Miss Mary Bennet (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
missmarybennet) wrote2012-06-03 03:40 pm
missmarybennet) wrote2012-06-03 03:40 pm
An Unusual Fare-the-Well
By the second week of January, the doctor pronounced Mr. Lowell’s leg healed enough for him to travel, provided that said travel was conducted at a sedate pace and in a comfortable carriage. And so the Bennets’ guest began to make arrangements to return to London.
“We shall be very sorry to see you go, Mr. Lowell,” Mr. Bennet said over dinner that night.
“As I shall be sorry to leave,” Mr. Lowell replied. “I don’t mind saying that my house in London will feel quite lonely after my time here. But I’ve imposed on your hospitality for far too long. And I still have business to attend to for my father before returning to Boston.”
“When do you have to go back?” Mary asks.
“Not until autumn,” Mr. Lowell replied. “Strange to think that by this time next year I’ll be back in Massachusetts. Still, I have plenty of time left in England. I intend to make the most of it.”
“Well, now that you know the road to Meryton, I hope you know that you will be welcome here should your responsibilities permit you.”
“Oh, never fear, Mr. Bennet. I have made good friends here, and still have lots of the countryside still to see. I have no doubt but that I shall visit again.”
The day of departure came very soon. The hired carriage was drawn up close to the house so that Mr. Lowell could get to it as easily as possible. Good-byes were being said in the drawing room.
Mary was doing one last look over of the spare room to make sure that nothing had been forgotten. The room felt oddly large and empty without its two occupants. The couch that Gibson had insisted on sleeping on the whole time had been moved back out and the bed was stripped of all of its linen. Mary did not spot any stray items, so she brushed off her apron and moved to go to the drawing room to bid their guest farewell.
She turned and found the doorway blocked by Gibson. The old man held his hat in his scarred hands and he looked very grave indeed.
“Gibson? Is something wrong?”
“Forgive me, Miss Mary,” Gibson inclined his head, respectfully. “I wondered if I might have a brief word before we depart?”
Mary felt her stomach sink a bit. She had been rather afraid of this. She’d allowed Gibson to see far too much these past weeks. It made little sense in a way, that her family and the household servants—people who saw her every day—never noticed anything amiss, but a virtual stranger did. Still, what was done was done, and there was little help for it.
“Of course, Gibson.” Mary hoped she looked reasonably dignified and composed.
Gibson stepped into the room. He looked like a man who had spent many hours rehearsing a speech, and now could not quite remember the ordering of his paragraphs.
“There’s something not quite right about you,” he said at last.
Mary felt her eyebrows go up in spite of herself, and she made a conscious effort to stop fiddling with her apron.
Throwing his first volley seemed to loosen Gibson’s tongue a bit more.
“I’ve worked for the Lowell family practically my whole life, save when I went to war,” he said. “Thomas and Anne and Alexander—and Margaret, while she was alive—are as dear to me as my own children and grandchildren. Of course, they’re grown now, and into good and sensible people, though if there’s an adventure that might result in a broken neck, Master Alexander will attempt it. But I don’t think I’ll ever get out of the habit of looking out after them.”
“I’m sure that they are very appreciative of your loyalty and devotion,” Mary said when Gibson paused.
Gibson smiled faintly and went on.
“We owe your family a debt for what you’ve done for Master Thomas. And you’ve helped more than anyone, I think, though you act as if you don’t want anyone at all to know. It puzzled me for a time until I figured out why.”
Mary was holding her breath by this point.
“I’ve never held with witchcraft.” At this, Mary had a hard time not choking in surprise. “I’ve always thought that half of it was nonsense and the other half the Devil’s work. But there’s little nonsense about you and even less of the Devil. So, I thank you for what you’ve done to help the boy get better.”
Mary had no idea what to say to this, and she was spared by the voice of one of the Bennet’s servants in the corridor. “Mr. Gibson? Can you come tell us how you’d like these boxes packed?”
Gibson bowed, said, “Good bye, Miss Mary,” and was gone.
Mary walked slowly to the drawing room where everyone else had gathered.
“Thank you for the letter of introduction,” Mr. Lowell was saying to Mr. Bennet. “I look forward to making your brother-in-law’s acquaintance. Even if our business interests don’t end up being compatible, knowing people of good character is always a benefit.”
“I think you’ll find the Gardiners to be very amiable,” Mr. Bennet replied.
“An extended family trait, I dare say.” Mr. Lowell craned his head toward the doorway a bit as if checking for something and smiled as he caught sight of Mary. “Ah, here she is.” Mr. Lowell hitched himself over on his crutches. “I certainly couldn’t leave without saying good-bye to you.” He bowed as well as he was able. “Farewell, Miss Mary. Thank you for being such good company these past weeks.”
Mary curtsied. “Good bye, Mr. Lowell. I hope you have a safe trip to London.”
They stood on the porch, watching the carriage make its slow way up the road through the gloomy winter day. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were driven indoors by the chill first, quickly followed by Kitty and Lydia. Then Lizzie, leaving Mary outside on her own for a while.
By the time Mary came back inside the Bennets had all taken up their usual poses. Mr. Bennet’s study door was closed. No doubt he was already buried in a book. Kitty and Lydia were talking and giggling about something or other on the staircase. Lizzie was in the drawing room writing a letter to Jane while Mrs. Bennet sat nearby with her sewing dictating a running list of local gossip that Lizzie should be sure to include.
Mary stood in the entryway in the center of it all. She could go to the dining room and practice at the pianoforte or see to her mending and needlework or go upstairs and retrieve a book of her own. But somehow nothing held any real appeal.
