Chapter Five

"People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your blood and the blood of others."

~ Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

When Mary Bennet found herself able to venture downstairs it was late in the day and the sun was already leaning more towards the west than the east. In truth, she would have preferred to remain in her chambers for the foreseeable future, but she had no desire to be the source of extra worry and upset for her sister and her family. She was determined that she would try harder and tomorrow, she would even sit at table with her family and try to stomach some breakfast.

She was intrigued by the sounds of a faint, unfamiliar melody being played on the pianoforte in the small music room. She walked towards the room hesitantly as she knew Georgiana would not be the artist performing since Miss Darcy preferred her own pianoforte in Pemberley's main music room. Elizabeth did not sit down to an instrument unless she was coerced and the only other resident would be out on the estate grounds at this time.

Once Mary reached the sturdy oak door, which was slightly ajar, giving the young, curious party just enough room to peek round the door to glimpse the figure bent over the piano with their back to her.

"Oh!" Mary yelped in surprise as she realised the accomplished player was a man.

The beautiful, lyrical tune halted abruptly as the gentleman-player's eyes darted up to identify the spy and observe her rushing away from the door down the hall. He knew which lady of the house it was that had been his invisible audience and the good colonel hastened after her.

"Miss Bennet," he called, "please, Miss Bennet!"

Mary was in a quandary. She knew not whether to stop or to feign deafness. She was not aware that the Darcys were hosting Colonel Fitzwilliam, not while she and Elizabeth were still in the mourning period. It really did unnerve her that her own dear sister could be so insensitive and foolhardy to open Pemberley's doors so soon after their recent tragedy to her husband's extended family.

With great effort put into her tight-lipped smile, she turned and curtseyed, "Colonel Fitzwilliam, I did not know you were visiting here. Forgive my intrusion on your performance. It will not happen again. Good day, sir."

The brusqueness and pain that inundated her every syllable was obvious to the man. He had not grasped the full extent of the young Miss Bennet's retreat from society or her anxiety and melancholia. All he had gleaned from last night was that her nights were under attack from night terrors and that during the day she was depressed and unsociable, but upon discovering that her grief rendered her nigh-on cold as ice.

"It is of no matter, Miss Bennet. Of course, it is I who must apologise to you for intruding on your period of mourning, but I understood that I might be of some assistance to your sister during this difficult time. Please do not let my presence here alarm or upset you; I could not bear it if it did."

Mary nodded, attempting to process all of the information but very little was remaining within her tired head and she merely spluttered at the man before her in reply.

Had circumstances been altered, the colonel would have found her loss of countenance quite humorous, but he was staying back at his cousin's home to be of assistance to the grief-stricken maiden, not burden her with his presence.

"I had hoped that while I am here, we might play together and maybe accompany your sister," he suggested, "for I have never had the pleasure of hearing her sing, but I am told that she has a fine voice."

"She does indeed, colonel, and I would enjoy that very much, but I fear that at present my company is less than satisfactory."

The colonel, perhaps overly forward in manner, but feeling that it was the only way to bring the young lady back to the land of the living, placed his hand gently on her shoulder and murmured, "I wish, Miss Bennet, you would let me be the judge of the company I choose to keep, but enough of such things," he announced, removing his hand, "may I escort you into the dining room?"

She nodded, not quite sure what had just happened and took the proffered arm of the colonel, marvelling at how impressive his stature was and glided alongside him to eat something.

Mary Bennet did not like talking at mealtimes or when she ate. She read in one of her books on feminine health that it hindered digestion that led to a build-up of bile in the body and bile, as she knew, made people sinful. Thus, sitting with the colonel as she ate and he did not was an awkward experience for the female diner. While she dined in tense silence, he watched as she picked at her food and nursed very little of her hunger, at complete attention and noting every detail in his powerful mind.

Once she had had her fill, the dishes were cleared and all there was between the pair was tension and silence. Mary did not know whether to speak or depart and Fitzwilliam just wanted to wait and watch what the girl would choose to do in the situation he was forcing her to endure.

"Excuse me, Colonel," Mary said, rising unsteadily from her seat, "I believe I ought to find my sister and Miss Darcy. I have not yet seen her or anyone else in the household today."

"Very well, Miss Bennet," the Colonel replied, also standing to show his respect, "I have enjoyed your company greatly. Thank you for allowing me the courtesy of making up my own mind."

He winked cheekily at the young lady and strode out of the great dining room with such an air of authority and surety that Mary's bottom lip quite dropped and she stood watching him walk away from her back to the music room where she discovered him with an open mouth.

"Well," she exclaimed in a manner quite unbecoming of a young lady and altogether uncharacteristic of Miss Mary Bennet, "I have never known such a man!"

With that announced to God and the universe, Mary quit the large, empty space and walked about the manor in search of Elizabeth until Mrs Reynolds, the resolute old housekeeper, informed her politely that the Mistress had taken to her bed with a headache earlier and wished only to be brought a tray for supper but otherwise she was to be left in peaceful solitude to rest and that Miss Darcy had gone for a walk in the gardens.

Mary sighed, both relieved and disappointed that she had partaken of all the company she was likely to on her the first day she had felt somewhat sure of herself, enough to come downstairs at any rate. She went upstairs to her bedchamber and rang for her lady's maid to help her on with her nightgown before she said her daily prayers and whispered a few others that she had composed for the poor souls of her mama, papa and sister before climbing into the grand bed she was allowed at Pemberley and began to ponder how Colonel Fitzwilliam was such an uncommon and affable man to have about her during such a time of sadness and grief.

And thus, Mary Bennet drifted off to sleep before her servant could even enter the room to wish her mistress goodnight before settling down to sleep on the divan in front of her bed as Mrs Reynolds had told her was Mrs Darcy's express wish.