Pride and Prejudice Extended Conflict

_Well, yes, this is the long-awaited sequel. Twice as long and probably far too intricate for a simple fanfic. Um, you'll be the judges of that. _

_This was quite a beast; it took me two months to write properly, so I appreciate any constructive criticism :) I hope you enjoyed Extended Courtesy and I hope you'll enjoy this one as well._

_I would like to thank the reviewers of Ext. Court. for being so encouraging and lovely. This sequel is because of you and for you._

_Now, I might write a third installment depending on what I can come up with i.e. Mary and Capt Denny's future adventures. We shall see :)_

_Note 1: This can be read independently I guess, but it would help reading Ext. Courtesy quite a lot.  
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_Note 2: I changed the temporal scheme a bit; an entire month passes between the Netherfield Ball and Mr. Collins' proposal, not just three days as per book. You'll see why (hint:sprained ankle).  
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_Enjoy!  
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* * *

Despite calling on the Bennets twice during the last gloomy days of November, Capt Denny was not able to actually see or speak to Miss Mary Bennet on either occasion. She was, as of Netherfield Ball, confined to her bed with an unfortunate sprained ankle for which he felt at least partially to blame.

Any other sister in the family would have requested she be brought down from her chamber during the visits and installed comfortably in an armchair in the drawing room so she may take part in the conversation, but not Mary.

Not only was she very pleased to have an excuse to be waited on hand and foot, although she would scarcely admit to it, but she was also particularly glad that she did not need to adhere to any social obligations during her "repose". She could stay in bed all day and read to her heart's content and not be bothered by anyone. She was indeed saddened by the prospect of not being able to attend service or take long walks in the afternoon, but she kept her books of theological theory close at hand and whenever she felt cast out of her usual routine, she would calmly peruse them, thinking herself much elevated.

In fact, two weeks into her rest, the physical pain had subsided and she was only enjoying the comforts of her confinement.

Capt Denny, however, did not know that there was little pain or injury to be suffered. Although of an imperfect conscience, he felt quite guilty for having "deprived" Miss Bennet of what he believed was most desired by a young lady at that age; society.

He had come to realize that Mary was very much different from the young ladies of her generation in that she was a great deal less cheerful and amiable with those around her, but even she, he supposed, must feel the injustice of having to be a recluse for a month.

Therefore, he assumed that, on the two occasions he had called on her family to inquire of her health, she had simply refused to see him.

He did not suspect that Mary was far from harbouring any grudge. Her ill-disposition was a constant of her nature and not a direct consequence of his "mistreatment".

It was only he, in any case, that thought of it as "mistreatment". He had forgotten himself in staying with her alone in that room for an entire evening and he felt not a little bit ridiculous. Whatever imaginary blame he prevailed upon himself masked the increasing sensation that he had behaved like a fool and that he had humiliated himself.

He had dreaded Mr. Bennet's stern rebuke at having so poorly taken care of his daughter, but much to his surprise and displeasure, the entire family had not batted an eyelid about the entire affair. They had welcomed him into their home without any qualms.

Mrs. Bennet had been eager to have Kitty speak to him, because she knew he was fonder of her than all the others and Mr. Bennet had retired to his study after several pleasantries and dry observations on the war and Spencer Perceval's egregious policies.

It had been two very uneventful and peaceful afternoons, disturbed only by what he believed was Mary's refusal to forgive him. This coupled with the family's apparent ignorance of his distress made him rather angry with himself, although he could not explain why.

On the one hand, he did earnestly wish to be on good terms with the third Miss Bennet because he was liked wherever he went and he felt it necessary to maintain the status quo; on the other hand, he wanted to have his remorse commanded and made public and not taken for granted or considered nonexistent. He would have actually preferred a reprimanding from the father, which would have given him the chance to exhibit those noble feelings and apologize.

Instead there was no apologizing or explaining to be had as the Bennets buried the entire ordeal under a veil of silence, and he was trapped in the same ambiguous state of having slighted someone and having been slighted himself.

That is not to say the Captain was tormented by this inner conflict day and night, but it did occasionally occur to him that things had not been entirely settled with the Bennets and Mary, in particular.

Towards the ending of December, however, and well after Christmas, Capt Denny had reason to meet with the Bennets once more.

Shocking news had spread throughout Meryton that Charlotte Lucas had accepted the hand of none other than Mr. Collins, Mr. Bennet's fastidious cousin, the same who was rumoured to have called upon his next of kin only to find a proper wife among his cousins.

Although Capt Denny suspected the Bennet sisters were more relieved than grieved at the announcement of the engagement, he could not imagine the parents being very much pleased.

Lord and Lady Lucas were throwing a Ball in honour of their eldest daughter marrying and they had had the audacity, or at least it was believed Mr. Collins had, to invite their neighbours, the Bennets, as well.

Much to the surprise of the neighbourhood, Mrs. Bennet had declared she would be "more than happy to attend". She was not about to admit defeat and appear distressed at the loss of a suitor, not when she believed it possible to still win the battle in the end.

Lady Lucas in her turn had replied that she was glad to bear witness to such exemplary Christian virtues displayed by her gracious neighbours.

Not since the War of the Roses had two houses been more hostile and belligerent towards one another.

Capt Denny had been invited to attend as well and while he was not very partial to spending an entire evening watching and listening to Mr. Collins bask in his glory, he was curious to see the Bennets and Lucases at loggerheads. He was also expecting to dance with both Miss Howard and Kitty Bennet. Perhaps he would finally choose whom to court more vigorously. And perhaps he would even get the chance to speak to Mary again and put the Netherfield Ball behind him.

* * *

Although it was a rather wet and stormy winter evening, the entire neighbourhood and Mr. Bingley himself, accompanied by his usual friends and sisters, made their punctual arrival at Lucas Lodge, disproving Mrs. Bennet's assumption that only one or two families at the most would attend.

Most of the guests had come for Sir William Lucas who had become a fixture at every gathering and a very admirable friend and companion to many a family head. He was appreciated everywhere for his artless simplicity and genuine kindness and there was no other man in the county who deserved to be relieved from his daughter more than he.

Mr. Collins, however, assumed that the honourable attendants had found out about his enviable patron, the exceedingly generous Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and did not dare to incur the wrath of such a superior woman by offending her chosen clergyman. He also believed that the conversations he had interrupted at Netherfield Ball were finally paying off.

In any case, the number of young men and women present was great and Mrs. Bennet was only able to remark, as she stepped in the hallway with her daughters and husband,

"Well! Of course they are throwing a wasteful Ball in the middle of winter! It is not every day that a miracle happens! I wonder they did not throw a service! Because it _is_ a miracle that Charlotte Lucas has found a groom. And one so ready to content himself with so little!"

"Oh, do refrain from adding injury to the sacred in your invective against Charlotte, mamma," Mary quickly commented, glaring at the woman who had obliged her to make the effort of getting out of bed.

Jane had helped her about the house in the last week and she was able to walk normally once more, but she was very much convinced that one night at the Ball would render her motionless once again.

"And perhaps you will lower your voice and consider your words now that we are under their roof, mamma," Lizzie added, staring reproachfully at Mrs. Bennet. "Lady Lucas may not be in your favour, but Charlotte has always been our friend."

"Do not talk to me about that little hussy!"

"Mamma!" Lizzie interjected, scandalized. "Enough!"

"How typical of you, mother, to use such vulgar language, against a fellow Christian," Mary commented, shaking her head in reproof.

