Summary: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts at matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, Georgiana Darcy and Susan Price. Crossover with Mansfield Park.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

Some references and quotes from other Austen's works, including Love and Friendship.

Thanks to last chapter's kind reviewers; I have replied on the forum!

I really hope you'll enjoy this epilogue.

On a fine morning two days after the ball, Mary was walking towards the drawing-room when the door opened abruptly. She only caught a flash of light brown hair as Susan all but ran blindly out of the room and up the stairs.

Hot on her heels was Lord Hampstead, who barely paused to greet Mary; looking flushed with mortification, he could only say in a strained voice:

"I must take my leave, Mrs. Bertram; pray, do convey my apologies to Miss Price for having taken up her time and give her my best wishes for her health and happiness."

He fled the house under Mary's bewildered gaze.

Mary came gently into Susan's room. The young woman exhibited all the signs of distress. She tried to compose herself at the sight of Mary.

"Good heavens, Susan, what happened?"

A dark suspicion entered Mary's mind.

"Did Lord Hampstead say anything untoward?"

"No!" Susan all but cried out.

"No," she resumed softly, "he was a model of propriety and I believe he had the best intentions at heart. But how I wish he had remained silent- did he not understand how humiliating this would be for me? How can I ever face him again?"

She was growing agitated. Mary went to her, embraced the sobbing form and whispered soothing words.

"Dear Susan, I do not understand the first thing about the whole business. What did he do to upset you so?"

Susan wiped off her cheeks with the proffered handkerchief.

"He sensed that I was in danger of forming an attachment to him, and he tried to warn me off in consequence," she said with forced calm.

"Do not look so worried, Mary; his suspicions were correct, but this is only a timid inclination, and Lord Hampstead's eloquent speech on the vast gap between our circumstances will kill it stone dead, if it has not done so already," she added bravely.

"My common sense has not entirely deserted me; it will prevail, it must. I never expected anything from Lord Hampstead, but-" she choked a little.

"Let it all out," Mary encouraged her; "I cannot promise you that your pain will subside at once, but shared sorrow is half a sorrow."

Susan gave a small nod, took a breath, and went on:

"It was too late when I began to notice my regard for him. Do you remember how hurt I was by his Portsmouth comment? It was not the first time someone sneered at me; then why did I feel the injury so keenly? Even when I disliked him, I valued his judgment. I never doubted that he could be harsh, but I thought that he would be fair. Now, I know him better. I have witnessed his patience, his kindness. I almost believed that we were becoming friends."

Mary gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

"Why could he not go on ignoring my feelings? I would have overcome them. It was ungenerous of him to act like this, voicing them aloud," she said in anguish.

The painful recollection of his words brought fresh tears to her eyes.

"I must bear my share of the blame for forgetting that he outranks me," she admitted, shaking her head at Mary's protest; "but I cannot forgive him for talking to me as an equal. He was complicit in letting me forget my inferior birth, then he turned around and reminded me of it. I have learned my lesson. I shall not forget it ever again."

Lord Hampstead, losing his prized reserve, arrived at Sotherton Court in a wretched state and very much ready to rant to the Hardings, for the solace sympathetic ears could provide was a balm this desolate gentleman was not in a position to deride.

"The entire affair was a debacle, Harding," he observed soberly.

"What did you do?" his friend asked.

Lawrence bristled at the implied accusation.

"Nothing at all! I was repulsed before I even had the chance to tell Miss Price about the ardour of my feelings."

"Now, how could she decline your offer if you did not have the time to make one?" Hadrian said reasonably.

"She would not let me make an offer." He looked away at the memory.

"She was quite adamant that she had caught my meaning, and that I had said enough. She begged me not to speak any further, and expressed the wish that the matter should not be mentioned again."

Barely disguised hurt crept into his voice. "To be more accurate, Miss Price said that she could not forget it soon enough."

"What did you tell her?" Harding queried with some alarm.

"I have no intention of reliving this scene. What use is this? She will not have me," Lawrence replied dejectedly.

