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Mary’s wedding took place in early September, and her wedding breakfast was the social event of the year. Every member of every family of note in the neighborhood attended as well as a few friends of Mr. Allen who lived a little farther away.

Mary wore the dress her mother chose, and her hair was styled by Elizabeth and Jane who repeatedly asked if Mary was certain this was what she wanted.

Despite Mary’s assurance that it was, indeed, what she wanted, Elizabeth and Jane still seemed as though they were mourning her marriage instead of celebrating it.

The memory of Miss Lucas’ comment on how Elizabeth and Jane were hoping for a love match came to mind.

For her older sisters, who were everything that could be attractive to a man, Mary could understand their devotion to their ideals.

For Mary, however, a life filled with purpose, being cared for by a man who was responsible and reasonably kind, was the best she could hope for.

When Mary entered the church on the arm of her father, Mr. Allen was already standing at the altar waiting for her.

She took note of his gray hair and his weathered and slightly wrinkled face.

Despite his age he was still a handsome man.

Only a slight paunch marred his tall, trim, and upright figure.

For a brief moment, Mary wondered how many ladies had fallen in love with him only to be turned away by his self-proclaimed unaffectionate nature.

She quickly tossed the thought aside, however.

It did not matter. She was not marrying this man for love, at least not in a romantic sense.

She respected him, and that was enough to accomplish what was expected of her.

The ceremony proceeded, and the vows were said. Mary meant every word she said, and she could tell that Mr. Allen was serious and determined as well. Truly, that was all that mattered.

When it was over, Mary signed her name as Mary Bennet for the last time in the church’s register. From now on, she was Mary Allen. From now on, she belonged to Mr. Allen instead of her father and mother.

As Mary signed her name, she looked at Mr. Allen’s signature and realized that she had not even known his first name, which she could now see was Henry. Henry Allen, her husband.

She took his arm as he escorted her out of the church. They boarded his carriage and proceeded to Longbourn where the wedding breakfast was being held. There was not room inside the house for such a crowd, so Mama had served everything in the garden.

Mary received many congratulations from everyone she had ever known. She tried very hard to maintain her serenity and even reached for gracefulness, but after more than an hour of being surrounded by the celebrating crowd, she was quite fatigued.

Finally, Mr. Allen came for her and said, “I believe we are both quite tired of this celebration. Shall we leave?”

“Yes, please,” Mary replied promptly, and Mr. Allen gave her a brief, rare smile.

She then took his arm as they went to Mama and Papa to say their farewells.

Mary was grateful for her new husband’s way of naturally taking charge, for it meant that they didn’t linger over farewells for very long before they were in his carriage and heading for Braydon Hall.

Many of Mary’s belongings had already been delivered to her new home, so it was very little trouble for her to change out of her wedding dress and into one of her more comfortable day dresses.

Her new maid, Anna, helped her put on one of her new mob caps, showing distinctly for all to see that Mary Allen was a married woman.

After that, she wasn’t quite certain what to do with herself. She thought back to everything Mr. Allen had told her, and she remembered he had once said she was to take over running the household from the very moment he brought her home as his wife.

So, Mary went down to the front drawing room and rang for Mrs. Hampton.

They discussed what was to be served for dinner as well as meal plans for the next day.

When she was done talking to Mrs. Hampton, Mary went into the little office set aside for her use and looked over the household ledgers to see if anything had been added since she last looked.

When she was done, she headed back to the drawing room to see if her husband had come down yet, but there was no sign of him. He had hinted that they would usually only see each other at dinner, so she assumed he had begun as he meant to go on.

Seeking employment, Mary went to fetch the charity basket she had brought with her.

She always had some little article of clothing she was working on, so she pulled out a little nightgown for a newborn and began working.

After a time, Mary relaxed into the familiar rhythm of sewing.

Feeling comfortable in her quiet surroundings, she began singing softly to herself.

She was startled out of her reverie by her husband’s deep voice saying, “That was a pleasant little song. What was it?”

He came into the room and sat in a comfortable armchair nearby. Mary blushed. “It was nothing,” she said, “just a little ditty children sing to remember their numbers.”

“Ah, I thought the tune sounded familiar, but I couldn’t hear the words,” he said. “I have not been around children much in many, many years. Not since my son was young.”

Mary nodded but didn’t know what to say. She had become more comfortable with Mr. Allen, but now that it was just the two of them, she didn’t know what was expected.

“What are you working on?” he asked.

Mary held up the partially finished nightgown. “It is an infant’s nightdress for one of the pregnant women on my father’s estate. She has been rather ill with this baby, so I thought I could help by making this for her.”

Mr. Allen nodded. “That is very kind of you,” he said. “I assume you will be visiting the tenants here in the coming days, getting to know them as well as you do the ones at Longbourn.”

Mary smiled. “Of course. It is one of the things I am most looking forward to.”

He grunted instead of making any response, but when Mary glanced up at him, he seemed pleased. His expression made her bold, so she asked, “What do you like to do with your time?”

He shrugged. “It depends on whether I am here or in London. Perhaps you did not know, but I go to London from January to May every year. When I am here, I visit my near neighbors once or twice a week, but I spend most of my time riding, hunting, and reading the paper. Of course, there are the necessary matters of business such as monitoring my investments and writing letters. I write and receive a great many letters, which is how I glean enough knowledge to invest wisely.”

“And in London?” Mary prompted.