"No, Lizzie. She might've acted as gentle as a doe all these years because there was no marriage prospect in sight, but once she came across Mr. Collins, she became as sly as a fox! She did not even flinch when she sacrificed you and the rest of your sisters for a husband and you call her a friend!" Mrs. Bennet whispered ferociously, trying to hide the scowl forming on her face.

"A little bit dramatic, don't you think, mamma? She did not sacrifice anyone. Lizzie refused Mr. Collins' proposal. And you know the rest of us would have done the same," Jane told her, flushed with embarrassment.

"I do not care who refused who! The Lucases and your _dear_ friend Charlotte should have known better! Their estate is not entailed, is it?" Mrs. Bennet persisted, forcing a smile on her face as she saw Mr. and Mrs. Phillips approaching.

Jane and Lizzie both shared a sigh. The girls had heard so much of this argument at home and their mother had given this speech so many times that they did not even try to correct her anymore. They only hoped and prayed she would restrain herself for one evening.

They needn't have worried so much, however.

No matter the envy she harboured for her neighbours, Mrs. Bennet's attention was divided; both Mr. Bingley and a good portion of the militia were present. For the time being, she erased the frown from her face and kept silent, lest she should impede her daughters' securing a match. She took comfort in the idea that the young men present at the event were all there to admire and court her girls and that every single one of them was ten times the value of Mr. Collins.

Unfortunately, she too had to pay her congratulations to the happy pair and while her daughters and husband had been polite but carefully detached, Mrs. Bennet greeted Charlotte and her rather poor choice of a headdress with all the facetious contempt in the world. She did not even deign to look at Mr. Collins or accept to shake his hand, although she expected him to kiss hers and was infuriated when he did not. In return, she only patted the future bride on the shoulder and remarked in her usual voice,

"Oh, you always look better in new garments, Charlotte!"

Luckily, there were few other interactions to be had with the two for the rest of the evening as they were always required to walk about the rooms or toast or speak to some family or another. They were ubiquitous but strangely absent all the same.

Lizzie had made it her duty to apologize to her friend for her family's indiscretion, but Charlotte had dismissed it entirely since she was too happy or too well-accustomed to people making injurious remarks about her future husband to care.

"I fear there's more displeasure to come. As much as I am fond of her, Mary, urged by mamma of course, has threatened to play another one of her concertos in your honour," Lizzie warned her when she spied her sister eyeing the pianoforte.

That much was true. This was, as Mrs. Bennet had called it herself, their symbolic wedding gift to Mr. and Mrs. Collins. Unlike Lizzie who believed Mary would offend through a subpar performance, her mother believed she would offend through superiority of musical knowledge and taste.

Mary herself was oblivious to the task which she had been burdened with and only thought it natural to be asked to play at an event that required music.

Until she could have her turn at the pianoforte, however, she had to bear the company of Maria Lucas, who had, for some mysterious reason, retired to her corner of the room and was not letting her read her book in peace.

She supposed Miss Lucas had not been able to find either Kitty or Lydia to impart secrets to, since her two sisters were already dancing, so she had turned to Mary in the hopes that she would listen.

"Isn't it so very crowded, Mary? I daresay I've never seen our ballroom so crowded! There are so many young men and such pretty ladies! Half of the militia is here, to be sure. Maybe even more than half. Have you seen Captain Wickham? He looks so dashing tonight! He's already danced one dance with Miss King and one with Miss Howard, but it's your sister Lizzie he prefers, I can tell."

"Yes, it _is_ very crowded and noisy indeed. One is hardly able to read a line," Mary commented dryly. "I wish people could dance without opening their mouths. Actually, I wish all Balls were more quiet affairs."

"Oh, well, that would be rather dull, wouldn't it?"

Mary peered at her as if through a great fog.

"I do not mean people should never speak. I only think they should choose their words and speak more wisely. I hardly see how _that_ would be dull, unless incessant prattle is a refinement," she remarked, believing that she had made a very good point, but Maria was not really listening. She was bent on following an idea that had just occurred to her.

"Of course you are right, but consider! Couples could refrain from talking while dancing, but that would be the end of it, wouldn't it? The dance might be the only time they ever talked. They might never see each other again. For all we know, they've only just made their acquaintance. How cruel of us to subject them to silence! They must certainly talk while dancing!" she exclaimed, looking at the dancing couples with envy and regret.

She then glanced at Mary with such self-pity and misery, almost as if she were begging her to be kind, that the young woman's disparaging expression softened almost unconsciously and her displeasure was partially mollified, even though she could hardly understand the girl's sadness.

She moved closer to Maria and placed the book in her lap.

"There is no reason to look morose. Here, we may amuse ourselves and comment on this clever metaphor together. I've only just read it, but it's quite remarkable. I would require a second opinion. The entire thing is an allegory actually..." Mary began, patting her hand rather awkwardly, but Maria only sighed and turned away.

"What's the use of that if I am to have no happiness or pleasure? Charlotte is so lucky to be married! I am near twenty myself, Mary, and have yet to be courted!" she moaned. "Am I to wed at seven and twenty, like she? And no one's asked me to dance for so long because of her! As much as I dote on her, I cannot help but wonder. Young men do not wish to associate with her or with _me_. Oh, why is life so very unfair, Mary?"

Mary frowned, wrinkling her nose at the girl's exhibition. The mollified displeasure was mollified no longer, as well as her patience.

"Well, I don't think I can console you and I believe I am wanted by my mother in the other room," Mary suddenly spoke, rising unceremoniously.

Maria looked up surprised.

"Don't fret, Miss Lucas, I am sure all the young men will flock to you after Charlotte leaves for Hunsford," she added without a shred of malice. She was only vaguely indifferent.

As she made her way through the boisterous groups of young men and women without sparing them a single glance, she was noticed from afar by a certain Captain who rushed to speak to her.

It was not difficult for Capt Denny to recognize her among the throngs of people traipsing about, for she was the only one carrying a book under her arm and an impenetrable, almost impervious expression on her face. You could not tell whether she was content or upset; she seemed blasé about everything around her. Her dress was also less delicate and becoming on her figure despite being the same white frock that her sisters were wearing. It was not just a fleeting impression; Mary Bennet always wore her ball dresses with resentment and a hint of rebellion.

"Miss Bennet! I am very pleased to see you are so well. You have been quite absent from society."

Mary turned her head in surprise. Capt Denny was standing right before her, wearing his impeccable uniform and a wolfish grin.

She was momentarily at a loss for words because she had not expected to run into him so abruptly, but she quickly recovered.

"Oh, Capt Denny, you are on time. I might pass a flight of stairs on my way out. You have come no doubt to sprain my other ankle, for good measure," she remarked contentiously.

Capt Denny only chuckled in good-humour and dismissed her provoking tone.

"Come now, Miss Bennet, I see you are walking splendidly. You have recovered in good health, I hope."

"Not thanks to you, I believe. Although I am sure I was in your prayers every night," Mary replied in the same tone, although he could trace something akin to mirth in her eyes.

"I did call on your family _twice_ in the last month to convince you of my interest for your welfare but you did not deign to see me. You do preach solicitude and humility, don't you? I believe I exercised both," he defended himself, secretly glad that he finally had the opportunity to do so.

"Did not _deign_ to see you?" she echoed, perplexed. "Was I expected to be brought down from my rest just to hear you make some feeble and unnecessary excuses concerning what I consider to be a fait accompli or were you anxious to have me witness your lovemaking to Kitty? In both cases, I am sure my mother and sister rewarded your _kindness_ more than I ever could."