He ended up yielding under his friend's insistence:

"I began to acknowledge that her condition was decidedly beneath my own; that our education, circumstances, and temper, conspired to separate us."

Hadrian let out a deep sigh:

"Did you propose to Miss Price, or did you set out to injure her feelings in the worst way possible?"

"Her feelings, injured?" Lawrence cried out. "What about my feelings? I bared my heart to her! I was the rejected party!"

Georgiana's soft voice rang clearly in the living-room:

"You did not bare your heart to her. You spoke of the feelings that made you reluctant to enter an alliance with her. I do not wonder at Miss Price saying that this was quite enough. She was the one who was made to be felt rejected, not you!"

"What are you saying?" Lawrence whispered.

He fidgeted under the very Darcy-ish quality of Georgiana's disappointed gaze.

"It cannot be - I was about to explain that in spite of these obstacles, I had come to the conclusion that they were irrelevant- my regard for her would not waver."

"Maybe you should have led with this," Hadrian interjected.

In a tone which made her husband blink, for it reminded him of her forbidding Aunt Lady Catherine, Georgiana delivered the last blow:

"You did not behave like a gentleman, Sir!"

Lord Hampstead, galvanized, strode out to call for his horses; he must go back to Mansfield at once. He could suffer no delay- he would beg Miss Price's forgiveness-he would set things right.

Georgiana, looking a bit sheepish, said:

"I hope I was not too harsh in my treatment of our friend; but I felt that this must be said."

"I wager that Lawrence did not expect such skilled interference from this quarter, but I daresay you were most successful in your meddling," Hadrian said admiringly, bending over to kiss her.

Mary and Elizabeth were sitting in the drawing room of Mansfield. The conversation was languishing; Mary was not volunteering any personal information, and she was preoccupied with Susan's state.

"Susan is in her room. She feels unwell," she had said, unwittingly displaying concern Elizabeth could not recall witnessing towards their younger sisters. It was clear that Mary had formed strong bonds with the young Miss Price and with Georgiana as well.

Elizabeth could not for the life of her reconcile the Mary who could not see a world beyond her books and showed little affection towards the rest of the family, with the loving young woman who supported her friends. The awkward Mary, who was always ready to impart philosophical observations or bits of wisdom gleaned from Fordyce, had been replaced with the collected Mrs. Bertram- Lizzy felt that her sister had become a stranger.

The ball had given her much to think about. The respect Mary appeared to have earned among her neighbours and the care she had demonstrated, acting as the host and mistress of Mansfield Park, made a great impression on Lizzy. Beyond this, she had observed Mary and her husband exchange fond looks and smiles which spoke of a deeper connection than she had first suspected. She was burning with curiosity; but Mary was still proving to be an unassailable wall, when Lord Hampstead was ushered into the room by the butler.

Mary looked coldly at him; he was begging their pardon, but he must request an interview with Miss Price. Mrs. Bertram retorted that Miss Price was unwell and not fit to entertain visitors; Lord Hampstead insisted, Mrs. Bertram resisted.

It was of the utmost importance that Miss Price should be informed of his presence; they had reached an impasse when Elizabeth interceded in Lawrence's favour:

"Mary, what harm can be done in letting the gentleman explain himself to Miss Price?"

With the benefit of experience, Elizabeth recognized the marks of emotional distress under the stoic exterior of the gentleman.

If Lord Hampstead was a bit discomfited by this new meddler, he did not let it show, acknowledging that he was in need of all the supporters he could rally to his cause.

"Lizzy, this matter does not concern you. However, as Miss Price's cousin, I am responsible for her peace of mind and so far Lord Hampstead has not been conducive to her well-being."

Properly chastened, the gentleman cried out feelingly:

"I have offended her terribly, but this was all a misunderstanding! Pray let me beg Miss Price's pardon- if the spectacle of my bruised dignity is necessary to repair the wrong I have done, then so be it!"

Elizabeth was moved to sweet reminiscences by Lord Hampstead's plea:

"If Miss Price won't see you, you may try to plead your cause in a well-turned letter," she suggested.

