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“What does that mean?”
“Please desist, Lizzy.” Her voice was thin and strained.
“Very well.”
I did not know what was agitating her, but I knew Mary disliked being pushed, so I climbed into bed and blew out the candle, saying nothing further. I knew I would not sleep. I never could when something was on my mind.
An hour later, after tossing and turning miserably, I heard a sniffle from Mary’s bed. I stilled, listening. There was another sniffle followed by a hiccupping sort of sob. I was out of bed in an instant.
“Mary,” I said as I climbed onto the bed behind her. “What is it?”
“It is nothing,” she said in a choked voice.
I gently pulled her shoulder so she would roll towards me. “If it has you this distraught, it is not nothing. Tell me.”
She wiped her nose, then turned to me with a forlorn expression. “It was the gentlemen.”
“Which gentlemen?”
“All of them!” she cried.
“What did they do?”
“It is what they did not do.”
I looked at her in confusion.
“Arthur Goulding was sat beside me, but he hardly spoke two words to me.”
“Everyone knows the Goulding boys are terribly ill-bred. Their mother is constantly embarrassed.”
“Mr. Long sat across from me,” she continued as if I had not interrupted. “He could not look at me. Not once! He looked to my left or right, he looked over my shoulder, I even caught him speaking to my hair. But he could not look at my face.”
I ran my hand over her back, trying to soothe her. “Oh, dearest.”
“I am hideous, Lizzy! Look at me! Who would ever want me like this?” She sobbed pitifully, her body shaking from the effort. “Who could stand to look at me every day?”
“Oh, my dear!” I pulled her to me and squeezed her as tight as I could as her tears soaked through my nightrail. “I am sorry, Mary. I’m so, so sorry.” I rocked her back and forth, my heart breaking for my sister, and my heart filled with guilt.
Mary made me promise not to say anything to our mother, so I kept her concerns to myself. Thankfully, Mama seemed to understand the situation without having to be told. Jane Gardiner Bennet, once the prettiest girl in Meryton, well understood the currency of beauty. She knew Mary would have an uphill battle and went out of her way to make sure my sister’s gowns and hairstyles suited her perfectly.
A week after the dinner party, mother hosted a few of the local ladies for tea. Mary would serve to practice for her come out. I was to be present, but Jane was being shipped off on a call. I had to give my mother credit for thinking of it. The prettiest of girls looked homely next to Jane; Mary’s scars stood out horribly.
The ladies arrived in quick succession and Mama welcomed them in the drawing room. There were five ladies invited, plus Lady Lucas’s sister who was visiting and had come along. Mrs. Higgins was a buxom woman with a penchant for deep colors that did her complexion no favors. She spoke loudly, took too large bites, and laughed at her own jokes, which were seldom funny.
She told Mary she took her tea with sugar and milk, then proceeded to ignore my sister. Until the ladies began discussing their daughters and their prospects, that is.
Lady Lucas expressed concern that Charlotte would never marry—she would be six and twenty soon. Mrs. Long fretted about her nieces. Mrs. Goulding thanked heaven she had only sons, but lamented that they could not choose decent women and she would be stuck living with harridans or idiots. My mother said something about Jane and me going to London for the Season when Mrs. Higgins interrupted her.
“At least you know Miss Mary will always be with you,” she said, crumbs flying out of her mouth.
My mother looked at her in surprise and Mrs. Phillips said, “What makes you say that?”
Aunt Phillips was not always the brightest flower in the garden.
“Well look at her!” cried Mrs. Higgins, gesturing wildly toward where Mary sat, white as a sheet. “Surely you don’t think anyone will take her!” She laughed to herself, unaware of the discomfort of everyone else in the room. “Perhaps a man who is nearly blind,” she added.
She laughed again and I finally understood what it meant to see red. My pulse pounded at my temples and I could hardly hear over the ringing in my ears. I vaguely registered my mother asking me and Mary to go check on our sisters and Mary tugging on my hand. I shook my head and walked stiffly away from the sofa, shooting daggers at Mrs. Higgins with my eyes.
