The Unexpected Miss Bennet Read Free Page B

sure she has acquaintances that I would find most diverting, and she and Wickham would take me to private parties. I do so want to see Lydia, Mary. You are all right, and Jane and Lizzy being married are lovely, because they are so grand now and can pay for things, but I miss Lydia so much.’
    Mary stopped on the path, in the dappled sunlight beneath a tree hanging over the old stone wall. She looked at Kitty, who looked back at her, the sudden tears in her voice appearing on her cheeks.
    ‘You would do that?’ Mary said at last, her voice low, and all thought of appearing wise vanished as she took in the impropriety of Kitty’s confession. ‘You would throw over every appearance of respectability, the opportunity of being with Jane and having the benefit of her good guidance, in favour of paying a visit to our sister?’
    ‘La, Mary, you preach so.’ Now Kitty sounded shaken and defiant.
    ‘You know you mustn’t see Lydia, ever. She is lost, Kitty, lost to all goodness and respectable society.’
    ‘She knows you never loved her,’ Kitty cried. ‘You never cared for her, and only think of yourself.’
    Of course Mary had loved her sister. Only, she hadn’t liked her very much, and she knew that in her hesitation she had made that clear. Kitty’s expression took on shades of malice.
    ‘You of all people should not worry about Lydia’s connections, as they cannot affect any prospects you might have.’
    Mary grew warm and as a result she became speechless. It always happened in that way: she never could think of a response in time. All her sermons and essays could not help her when she argued with Kitty. ‘You would be wise not to think of Lydia’s connections except as a bad example, Kitty,’ she managed at length. ‘And don’t grimace so. A lady should have a meek and mild expression.’
    That made Kitty grimace even more. ‘I knew you wouldn’t understand. I should never have told you anything.’ Her tone became bitter. ‘Now I’m sure you will tell Mama and Papa and I will never be able to see Lydia.’
    ‘I gave my word, Kitty,’ Mary said, but she was suddenly unsure that it was the right thing to do. Fordyce spoke out against telling tales, to be sure, but if Kitty meant to visit Lydia on the sly, she did not think she should be silent about it. ‘But you shouldn’t see her, it’s not right.’
    ‘All right, all right, I won’t,’ Kitty said quickly. ‘Pray let us talk no more about it.’
    She continued down the path towards Meryton, and Mary followed in her wake, less and less sure about her promise. She knew better than to believe Kitty. Once she took to an idea, especially where Lydia was concerned, she held on to it. I promised not to tell Mama and Papa, Mary thought. But I didn’t promise not to tell Jane. It was not quite right to split hairs in this way, but Fordyce would no doubt see the necessity of it.

CHAPTER THREE

    K ITTY’S PREPARATIONS FOR her stay with Jane took on an air of frenzy. She packed, and packed again, picked a quarrel with her mother over what she should take with her, and sobbed with such passion over not being able to buy a new bonnet for her journey that Mr Bennet locked himself in his library, determined not to come out until Kitty had gone and the house was at peace.
    Mary sat out the fuss for the most part. She stayed out of the way in her favourite nook of the house, reading by the light in the large bow window that overlooked the best part of the small park. Although Fordyce had failed her in his support of her practice of music and singing – had he really meant that if one was not impelled by true genius one should not continue a well-regulated practice of improvement? – he and she were as one with regard to the improvement of the mind through reading.
    The ‘affection for knowledge’, of which Fordyce wrote, and of which Mary read with great satisfaction, prevented idleness and dissipation. Other young ladies might fill their time with