Capt Denny, however, did not feel the least bit rewarded.

"I was neither inclined to make excuses nor was I looking for an audience, Miss Bennet. I simply wanted to voice my concern. I certainly did not call with the purpose of romancing your sister."

"Well, what one plans to do at home does not always match the outcome, does it?"

He was about to protest, but she interrupted him quickly.

"Capt Denny you needn't explain yourself to me. I am not against you courting my sister, as you well know from our previous repartee. But let me assure you, you did not call on us only because you felt responsible for my injury. You came because you were also expecting some form of praise for your generous heart and noble spirit, both of which my family already think you possess. And you have my amiable tolerance. Is that not enough or is it my personal thank you that you require?" she asked derisively, crossing her arms.

The young man stared at her incredulously. She had pegged him so well that it was either mere luck or he had severely underestimated her powers of observation once again. The fact that she had been almost cruelly accurate did not, however, deter him from attempting to deny it.

"No, of course not," he managed to say at length. "I do not crave any sort of compensation. I don't believe I even mentioned or alluded to – he paused – I only hoped that you would accept my apology for the trouble I've caused you. And since we never had the chance to speak after Netherfield, I was not sure whether you had."

Mary looked at him rather confused.

"I never assumed you yearned for my forgiveness so ardently. If so, you have wasted two very good visits on nothing at all and believe yourself much more important than you really are. I do not waste many a good evening thinking of you or your conduct, Capt Denny. I am sure it would be much more profitable if you did that yourself. As for your apology, I do not forgive you for there is nothing to forgive, except perhaps the excessive pride you exhibited in calling on my family in the first place. Now you may resume professing your sincere affection to the various ladies of the Ball, including my sister, without worrying on my account anymore."

Capt Denny meant to object, but she quickly raised her hand.

"No, I insist. Who knows what _else_ might happen should you insist on prevailing your politeness upon me. Let us avoid each other as much as possible."

With that, she curtsied hastily and walked out of his sight before he could address her another word, leaving him thoroughly confused and frustrated. It was safe to say he was rarely on the receiving end of reticence.

* * *

When her turn at the pianoforte finally came about, Mary was only too glad for the distraction. Sitting by her mother's side while she gossiped dispassionately about the Lucases with the other mothers of the parish was excruciatingly taxing.

She settled herself at the instrument with anticipation.

Sir William and Lady Lucas were watching her with apprehension, knowing her to be fastidious in her musical choices. Charlotte and Mr. Collins were deep in discussion and not paying much attention, while her two eldest sisters were present at Mr. Bingley's side. Even Mr. Darcy was seen standing in a corner. The other young men and women of the ball were scattered here and there, mildly amused and curious to witness her performance.

Some knew Mary by reputation and were expecting her to be as pedantic and ceremonious as was humanly possible, which could be quite enjoyable if one had a sense of humour. Others were simply waiting for it to pass quickly so that they could return to more pleasurable matters and a small number of accomplished young ladies were feigning suppressed disdain at having to be preceded by someone so talentless.

One of these young ladies was the well-known Miss Howard who could hardly wait to show the audience what an exemplary performance actually entailed.

She was accompanied by Capt Denny himself who had made sure to be present at Mary's playing not only to show the haughty young woman that he had been wrongly accused at Netherfield Ball, but also to better admire Miss Howard's lithe figure and listen to her rather acrimonious remarks directed at Miss Bennet's "execrable" performance.

Now that he had been so carelessly rebuffed by Miss Bennet, he did not mind partaking in the mocking, at least at the side of someone as confident in her own abilities as Miss Howard.

Although his heart was not entirely in it, he did laugh quietly whenever she made a gesture or laughed herself.

They were standing by one of the tall windows and though they were half-hidden by a curtain, Mary, whose eyesight became quite sharp whenever she wore her spectacles, instantly saw them jeering at her playing.

It did not help that she had chosen the rather new and political Beethoven's Piano Sonata no. 26 in E-flat Major, Op. 81a, or _Les Adieux_, which in the wrong hands could turn into an unmitigated disaster. Not only was its tone and theme inappropriate for the felicitous event, but it was not the easiest piano piece to play or listen to and it soon became obvious that neither the player nor the audience could digest it.

She only managed to get through half of it before she skipped right to the ending and finished off under the impatient glares of several young ladies waiting their turn.

She was applauded and praised with lukewarm adjectives by the Lucases and her family, but received little to no attention from the others. She did not dwell much on their opinion, however, for she knew that she had chosen a rather original and difficult piece for herself and that she had ploughed through it rather admirably, considering it had yet to be made popular. She only needed more practice. This was not the same catastrophe that had occurred during the Netherfield Ball. She had been vastly superior, she told herself. She would, in any case, forbid herself from thinking otherwise. She could not afford another public display of emotion.

With that in mind, she tried to ignore the memory of Capt Denny and Miss Howard laughing impudently in the corner.

* * *

Halfway through the Ball the guests were gathered for a small supper in the dining room and there was a bit of strife between the young men who did not manage to sit down next to the lady of their choice until they noticed that none of them were enjoying that privilege; most of the ladies, young and old, by the will of Lady Lucas, were sitting together at the first half of the table and the gentlemen had to content themselves with the other half. Hence, there were two centres of conversation at the table, male and female, which clashed and collided at times, but never shared the same subject or saw eye to eye.

Among the ladies condemned to speak to her own sex at a Ball, Miss Howard found herself seated next to Mary Bennet of all people.

And while neither was inclined to speak due to their shared animosity concerning their musical abilities, Miss Howard at least attempted some polite pleasantries, thinking she should not lower herself in her own eyes by appearing rude and malcontent.

"I am very surprised you chose such a novel and difficult piece, Miss Bennet. That was a very brave effort. You played well," she spoke, her smile stretching across her face with practiced serenity.

"I thank you for appreciating the level of complexity, but there was no bravery involved in my effort, only a sense of satisfaction, Miss Howard," Mary replied coldly.

"Either way, it was an effort put to good use. I am sure many would profit from more Beethoven renditions. I myself will continue your effort," she pressed on, wishing to have the last word.

"Indeed, Beethoven ought to feel very indebted to you, then," Mary responded just as nonchalantly.

Miss Howard decided to breach a new subject and attack her from an angle she was sure to win.

"Yes, well, it does not always pay to be the performer, does it, Miss Bennet? I myself need my share of music and dance. I hope you will not only sit behind the pianoforte. It is a pity not to enjoy a bit of dancing. After all, it is the most genuine form of loyalty one can show towards music."

Mary, who was well-known for never engaging in what she described to be "irrational" behaviour, paled slightly at the allusion. She had very little sympathy for dancing and she was rarely if ever asked to partake in one; therefore she did not appreciate being constantly singled out due to a personal preference. Nor could she stand to hear such slander uttered against music; how could such a celestial art allow comparison to something so narrow and unimaginative as dancing?

With the additional injury of being laughed at by her and Capt Denny fresh in mind, Mary decided it would not be altogether unchristian to give her a taste of her own medicine.

A small smirk appeared at the corner of her lips.

"I do not know if I would call it that. Surely, learning an instrument is the more genuine form. I myself do not care for the amusement. I suppose it does not suit my disposition. My sisters, however, dance on my behalf as well. Indeed, I do not feel I miss the sport when I see them partnered so well in every dance."

