Pomp and Circumstance: A Pride and Prejudice Continuation

Chapter 5: It Sprouts, It Blooms

Mary spent a great deal of her time within the limits of the Pemberley library, but certainly less than she had anticipated, for, in that surprising way in which youth's fickleness is wont to effect changes most rapidly and inexplicably – where there previously seemed no hope for more genial or intimate acquaintance, there suddenly grew one; and without ever knowing from whence it had grown or why, Mary found herself more and more oft in Georgiana's company, and admitted more and more to her confidence; so that indeed, a hope which Elizabeth had reluctantly surrendered only last Christmas, now seemed quite probable once more.

Mary was surprised to find Georgiana Darcy a very unassuming companion – for her previous concept of female friendships was that they should be verbose, and effusive, and most artificial; but it was not at all so with Georgiana.

They kept company with each other for tea, and for sewing and other occupations in the parlour. Mary was cajoled out of the library with her books, and would read and write extracts in the parlour as Georgiana sat and embroidered, or read as well; and discourse would ebb and flow between them in a most natural way – they could be quite comfortable in silence for a whole hour, with only a passing remark from one or both of them– or there were times where they fell into deeper conversation, where Mary might begin to read aloud from her book, pausing now and then to comment on its contents, or where Georgiana might relate some amusing story.

And so it was too when they took walks together through the grounds, and sometimes down to Lambton. At times they walked in comfortable silence, each immersed in contemplation; and at others, they talked most earnestly, and Mary would share her favorite and most interesting extracts, and if Georgiana was not the most passionate of listeners, she was at least an attentive one. Georgiana, in return, would tell Mary of her days in London with Mrs. Annesley, of her schooling and travels, and of her summers at Pemberley.

Mary would listen to her with rapt attention. To have a private tutor solely for one's education, to be taken on travels, and to live in town, among the world, and then as respite to return to an estate such as Pemberley, with its library and grounds – these were all things which to Mary had the enchanting glimmers of a fairytale about them.

Georgiana, perhaps, was oblivious to the impression she was making in Mary's mind. Ever polite, she would always make inquiries of Mary's life in turn – and there Mary felt she could not repay the favor, for surely there was nothing particular in her life so far to inspire interest or excitement or amusement – one afternoon of her reading was much like any other – and in the end, the stories she did relate were only those of her family, or from her books – and she felt from this a sense that her life was not quite that which she wished it to be, that upon comparison to Georgiana's, she had found it wanting.

She had never felt envy for the lives of Lizzy, or Jane, or Lydia, for she knew that their lives were not ones that should have made her happy, but Georgiana's life, she felt, might have done so. Georgiana was certainly not as passionate about the academics as Mary was, but simply by virtue of living in London, attending lectures with Mrs. Annesley, being taught most rigorously in French, philosophy, piano, singing, literature, and being in presence of such revolutionaries of sciences and arts as resided in London, she seemed to have developed a much keener, contemporary grasp on the workings of the world than had Mary - despite all her best efforts and her earnest, disciplined years of study.

This realization grew upon Mary the more that she listened to Georgiana, and at first, she only felt keenly the unfairness of it. But it was on further reflection that she came to admit to herself, begrudgingly as it was, that it was due perhaps as much to herself as to her circumstances, for did her sisters not grow up in the same circumstances as her, and made for themselves the lives they had wanted? And did she not only some months before herself refuse from her father the chance to visit London, on account of some stringent, self-imposed principles which were clear only in her own mind? She could find no satisfactory answers to these questions, which did not lay at least partially the blame at her feet, for shielding herself so thoroughly from the impingements of life. So it was, even in her last visit to Pemberley, where she had barricaded herself in the library, not caring to wonder whether Georgiana might wish to seek a friendship, taking it for granted, as she always did, that those surrounding her should find her terribly dull.