Lawrence, whose temper was quite short, having been sorely tried since the morning, let out a disgruntled cry:

"Not again!"

"At this rate, Lizzy," Mary said with a touch of asperity, "his lordship shall hire a battalion of secretaries to write letters in his stead."

"I have already exhausted this venue once," he stated grimly. "No, I must apologize properly this time- Miss Price deserves it. I owe it to her."

Somewhat softened by this admission, Mary offered:

"I shall inform Susan of your request. If she refuses to meet you, you shall accept her decision and leave."

He nodded gravely:

"Her will is my command. I shall not impose my presence on her."

Susan did not speak for several seconds after listening to Mary's account. At last she said:

"Yes- yes, I want to meet him. Am I a fool for doing so, Mary?"

Mary looked at the febrile young woman:

"Lord Hampstead has begged me for the chance to apologize to you. To humble himself so ought to be abhorrent to so proud a man; yet he did it in front of Lizzy and me, all for the prospect of doing it again in front of you. This is why I do not think it foolish at all to hear him out."

Susan and Lord Hampstead were both left alone in the drawing-room. She was observing him with wariness; he was struggling to find the right words, finding it exceedingly difficult to go beyond "Miss Price, I must speak to you."

After several aborted attempts, and a great deal of pacing the floor, he paused to look at her. She met his gaze evenly, in an unflinching way which made him all the more ashamed of himself. He would not conceal his heart from her, when she never hid anything.

He began to talk, explaining that he meant to overcome the differences between them; that he had mentioned what contrived to keep them apart only to show that the potential of their match had been carefully thought out, and was not found wanting.

"A match between us!" Susan cried out in amazement. "My ears must be betraying me- what did you just say?"

Lord Hampstead realized that once again, he had been too hasty. In his eagerness to make his intent clear and to get to the point, he had gone straight from his apologies to his hopes for the future, with no mention of his admiration for Miss Price.

"When it comes to the expression of my deeper feelings," he said slowly, "I am a poor orator. There is so much I want to tell you, Miss Price- and I cannot find the right words, they keep eluding me or worse, they come in a jumbled string of nonsense- my wretched tongue stumbles and halts-"

"Pray, let it gallop and do not try to rein in your words, Sir. Do not look for the right words," Susan said decidedly, walking toward the place where he stood still.

"I just need to hear yours- and if they come out too jumbled, I shall do my best to untangle them."

"My love for you is filled with contradictions," he confessed in a rush. "Your laugh is the most melodious sound I have ever heard - but I cannot manage to provoke it. I admire your strength, and yet I wish your past had never given you a single reason to test it."

He lowered his gaze:

"When I met you, I was arrogant, sure of my worldly knowledge. Yet you taught me that there was more to life than acting as a gentleman as society requires it- that I still have much to learn in order to become a good man."

He chanced a look at her. His breath was taken away by her countenance; her eyes were bright and shone with hope, which gave him some of it in return.

"You do have a lot to learn, Sir," Susan replied, "but so do I. Shall we be pupils together?"

Lawrence's face broke into a sincere smile.

"It will be an honour."

Mary, in the meantime, was breaking the news to Tom that in the absence of Sir Bertram, who was staying in London with the Yates, he must prepare himself for an interview with Lord Hampstead.

At first he was incredulous; then, after Mary finally convinced him that Susan was the object of the gentleman's affection, he let out a plaintive objection:

"Why did nobody tell me about it? I would have put a stop to this madness! How can you imagine my bright Susan with such a dour fellow? The match might look splendid; but so did Maria's, and Rushworth's great fortune was not enough to make up for his deficiencies!" he said, recalling his former brother-in-law.

In this he was quite unfair, since Lord Hampstead was blessed with many natural advantages poor Mr. Rushworth had never displayed, but Mr. Bertram was prejudiced. In the same way Lord Hampstead did not trust people with so cheerful a disposition- although his lordship had been revising his judgment where Miss Price was concerned-, Tom Bertram held little goodwill toward those who were too serious- with the exception of Mary, whose earnestness he found utterly beguiling.