Feeling a bit at loose ends and, oddly, a little bit lonely, Mary walked to the closest out of the way door, turned her thoughts to Milliways, and stepped through to the End of the Universe.
“We shall be very sorry to see you go, Mr. Lowell,” Mr. Bennet said over dinner that night.
“As I shall be sorry to leave,” Mr. Lowell replied. “I don’t mind saying that my house in London will feel quite lonely after my time here. But I’ve imposed on your hospitality for far too long. And I still have business to attend to for my father before returning to Boston.”
“When do you have to go back?” Mary asks.
“Not until autumn,” Mr. Lowell replied. “Strange to think that by this time next year I’ll be back in Massachusetts. Still, I have plenty of time left in England. I intend to make the most of it.”
“Well, now that you know the road to Meryton, I hope you know that you will be welcome here should your responsibilities permit you.”
“Oh, never fear, Mr. Bennet. I have made good friends here, and still have lots of the countryside still to see. I have no doubt but that I shall visit again.”
The day of departure came very soon. The hired carriage was drawn up close to the house so that Mr. Lowell could get to it as easily as possible. Good-byes were being said in the drawing room.
Mary was doing one last look over of the spare room to make sure that nothing had been forgotten. The room felt oddly large and empty without its two occupants. The couch that Gibson had insisted on sleeping on the whole time had been moved back out and the bed was stripped of all of its linen. Mary did not spot any stray items, so she brushed off her apron and moved to go to the drawing room to bid their guest farewell.
She turned and found the doorway blocked by Gibson. The old man held his hat in his scarred hands and he looked very grave indeed.
“Gibson? Is something wrong?”
“Forgive me, Miss Mary,” Gibson inclined his head, respectfully. “I wondered if I might have a brief word before we depart?”
Mary felt her stomach sink a bit. She had been rather afraid of this. She’d allowed Gibson to see far too much these past weeks. It made little sense in a way, that her family and the household servants—people who saw her every day—never noticed anything amiss, but a virtual stranger did. Still, what was done was done, and there was little help for it.
“Of course, Gibson.” Mary hoped she looked reasonably dignified and composed.
Gibson stepped into the room. He looked like a man who had spent many hours rehearsing a speech, and now could not quite remember the ordering of his paragraphs.
“There’s something not quite right about you,” he said at last.
Mary felt her eyebrows go up in spite of herself, and she made a conscious effort to stop fiddling with her apron.
Throwing his first volley seemed to loosen Gibson’s tongue a bit more.
“I’ve worked for the Lowell family practically my whole life, save when I went to war,” he said. “Thomas and Anne and Alexander—and Margaret, while she was alive—are as dear to me as my own children and grandchildren. Of course, they’re grown now, and into good and sensible people, though if there’s an adventure that might result in a broken neck, Master Alexander will attempt it. But I don’t think I’ll ever get out of the habit of looking out after them.”
“I’m sure that they are very appreciative of your loyalty and devotion,” Mary said when Gibson paused.
Gibson smiled faintly and went on.
“We owe your family a debt for what you’ve done for Master Thomas. And you’ve helped more than anyone, I think, though you act as if you don’t want anyone at all to know. It puzzled me for a time until I figured out why.”
Mary was holding her breath by this point.
“I’ve never held with witchcraft.” At this, Mary had a hard time not choking in surprise. “I’ve always thought that half of it was nonsense and the other half the Devil’s work. But there’s little nonsense about you and even less of the Devil. So, I thank you for what you’ve done to help the boy get better.”
Mary had no idea what to say to this, and she was spared by the voice of one of the Bennet’s servants in the corridor. “Mr. Gibson? Can you come tell us how you’d like these boxes packed?”
Gibson bowed, said, “Good bye, Miss Mary,” and was gone.
Mary walked slowly to the drawing room where everyone else had gathered.
“Thank you for the letter of introduction,” Mr. Lowell was saying to Mr. Bennet. “I look forward to making your brother-in-law’s acquaintance. Even if our business interests don’t end up being compatible, knowing people of good character is always a benefit.”
“I think you’ll find the Gardiners to be very amiable,” Mr. Bennet replied.
“An extended family trait, I dare say.” Mr. Lowell craned his head toward the doorway a bit as if checking for something and smiled as he caught sight of Mary. “Ah, here she is.” Mr. Lowell hitched himself over on his crutches. “I certainly couldn’t leave without saying good-bye to you.” He bowed as well as he was able. “Farewell, Miss Mary. Thank you for being such good company these past weeks.”
Mary curtsied. “Good bye, Mr. Lowell. I hope you have a safe trip to London.”
They stood on the porch, watching the carriage make its slow way up the road through the gloomy winter day. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were driven indoors by the chill first, quickly followed by Kitty and Lydia. Then Lizzie, leaving Mary outside on her own for a while.
By the time Mary came back inside the Bennets had all taken up their usual poses. Mr. Bennet’s study door was closed. No doubt he was already buried in a book. Kitty and Lydia were talking and giggling about something or other on the staircase. Lizzie was in the drawing room writing a letter to Jane while Mrs. Bennet sat nearby with her sewing dictating a running list of local gossip that Lizzie should be sure to include.
Mary stood in the entryway in the center of it all. She could go to the dining room and practice at the pianoforte or see to her mending and needlework or go upstairs and retrieve a book of her own. But somehow nothing held any real appeal.
Feeling a bit at loose ends and, oddly, a little bit lonely, Mary walked to the closest out of the way door, turned her thoughts to Milliways, and stepped through to the End of the Universe.