The Other Bennet Sister

by Janice Hadlow

Four of the five Bennet sisters of Meryton in Hertfordshire had sensibly provided themselves with good looks enough to be accounted beauties in the limited circles in which they moved.

To the world at large, he remained what he had always been: detached, amused, and apparently resigned to an outcome it was not in his power to change.

It was for Mrs Bennet an article of faith that, in the absence of ten thousand pounds in the hand, a pretty face was the single most valuable asset a young woman could possess.

Mary could not remember exactly when she had discovered she was plain.

She did not mind which part of her Mrs Bennet thought worthy of notice; anything would do, as long as it allowed her the chance to take her place amongst her sisters in the glow of their mother’s approval.

Four beauties out of five is a very respectable number. I’m sure no one could have done better.’

I will not stand in the way of any member of this family who seeks to diminish the amount of stupidity in this house.

Mary saw herself invited, not only into her father’s intellectual domain, but also into his affections, both of them places where, until now, only Lizzy had been admitted.

‘I know very well what I must do and say next,’ continued Charlotte. ‘I must smile and nod and look unconcerned at my dismissal, while laughing and teasing Jane about her new conquest. And that is what I will do. I’m used to it. But I tell you what it is, Mary – I’m not sure if I can do it for much longer.’

‘Yes,’ replied Charlotte, ‘and I know that should be enough, but with every day that goes past, I find that it isn’t, quite.’

“Not handsome enough to tempt me” – as though we women have no other occupation than to lay ourselves out to be agreeable to him!’

that will suggest both his high opinion of himself and his readiness to flatter his superiors at every possible opportunity,’ observed Mr Bennet smoothly. ‘It is a considerable requirement to ask of a coat and shirt. We may be here for quite some time.’

‘She was ashamed of everyone tonight, and if I know her at all, which I believe I do, she will now be more than a little ashamed of herself as well.

‘It has all the virtues of an apology with none of the embarrassment of an explanation.’

But it is my situation I dislike, not myself. I’m not sure the same is true of you. It’s hard to persuade anyone, especially a man, that your regard is worth having if you have none for yourself.’

‘Indeed, Mr Bennet, it is very hard to think that Charlotte Lucas should ever be mistress of this house, that I should be forced to make way for her and live to see her take my place in it!’ ‘My dear, do not give way to such gloomy thoughts. Let us hope for better things. Let us flatter ourselves that I may be the survivor.’

She must resign herself to circumstances that were unlikely to change. She rose from her seat, picked up the poker, and began to stir the coals.

She and I must rub on together for a few years yet. It is a burden I must learn to bear. Will you have a little more tea?’

for there were niceties to be observed, even in spite.

‘Then I should say he tells us it is only through self-knowledge that genuine happiness is to be had. Only when we know ourselves – when we have examined and understood our strengths and weaknesses, when we have been honest enough to admit what we really desire from life – only then do we have any chance at all of attaining it.’

It has elegance without presumption, comfort without any unsuitable pretensions to fashion.

But she recognised the quotation. It was one they had often discussed together. ‘Our happiness depends on ourselves.’

He was not particularly handsome, but his expression was so affable and amused that by the time this fact was noticed, it was too late for it matter.

She was elegant, in a glittering, unyielding style, handsome, and clever. She was also very disagreeable, but Mary had often observed men did not seem to feel this to be as grave a disability as might have been expected, provided it was accompanied by a pretty face and a decent dowry.

To those she considered her equals, she condescended sufficiently to be almost gracious; but she did not waste much time on cultivating the good opinions of those who did not matter.

‘Had you taken me as I am, I have no doubt I should eventually have become the man I ought to be. For that, I am sorry.’

‘That is a strike at me, I imagine,’ said Miss Bingley, ‘but I do not feel it. I cannot be lectured by a Bennet on the relationship between love and money and be hurt by it.

‘I might add in my own defence that if I had loved you less, I might have ventured more. It was hard to be bold when I was only too aware of what I stood to lose.’

She had gradually discovered that the best response to glorious, unexpected happiness was not to seek explanation for its appearance but simply to embrace it and be glad.

‘I am not sure I deserve him, but am resolved to act as if I do’, as Mary Bennet might have said.