Page 21 of The Duke of Derby (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
“Exactly,” said Mary as she turned her gaze back toward the dancers. “You would think I would be used to it by now, but I thought that with our changed circumstances I could start anew. I suppose I was wrong. A leopard can’t change its spots after all.”
“Why should you be used to such treatment?” he asked. She could hear outrage tinge his voice. “No lady should be treated in such a manner, especially not often enough that she should be used to it.”
“Hah!” barked Mary. “That is idealistic sophistry at its finest. Every day, the world over, people are rejected or ignored for one reason or another. Why should it be different for me simply because I am, as you say, a lady?”
Mary could not understand what had come over her.
She never voiced such cynical thoughts aloud, despite the fact that they frequently bounced around in her mind.
How could they not? She was often exposed to such cynicism from both her father and Elizabeth, though Elizabeth couched hers in more pleasing terms.
Attempting to counteract such influence was one of the primary reasons she turned to the Bible and to various sermons as often as she did.
Lord Appleby did not respond right away, but when he did, he said, “That is not an entirely inaccurate statement, though I do not like to admit it. Yet, knowing that millions of people who I will never meet are suffering does not change the fact that it pains me to see you suffering.”
Mary was absolutely despondent at this point.
She had already thoroughly embarrassed herself in front of him.
What harm could be done by continuing to state exactly what she was thinking?
“I would not wish to cause you pain. You would do better to return to your friends,” she waved vaguely toward the rest of the room, “and leave me to my headache. I am afraid I cannot be particularly good company at the moment.”
He did not respond, but he didn’t leave either. They simply sat together for a couple of minutes in silence, each of them watching the dancers and thinking their own thoughts.
Eventually, without turning toward her, he said, “Will you tell me what you like to do with your time, Lady Mary?”
Mary could not believe what her senses were telling her. Not only had he refused to leave her side despite several opportunities, he was now attempting to speak with her on a more neutral topic, as if she had never told him how very worthless she was.
“I read a great deal and sew, of course,” she said. “I am not a particularly active sort of person. When I do go out, it is usually to keep my mother or sisters company rather than because I have a particular destination in mind for myself.”
“I am much the same,” he said, which surprised Mary greatly. He had the trim figure of a young man who exercised regularly. “I do fence and box on a regular basis, but I always prefer to lock myself away in my library to read.”
“That sounds much like my father,” said Mary, “though he gave up all forms of exercise except riding his horse many years ago. I know he used to fence, but I can’t imagine him ever boxing.
” She looked at him briefly out of the corner of her eye.
“Come to think of it, I can’t imagine you boxing either. ”
He chuckled. “It is surprising, isn’t it?” he asked. “I don’t exactly have the build for it, but that is exactly why I do it, to make myself stronger.”
“I suppose that makes a certain amount of sense,” said Mary. “Will you tell me what you have been reading lately?”
“I am afraid I can’t do that, Lady Mary,” he said. “I already told you a great deal about myself when we were dancing. Now it is your turn. What have you been reading lately?”
“My time for reading has been limited a great deal these last few months,” said Mary.
“Ever since we left Longbourn, my life has been taken up with shopping and meeting new people. When I am at home, there are always little sewing projects that need attention, such as adding embroidery to my new gowns.”
“Will you tell me more about your home, Longbourn, then?” Lord Appleby asked. “I have heard that it is very different to your new home of Lockwood.”
Mary gave a short bark of a laugh. “That is an understatement, my Lord,” she said.
“Longbourn is not small by any means. In fact, it was the third largest home in our neighborhood. Even so, it is nothing to Lockwood, which is the largest, grandest home I have ever seen, far more than I imagined was possible. Nevertheless, I miss Longbourn a great deal.”
The conversation that ensued was one of the most honest conversations Mary had ever experienced. Somehow, Lord Appleby was able to induce her to speak sincerely rather than politely, and he responded with undisguised understanding.
The conversation even continued through supper, since he insisted on sitting near her as they ate. When supper was drawing to a close, Mary considered staying at the ball after all, but despite Lord Appleby’s pleasant company, her headache was still hurting her a great deal.
As she took her leave just before the dancing was set to resume, he took her hand and bowed over it, saying, “Thank you for an extraordinarily pleasant conversation.”