"Oh, yes, to be sure, they leave no young men behind for the rest of us," Miss Howard agreed reluctantly. She was certainly not one of the young ladies left without a partner, but she could indulge the notion.

"Kitty and Lydia in particular are a force to be reckoned with. They flirt and bewitch left and right. I am glad, though, that Kitty has made a more serious conquest with Capt Denny. He is quite taken with her. Mother is very hopeful in their regard."

Miss Howard's smile faltered slightly at the mention of Capt Denny's name.

"Conquest? Truly?" she asked, feigning indifference.

"I too am loath to use such barbaric terms to describe it but it is nothing short of it. He has danced with her the better half of this Ball and has eyes for no one else. He's called on us several times to let her know of his affection."

Miss Howard's cheeks reddened with jealousy. It did not help that everything Mary had stated so implacably was true. Capt Denny had only stood by her side during the piano recitals and had danced only two dances with her. She had tried not to notice how he kept migrating towards the Bennet girls, particularly Kitty, because she believed he did not want to seem thoroughly attached to her, for fear of wakening her father's suspicions. He did not much approve of the militia. But now that the situation was presented to her clearly by someone as prying and watchful as Mary Bennet, she could not continue to deny that she did not feel at the centre of Capt Denny's attentions anymore. She had heard he had visited the Bennets twice in the last month, but she had not suspected the attachment was forming right under her nose.

Most of all, it incensed her that she was giving satisfaction to a Bennet by allowing herself to be affected by him.

Capt Denny, after all, was far beneath her socially and morally, and she would be humiliating herself to believe otherwise.

She vowed to let him know as soon as he came back to her.

* * *

That opportunity came quicker than expected, for as soon as the dining was over and the couples were out and about again, Capt Denny, growing increasingly bored with Kitty, decided to direct his attentions towards Miss Howard again, for fear of neglecting her.

Yet when he came to her chair and spoke to her as affably as before, taking her by the hand, she retracted it rather suddenly and told him with reproach in her voice,

"Now, let us not be coy, Capt Denny. As much as I value your company, I do not wish to entertain your hopes while another suffers. You had better return to your _lovely_ Miss Bennet before she or anyone else gets the impression that you are fickle."

Capt Denny was considerably crestfallen at hearing this sudden speech from the otherwise affectionate Miss Howard. He was momentarily confused as to which Miss Bennet she was referring to and made the mistake of stating his dilemma,

"Of which Miss Bennet are you speaking, if I may ask?"

Miss Howard's eyes widened in shock and contempt. There was _more_ than one Bennet girl he was seducing? Outrageous! How had she permitted his advances under such circumstances?

"Why, the one you are so clearly attached to, indeed! You follow her wherever she goes and you make no secret of it. Now you claim there is _another_? How many Bennets are in love with you then, Captain?"

Capt Denny quickly realized there was no way out of this argument. He had been caught in his own "innocent" machinations and swindled out of a profitable match by someone who had revealed his intentions to Miss Howard, for the young lady had been as oblivious to his inclinations as the next man, being much too occupied with her own person to notice; therefore, the idea must have been induced by some third party.

"None that I know of, my dear lady," he replied, trying to appear composed. "And you had better tell me who has told you such wicked lies so that I may reprimand them properly for putting such thoughts into your head."

"What does it matter who told me? What matters is whether there is evidence to corroborate it. And I see that there is, because you are more concerned about my source than the notion itself!" Miss Howard countered, growing red.

Capt Denny tried urgently to think of who the culprit might be so that he might discredit them.

He considered the father, Mr. Howard, who was admittedly not very partial to his field of work or position, but the man would have no reason to bring up the Bennets if he wished to prevent their union. He could simply make sure his daughter never approached him again.

Then there were the Bennets themselves. The mother was, as far as he knew, ignorant of his connection to Miss Howard, as was Kitty, and the latter would not have exaggerated his fondness for her to such a degree because she had more than one admirer to please and he was neither the first nor the last.

As he watched Miss Howard rise from her chair and leave his side, his eyes fell upon a figure across the room, her face half-hidden by the covers of a book.

And as she looked back at him with the same impenetrable expression as before he realized the answer was all too clear and the culprit was standing right in front of him. Who else had enough motive and knowledge to conspire against him so successfully? She must have seen him laughing with Miss Howard during her performance and this was her cleverly-crafted revenge.

For the second time that evening, Mary Bennet was the source of his frustration. Only, he was downright angry this time around.

If she wished to inflict damage despite his best intentions, he would retaliate in the same fashion.

Spurning Miss Howard even more, he made sure to dance the next two dances with Kitty Bennet which was an easy feat to accomplish as she never really sat down and once they were safely out of earshot, resting against one of the pillars of the ballroom, he took to inquiring her of Mary. He had not yet decided how he would serve his blow, but it had to reverberate in ways that would affect her as much as hers had affected him.

"Isn't it so wonderful to just dance and put aside any differences? Who cares really if Charlotte is the one getting engaged?" Kitty said, laughing at the sight of her and Mr. Collins standing very primly in the front of the room.

"Yes, very invigorating. I'm sure your own family can hardly remember the cause of their distress anymore," Capt Denny agreed.

"Well, mamma is still thoroughly vexed but she's always like that. And papa does not even care, really. Lydia and I are more amused than anything. Poor Charlotte does not know how dull that man really is."

"Hasn't he stayed with the Lucases for over a month? She must have some idea."

"Yes, well, Charlotte was desperate enough to marry whoever proposed and I can't blame her, at her age."

"What about your other sisters? Were any of them hoping to wed Mr. Collins?" he asked smiling with intent.

"Oh God, no! Jane and Mr. Bingley are practically engaged and Lizzie could barely stand him. She always made fun of him. I think only Mary looked up to him, but they are so similar she might as well. She was the only one who would listen to him prattle on about his duty at Rosings. But even she got tired of him. We _all_ did," Kitty informed him, gazing up at him with an amused expression that hid a question; did he doubt her feelings for him?

Captain Denny, however, was only too glad to be made privy to such knowledge. The notion that Mary Bennet was or had been partial to Mr. Collins was so perfectly logical that he wondered he hadn't thought of it before.

"Perhaps not all of you. Miss Mary seems to be in a melancholy state. She must regret the loss of such a suitor," he remarked, hoping Kitty would speak of it more openly.

"Oh, Mary is certainly not melancholy! She's always in a bad mood, no matter the event! Although – well, since you've mentioned it, maybe she is a bit sour about it, but she'll never admit to it," Kitty told him conspiratorially.

"I see. Well, it must be embarrassing to harbour any sort of feelings for Mr Collins, I imagine," Capt Denny added maliciously.

"Oh, yes, even Charlotte knows that, so she's being very quiet about her reasons to marry him," Kitty agreed, enjoying the subject very much.

"Although I must say, your sister might've been better matched for him. They both share the same brand of pedantry."

"They do, don't they? Well, let's hope there's another Mr. Collins for her in the future so she may stop sulking around ballrooms and boring everyone to death with her music. I don't think she knows how dull she really is," Kitty commented, happy to vent her grievances regarding her sister.

Then, thinking she might have been too harsh, she added,

"Well, _I_ don't mind it all that much because we are sisters, but others have noticed how she behaves at Balls."

"Does she really hate them that much, Balls?" Capt Denny asked, encouraging her to speak further.

"Oh, she positively loathes them! She dreads dancing – do you know I haven't seen her dance since we were twelve and I was practicing with her in the drawing room? It is true! She is hopeless."

