Chapter Text
The wheels of Mary's suitcase rumbled along the pavement of Gracechurch Street, cherry blossoms lining each side of the road coming into bloom with soft pink buds in the pale mid-morning light.
It had been a month since her father's sudden death, and Mary had never felt more at sea. Mrs Jane Bennet had seized the title of widow with both hands, and had set about making the mourning of Mr Bennet a most dramatic affair. Short of donning the traditional black and weeping into a handkerchief, she had made it all five of her daughters business to manage her changeable moods. Mary pitied the solicitors and accountants who had to deal with her mother's terrible attitude, thankful that the embarrassment didn't extend to the registry office where she herself went to register her father's death. She had felt glad that playing it as a favour worked as a brief escape from the constant flow of condoling neighbours and relatives.
It wasn't until a few weeks later that the result of her father's extremely poor financial management reared its ugly head. It was clear that Longbourn would have to be sold, despite her mother's sobbing and protesting that surely there must be a way to keep it, and it would soon be owned by someone outside of the Bennet family for the first time in decades.
Mary had been living at home during her studies at her mother's insistence, but this new state of affairs had given her the perfect excuse to find lodgings closer to University College London. Her aunt and uncle's visit to Hertfordshire couldn't have come at a better time, their attic room lying vacant and them more than happy to have a lodger, as long as Mary didn't mind occasionally tutoring their three rather spirited children.
She wasn't usually one for adventure and excitement - a quiet evening with her geology journals, notebook, fine liners, a cup of tea and perhaps some toast suited her quite nicely. But after weeks of her mother's hysterics and the bustle of her childhood home being boxed up, the idea of being somewhere entirely new felt like a welcome change. An attic room, tucked away from everyone, and only an hour to get to university would give her much more time in the day to put towards her PhD studies.
March had begun to pull Dulwich out of its winter hibernation, traffic humming on the main road as Mary made her way further along the quieter side street, eyes scanning across the door numbers until she landed on Number 27. It was an unassuming Victorian terrace, cream painted bricks settled behind a wrought iron fence and a neat privet hedge either side of the terracotta-tiled path. Her eyes wandered up the building, fanlights opened to let in the mild morning air with delicate voile curtains buffeting in the breeze.
She drew in a deep breath, steeling herself as she reached for the gate, pushing it open and marching up to the door before she could put herself off with any more nerves. The red door was flung open before she could press the doorbell, her aunt stood in the entrance with a beaming smile and an outfit that looked like it had been taken off the pages of a Joules catalogue.
"Mary! How lovely to see you. I hope the train wasn't too busy? Do come in, let me take your suitcase, you must be tired after hauling it all the way from Longbourn."
Madeline was something of a hurricane of positivity, and Mary had to pause to adjust to her exuberance before she replied. "Yes, the journey was fine, thank you."
"And how is your mother? She's had quite a trying time of late." Madeline asked. "Well, so have you all. I imagine there's been quite a lot to take care of."
"My mother is certainly taking advantage of Jane and Lizzie's hospitality, but I think they are quite keen for her to find a smaller house like she promised she would," Mary said candidly, "she seemed to have got over her grief quite quickly when she realised she could stay somewhere as nice as Netherfield House."
"Ahh yes, always one to appreciate the finer things in life," Madeline mused, barely disguising the roll of her eyes as she lead Mary towards the kitchen.
A large oak dining table with benches either side sat beneath a cork board covered with photographs and children's drawings, and a bright bunch of tulips sat in the centre of the table which was covered with stickers, felt tips and coloured card.
"Now, are you a coffee person or a tea person?" Madeline asked, filling a kettle at the sink before placing it on the gas hob.
"Oh, tea, definitely," Mary smiled, gradually settling into the warmth of the Gardiner house.
"Tea it is. I must apologise for the mess, Mary, the children absolutely insisted on emptying the entire arts and crafts drawer before school this morning, and I know they'll only pull it all out again this evening," Madeline explained, pulling a box of tea out of the cupboard and placing them delicately into two blue Cornish stripe mugs.
Mary shook her head, "oh don't worry, this is nothing compared to the state of Lydia's bedroom."
Madeline laughed, "the joys of sisterhood. It must feel quite strange to be leaving home for the first time."
"I must say it's quite a relief after the last few weeks," Mary admitted, "losing Dad so suddenly was hard enough, but I'm grateful not to have to commute so far anymore on top of everything else."
"Well, I can't promise peace and quiet," Madeline said sympathetically, placing a steaming cup of tea in front of her, "but you're very welcome here, Mary."
