The Pursuit of Mary Bennet Read Online Free PDF Page B

birth.”
    “And what is her married name, if I may inquire?”
    “Mr. George Wickham is her husband.” Before she could ask another impertinent question, I asked one of my own. “Of what duration is your stay at High Tor, ma’am?”
    “ Amanda. I insist!” She squeezed my arm to get her point across. “I would like it above all things to stay at least a fortnight, perhaps longer. But, however, we would not wish to be the type of guests who wear out their welcome!” In truth, I wondered at their receiving an invitation for a visit of any length. Had Charles taken leave of his senses?
    We continued walking toward the house, Mrs. Ashton still clinging to my arm. Jane and Mr. Walsh were conversing cordially, his head bent toward hers. With alarm, I realized that Kitty was laughing, in a rather wild and uncontrolled manner, at something Mr. Ashton was saying. He, as Mr. Walsh had done with Jane, bent his head toward Kitty, but not in order to hear her. He rather seemed to be teasing her. “Flirting” would not be too strong a word. To my chagrin, Kitty showed neither command of herself nor good judgment. I saw Jane glance quickly her way and noticed the sudden increase in our pace, so that we were inside the house in only a few more minutes. I could not help wondering if Mrs. Ashton had noticed her husband’s conduct. If so, it could only have caused her pain.
    W e all retired to our chambers to prepare for dinner. I lay down on my bed and stretched until most of the knots in my back and shoulders, put there by the lengthy carriage ride, had eased. Once I overcame my reluctance to be in society, I felt far more relaxed when I stayed at High Tor than I ever did at home. Although I enjoyed a degree of solitude at Longbourn, I carried a surfeit of anger and resentment in my chest—against my parents, against Kitty, and even against myself—and it sometimes burst out at inappropriate times. Mocking, and on occasion even cruel, thoughts spun inside my head, waiting for a chance to pounce on some unsuspecting victim. Most of the time they stayed trapped inside, but it demanded the utmost restraint to keep them there. Here, among people I admired and respected, I could often rid myself of such thoughts altogether.
    Whenever I stayed with Jane, she shared Sara, her lady’s maid, with me, and I saw she’d already been in my room and laid out a gown for me to wear that night. A pretty confection of sprigged muslin in a pale green, it was a cast-off from Jane. Her clothing fitted me well, as we were roughly of the same height and proportion, and I was glad to have something special to wear. I was seated at the dressing table pulling pins from my hair, so that Sara might arrange it for me, when I heard a soft knock at my door.
    Jane came through, looking worried. Oh, please, no more bad news.
    She sank down onto the edge of the bed and ran her hand lightly over the dress. “I always loved this gown. I’m glad you can wear it, Mary, now that I’ve quite grown out of it.”
    I laughed. “In a few more months, you may ask for it back. If you do, I shall have to hide it someplace.” Jane fretted over the loss of her figure after giving birth, but she looked the same as always to me. Beautiful.
    “I came to ask if you noticed the tête-à-tête between Kitty and Mr. Ashton.”
    I gave her a rueful smile. “I did, although Mrs. Ashton was demanding most of my attention with her questions. She talks incessantly.”
    “She’s not so bad. He—her husband—pays her little notice, so I suppose she must seek it elsewhere.”
    “She had a great deal of interest in Lydia’s situation. What could be the reason for that?”
    “Hmm. She’s never once alluded to it with me. That does seem unusual.” A slight delay, then, “You gave nothing away, I trust?”
    “I answered in only the most abbreviated terms. Mrs. Ashton said I am not to call her ‘ma’am,’ or ‘Mrs. Ashton,’ either, because both make her feel old. She