Captain Denny glanced towards the part of the ballroom where Mary could be seen slightly hunched over her book, one elbow leaning on the table next to her.

"She has not danced in such a long time?" he asked, an idea forming in his head.

"Well, I can't say she's _ever_ truly danced, because no one's asked her. You cannot practice with your sister and call it dancing. I daresay she has forgotten the steps entirely," Kitty explained, shaking her head in pity.

Capt Denny was only half-listening. He was baffled he had not noticed it beforehand; Mary had always paraded her greatest weakness as a strength, as something to be admired when it could be used against her so easily.

He was pleased. Not only did he have the valuable information that she was not indifferent to Mr. Collins, but he was also in possession of the means to make her expose herself in ways more humiliating than she could ever concoct for him.

Soon after, Kitty was asked to dance by another red coat, Harry Chamberlayne, and she was eager to accept for he was twice as handsome as her former partner.

As for Capt Denny, he watched patiently, as a true man of warfare would, and waited for the right moment to attack.

Firstly, he decided it would be wiser to act when Miss Bennet was not alone; namely when she was in the company of her mother, so that she would find no means of escaping. Mrs. Bennet would surely coax her into dancing, no matter what.

Until then he kept close and observed her from afar, ignoring the farfetchedness of the entire ordeal and thinking only of his future satisfaction. The young woman was in need of a good lesson. He had never met anyone more conceited and ill-favoured in his entire life, certainly not among the fairer sex of his acquaintance. What was more infuriating was that she was among the least entitled to this kind of conduct. She had nothing in terms of beauty, grace, good manners, charm, wealth, accomplishments, or even morals, as she did not shrink from imparting unmerited judgement wherever she saw fit. She was indeed a "great reader", what one called a "blue ribbon" with a religious inclination, but she had nothing else to recommend her and dry intellectual virtue was not very alluring in a young woman.

Yet despite all of this, she kept her head up high and ignored any belittlement. She believed in her own abilities to an absurd extent.

Ensconced in his thoughts, he nearly missed his opportunity.

Mary had once again made the mistake of approaching her mother for some careless matter. Now was his chance. He had to strike before she had time to leave.

Spotting the future Mr. and Mrs. Collins standing as primly as before at the top of the room, whispering to each other, he directed himself to their corner.

Once there, he introduced himself again and repeated his congratulations.

"I fear many have said it before me, but you are a very lucky man, Mr. Collins to possess such an exemplary partner; she lacks nothing in charms and good-nature. Miss Lucas is a treasure indeed," Capt Denny said after the cordial greetings were over.

Before Charlotte could utter a word, Mr. Collins smiled graciously and spoke, resting a fat palm across Miss Lucas' back,

"I value your compliment, Sir, as it is also directed at me, for I was the one who chose such a remarkable woman to be my companion. I am very much aware of her attributes, Mr. Denny. I have always said so to myself – even before I knew her well –"

"It's Captain, actually –"

"Even before I had truly come to know her, I was certain she would do me well, for she shares my character and humility. From a single glance you can see how chaste and demure she is, for you cannot hide such purity of heart," Mr. Collins continued, waving his other arm at Charlotte, as if trying to single out her virtue.

"This, unfortunately, does not apply to all the ladies of our acquaintance," he added, glancing towards Lydia Bennet who was laughing her head off, drinking punch next to an officer.

"Please, Sir, your standards are egregious and you are exaggerating. I'm afraid I do not meet such expectations and I would only disappoint," Charlotte replied softly towards her future husband.

"He is not in the slightest, Miss Lucas. You are a paragon of good will and virtue and your spouse could not have chosen better. Although I am a stranger to the neighbourhood, I hear there is no one superior," Capt Denny persisted, earning a very satisfied smirk from Mr. Collins.

He was tickled pink by the young man's adulations, but Charlotte, who was neither used to nor cared for such compliments felt put out of ease. She did not know Capt Denny very well, having only spoken to him sparsely and usually as part of a larger group of officers, but she sensed he was trying to flatter Mr. Collins more than her own person.

"Which is why," Capt Denny continued boldly, "I would like to have the honour of your hand for the next dance. I hope Mr. Collins won't mind if I steal his fiancée one more time. I noticed that Mr. Bingley has already taken his turn with you and I do not wish to be last."

"Oh yes, he has! And Colonel Forster too!" Mr. Collins exclaimed proudly before Charlotte could say anything.

"Everyone wishes to dance with my dear Charlotte! Certainly I would not mind. I myself cannot engage in too much dancing and I'm afraid my little bird is suffering the deprivation," he cooed fondly.

Charlotte coughed and looked away embarrassed, aware of the fact that he had been more than inclined to dance with Elizabeth at Netherfield Ball.

"That is nonsense, Sir! Surely, you ought to dance as much as any man," Capt Denny protested, suppressing a chuckle. "I would feel ill at ease to leave you without a partner and there are so many to choose from."

With that, he turned towards the ballroom and gestured to the other end.

"I know there has been a fall out between you and the Bennets, Sir, but I believe such a fortuitous event should erase all injuries. I was sent by Mrs. Bennet expressly to attempt to reconcile with you. She and Miss Mary Bennet are waiting for you to come and speak to them properly."

Mr. Collins' bulging eyes turned towards the Bennets' corner and then stared back at Capt Denny in disbelief.

"They wish to reconcile?" he almost squeaked.

Charlotte herself looked beyond surprised. Lizzie had told her that Mrs. Bennet was bent on acting as unsociable as possible that evening. Perhaps there had been an unprecedented change of heart?

"Very much. They all feel ill at ease knowing they are not in your good graces. In fact, Miss Mary in particular has spoken to me how much she regrets your absence. The cousins miss you, Mr. Collins. And I know that you are a man of honour and benevolence. You would want to make peace with them," Capt Denny concluded slyly.

"Miss Mary?" he echoed confused, trying to remember which sister he was referring to. He recalled a young, ugly-looking girl with a constant scowl at the corner of her lips who always sat next to him and tried to engage him in theological disputes.

She had not been his favourite.

However, not wishing to appear insensitive and forgetful, he nodded his head vigorously.

"Yes, she is a _very_ clever girl. She was always kind and well-behaved. A bit better than the others, I will allow."

"Well then, what better way to show you bear no resentment for their ill treatment than by asking her to dance? I am sure she would like nothing better. She is always without partner and it would be a very kind gesture. Her mother would be forever grateful."

Mr. Collins, who by now had turned a very unbecoming shade of red, was caught between nook and cranny. On the one hand, he was very reluctant to dance with a plain young girl of such low descent. If anyone should have begged for his forgiveness it should have been Elizabeth herself. On the other hand, he was in danger of appearing callous and unfeeling not only to Capt Denny but to the rest of his guests, because he imagined that since Mrs. Bennet had confided in this young man with her wish, there were plenty others who knew of her intention to reconcile and expected him to do the honourable thing. For what other business should the others have but to observe the on-going dispute between him and the Bennets?

As Mr. Collins walked precipitately towards the two Bennets, rehearsing in his head what he would say to each of them and how he should best accept their apologies, all the while conscious that everyone was watching him (they were not), Charlotte and Capt Denny awaited for the next dance to begin.

"The only reason I did not oppose your scheme, Captain," Charlotte whispered to him, "is because you seem to be well-intentioned and I would like to see matters mitigated between Mr. Collins and my friends, but as far as Miss Mary Bennet is concerned, I do not think she will accept his request."