“I am a much more sociable creature in London, but only among close friends. Most mornings I go riding in Hyde Park. Some of my afternoons are spent on business and letters, but I spend some afternoons at my club or visiting my friends. Evenings are often taken with social engagements, dinner parties and whatnot. Which reminds me, we will need to throw a dinner party of our own when we get there, so I can introduce you to my friends.”

Mary’s hands stopped moving, and she looked up at her husband. She could feel the fear showing in her face as her eyes grew wide.

“Do not fret,” he said in a calming manner.

“I know you will be able to handle this by the time we go. My friends will not judge you harshly, should you not be the perfect social butterfly. In fact, the reason we are friends is because we all share a certain lack of social inclination. You can get plenty of practice between now and then by inviting your family or your friends for dinner here.”

His words calmed her somewhat, but she was still filled with doubt as to whether she could accomplish this new task. “I shall do my best, sir,” she said.

At her response, Mr. Allen’s face took on an odd look. “You know, you can be a little less formal with me, now,” he said. “We are married, you know, and this is your home. It seems as though you are pushing me away when you refuse to even use my name.”

“I am so sorry,” Mary said. “I meant it as a sign of respect and to show you that I can defer to your judgment since, not only are you my husband, but you are also older and much more experienced of the world.”

“Very well,” he said. “Then, as the more experienced one, I will tell you that it is only the most beaten down of wives who refer to their husbands as ‘sir.’ When you do so, it makes me feel quite monstrous. Call me Henry, or if you truly cannot, call me Mr. Allen.”

Mary knew her mother and father usually referred to each other as Mr. and Mrs. so she was mostly comfortable doing so with Mr. Allen. Calling him by his Christian name seemed impossible, however. He was far too old, far too respectable, for her to presume to be his equal by calling him Henry.

“I shall call you Mr. Allen, then,” she said. “I apologize for causing you distress before.”

He waved away her apology with his hand.

“Do not concern yourself,” he said. “I suspect you have much to learn, and I will do my best to be patient. At least you seem willing to learn. That is a characteristic highly in your favor. Now, I believe it is time to change for dinner.” He rose and made to leave the room. “I shall see you in an hour.”

Dinner was a little awkward, but the conversation flowed as the two newlyweds got to know each other, their likes, dislikes, hobbies, and many other little things. After dinner, they took turns reading to each other from a novel Mr. Allen had begun recently.

As the evening progressed, Mary became more and more nervous.

Her mother had explained the basics of what she could expect from her husband on their wedding night.

Mary considered that, of all the times when she had made something awkward, this was the one time she was sure to do so and therefore ruin everything.

After a couple of hours of reading, Mr. Allen closed the book, stood, and held out his hand.

Mary took it, and he led her to her room.

“Get your maid to let your hair down and brush it out, but do not re-braid it for the night. Change into your nightgown and wait for me.” He kissed her hand and caressed it in a calming manner. “Try to relax. I shall not harm you.”

He turned and headed for his own room. Mary took a deep breath and entered her chambers. She went past her sitting room and entered her bedroom, where Anna was waiting for her.

Mary’s first joining with her husband changed something fundamentally within her.

He was a considerate lover, not particularly passionate, but appreciative of what she offered.

Since she had learned to respect and trust him over the previous weeks, she trusted that he would take care of her, and he did.

They joined together as man and wife at least every other day from then onward.

Mr. Allen always told her at dinner whether he would come to her room that night, and she was grateful for the forewarning.

As she learned more about him and what he liked, she learned more about herself as well, and she became more confident.

Gradually, the act became more enjoyable, but it was never something she actively sought.

The confidence she learned in the bedroom and by conversing with Mr. Allen at dinner every day somehow translated into Mary’s daily life.

She had more confidence that she could manage people, and her housekeeping improved.

She had more confidence that she could talk to strangers, and her socializing skills improved.

She learned enough confidence to tackle the problems that the village’s school was having, though she had to teach the children herself for a couple of weeks while she looked for someone who was willing to take on the task. Even so, it all worked out in the end.

Once a week, Mrs. Bennet and all of Mary’s sisters would visit Mary at Braydon Hall, and not a single visit went by without at least one of them commenting on how improved she looked or how much married life seemed to suit her.

Surprisingly, Mary appreciated all the little bits of gossip they would bring her.

She had always assumed gossip was evil, but she now saw that it was an important way of staying connected to one’s neighbors without having to visit them every day.

She still didn’t approve of spreading lies or besmirching anyone’s character, but it was interesting to know when the Lucas’ pigs had got into their garden or when Mrs. Goulding was pregnant with her sixth child.

Once a month, Mr. and Mrs. Allen threw a dinner party.

The first one was only attended by Mary’s family and the Allens’ nearest neighbor.

Each subsequent one, however, was bigger than the last as Mary learned how to plan one properly and how to behave as a hostess.

She was never as good at the latter as she wished to be, but at the end of each party, the guests seemed happy and content, and that was what mattered the most.

On Christmas Day, the Allens spent most of the day at Longbourn, along with Mrs. Bennet’s brother and sister, Mr. Gardiner and Mrs. Phillips, and their families.

It was a crowded but joyful time, and Mary was glad to be a part of the love that pervaded the house.

Even so, she was also grateful to return to her own home with Mr. Allen at the end of the day.

The first Monday in January, Mr. and Mrs. Allen made the short trip to their townhome in London.

It wasn’t particularly large, and it wasn’t in the most fashionable neighborhood, but it was more than large enough for Mary and her husband, and the neighborhood was neat and clean and clearly was occupied by respectable people.