The interview between the two gentlemen began awkwardly on both sides; but the deep affection that Lord Hampstead nurtured for Susan had pierced his usual armour, making him look more human and less stony.

Even Tom could not help but notice it. A man who did discern Susan's merits could not be an entirely lost cause- in due time he might learn to appreciate the gentleman, especially if he gained some of Susan's liveliness. He asked for a moment alone with his wife and Susan, which Lord Hampstead granted gracefully.

While Susan was assuring her cousin that Lord Hampstead's affection was welcomed, and even requited, Lawrence found himself wandering in the garden, where he found Mrs. Darcy.

She congratulated him on his recent engagement. He thanked her with unusual effusion; so good was his mood that he even declared himself grateful for her intervention- which he would have otherwise called "insufferable meddling."

"There must be something in the Hertfordshire air," he said, "to make such forces to be reckoned with of Mrs. Bertram and you. By Jove! I have a newfound respect for Bertram; your sister can be a formidable woman."

Elizabeth saw the opportunity to ask the question that had been weighing on her mind:

"Sir, I hope that you will forgive my bluntness- but as Mrs. Bertram's sister, you can understand my concerns. Before Mr. Darcy and I came here, we heard an alarming report from your brother-in-law Lord Glowner, which made us fear that Mr. Bertram's character lacked steadiness- and that my sister was not as happy as she would have us believe."

Lawrence, who had been frowning at the mention of this undesirable alliance, scoffed at her last words:

"Mrs. Bertram, unhappy? So he would like to believe!"

His disdain for Lord Glowner's underhanded tactics loosened his tongue:

"I am afraid that my brother-in-law is a most unreliable source, Mrs. Darcy," he said firmly.

"Two years ago, I was the witness of his attempts to ingratiate himself with your sister; and while I have no proof of this, some events have led me to believe that she spurned his advances. It would be very much like him, from what I sadly know of his character, to spread such nonsense about Mrs. Bertram's marriage. I should like to add that Bertram is clearly besotted with your sister and does not do anything without consulting her first."

Then, Lord Hampstead cleared his throat, suddenly aware that he had overstepped his bounds. For once, he thought, he would get away with his own piece of meddling; in the bustle of such an eventful day, it could be excused.

The evening was pleasantly spent. Lord Hampstead bore with unexpected good grace Mr. Harding's recollection of "the ball where he became a green-eyed monster, seeing you so much admired without daring to compliment you, Miss Price!"

Georgiana, Darcy, Susan and Mary completed the circle. Animated talks could be heard from Elizabeth's vantage point

"Shall we walk together, sister?"

Mr. Bertram was by her side, offering his arm. Elizabeth took it with curiosity. It was the first time her brother-in-law actively sought her company since her visit.

Lord Glowner's account, though false, had the merit to offer some kind of explanation for what remained to Elizabeth (and to be fair, to a large group of people), a decided mystery: Mr. Bertram and Mary's marriage. Lord Glowner had suggested that after one scrape too many Mr. Bertram had elected to appease his father's wrath by settling for Mary, dutiful, serious and respectable.

However, the more she had looked at the pair, the more she had doubted Lord Glowner's assertion. The mystery remained intact, even made deeper by the realization that true affection had blossomed between so vastly dissimilar people.

"I congratulate you on Miss Price's engagement," Elizabeth said. "There is no question that this is a love-match", she added pointedly, "which makes it even more delightful."

"Indeed, "Mr. Bertram agreed, a sly look in his eyes, "my cousin would not settle for anything less than a love-match. We were both lucky in this respect."

"Were you?" Elizabeth asked frankly.

"My dear sister, if my intent had been to settle, Mary was the last woman on Earth I would have chosen for the part," Tom replied with no small amount of mirth. "Surely you must have seen that she challenges me at every turn?"

"I do not know of many gentlemen who would have thought this an incentive," Lizzy observed.

"Not even Mr. Darcy?" Tom asked with ingenuity.

Conceding with a smile that he had hit his mark, Lizzy said:

"If I may be indiscreet, for which of her good qualities did you first take notice of her?"

