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Mr. Bingley accepted an invitation to stay for dinner, spent the evening gazing rapturously at Jane, and reluctantly tore himself away at a very late hour.

The next day he went for a very long walk with Jane and Elizabeth.

The morning after that he turned up with a curricle and took Jane for a drive.

There could be no doubt of his intentions.

The only question was whether he would speak first, or Mr. Fordyce, who continued to call frequently, or Colonel Forster, whom Lydia often spoke of seeing in Meryton, or Mr. Madison, who kept bringing books for Elizabeth and enjoyed discussing them with her.

This question seemed to be answered when Mr. Fordyce, looking even more serious than usual, asked Mary to take a turn about the garden with him. Mrs. Bennet was confident that she would soon be congratulating the pair.

A daughter engaged at last! What a feather in her cap. While impatiently awaiting their return, she contemplated wedding clothes and speculated as to Mr. Fordyce’s income.

When they came back, Mr. Fordyce said that he had some important news to share.

Mrs. Bennet leaned forward eagerly, but instead of an engagement he announced that he was leaving the regiment with the intention of pursuing a new career in the church.

She waited for more, but he only spoke of leaving in the morning for Oxford, where he was going to prepare himself for taking orders.

Then he bade them farewell. Her heart was sinking as the door closed behind him.

“Did he say anything to you?” she asked Mary.

“He thanked me for reminding him of his childhood ambition to follow in the footsteps of his illustrious relative.”

“Anything about marriage, I mean.”

“No.”

“Did he speak to you, Mr. Bennet?”

“No.”

“How vexing. Just when everything was going so well. This is such a disappointment.”

“Parting with a friend is always a sorry occasion, but in that spirit of friendship we must be happy for Mr. Fordyce.” Mary’s voice sounded just like it did when she was quoting something from a book, but her expression betrayed sorrow.

Feeling exceedingly sorry for the poor girl, Mrs. Bennet said, “I know how distressing it is to have your hopes dashed.”

“I didn’t have any hopes. Please excuse me. I must go and practice my music.”

Mrs. Bennet said no more. Her daughter seemed stubbornly set against displaying any feeling. This was strange behaviour, but perhaps she had better be left to her own way of managing. At least music would be a comfort.

A short time later she revised this opinion. Cheerful music was comforting, but not the gloomy stuff that Mary was playing. It was making her feel down in the dumps.

She had been so certain of Mr. Fordyce. He had appeared to be very much in love. How could it have come to nothing?

Mrs. Bennet recalled having had the same thought a long time ago when she had been disappointed in a similar manner. Her lieutenant hadn’t gone into the church, but he had spoken of enjoying his time in Meryton, and then he had gone away without making the proposal she had been expecting.

Desolate, she had taken to her bed and scarcely eaten a morsel for weeks.

But when the next assembly came around, her mother and sister had persuaded her to get up and return to society.

Soon afterwards there had been the consolation of a new suitor, followed by marriage and children.

Hopefully Mary could find the same consolation.

In the meantime Mrs. Bennet had the comfort of anticipating other engagements to celebrate.

Perhaps very soon. Mr. Bingley might have decided to take Jane out in his curricle for the convenience of being able to speak privately with her.

They might already be on their way back to share this exciting news.

The pair did return soon, and with news; however, it was only that the Gouldings’ harp had arrived. Mrs. Bennet felt very much let down.

However, there was yet another hope. Lizzy had gone with Charlotte to play with Mr. Madison’s children in the garden at Purvis Lodge.

Observing her skills at amusing them would be just the thing to prompt him to fall upon his knees and beg for her hand in marriage.

Although Mr. Madison wasn’t really the falling type.

Or the begging type. He would probably declare himself in the manner of proposing some piece of legislation.

Very dull in Mrs. Bennet’s opinion, but with exciting consequences, which was all that mattered.

But Lizzy only came home with another dull book. There seemed to be no end to Mr. Madison’s supply of them.

One last hope remained, and it seemed to be fulfilled when Lydia burst into the drawing room ecstatically crying, “You will not believe what Colonel Forster said.”

Mrs. Bennet had no difficulty believing that he had declared his intentions.

But then Lydia reported the colonel’s actual words, which amounted to nothing more than a joke which she had found excessively amusing. Mrs. Bennet was not amused.

How much longer would it take for one of her daughters to become engaged? And how long would Mary go on casting gloom over the house? The music she was playing now sounded even more dreary.

But on the bright side, this was the only sign of her sorrow. There were no tears during dinner. No periodic outbursts of emotion throughout the evening. No cries of distress in the night.

Being so often awake, Mrs. Bennet would have known if there were. But the only noises in the house were of her own making as she wrestled with the covers, thumped the pillows, and sighed in exasperation with her endless sufferings and her own disappointment over Mr. Fordyce’s defection.

The next day Mary carried on as usual, eating meals, speaking no less than usual, and attending to her studies and music. That was again gloomy, but her manner was otherwise calm and unemotional.

Mrs. Bennet could better have understood a daughter who railed against misfortune; however, she could see an advantage in this calmness. It boded well for Mary recovering swiftly from disappointment and being able to move on to a second attachment. But to whom?