Capt Denny smiled graciously and nodded his head.

"Perhaps. But something tells me she will," he replied, watching Mr. Collins from afar. "In any case, we might as well see how it goes."

And that they did. They saw Mr. Collins approach them cordially, his hand raised above his head as he stopped to bow ceremoniously. The two women curtsied, looking rather surprised.

They had just been talking about him, not moments ago.

"I am sorry that I cannot comfort her, mamma. It's not my fault Maria Lucas is as interesting as a garden snail," Mary was telling her mother heatedly.

"Mary, if you show disdain she'll think we are still upset over Mr. Collins! Do you want them to believe that?"

"Of course not! But we are not upset about him. In any case, I am not."

"It doesn't matter whether you are or aren't! The important thing is not to give the idea that we've been slighted! Mr. Collins should not have the satisfaction of knowing that he – oh, goodness! Oh, good Lord!" she exclaimed all of a sudden.

"What is the matter?"

"He is coming towards us! Oh, he is coming towards us!" she shrieked into her fan, looking down. "And he is smiling! Oh, he means to apologize, I am sure of it! Quick, Mary, look amiable! Do _not_ look upset, I tell you!"

A short exchange followed, during which Mrs. Bennet tried her best to suppress her shock at hearing Mr. Collins speak to them in such cordial terms. She even seemed humbled by his sudden amiableness. He had never been friendlier.

In truth, he was not being any warmer than before; there was a concealed vanity in his speech and his smile was forced, but having been ignored all evening, Mrs. Bennet was ready to turn a deaf ear.

Neither expressed any apologies for they were both waiting for the other one to begin, but both attributed their reluctance to the other's shyness.

As for Mary Bennet, she was quite nervous herself. While Kitty and Capt Denny had exaggerated her attachment, she was aware that not weeks ago she had hoped he might turn his attention to her since Elizabeth had refused him.

He happened to be the first man in her life that was not only tolerably well-read (they were both keen on Fordyce's sermons), but also duteous towards God and His works. It was true he had his many defects, but nothing she could not improve.

He had disappointed her in choosing Charlotte so quickly when she had been by his side longer, but she was above expressing regret on that account, because whatever sadness she felt was infinitely smaller than the contempt she directed at the both of them for making such a display of their affections at a public Ball.

Therefore, when he turned towards her and noted how well she looked that evening and how remarkably kind she had been when he stayed at Longbourn, Mary felt both affronted and pleased.

Capt Denny watched with carefully concealed glee how her entire face went as white as a sheet and her expression turned to that of horror as Mr. Collins asked her to dance.

He saw how she suddenly blushed, paled, and blushed again. He saw her hands fidget and tremble and he was happy to see her look so discomposed. Her mother was urging her from behind, almost pushing her into Mr. Collins' arms.

Capt Denny smirked to himself. He could almost hear Mrs. Bennet thinking how natural it should be for Mr. Collins to ask her daughter to dance since he _obviously_ preferred the Bennets.

The dance was about to start and yet Mary was not moving; she was standing there, her palm in Mr. Collins' hand, her mind stuck on the insurmountable dilemma in front of her.

Mr. Collins had to apply pressure to her fingers in order for her to wake up.

She let herself be dragged towards the other couples as if she were walking in her dream. Her complexion had turned quite green. She was looking straight ahead, her eyes devoid of expression, fear overcoming her every rational impulse.

"Oh, look, Miss Bennet! My darling Charlotte has saved us a spot!" Mr. Collins bellowed, pointing at Miss Lucas who was waving at them both, looking as puzzled as everyone else to see Mary Bennet join the dancing.

"Let us be quick and stand next to her and Capt Denny before another couple takes our place," he said, pulling her impetuously after him.

"Capt Denny?" she echoed, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

But it was too late to draw any conclusions or think any further, because the next thing she knew she was standing next to Charlotte Lucas who was watching her with interest and everyone else was already moving since the music had started.

It was, mercifully, not a _Grimstock_, as had been sung previously, but _The_ _Guidman of Ballangigh_, which was considerably slower and less demanding.

Although she recognized the dance, Mary knew even before she had walked up to the dance floor, that she would be very incompetent. She remembered some of the steps and she was sure that she could follow the others eventually, but she was very clumsy and maladroit and only a miracle could make her appear the least bit graceful.

The pain was double, for not only was she humiliating herself in front of everyone else, but Mr. Collins was there to witness it as well.

The dance required her at first to take Mr. Collins' hand and walk briskly, in step with the music, around Charlotte and Capt Denny and back to their previous station, which was not such a difficult task in itself, although she was not very light on her feet.

She jutted her chin, scrunched her lips defiantly and looked up at the ceiling, praying it to be over soon, as she sprinted and jumped across the floor, feeling as silly and foolish as a pony at the fair. She would have taken another sprained ankle at this point.

Capt Denny was watching her amused as she circled him, unaware of his presence, too much engrossed in the sheer effort of keeping her legs from making a wrong turn to notice him.

She looked as if she were balancing several heavy tomes atop her head.

Charlotte looked on in sympathy. She had no means of alleviating the girl's pain. Her husband-to-be was impervious to anyone else's feelings and did not even notice her increasing discomfort.

He only smiled jovially and winked at her as he made her spin back to her place rather precipitately.

"Your dancing is exemplary, Miss Bennet! Just follow my lead!" he half-shouted at her, wrenching her fingers as they circled Charlotte and Capt Denny once more.

His remark felt more cynical than earnest and Mary blushed angrily, biting her cheek and clenching her hand around his.

The only silver-lining seemed to be that Mr. Collins was himself a terrible dancer and therefore it was harder to notice Mary's blunders. Nevertheless, several couples were eyeing her curiously and most of them were not hiding their guffaws.

Mary at this point could not even hear the music anymore. She was overcome with anger, but she kept her position firm, even though all she wanted to do was run away.

She only became aware of Capt Denny's presence when the other half of the dance required her to dance with him. And this half was the difficult one, the one she had been dreading.

She had to step forward and swing her hips and arms in time with the music as he would do the same and then they would have to join hands and sprint across from Charlotte and Mr. Collins.

When their eyes met, a sudden cold clarity enveloped her and she realized right away how much he was enjoying the spectacle. There was mirth in every line of his face and he made little effort to conceal it.

To his credit, there was nothing malicious in it, but Mary perceived it quite differently.

From the moment she had heard Mr. Collins say his name a dreadful thought had entered her head and now it was confirmed.

She walked, more than danced towards him and he took her hands in his. She felt as if she was underwater, somewhere very cold in the Atlantic, and she could not swim towards the surface.

When her eyes trained on him again she was glaring with such animosity that Capt Denny almost betrayed his mask of nonchalance. All the anger she had previously felt was now directed entirely at him and he did not even appear to mind it; in fact he was not batting an eyelid! He looked as innocent as a child, as if it was all in her head. This was so infuriating to her that she forgot herself momentarily and yanked her hand away from his as she walked around Charlotte after which she refused to take it again as she spun towards Mr. Collins.

Her body was trembling with rage. How dare he put her through such a burlesque mockery! Because it was he, she was sure now, who had given Mr. Collins the idea. It was he who had planned to humiliate her!

She bit into her lip to suppress a reaction.

Mr. Collins took her by the arm as the four of them joined hands and came forwards, rotating on the spot.

"You look quite flushed, Miss Bennet! Are you enjoying yourself?" Mr. Collins asked, grinning from ear to ear, thinking that she was flustered by his presence.