Mary nodded her thanks, wrapping her cool hands around the mug to stave off the early spring chill creeping across the kitchen flagstones. Pale light filtered through the patio doors, painting the room a light gold as aunt and niece sipped their tea quietly, the silence broken by the radio murmuring on the windowsill. Once their mugs stood empty, Madeline rose and collected them, placing them in the already half-full dishwasher before heading towards the hallway.
"I should probably show you your new lodgings. Your room is right at the top of the house, so the children won't disturb you."
She lead the way up the stairs, helping Mary to drag her suitcase up the steps, both pausing to catch their breath on the landing before continuing to the top floor. Madeline gestured for Mary to open the door to what would be her new bedroom. Grasping the wooden beehive knob in her palm, she turned it slowly and pushed the door open to reveal a comfortable, bright and airy attic room.
Mustard yellow curtains framed the window, Dulwich housetops running in long lines far into the distance, the ever present hum of traffic drifting up from the streets beyond. A double bed sat in the centre of the room with a thick white duvet, the mattress so high Mary was sure she would have to jump to be able to get into bed at night. On the walls were framed photos of the Lake District, and one particularly charming cross-stitch, clearly child-made with much effort but not nearing perfection.
Mary hadn't noticed the smile playing on her lips until Madeline stepped into the room beside her.
"Is it alright?"
Mary turned. "Oh, more than. It's perfect, thank you."
"Good. Do you have everything you need?" Madeline asked, glancing at her bags gathered by the door.
"I think so," Mary nodded, "and I'm sorry they were so heavy."
"I was wondering what was in that suitcase." Madeline chuckled.
Mary looked sheepish. "Mostly books, if I'm honest."
Madeline laughed aloud at that. "Well, it's important to have hobbies," she teased lightly, "I'll leave you to get settled in."
Mary thanked her aunt once more before the door closed behind her, waiting until Madeline had descended to the first landing before she heaved out a sigh, turning to take in her new bedroom once more. She peered into the en-suite, not quite believing that it was all hers, nothing to share with Kitty or Lydia, no wardrobe space to divide, no need to lock her bedside drawers against her mother's prying.
Before she started unpacking, she went to the window, opening it wide to allow a rush of fresh spring air into the room. She inhaled deeply, admiring the London skyline, the Shard just visible in the distance beyond what seemed like endless rooftops. For the first time since she had left her childhood home, she realised that unlike before, she was truly free to be whatever she wanted to be.
"Now to work out what that means." Mary murmured to herself, resting her forearms against the windowsill and allowing herself to feel the truest sensation of relief she had felt in years.
That afternoon, Mary heard the children before she saw them. The first sign was the thundering footsteps in the hallway, carrying all the way up to her attic bedroom as she worked through her bags to find new homes for her books and clothes. The next was the clamour of voices, asking about snacks, if they really had to do their homework, and whether there was any ice cream left for pudding.
Mary was grateful when she heard Madeline telling them they were not to disturb her until she was settled in. As much as Mary liked children, being ambushed by three of them at once, one of whom had been a baby the last time she had seen them for any significant length of time, felt a little overwhelming.
At five O' clock, Mary descended the stairs with quiet trepidation, promising herself not to be too boring, pedantic or standoffish. She settled for quiet instead, and as she rounded the corner she found the three Gardiner children sat around the kitchen table as Madeline stirred something with garlic and onions on the stove.
"Hello." Mary ventured softly, watching as three dark haired heads turned towards her, breaking into grins at the sight of her.
"Mary!" Cried Marianne, clearly having forgotten Madeline's instructions to leave Mary be as she jumped up from the table to pull Mary into a hug, the other two children swiftly following.
"We thought you were going to stay in the attic forever." Rebecca said with a cheeky grin. "Do you know how to do fractions?"
"Or times tables?" George asked. "I hate times tables."
Mary couldn't help but be taken aback by the stream of questions, her mouth opening and shutting a few times before she found the words to reply. "Yes, I can do fractions and times tables."
"Mummy said you're very clever and you would help us with our homework!" Rebecca cried, pulling Mary to the dining table before she could protest.
"I said she might help, Rebecca," Madeline chided, a wry smile on her face as she turned back to dinner preparations.
"Do you really study rocks?" George asked incredulously.
"I study geology, which yes, I suppose is about rocks, but I promise it's more interesting than just rocks." Mary explained.
Marianne sat herself back in the chair at the far end of the table. "Isn't it about mountains and volcanoes?"