She did not expect him to answer immediately:

"For her stubbornness. She may not be someone whose courage rises at every attempt to intimidate her," he gave her a knowing look, "but she is the one who will persevere, through and through. When it could be so easy to accept the way things stand, she will never stop questioning them. When so many connections are insincere and fraught with uncertainty, she proved to be the most loyal friend Susan, Mrs. Harding or I could wish for. However, it was only when I feared that my thoughtlessness had cost me her esteem- when I believed that I had lost her good opinion forever, that I understood that I loved her."

Elizabeth was left speechless.

"I understand that you found her quite changed from the sister you remember," Tom went on. "For some of us, character and tastes are fixed early in life. Your sister and I have this in common: it took us longer to grow into the person we needed to become. In my case, she was instrumental in my reformation."

"How did she help?" Lizzy asked in wonderment.

"I lacked purpose," he said simply. "She gave me one."

"Such as?"

"Being worthy of her trust."

His eyes softened at the memory:

"Even when she listed all my flaws- when my failures were so obvious to her- she trusted in my capacity to overcome them. Her trust- how could I squander so precious a gift?"

"I never saw this side of Mary," Lizzy whispered. "And now, I barely know what to make of her."

"Of course you don't," Tom said matter-of-factly. "You look at her and you expect to find the former Mary- the overlooked girl who lived in the shadow of her pretty sisters, who tried so hard to get noticed for her studies, not always with much discernment, but she did try her best, didn't she? And when I look at her, do you know what I see?"

His voice, full of conviction, moved Elizabeth.

"I see the woman who felt moral scruples when marrying me gave her what she thought was undeserved consequence. I see the woman who makes Mansfield home to me, to Susan, and yet acts as though she still expects it all to be snatched away at a moment's notice. I see the woman who looks after our tenants, who works with me to improve Mansfield, who makes the name of Bertram respected again in our community, and still fears that all of this is not enough, because in her heart, she is not confident that she is enough. I see the woman I want to spend the rest of our lives persuading that indeed, she is more than enough- because she must know that to me, she is everything."

He locked eyes with Elizabeth:

"But your visit made me realize that I am not the one whose help she needs to conquer her lingering doubts – you are."

"There, my dear sister-in-law, will you make an attempt to see your sister the way I do?" he concluded.

Lizzy stayed silent for a while; then she said warmly:

"My dear brother, I understand that many in our circle have done their fair share of meddling today; but you have trumped us all."

Tom gave his quick, lopsided smile:

"Do you forgive me?"

"We are family, aren't we? In this case, meddling is quite customary," she replied with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Mansfield truly is a beautiful place."

Mary, who had been watching the sun set over the woods through the window, startled at Lizzy's voice.

"It was not my intent to upset you when I asked you about your first impressions of the grounds of Mansfield Park," she went on.

"I did not mean to imply that your regard for Mr. Bertram was linked to his property. Only, I was recalling my own impression of Pemberley. This place affected me in more ways than I could express; and at that time, I did not suspect that one day I would be its mistress! Were you similarly moved when you first set eyes on Mansfield?"

"I was impressed by such a stately house," Mary replied; "but I did not feel instantly the emotion you are describing. It was not until many months, after I had learnt to care for its inhabitants, that the mere mention of Mansfield made my heart beat faster- because by then this unfamiliar place had become-" she hesitated, "a place more dear to me than Longbourn ever was- a place where I found something that Longbourn never offered me."

She struggled to put the right words on her feelings.

"A place where you belong," Elizabeth completed knowingly.

"Yes," Mary said with dawning realization.

"Yes- I belong here, in Mansfield."

To voice it aloud gave her a thrill. The words had been spoken and made it somehow more real, more tangible.

At last she belonged somewhere.

This had been the unacknowledged yearning, the root of every single action she had taken.

Mary Bennet had undertaken many worthy pursuits: she had sought enlightenment and wisdom, she had tried to be useful and active- she had wanted to become a better person than the one she used to be, and she had achieved that goal.