"I – yes. No. Of course, I am," she muttered incoherently, staring at Capt Denny.

Whenever she and Capt Denny touched hands or he happened to take her by the waist lightly, she would cringe and feel very hot and cold at the same time, which she both loathed and feared equally.

Towards the end of the dance, Mary thought she would simply collapse from exhaustion and indignation, but Mr. Collins was not about to relent. He wanted to finish as majestically as he had started and to that purpose he pulled her into a double pirouette that neither could pull off and ended up stepping on her feet painfully before grabbing her elbows and almost throwing her into Charlotte's arms.

It was so ridiculous that it was quite unbearable to watch.

Miss Lucas quickly intervened and took her husband by the arm, whispering into his ear anxiously as she surveyed the people watching them in consternation.

Mr. Collins stopped immediately and placing Mary's hand into Capt Denny's, he proclaimed he had had enough excitement for one night and that Charlotte needed him to walk her to her parents' table.

"But I believe we are now friends again, are we not?" he added, half-heartedly, wiping his brow. He then straightened his back, bowed and acquiring a very serious mien which left no room for argument, he walked away as if nothing had actually transpired.

Dozens stared back at him in wonder. Was this buffoon to be married to a respectable young lady like Miss Lucas?

Mary's head was still spinning from having been handled so poorly by Mr. Collins and it took some time to recover.

Capt Denny towered over her, his gaze moving from her harried expression to her stormy eyes and yellow complexion.

One could argue she had never looked better, or worse. The exercise had drained her, but it had also added a certain shine to her skin that was not altogether unbecoming.

"Are you quite all right, Miss Bennet?" he asked concerned.

The next dance had already started and the couples were moving impatiently.

"No, I'm not all right. And it is monstrous of you to ask as you already know it was your doing," she replied viciously, moving away from his grasp.

He tried pulling her towards him, but she was not about to be so pliant again; she wrenched her hand free and scurried off, faster than a sparrow, not caring if those around her saw her. It seemed that her mother had been right; the Ball had done wonders for her legs, ironically.

Capt Denny had no idea how to act from thereon or what to say, as his scheme had not gone further than pitting Mary and Collins against each other, but, despite his better judgement, he went after her, feeling as if something had gone terribly wrong. Curiously, he did not think it was his fault. He was still convinced she had part of the blame.

As he chased through the crowd to find her, he wondered when the evening had suddenly turned into this ludicrous cat and mouse game and why he had even bothered to respond to her childish machinations to begin with.

Certainly, his had not been childish. No, he had been led by the assumption that – that... He did not know anymore, but he felt deep down that she had insulted him first.

He stopped and looked above the many heads filling up the ballroom, some feathered, some bald, but it was as if she had vanished from sight. She was not with her family, or her sisters.

He asked Kitty if he had seen her, but she did not even seem to know what had happened. No one did.

He left the ballroom and walked through the cards rooms. He did not know why he expected to find her there.

He was only greeted by stiff elderly men, holding their cards close to their chests and their glasses of brandy at arm's length as they listlessly shuffled them from one hand to the other.

The atmosphere was dank and musty, but it was the same in the adjoining drawing rooms. There were people talking, dancing, drinking wine, smoking cigars, eating cake or pecking at some cream pies, standing by the fireplace laughing or sitting down sharing confidences, but there was no Mary Bennet in sight.

He knew he couldn't search the entire house and that he would have to stop eventually, but continuing his search, even though he was just wandering about in vain, felt less ridiculous than giving up. It gave him a sense of purpose and it prevented him from acknowledging the fact that he had acted like a rake.

At length, feeling quite put out by the entire affair he walked out into the hallway to have some fresh air.

It was at that moment that he felt he hated Balls as much as Mary Bennet. At least he hated this particular Ball with a passion.

Nothing had turned out right. Not even tormenting Mary Bennet.

If he left now, his comrades would probably find it extremely ill-humoured of him and Sir Lucas would accuse him of lacking propriety. And yet, he desperately wanted to go away and return the next morning pretending that nothing had happened.

It had all been an innocent game, after all.

As he was pondering these things in his head, he heard footsteps coming from the parlour, to his left. Someone was pacing up and down the floorboards, muttering strange things in the quiet, half-lit room.

A very dishevelled Mary Bennet was walking back and forth, scowling and ruffling her dress every time she passed by one of the potted plants or a wooden chair.

She had her fists clenched and she was trying to gather courage; presumably to return to the ballroom, but she had not succeeded yet seeing as every time she headed towards the doors she changed her mind and turned back, shaking her head.

Capt Denny stood in the doorway watching her, half-mesmerised.

She seemed so determined to get over her mortification. Even when she knew no one was present, she did not let herself appear distraught. The chin was defiantly up as usual and her scowl was ubiquitous.

He could not put his finger on it and words would have failed him in any case, but there was something strangely enthralling about her.

Perhaps it was the plainness that singled her out, the commonness that, instead of rendering her the same as others, made her so different.

She never bothered with anyone's opinion unless it suited hers; she never listened, she was always displeased and critical of everyone. She hated dancing and laughing about silly things, she hated dresses and ribbons, she never curled her hair, she did not like to smile, she read constantly without understanding anything, she judged everyone else who did not, she did not play the piano well, but she felt insulted if she were not asked to play, she always sat down and stared at you as if she was the most important person in the room and she persisted in this attitude of hers without fail.

But she was also fragile and easily frightened. She dreaded exposing herself in public. She was unsociable because anything bearing remote resemblance to amusement made her anxious that she might embarrass herself. She did not like to enjoy herself too much because she could not control her own emotions and those of others. She could not understand how everyone else spent their lives in such perfect contentment when she saw every little crack in the ceiling with such impeccable accuracy.

And maybe he was completely wrong about her and she was nothing like this at all and their previous meetings, few and far between, had revealed nothing too complex; just another young girl who put on a brave face.

Even so, there was something there, unaltered and new that refused to disappear.

"You! You miscreant! How dare you follow me! How dare you even come here!"

Before he could react, Mary Bennet was already upon him, ready to apply violence on him if it was necessary. He blessed his quick reflexes which stopped her from lashing out at him.

"Miss Bennet, please, I didn't –"

"No! I will not hear it! Whatever your excuse, I will not stand here and listen! I have never been more humiliated in my life!"

"It was not my intention to humiliate –"

"Oh, yes, it was! You could not wait to have an opportunity to do so!"

"That is unfair; I didn't think it would come to –"

"No, you did not _think_. Men like you don't do much thinking either way. You just enjoy playing your wicked games on young ladies who are guileless enough to believe you!"

"_Guileless_? I highly doubt that these young ladies you speak of are so innocent," he countered, growing angry.

"Well, compared to you they might as well be saints!"

"You are exaggerating my follies and are not seeing yours!"

"My follies?! Oh, what did I ever do wrong by you, Captain? Please inform me."

"I might ask the same of you!" he exclaimed.

"Me?" she echoed in disbelief.

"Yes! Who else? Who else would rebuke me before I even said a word, who else would act so insufferably condescending towards me that I could never please her?"

"Condescending? Am I to be called condescending because I do not respond to your empty flattery?"

"And who else would make me sit through her mediocre performance expecting to receive accolades at the end?" he continued, getting a taste for this sudden honest outburst.

"There was _nothing_ mediocre about it! It's not my fault you do not have the aesthetical exercise to listen –"

"And who else would turn Miss Howard against me and spread lies, even though it was none of her business?"

