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Despite the many hours she spent on her charity work, both indoors and out, and despite the enormous amount of time she spent keeping her financial records accurate and her household running smoothly, she had spare energy for taking a walk almost every day.

Elizabeth commented several times that Mary was looking better than ever and that she was glad and grateful to see Mary so happy.

Elizabeth, too, seemed happy, though she was less energetic than she had been in London.

Elizabeth frequently took the little white phaeton out, and Mary grew accustomed to seeing it.

Though she still harbored some resentment toward the vehicle for being the means that led to her husband’s demise, she was no longer at the point where she could barely stand to look at it.

She was, however, grateful that it belonged to Elizabeth.

Mary didn’t think she could ever bring herself to use it, much less take care of it the way Elizabeth did.

Several times that summer, Mary invited Jane to come stay with her.

Twice, she was successful in convincing Mrs. Bennet to part with her favorite daughter for a week each time.

The addition of Jane to their dinner conversation was astonishing.

Mary had always assumed that Jane was a quiet sort of lady, but she found that when the more voluble members of their family were not present, Jane was almost as talkative as Elizabeth, though not as witty.

Those two weeks when Jane visited were rather eye-opening for Mary, for she came to the conclusion that Jane was the wisest of her sisters. She resolved to seek her out should she ever need advice.

There was also one memorable week when Kitty was allowed to stay with Mary.

Once again, Mary’s eyes were opened to new information about one of her sisters.

When not in the presence of Lydia’s high spirits, Kitty was relatively calm.

Though she was a bit too prone to complaining, she was seldom in oppressively high spirits.

She was cheerful, certainly, just not overly so.

Mary hoped that someday she would be allowed to have Kitty stay with her permanently. She was certain that they could be a good influence on each other. Mary could help Kitty be more grateful and less prone to whining, and Kitty could help Mary be more cheerful.

September arrived, and the weather began to cool a bit. On September fourth, Mary visited Mr. Allen’s grave. If he was still alive, it would have been their second anniversary.

She stood, looking at the elaborate headstone that marked where her late husband lay.

She remembered his final week, the happiness he had shown in her company.

She remembered his confession of his love for her, and she remembered his refusal of her confession of love for him.

She remembered his admonishment to seek a man who could see her value, a man she could give her heart to.

“Mr. Allen…Henry,” she said out loud, “I wanted to tell you that you are still missed. Your friends in London miss you still, and I miss you as well. In the year that I knew you, you changed my life so dramatically. You made me a better woman, a better person, and I will never lose my gratitude for you. This last year, ever since you left me, has been challenging. I have had to learn to navigate society and life without your strong commanding presence to lean on. Fortunately, I had your friends’ wives, who are now my friends, to lean on instead, at least until I learned to stand on my own.

“I hope my management of your land and your investments has pleased you. You said you were leaving everything to me, because you believed I would not waste it, that I would be a good steward of all that you had worked so hard for. I think I have done well in that regard. Other than your London real estate, your investments have netted an average profit of seven percent. The real estate earned less than it could have, because I used your largest home for myself this past season.”

It felt odd to be talking about money at a grave, but in life, the topic had been the one Mr. Allen had been most interested in. Mary sat on the ground with her back to the headstone and simply communed with nature, trying to feel Mr. Allen’s presence so she could know if he was happy with her.

As she sat, a feeling of warmth and peace settled over her.

It was enough that she was finally able to say out loud what she had been thinking for months.

“One of the last things you told me was that I should find a man I could give my heart to,” she said.

“I think I have found him. In fact, he is someone you knew. Mr. Worsley. I don’t know for certain what will happen, but if he fulfills his promise to seek me out, I will almost certainly give him my heart. I hope you approve.”

Mary fell silent again, seeking to know if Mr. Allen was genuinely accepting of her willingness to move on and fall in love with another man.

Her mind flew over all her interactions with him.

He had never been particularly possessive.

He had never shown even an inkling of irritation when some gentleman or other gently flirted with her.

Again, she replayed her last few interactions with him in her mind.

It became clear to Mary that Mr. Allen loved her, but it was not a selfish love. He truly wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to have the joy he had found, that of knowing what it was to love another.

Mary smiled. She patted the ground she sat on, where Mr. Allen’s mortal remains lay buried six feet beneath her.

“Thank you Mr. Allen, for everything. You will always remain in my mind as one of the best men. I have spent the last year of my life showing the world my respect for you. It was nearly as long as my marriage to you was, but it was worth it. Now, however, I believe it is nearly time to move on with my life.”

Mary felt a surge of happiness wash over her, and she knew Henry Allen approved of her resolution to move on.

She stood and brushed away the dirt that had stained the gray dress she wore.

It didn’t matter, for she would not need it again any time soon.

She whispered one final, “Thank you.” Then she turned and walked back to the house.

Nine days later, Mary Allen put away all her black and gray dresses in boxes and had them stored in the attic.

A few days after the end of Mary’s mourning period, Mama and all of Mary’s sisters came to visit at Braydon Hall.

Almost as soon as they were all seated, Mama said, “Mary, have you heard the news? There are to be two newcomers to the neighborhood. One of them will surely be a wealthy young man, for I have heard from the butcher’s wife, who heard from the housekeeper at Netherfield.

The young man came down from London in a chaise and four, very elegant I’m sure, just a week ago to look at the place.

Yesterday, the housekeeper received orders for the house to be opened and prepared for its new resident. ”

“And who is the other resident?” Mary asked.

“No one knows for certain. One of the larger houses in Meryton proper has been rented for the next three months, though the transaction was made through an intermediary. I would assume it was someone suitable, since it is a large house, larger than my sister’s at least. Let us all hope it is someone who can add to our society and not just some tradesman looking for new connections. ”

“Does anyone know when they will arrive?” asked Elizabeth.

“The new owner of Netherfield will be taking possession by Michaelmas. No one knows when the mystery guest in Meryton will arrive, not even the housekeeper that has been engaged for the place. She was just given orders a couple of days ago to have it ready as soon as possible.”

“I hope it’s a gentleman,” said Kitty. “Gentlemen around here are so scarce that it makes dancing quite difficult. At the last assembly, I had to dance with Lydia and Maria Lucas for two of the dances.”

“I hope one of them falls in love with me,” said Lydia. “What a good joke it would be if I could marry before Jane did.”

Mary looked at her oldest sister whose placid expression had dimmed slightly at Lydia’s remark.

At age twenty-two, Jane had been out for six years.

Despite her clearly being the most beautiful, kindest young lady in the neighborhood, she had still not found someone who could love her enough to marry her without any significant dowry.

The feeling of disappointment, of failure, must weigh heavily on her shoulders at times, especially with the amount of pressure Mama put upon all her daughters to marry well.

It didn’t make sense to Mary. When she had inherited all her husband’s wealth, the safety of their family was assured.

She would never let any of her sisters or her mother go homeless or even be uncomfortable for as long as she lived.

Even after her death, she would ensure they were provided for, since she had already made a will, leaving a significant fortune to each of them.

Since this was so, why was Mama still so obsessed with marrying her daughters off?

The new resident of Netherfield arrived on September 27, and he was almost immediately visited by all the principal gentlemen of the neighborhood to welcome him.

Mary, not being one of those gentlemen, did not.

She assumed she would simply have to wait until they were in company together.

In the end, it mattered little to her other than that the subject provided much speculative conversation for herself and Elizabeth.

On the last day of the month, a visitor arrived at Braydon Hall. Shortly after the sound of the front bell, Mrs. Hampton showed the guest into Mary’s study, where she was working on her ledgers and writing a letter of business.