Yet it all came down to the hidden quest- her heart's desire, so simple and powerful at the same time: to belong.

She understood now why Elizabeth's visit had been unsettling her so much. It had brought back memories of being unwanted, of feeling out of place among her sisters. She had feared that the mere presence of the brilliant and lively Elizabeth would cast her back in the shadows.

"I feared that you would expose all my old shortcomings," she admitted to Lizzy, although it cost her to do so. "How could I blame those who doubted me and expected me to fail when some days I still cannot believe that I am Mrs. Bertram, with all the responsibilities it entails?"

"We both know how challenging it is to perform a part we were not meant to take on," Elizabeth agreed.

"Mary, no matter how well I am fulfilling my duties, I am still fighting to reconcile Darcy and Lady Catherine. Even the birth of an heir has done little to thaw her; she will always rue the day I became mistress of Pemberley, and so will a great deal of people who have never met me. Mr. Darcy, however, trusts me; and he is the only one whose opinion matters. I am performing my role to the best of my abilities; and so do you, from what I have observed. Nobody can deny your commitment to Mansfield and to your new family."

Lizzy smiled at her sister:

"I am sorry that I did not see the person you could become before; and while I could never muster the same admiration as Mr. Bertram," she said teasingly, "I wholeheartedly concur with his assessment. Mary, the Bertram family is lucky to have gained you as their new member- and they are well aware of it. You are home now."

At last Mary let herself believe the truth.

Following the departure of the Darcys (with promises exchanged on both sides to write more regularly, and the certainty that this time their letters would be more sincere and unrestrained), Mary came to her husband with a new scheme.

Lizzy's account of the Wickhams's agitated lifestyle had achieved to convince her that the children must be spared the trials of their dissolute parents. When the time would come, would Tom consider taking in little Frank and little Marian to give them a shelter here at Mansfield?

"Taking in Fanny and Susan brought us more good luck than trouble," Tom replied cheerfully. "Let us make a tradition out of this! Our nephews and nieces will always be welcome here."

The matter was thus settled without much fuss.

Mary was reading Kitty's letter, filled with comments on Dr. Campbell's flourishing practice, her friendship with the Harding siblings, descriptions of the assemblies, and expressions of maternal pride at the latest scrapes of her droll little son.

In an ironic twist of fate, all the first-born of her sisters were sons, when Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had waited so long for a son who would inherit their estate, to no avail.

To Lady Lucas' increasing distress, Mrs. Collins was the proud mother of four daughters. It was too soon to rejoice and hope that Longbourn would escape the greedy and undeserving hands of the Collins offspring, but Mrs. Bennet felt vindicated and could speak with equanimity of the future troubles which would befall Charlotte.

As for herself, with five daughters safely established - some of them connected to such prestigious families, too!-, her cares were over; but poor Mrs. Collins, with four daughters to wed, all of them as plain as their mother, would never fully enjoy her status as the new mistress of Longbourn.

Lady Lucas privately agreed with this dark prediction, especially since Mr. Bennet was in excellent health and showed no sign of letting Longbourn fall into Mr. Collins' hands any time soon.

The running footsteps of her children, their voices shouting excitedly "their carriage has arrived!" interrupted Mary's musings.

Rising from her seat, the mistress of Mansfield Park went out to welcome Frank and Marian in her home.

Coda

Marian Wickham was walking down the lovely shrubbery of Sotherton Court. Spring was in the air; after the long days of winter, it was a relief to sense the new warmth in the atmosphere and to watch on as nature came alive again.

No, she corrected herself; she must admit that winter had offered its share of pleasures. There had been parlour games, with their lot of surprises.

Who would have believed, after Lord Hampstead's daunting speech on the requirements of the game of spillikins- "it demands a good deal of sang-froid and a steady hand, to remove one pick up stick without disturbing the others"-, that Mrs. Georgiana Harding would prove to be an unbeatable player?

And after the suggestion of a game of snapdragon was dismissed by her Aunt as too dangerous (with some reason; Marian was not too keen on eating burning raisins herself), who could have suspected that the Bullet Pudding, compromise of Uncle Bertram, would meet with such rousing success?