Mary paused slightly at this accusation. She could not deny that she had done it, but she had had very good reasons to, she believed.

"Of course it was my business since it concerns Kitty! And I spread no lies! I only told her the truth! You were misleading my sister with your attentions while you were hoping to engage another's! How is that not my business?"

"Oh, do not preach me your sisterly concern! You and I both know you care less about Kitty than you like to admit and you had no qualms about whom I chose to make love to before tonight."

"Well, maybe I finally realized how despicable your behaviour has been!"

"My behaviour? You were only seeking revenge because Miss Howard and I laughed at you."

"So you admit it, then? That you laughed?" Mary yelled back, growing very red.

"I was ready not to, I was ready to act like a gentleman, but you treat everyone around you so poorly that it is no wonder they come to respond in the same fashion."

"Oh, is that how you explain what you did, then? Is that how you account for putting me through such a parade of nonsense? Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth? And you call yourself a gentleman!"

"Contrary to popular belief, Miss Bennet, there is so much a man can take from a woman before he decides to respond and I do not encourage false pretences-"

"No, you only encourage your abject pride!"

"My pride? My pride? The pot calling the kettle black, Miss Bennet!"

"At least I don't go about concealing my intentions when I mean to do harm, or are you going to tell me you actually wanted to solve the dispute between Mr. Collins and my family? Have I, then, mistaken your character? I think not!"

"Do not pretend to know my character, Miss Bennet."

"But you pretend to know mine!" Mary retaliated.

"Yours is more transparent I should think!"

"How so, Sir?" she asked sternly.

"Because you decided to never like me despite not knowing a single thing about me!" Capt Denny countered, forgetting himself.

Mary stared at him perplexed, mouth agape. Puffs of air were coming out her chest like rolls of steam.

"Why would you care if I liked you?" she asked, confusion seeping into her voice.

Silence.

"Why do you wish me to know you?" she continued more adamantly.

"I do not."

"You are very contradictory then, because you just said that –"

"I don't know! I don't know why I said it. I don't know what to think of you. You are impossible to reason with."

"That is not true –"

"You had me scheming against you like a school boy –"

"That was _your_ doing –"

"Yet you provoked me! And you slighted me even though I was never obliged to be kind to you!"

Mary almost flinched at his tone. She suddenly became aware of their solitude. History was repeating itself; they were once again in a room, by themselves.

She bowed her head, smiling bitterly.

"You think me so ill-natured and proud, you think I slighted you, but you do not know that I could have done much worse. I could have compromised you. I could have forced you to marry me after that night at Netherfield Ball. I could have accused you of keeping me in your company in the absence of my father, without his permission, in a stranger's house."

Capt Denny opened his mouth to protest, but she continued in the same calm tone,

"You came to visit me twice, didn't you? You accosted me this evening to tell me so. We even _danced_ together," she spat in derision. "You chased after me and now we are once again alone in a room and there are just as many people at this Ball to confirm my account and speak on your behalf."

His eyes widened in disbelief. He almost wanted to laugh, but it all seemed so strange and serious that he could not afford to. The mere idea of being married to her was so incredulous and farfetched and yet she was being so calculating and logical about it that it nearly frightened him.

"Even if I were – even if I indulged such a ludicrous possibility, even if you were to make me take this course of action, even if all the circumstances concurred, it would all still be nonsense, because your father –"

And then he stopped, right before he revealed to her what he had never told her about their night at Netherfield Park.

He simply stopped and took a deep breath.

It would have hurt her infinitely more than she might have hurt him. There would have been no retaliation to that. He would have won the battle of wits, wouldn't he?

How could a young girl cope with the fact that her own father had approached a young man and had asked him to entertain her for half an hour just because no one else would? In fact, not even the father himself could be bothered to comfort her. No sister, no mother either. Only a stranger.

The impact of this sudden discovery kept him quiet. He did not pity her because she knew how much she would have loathed that, but he felt this strange, unexplainable fondness for her; in her gaze there was that something new and unaltered that refused to disappear. And who was he to snuff it out?

"Because my father what?" she asked impatiently. "What are you trying to say?"

"Because your father would never allow you to marry a red coat," he finished quietly.

Mary's expression changed instantly. Her brow smoothed itself out and her eyes returned to their lackadaisical colour.

"Oh. I – I see."

"He would be right, you know. Not to allow it," he added, looking at her strangely.

"I know," she replied quietly.

"It is not very proper," she suddenly said after a pause. "The two of us being here alone. It is a mistake. I would never really – do such a silly thing as marry or coax someone into marrying me. It is downright degrading. I would never do it."

"Then why did you tell me you could?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"I suppose I wanted to spite you. But it is the same thing with dancing. I could just as well find a willing partner. Every woman has methods more or less contemptible. But I do not. I like knowing there is the possibility of acting on them, yet I choose to refrain from such beggarly pursuits because I find them beneath me. Plato's ring of Gyges can efficiently describe this idea; I have the power to do wrong yet I do not do it."

Capt Denny couldn't help but smile. Even on the verge of admitting she had been wrong, she was still trying to underline her moral superiority.

He knew she was lying in that, even hypothetically speaking, she would not be able to find someone to dance with by simply applying feminine wiles. She had no wiles whatsoever, she only had her words. She could not, as she had put it, take advantage of Plato's ring, because she had no means of doing a great deal of damage. She could only think that she did.

But she was not only lying to him, she was also lying to herself. She believed in this idea with the perseverance of a female Sisyphus, despite the contrary evidence.

She believed she could be like all the other girls, if she chose to, but she did not, because she thought she was better this way.

And that softened him.

"It's not very improper if nobody knows about it. And I don't believe anyone would ever know," he said, walking further into the room.

He sat down on one of the plush sofas near the fireplace.

"After all, they will never find out how we both schemed against one another."

"I did not scheme –"

"You did, if only a little."

"It was different. You were much crueller."

"Crueller?"

"Dancing? With Mr. Collins? He almost managed to undo me!"

"I am glad he did not. I promise you I will never attempt to have you dance ever again."

Mary watched him puzzled. "Why are you sitting down?"

"I am too tired to go back. And I don't suppose you have a terrible desire to return either."

"I don't, but it would not do if we –"

"Would you mind sitting down and reading something to me? Just like old times?"

Mary was at first too shocked by his request to react.

He looked at her in earnest and nodded towards an armchair nearby.

Mary wanted to be more scandalized; she wanted to reproach and scold him; she wanted to ask him why he was not simply apologizing like any other man would. She wanted to leave and be done with him.

But instead, she sat down where he indicated and took the volume from her satin bag.

"All right. I am going to read from _A Political Romance_, by Laurence Sterne. Are you familiar with it?"

"Not in the slightest, but it sounds about right," he replied, smiling.

"You mean to tell me you have never heard of Laurence Sterne?"

"Only partially, I think. He wrote a novel about a curious fellow with a curious illness, didn't he?"

"You are referring to _Tristram Shandy,_ I suppose, and that is a very meagre and thoughtless description of it, if there ever was one, so you had better keep it to yourself in the future."

"I will. I won't tell a soul."

"Good. I would not wish you to slander his name. Wait, just to make it clear; I have not forgiven you. Nor will I very soon."

"I understand and I have not forgiven you either," he replied, smiling.

Mary almost smirked, but she quickly looked down at the page she was turning instead.

"Very well. I shall begin then. Make sure you do not interrupt me."

And he did not. Not until it was time for both of them to part once more.


End file.
