and manservant who had accompanied the carriage. The carriage finally reached the Winters’ estate late in the evening.
“Welcome, Miss Bennet,” the matron of the home greeted their guest as Mary stepped down from the carriage with the assistance of the footman. “Mr. Allen had so many pleasant things to say about you, and we are so glad you could come stay with us for a time. Here, come into the house and meet my daughter.”
Mary greeted her hostess and accepted the introductions. Mrs. Winters seemed a jovial sort of woman, very different from her own mother and, apparently, happy to have her there. She entered the drawing room where she was introduced to a girl a year or two younger than herself.
“Amelia, I would like to introduce you to Miss Mary Bennet. She will stay with us for a month or two and I hope the two of you will become friends.”
Amelia glanced up for a moment, briefly connecting with Mary’s eyes before lowering them to the floor again. Her greeting was quiet, so much so that Mary strained to hear her. Mary deduced the girl was shy, perhaps made more so in her grief. While Mrs. Winters wore the colours of half-mourning, Miss Winters still donned her black attire. She recalled what Mrs. Allen had told her of the girl’s loss and wondered what she might do to aid the poor girl.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Winters. I hope you do not think it too forward of me, but since we will reside in the same house for the next several weeks, do you think we might do away with some of the formality and address each other by our Christian names? If you prefer, you may address me as Miss Mary if you are more comfortable with that.”
“I would be delighted to address you by name, Miss Mary,” the girl murmured. “Mrs. Allen told my mother that you play.” She allowed the unspoken question to hang in the air between them.
“I play some, but not particularly well. My parents never hired a master to help me improve, so I have learned only what I could manage myself. Mrs. Allen plays a bit, and she taught me some of the basics.” This was a sore point for Mary since she had frequently asked for a master, at least for a brief time, to help her improve, but the request had always been denied. Both her parents always claimed there was a lack of funds, but then they would purchase a new dress or a new book.
“I have a master who comes weekly, and I am certain that he would not mind assisting you as well,” Amelia said quietly. “Mysister and I used to practise together and play duets. She was a far better pianist than I, but since she left us, I have spent more time practising by myself. I miss having someone to share it with.”