Mary nodded. "Sometimes."
"What about dinosaurs?" Rebecca questioned with a face full of excitement.
"Yes, sometimes I look at dinosaur fossils. And crystals."
The three children seemed satisfied with that, going back to their work with occasional questions about their homework, which Mary dutifully answered as succinctly as she could manage - her mother had too often admonished her for her long-winded explanation, so she was acutely aware of saying too much.
She found herself quietly enjoying helping Rebecca with her fractions homework, relishing the chance to colour-code with felt tips. She felt quite nostalgic for her own childhood, and the rare moments when all five sisters would sit and draw or colour together with something resembling friendliness. The three Gardiner children seemed to gel together quite well, not like her sisters who had always divided themselves off - Jane and Lizzie inseparable, Kitty following Lydia like a lost puppy, and Mary often left behind.
Some time later, the front door clicked open and a warm voice called "hello!" down the hallway. The children immediately brightened, and soon their father Edward emerged into the kitchen, balancing car keys, a travel mug and an Osprey rucksack, his curls blown wild by the evening breeze.
"And how are my little chiddlers?" Edward asked, ruffling George's hair as he passed to put down his things.
"Mary is helping us with Maths." George replied, his columns of times tables gradually improving.
Edward turned towards Mary as he shed his suit jacket, smiling fondly. "I see you've already been roped into tutoring, Mary. How are you settling in?"
"Oh, very well, thank you for having me." Mary responded politely, rolling a felt tip between her fingers as she watched the family chatter back and forth.
Rebecca asked if Edward would read more of The BFG that night, George wandered over to peer into the pan Madeline was stirring, Marianne quietly continued with her homework. Mary couldn't help but be struck by the warmth and care they all extended to one another, how Edward seemed to dote on his three children from the moment he stepped through the door. Her own father would have escaped to his study without so much as a hello after he arrived home from his university office, interest rarely given to the girls activities, affection even less. She wasn't sure what the feeling rising in her chest at Edward's attention to his children was, perhaps not quite jealousy, but she pushed it to the side nonetheless to try and escape the discomfort.
Later, once dinner had been eaten and the children were in bed after a lot of dawdling through baths and bedtime stories, Mary sat in the corner of the sofa, Madeline and Edward having insisted she needn't worry about helping with the washing up. With a timetable full of seminars the following day, Mary was quietly glad of the reprieve, trying her best to concentrate on her academic journals but finding her mind wandering to little snippets of conversation with the children over homework. She had expected the welcome to be polite, maybe friendly, but not nearly as generous and kind as it had been.
What surprised her most was the Gardiners' genuine interest in her. They had asked questions about her PhD, listened to her explanation of petrology without eye rolling or diverting to another topic. The only other person who had ever shown more than polite attention to her interest in geology was Lizzie, and even she would begin to glaze over if she strayed into sedimentary layering and more complex rock formations.
Later still, once Madeline and Edward had said their good nights and gone up to bed, Mary found herself padding into the kitchen, boiling the kettle and looking through the kitchen cupboards until she landed on Madeline's extensive tea collection. She ran her fingertips along the boxes until she settled on one, blue and covered in moons and stars. It seemed appropriate enough with 'Sleep Time' written across the front, the scent of chamomile and lavender blooming into the air as the hot water hit the bottom of the mug. She gazed across the garden, an old apple tree half lit by the kitchen light, dew glistening in the grass as the cool night drew in.
She had expected to feel on edge being in someone else's home, and to an extent she did, but she didn't feel nearly as uncomfortable as she thought she might. She wondered if it was by nature or by design that the Gardiner household made her feel at ease, or perhaps just the lack of her mother's presence that made it easier to settle in. She sipped at her tea, letting go of a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding, the weight of the day gradually beginning to ease off her shoulders.
London glittered in the distance, the house creaking gently around her in the way old houses always did. She realised then that for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel anxious. At Longbourn, she had spent years making herself smaller, quieter, less noticeable, and less likely to attract her mother's sharp tongue or Lydia's snide remarks. Here, nobody treated her as if she was someone to be tolerated.
She looked out across the garden again. Tomorrow, she would catch the bus to her faculty building, not a packed commuter train with a two hour journey ahead of her, instead from a home where she had been told she was most welcome. For the first time since her father's death, she allowed herself to imagine the future without a sense of dread attached to it. London suddenly didn't seem frightening at all.
It felt, quietly and unexpectedly, like her real life was about to begin.