The Secret Life of Miss Mary Bennet Katherine Cowley (phonics reading books .txt) 📖

With that sobering thought, she returned to the postal collection box. She stopped a few feet away, waiting as a woman sighed dramatically and placed what must be a love letter inside. There was no sign of the colonels, no Mr. Withrow, no Mr. Parker, so Mary removed the letters from her pocket and slipped them into the box.

She walked slowly back to the carriage and waited inside it, outwardly serene, with her hands neatly folded, until Mr. Parker returned.

“Such a lovely day for a walk,” said Mary. “A little cold, but quite pleasant. I see you took a stroll yourself?”

“A small one,” he said, giving Mary an inquisitive look, but he did not say anything about following Mary, and so she did not either.

Chapter Fourteen

“There is a tendency in all states to reduce the tiller of the earth to a level with the oxen he yokes to the plough….Were I called upon to estimate the quantity of freedom possessed by any people, I would not enquire under what particular form of government they existed, but by what tenure the land was held by individuals, and into what portions it was divided and subdivided. If the freeholders were few in comparison to the whole population, I should be persuaded that slavery had taken deep root among them, although their political constitution should be of the most admirable construction. History can shew us republics, even democracies, in which three-fourths of the inhabitants are slaves….”

–A letter to the editor by “Agrarius,” The Liverpool Mercury, Liverpool, England,

November 5, 1813

Mary worried about Mr. Withrow’s soul. Even those willfully acting in error deserved an opportunity to change for the better, so after her next lesson, which had been scheduled for a Friday morning, she handed him a treatise she had painstakingly prepared, entitled “Man is more than money.”

Before her French lesson Withrow found her and returned the treatise. “Thank you for allowing me to read this.”

“What did you think?” She would not allow him to return it to her with no comment beyond thanks.

“Your paper tended towards the verbose and the sentimental, and took a rather circuitous approach to your subject, but many of your arguments were solid and you cited extensive sources.”

A warmth filled Mary’s chest; from Mr. Withrow, that was actually a compliment. “Thank you.”

“However, I stand by my original position on money.”

Mary did not know what more she could do to persuade him. She had done her part in showing him the folly of his ways, and it was his choice of whether or not he would make changes in his own life. Besides, she had other, more urgent ways she needed to spend her time.

After her French lesson she rushed to finish Lady Trafford’s assignments, which included both an analysis of two weeks of newspapers and a reading on the science behind mining techniques. In the past week and a half of lessons with Lady Trafford, Mary had discovered that Lady Trafford cared less about a particular subject matter than about an overall approach. They studied history, current events, newspapers, manners, literature, and science, and sometimes, Mary would leave after an hour with Lady Trafford and have no idea what they had studied at all. But regardless of the subject matter, Lady Trafford wanted Mary to come to her own conclusions, to think about the unstated goals and effects, and to consider how the subject impacted daily living.

Yet more important than the time she devoted to any of her lessons was Mary’s quest for the truth. It had been a week and a half since she had mailed the letters to Maria and Kitty, which should have given them enough time to receive her correspondence, gather information, and send a reply. The next morning she had several spare hours, so she decided to go to town. It was about a four-mile walk to the post office in Worthing, so that was out of the question, and the last time she had taken a carriage, she had been followed.

She entered the stables and as luck would have it, she found Mr. Tubbs, the man who had driven her to Castle Durrington on her first day. She might have left the stables and postponed her trip for another day had she met Mr. Parker.

“Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Tubbs. “Now what can I do for you today?”

“If possible, I would like to ride a horse into Worthing.”

“We have plenty of horses you could ride that are used to a side saddle.”

She hated to admit her inadequacies, but in this case it was expedient. “I am not a very skilled rider.” Of her sisters, Jane was the best horsewoman. Mary was better than Elizabeth, but not by much.

“In that case you should ride Dusty. She is old, but gentle and level-headed.”

Mary rested her hand on a smooth wooden post and enjoyed the fresh scent of the hay as Mr. Tubbs prepared Dusty and led her outside. Mary stood on the left side of the horse, swallowing the nervousness she always felt when riding these large beasts. She placed her right hand on the higher pommel of the saddle, also called the fixed head, and raised her skirts a little with her left. Mounting was her least favorite part of riding. She raised her right foot, and Mr. Tubbs supported it with both of his hands. She bent her left knee and sprang up towards the horse, feeling a bit out of control as Mr. Tubbs lifted her right leg and guided her the rest of the way.

Secure on the saddle, Mary breathed a sigh of relief and adjusted her legs comfortably to the left side of the horse, around the two pommels, the fixed head and the leaping head, which made it easier to stay in position and not fall off the horse. She attempted to pull her dress down so it completely covered her ankle and her boot to be more proper, but this