Pomp and Circumstance: A Pride and Prejudice Continuation

Chapter 21: The Heroine Departs

Mary awoke to find a morning which had dawned fair and gentle.

It is disquieting always when the weather is entirely disparate to one's mood; and it did not seem fitting to her, that the day should be so fine and pleasant, when her own current temperament was so inclined towards sullenness and listlessness.

At breakfast, she was joined only by her sister. Lady Catherine and her recovering daughter had requested their breakfast be brought up to them; and Georgiana was asleep still, doubtless exhausted by the tribulations of the previous night.

"Are you prepared, then? All your things packed?"

"Yes. I need only for them to be brought down." The sketch, Mary had decided, would remain at Pemberley, and she had left it sitting placidly still upon the desk in her room.

"Did you enjoy yourself at the dance? Mr. Benson's friends seemed to make you fair companions for the evening."

Mary smiled at Lizzy ruefully over her tea. "I should say they were more Georgiana's companions than they were mine; but in truth, the ball was not so tedious as I had feared."

"You are always too generous with your compliments, sister, dear," Lizzy said drily, and gave Mary a look which spoke to sisterly understanding and amusement. "And what of you, Mary? You shall not waste away in Longbourn? You shall not let it fret you, if Mama is too silly, or Papa too satirical?"

Mary caught at last that somewhere in the lightness of her sister's tone was an earnest note of concern, and lowered her cup. "I shall be perfectly alright, Lizzy," she said seriously. "I shall have much to occupy me, and Georgiana shall make a lovely correspondent, I am certain." And she meant the words as much as one could, without the capability to truly know what lay before them; but she believed - or at the very least, hoped earnestly - that as soon as she was back at Longbourn, and Pemberley was a distant recollection, growing only more indistinct with each day, that she would be soon in righting herself, and returning to her previous apathy. There now also, of course, loomed before her the vital consideration of what should become of her once the entail was inherited by Mr. Collins; but then, she told herself, that was a matter to reflect upon another day.

Whatever her fears for Mary had been, Lizzy seemed at least somewhat satisfied by her response; and the matter was brought up no more the rest of breakfast.

With her cases at last brought down, it seemed someone would have to be sent to waken Georgiana for her farewell; but then it was made known to them that the coach had not yet arrived; there seemed to be some untimely delay, and it was unclear when it should be expected.

Mary wavered between spending her remaining time in the library, or roaming the grounds; at last, she decided the weather was, after all, too inviting; and soon she was already as far as the gardens, and the avenue of lindens. She paused to lean against one of the great trees, and closing her eyes, she allowed herself to focus only on the coarseness of the trunk, the cool, teasing breeze against her cheeks, the honied scent of fresh bloom.

"Miss Bennet."

Mary started, and when she turned, she was under every impression that she was in a dream; that she lay in her bed still, fast asleep, having simply dreamt the entire morning thus far; for before her stood Mr. Crawford, his hat clutched in his hands, and his hair fairly disheveled from the wind.

But then, if it had been a dream, she was certain he should not have appeared to her thus - no, he should have been his usual composed, amused self. But as he stood before her now, he could not be accused of any great composure, for his dress was rumpled, and had an air of unkemptness about it; he gripped his hat tightly, with the air of one who is attempting to steady himself; and his voice, when he had called her name, had contained the colouring of urgency.