The Secret Life of Miss Mary Bennet, Katherine Cowley [books successful people read .TXT] 📗

state of suspension, unsure of your place here, or whether you should become a governess, or when you might have the opportunity of returning to your beloved mother. It would be for the best if you returned home immediately.”

“Immediately?” asked Mary, unable to comprehend Lady Trafford’s words.

“Yes. I will have you on a carriage to Washington this evening. Then tomorrow to London, and then on to Meryton.”

“This evening?” Mary said. Lady Trafford had said she would get Mary out of the way, but Mary had not expected to be thrown out of the house without any warning. She must have something truly dreadful planned with the visitor.

“There is no point in arguing with me, Miss Bennet, once my mind has been firmly set. Now come here, child. You must write a letter to your mother telling of your return. We will send it express so it arrives before you do.”

Mary moved like a puppet dragging its feet.

Lady Trafford handed her a quill and a paper. “Now please write the following: Dear Mother,” Lady Trafford paused, watching as Mary wrote the words, and then continued, “I am excited to return to see you and my sister in Meryton. Please expect me on the evening of December eleventh. With love, Mary.”

Mary finished writing the words and set down the quill.

“Good, good. Brief, but to the point,” said Lady Trafford. “I need you to take the horse you always ride and go to Worthing. I will provide you with funds so you can send the letter express, pre-paid. While you are in town, I have a number of items from different shops that I need you to purchase for me.”

Lady Trafford passed her a lengthy list, which included items from five different shops. From one shop, she needed to purchase seven different types of parchment paper.

“I am not sure I would be the best person to make these purchases,” said Mary. “I would hate to buy something that does not meet your expectations.”

“Most of the servants have the day off,” said Lady Trafford, “and I cannot spare any of those who remain.”

Mary’s cheeks burned. She was being treated like a servant. She felt humiliated even though she knew she was only assigned these tasks to keep her away from the castle, so she would not see or meet their visitor, Mr. Stanley. Yet what else could she do besides follow Lady Trafford’s orders?

“Very well,” said Mary, folding the list. Her eyes strayed to the grandfather clock. It was half past one. Mr. Withrow had stated that Mr. Stanley was expected at three o’clock, which was in only an hour and a half.

“Fanny, please accompany Miss Bennet to her room. She will give you directions about packing her things so they can be ready for her when she returns. Also, since Mary did not wear the new dresses, there is no reason to pack them.”

They walked up to Mary’s room in silence. As they did, Mary realized there was nothing preventing her from appearing to acquiesce to Lady Trafford’s demands and then doing something else entirely. If Lady Trafford did not want her meeting Mr. Stanley, then she would find a way to meet him. She could foresee few negative consequences to avoiding Lady Trafford’s assigned tasks; she was already being sent home.

When they reached the room, Fanny asked Mary a few questions about how she wanted things packed, but then stopped. She clasped her hands together and said, “I am sorry that you must leave like this.”

Her sincerity almost made Mary cry. “I have been horrible to you, Fanny, yet still you are kind to me. I do not deserve you.”

“You have not been horrible.”

“Yes, I have. I should have worn the dress you made to the ball, but it was so beautiful, I could not put it on.”

“That is a very strange reason to not wear a dress.”

“I know, it is. I just…I…I have been overzealous and decided to value simplicity above everything else.” Mary paused. “Also, I was afraid, because the dress is beautiful, and I am not.”

“A dress is just a dress. I made it to look good on you, not on someone else.”

“If I could go back a few days, I would wear it to the ball. I am sorry that I cannot.”

“Life is as it is, and there is little you can do to change it.” Fanny seemed resigned to life’s whims and caprices.

“Do you truly believe that?”

“I suppose not.”

“What would you change about life?” asked Mary.

“I want to own my own dress shop and hire seamstresses so I can focus on designs rather than stitching. But that is why I am here. What Lady Trafford offered is enough that I can save for it.”

“I hope you get what you want.” More than ever, Mary wished she had worn the dress to the ball. “I know that Lady Trafford will not let me keep them, but could I at least try on one of the dresses? Only if it is agreeable to you, of course.”

Fanny nodded. “You may, but we need to be quick. Lady Trafford expects you to complete her tasks, and I need to pack for you.”

“Thank you,” said Mary.

Mary undid her dress as Fanny removed the ball gown from the clothing press.

“Now close your eyes,” directed Fanny.

Mary closed her eyes as Fanny pulled the dress onto her, did up the laces, and then led her across the room.

“Now open them.”

Mary did so, and despite the fact that she believed gasping should be reserved only for silly females, she gasped. She looked like a maiden from a painting or a play. She looked lovely, maybe even beautiful, and she had never once considered those words in relationship to herself.

She had never worn yellow before, and the canary colour made her feel like someone who both desired and deserved the attention of others. The neckline was swaths lower than any neckline Mary had ever worn before, yet with how Fanny had designed it, it did not feel