Mary Fitzwilliam crept through the familiar corridors of her childhood home until she reached the room that had always been her favourite. She paused outside its door, holding her breath as she listened, straining to ascertain whether there was anybody within or if, at last, she might have found a place of refuge, away from the rest of her family. Her husband, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, was absent "on business", which news Mary took to mean he was visiting potential properties located in the environs of this particular part of Hertfordshire. She had unsuccessfully offered to accompany him, eager to escape the chaos of Longbourn for an hour or more. How is it, she had remarked, that the house is emptier than it has ever been, with both Lizzy and I married and moved out, yet it is noisier than ever? Her question had been punctuated by a screech from Lydia and even Colonel Fitzwilliam had flinched at that, a pained expression crossing his features. "Clearly you and Elizabeth were the steadying influences. I do not know how your father bears it." He had glanced towards Mr Bennet's study, but its heavy oak door, closed against enquiry or interruption answered Richard's question. "Well, my dear," Colonel Fitzwilliam had said. "I shall make some enquiries of my own today and leave you to find yourself a quiet corner while I am away…"

And so she had. Their own rooms had been quiet only until mid-morning, for once Kitty and Lydia were awake they had bounced in, like a pair of jack-in-the-boxes and peppered Mary with questions about London, all of which she had answered to the best of her ability, seeking an escape when her sisters descended into squabbling about the most enjoyable spot in a city they had only ever visited once before but had each nominated herself an expert in.

She had tiptoed past Mrs Bennet's quarters, pleased to note that her mother was thoroughly occupied in considering the particulars of Jane's wedding to the as-yet-unmet Mr Heatherington.

Mary pushed the door open, rejoicing internally to find the parlour deserted, her own piano empty. She flew to it, happily sifting through a selection of sheet music books she had left behind like so many abandoned children. She selected one at length and fell to playing, never minding to check her volume or her enthusiasm, instead enjoying the escape both literal and metaphorical that music afforded her.

Time passed without her notice, so contented was she, and it was not until Mrs Bennet herself shouted into the room that Mary's peace was shattered, her playing ended as abruptly as if her mother had physically stalked into the room and slammed the lid of the piano closed.

"Mary!" Mrs Bennet shrieked from the stairs. "Cease that infernal playing immediately! Did you not hear me say that Mr Heatherington's carriage approaches?"

"No, Mama," Mary said, meekly. Inwardly she marvelled. How is it I escaped such an announcement? She had not time to wonder if her sisters were likewise surprised, for both Kitty and Lydia hurried in, squabbling over some half-forgotten dispute, and hurling themselves energetically onto the sofa.

"Girls!" Mrs Bennet shouted. "Do not run about, so! Such exertions give your complexions a raucous, ruddy glow. What on earth will Mr Heatherington think when he finds you so dishevelled?"

"That he must rescue Jane immediately from so dull a home!" Lydia exclaimed, a little irritated at being bid to behave, yet again, for another sister's suitor, and never yet securing her own.

"Where is Jane?" Mary asked, determined to play peacemaker and more than a little interested to set eyes at last on the mysterious Mr Heatherington.

"Jane?" Mrs Bennet blinked, her watery eyes struggling to focus, for she never would wear her spectacles, being vain enough to think they obscured her fading, but still not inconsiderable, beauty. "Is she not here? Oh dear! Wherever can she have got to?" Her voice rose again, a shout of agitation. "Jane? Where are you, Jane? Jane!"

The door to the parlour opened again, but when it admitted not the wayward elder Miss Bennet, but her father, Mrs Bennet rounded crossly upon him.

"Where is your daughter, sir? Does she not care that her beloved is but moments away from arriving at our home?" She paused. "Yes! Listen, there is his knock. Oh, how disappointed he will be to find her gone!"

"I am sure he will survive the trial, my sweet," Mr Bennet said, drily. "Mary, dear, so pleasant to see you once more at your piano. The poor instrument has been sadly ignored since your departure and I dare say she loses her tune for want of playing."

Mary smiled, assuring her father that the piano held its pitch admirably, and determining, privately, that she would play it all the more while she and Colonel Fitzwilliam remained at Longbourn.

"What care have we for piano playing when Jane is miss - oh. Oh! Mr Heatherington! Good afternoon!"

Mrs Bennet's complaint had been halted by the arrival of their guest, and she turned a simpering smile on her soon to be son-in-law.

"Good afternoon Mr Bennet, Mrs Bennet." A tall, fair-head figure with a cane turned a jolly smile upon each member of the family in turn, his blue eyes narrowing a fraction as he reached Mary. "And this must be Miss - ah Mrs?" He frowned, helplessness creasing his features.

"Mrs Fitzwilliam," Mary said.

"Mary," Lydia declared, with an expansive sigh. "She's just our sister."

"The musical one." Mr Heatherington raised an eyebrow. "Recently married to a colonel, if I recall correctly?"

"I see Jane keeps you well informed," Mary said, with a shy smile.

"Where is the colonel?" Mr Bennet asked, glancing around in confusion as if he had just realised Colonel Fitzwilliam was not in fact amongst them.

"He has gone to view prospective properties." Mrs Bennet laughed, a silly, ingratiating sound that did not altogether disguise her irritation with her husband. "He said as much at breakfast, my dear Mr Bennet."

Mary's father nodded, vaguely, and turned away from his wife, suitably chastened.

"I had endeavoured to press him to a game of chess. Fine strategist, the colonel. Comes of being in the military, I don't doubt."

There was an audible intake of breath from at least half the feminine contingent in the room and Mary turned, confused, to inquire as to its cause. Before she could ask the question Mr Heatherington provided an answer, accompanied with an amiable smile that revealed to Mary a glimpse of just how her eldest sister had come to form an attachment to the friendly gentleman in front of her.

"They'll not care to mention the war in front of me, Mrs Fitzwilliam, so I shall do it myself. In fact, I'm surprised you did not know if its impact on me and my circumstances already." His smile faded a fraction. "I am a trifle lame, but sound in mind still, if not in body." He turned to Mr Bennet. "Sound enough that I am content to offer myself as an opponent in Colonel Fitzwilliam's stead. I assure you, Mr Bennet, I may seem a good-natured gentleman but that is entirely deception. On the chessboard, I am as treacherous a foe as Napoleon himself."

Mary laughed, feeling rather sorry that Richard was absent, for she felt sure he would like this new addition to life at Longbourn and approve of him winning Jane's heart and hand, even if he had not the good fortune of being named Bingley.