Page 32 of The Vanished Bennet Sister

She did not believe me about Mrs Bingley's scheme. Admittedly I expected this, and went ahead regardless, which tells me something about the quality of my own judgement at half past eleven at night. But it was not the disbelief that remained with me when I found myself back upstairs. It was what came after.

She maintained that Lavinia Bingley is her friend, who has shared real grief with her. And while she may be right that the information offered to her was real, I think Mrs Bingley is a more careful woman than my mother perceives her to be. It is possible that the information shared was both real and intended, but my mother is not the best at holding two things at once. This is not her fault.

She said that Caroline Bingley has three full seasons of polish that I do not have and that my sisters have always been more goal-oriented.

I know my own limitations and I have always known them. I do not expect to enter a room and produce the effect that Jane, Elizabeth, or Caroline Bingley produces with what appears to be almost no effort. I made my peace with that a long time ago.

Or I thought I had.

But to hear it said by my own mother and to have my inadequacies pointed out so bluntly, holds a different weight.

I am writing to you because you are the only person I can think of who has ever seemed to understand what it is to be me. You do not just feel sorry, constantly suggest improvements, or offer empty sympathy that contains within it an expectation that I will eventually make a drastic change. You know me, plainly and without condition. A woman I have never met. Whose face I do not know.

I have thought, more than once, that this is a very strange thing. And I have concluded that I do not care that it is strange, because the bond is real. At present, it is what I most need, and I am grateful for it.

Your friend, Mary.

Chapter Fourteen

Elizabeth

The next day, Mary's place at the breakfast table was empty.

A note in her hand had been delivered to the kitchen staff ahead of time: she would take her meals in her room, she required no visits, she was quite well and wished only for some time alone. The note was brief and permitted no argument, which Elizabeth mused as she set it beside her plate, was likely the best approach in a family like theirs.

Their mother arrived a while later. She sat, accepted her cup of tea, and glanced at Mary's vacant spot without speaking about it.

The restraint lasted approximately four minutes.

"I suppose she is very upset with me."

"That is a sensible conclusion," Elizabeth said.

"I spoke plainly. I have never pretended to do otherwise."

"You spoke unkindly. There is a distinction, Mama, between plain speech and otherwise. Last night, you managed both simultaneously, which is not an easy feat."

"I only wished to save us. All of us. Not to be the villain of the piece."

"I know that," Elizabeth murmured. "I do not think you a villain. You were frightened, and I think fear produces speech that runs ahead of consequences. But Mary needed kindness last night, not a reckoning, and that is what requires addressing."

Jane's voice came from the far end of the table, quiet yet carrying across clearly. "I have enjoyed this season a great deal. I am glad to be here, and I am grateful for every part of it. But I would give all of it up — the house, the assemblies, outings most evenings — rather than have Mary made wretched so that we might continue. If we are meant to have these things, we shall have them because Mary is happy and Mr Thwaite chooses her as a result. Not because she has been pressed into an urgency that makes her someone she is not."

"Very prettily said," Lydia responded. "But if it were me in Mary's position, I would not have let the relationship get this far without settling the matter. Miss Bingley would not have had the opportunity to discuss a single topic!"

"It’s true. Knowing Lydia, she'd have been engaged by the very first week of January," Kitty confirmed.

"Neither of you," Elizabeth said to her younger sisters, "is in Mary's position. Mr Thwaite is not a prize to be captured at speed. He is a man of considerable intelligence and feeling. What has drawn him to Mary is what you are suggesting she abandon: the nature of her thoughts, the honesty of her manner and the fact that she engages with him as an equal rather than as a prospect. You cannot fake that. If it is not genuine, he would know it within days, and the whole structure would collapse. And what you asked of Mary last night, Mama, was not to do more. It was to become someone else. That is not a fair thing to ask of her."

Mrs Bennet glanced down at the table. The fight had disappeared from her face, leaving behind a mellow husk.

"I will apologise to her," she said finally. Her statement was not meant to be gracious or polite — she appeared chastened and made uncomfortable by that knowledge, but had decided to proceed regardless.

"Give her the morning. She asked for some time to herself, and that is a request worth honouring. Visiting later in the afternoon might be a better idea, if she will see you."

Her mother nodded, reached for her coffee, and for a moment Elizabeth thought the subject had found its resting place.

"I still maintain that none of this is Lavinia's doing. Caroline is her own woman and has her own reasons for behaving a certain way."