The large pewter dish had been filled with flour, shaped as a pudding with a bullet placed on top of it. They had all cut a slice of it; then, feeling the bullet's fall, they had poked about, using chins and noses- hands being expressly prohibited- until one of them finally managed to take it out with their mouth.

A smile came to Marian's lips as she remembered their flour-covered faces. Hugh, usually very dignified as the eldest of the Harrison siblings; her studious cousin Samuel; shy Eloisa Maddox and all the other young people among their circle had been thoroughly dusted, laughing in the joyous chaos. How could they still stand on ceremony after making such exhibitions of themselves?

Hardly a single week was spent on without visiting each other, encouraged as they were by the intimacy of their families. Today the Hardings were hosting their small gathering.

She had passed Uncle Bertram, Lady Hampstead, her ten-year old son Matthew and Marian's twelve-year old sister Phoebe playing at battledore. Marian felt comforted to see her sister playing with such pleasure. Phoebe had had a much harder time acclimating than her elder siblings.

As Mrs. Wickham's favourite, she had only recalled her mother's kisses and sweet talking; but the older Frank and Marian had more accurate memories. Their parents were not cruel, but they certainly were guilty of neglect. In many instances Frank and Marian were made to feel much like inconvenient furniture; and the constant moving from town to town to escape their debts were another source of perpetual anxiety Mr. and Mrs. Wickham's nonchalance did little to placate.

The Bertrams' offer to take them in had been accepted without compunction from any side. Only Phoebe felt the sorrow of being parted from her mother; but lately the reality of Mrs. Wickham invariably cutting short her visits in Mansfield to travel with her new dear friends to a fashionable watering-place had made Phoebe re-evaluate her memories. One could not remain sullen for long with Uncle Bertram who knew exactly what do to lift one's spirits, or with Aunt Mary who never made one feel ignorant and always answered one's questions.

Frank too could not stay aloof and suspicious; and the surly boy of thirteen who had come to Mansfield six years ago was a far cry from the merry young man currently standing contentedly by Eloisa, Samuel and the Harrison twins, Lucy and Benjamin. They had chosen a more sedate pastime than battlecore and were playing lawn bowls, under the solemn supervision of Lord Hampstead and Mr. Harding who were acting as referees whenever a complaint was lodged by one player about the distance of one biased ball from the "jack".

Marian came to a halt. A lanky young gentleman was sitting under an oak, holding sheets of paper in his hand and looking quite put upon as a black-haired girl gesticulated animatedly, in the midst of one of their usual arguments.

"For the last time, Felix Harding, I shan't stand for your censure! My hero's speeches are perfect and I refuse to shorten them!"

Her cousin Cassandra might be two years younger than seventeen-year old Marian and Felix; but her eyes sparkled with spirit and confidence.

"You requested my opinion, and my opinion is that they are far too wordy. We do not believe his declaration of love. If the hero loved the heroine more, he might be able to talk about it less."

"You are painting a pretty picture!" Cassandra exclaimed. "I pity the poor creature who shall win your affection- she shall gain a most agreeable suitor, laconic and taciturn!"

Felix coloured a little:

"Since this will be no concern of yours," he retorted calmly, "may we return to the matter at hand? I admit that so far your play has shown some good comedic rants-"

"I wrote them with my cousin Yates in mind, he keeps begging me to save him such a part," she replied.

Marian could recall clearly her Uncle Bertram adding in an undertone to Aunt Mary: "This shall be the most innocent private theatricals that ever took place in Mansfield."

"The villain's rants are suitably over-the-top and ridiculous, which suits the tone of your piece," Felix commented.

"Oh, those? I wrote them with you in mind," the author said innocently.

Felix ignored it with practised patience:

"However, I still do not see what ending you want to give to this tale. Is there a moral to this story?"

"Well, have you noticed that my heroines react to their misfortunes by swooning?"

"I did notice that they spent quite a lot of time alternately running mad and fainting on the sofa, yes," he answered drily.

"Well, one of them will die from it- and this is the advice she shall dispense to her friend on her death-bed."

Cassandra let herself fall to the ground in a flurry of skirts:

"Beware of fainting-fits… One fatal swoon has cost me my life… Beware of swoons, dear Laura… a frenzy fit is not one quarter so pernicious; it is an exercise to the body and if not too violent, is, I dare say, conducive to health in its consequences — Run mad as often as you choose; but do not faint."

Cassandra gave a triumphant glance at the speechless Felix:

"How is that for a moral?"

He shook his head:

"Cassandra Bertram, you are impossible," he said, laughter in his voice.

She looked at him cheekily:

"Mr. Harding, I am my parents' daughter."

Slowly retracing her steps, Marian went back to her Aunt who was just leaving the Maddox' company.

"Marian! We were discussing your imminent debut- it is high time to talk of new gowns, and hats, and ribbons; tedious talk I know, but sadly necessary," Lady Bertram teased gently.

Marian froze as though she was going to be thrown into the wilderness. She lacked anything that could make her a success; unlike her siblings, she had not inherited the Wickhams' good looks and liveliness. She was aware that she was very ordinary-looking and quite dull in her tastes. She preferred intimate gatherings over big assemblies, the company of a good book or simply sitting next to Lady Bertram in front of the pianoforte, listening to the tinkling sounds of the ivory touches. Her more exuberant cousins and friends she loved dearly; but she felt that she would never manage the same ease in society.

"I do not feel ready," she confided. "I am not fit to be out in society yet."

"You will be- all in due time," her Aunt whispered with the affection that never failed to warm Marian.

"Mama, what are you conspiring with Marian?" Cassandra interjected, looking curiously at the pair.

"Nothing; and what, young lady, were you conspiring with Mr. Harding?"

"He makes a poor co-conspirator; but he read my play and since he admitted at least to being tolerably entertained, it gives me hope that Papa and you shall enjoy it."

"As long as it is a comedy," Marian said, "I believe Uncle Bertram will be pleased."

"I entertain no doubt that we shall be excessively diverted," Lady Bertram added.

"I do not want you to indulge me, Mama," Cassandra stated bravely. "Please forget that I am your child, and judge me on my own merits."

"I shall ruthlessly crush my feelings of maternal pride," Cassandra's mother promised, an amused glint in her eye, "and review your work as the most impartial critic."

"Thank you, Mama," her daughter said. "Come, Marian, I need your opinion on a certain scene– we must make Felix see how mistaken he is," and she took her cousin's arm.

As she was spirited away, Marian heard the observation of Mrs. Harding :

"Dear me, Mary, there is never a dull moment with the Bertram family!"

"No, indeed," her Aunt replied mildly; "and I do not anticipate it changing anytime soon."

Marian glanced back at her and thought privately that Lady Mary Bertram was not in the slightest chagrined at the prospect.

Author's note :

-the coda was a last-minute addition, but I had all this headcanon about the next-generation and I couldn't resist putting some of it here- to see the main characters of this story through the eyes of Marian, a new duckling Mary will take under her wing…

-well, this is the end and I am feeling very weird…

This story holds a special part in my heart: it is the first fanfiction I ever wrote, and while I have started other stories since, I have been spending many years with these characters and this universe.

I will be getting a little personal here, so feel free to skip this part. Eight or nine years ago, I was seventeen, just beginning college and not feeling as enthusiastic as I ought to. I was grieving the loss of my grandmother who had raised me and I was feeling listless and quite lost, to be honest. Days were long and dull until my best friend told me about something called "fanfiction."

"What is this?" I asked with no clue of what awaited me, and she gave me the link to this website. The rest, as they say, is history. I always loved to imagine "what-ifs", or to give in my mind happy endings to the characters I felt deserved more. Writing this fanfiction made me reconnect with my passion for imagining stories.

So, with all my heart, I want to thank all of you who followed Mary's journey and encouraged me to complete it. I found so much joy in sharing it with you, and I sincerely hope that you got some of it in reading it in return.

Sincerely,

Sempre Libera.