[ He current state is easily seen by all who pay her any attention and it is indeed unlike her normal self. Mary is usually calm and collected because there has been little in life to worry her. And when things should have worried her, she rarely noticed from naivete. These past three weeks that he brings up, however, have been anything but calm and collected. With a mother such as hers, there could not be quiet or calm. Mary had been made to examine her behavior again and again. She had had to listen to wails of anguish and heated speech of sending her away. And in the end, what had any of it amounted to? Here she is sitting in the parlor with the man that supposedly "ruined" all Mary's chances at marriage. Strange how her mother had no other suitors in mind for Mary. Meryton was in quite the drought of eligible bachelors. So what had all this talk of her chances been about?
There is a tiredness deep within Mary from it all. She has resolved to no longer care what anyone things of her, but that doesn't lift the heavy mantle of fatigue from her shoulders. The day had been exhausting on her nerves in a way she'd never experienced before. Conversation she is sure she can do, but even as her father scoffs at the idea, Mary feels doubts growing that her tired mind could say anything worthy of hearing. Mr. Cartwright has risen in her estimation so much over these last few weeks and yet so much of him is still a mystery. Surely he would have more interesting tales than she. Of course, it would be rude to ask for such a thing when he is feeling so poorly. She'll keep him occupied for now, but his life is one of which she wishes to learn more in the future. ]
I kept to my studies. I am learning a new piece of music and have been reading through some of Mr. Thomas Gray's poems again. I have found occupation enough around the house with autumn beginning and things needing to be switched out.
[ It all sounds so mundane. Elizabeth or Jane would have a hundred things to say now that they run their own households. Thankfully the tea is brought in by the under maid, along with scones and a small glass of Hungary water. Everything is set before Mary so she can serve, and the first thing she does is hold the glass out to Mr. Cartwright. ]
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There is a tiredness deep within Mary from it all. She has resolved to no longer care what anyone things of her, but that doesn't lift the heavy mantle of fatigue from her shoulders. The day had been exhausting on her nerves in a way she'd never experienced before. Conversation she is sure she can do, but even as her father scoffs at the idea, Mary feels doubts growing that her tired mind could say anything worthy of hearing. Mr. Cartwright has risen in her estimation so much over these last few weeks and yet so much of him is still a mystery. Surely he would have more interesting tales than she. Of course, it would be rude to ask for such a thing when he is feeling so poorly. She'll keep him occupied for now, but his life is one of which she wishes to learn more in the future. ]
I kept to my studies. I am learning a new piece of music and have been reading through some of Mr. Thomas Gray's poems again. I have found occupation enough around the house with autumn beginning and things needing to be switched out.
[ It all sounds so mundane. Elizabeth or Jane would have a hundred things to say now that they run their own households. Thankfully the tea is brought in by the under maid, along with scones and a small glass of Hungary water. Everything is set before Mary so she can serve, and the first thing she does is hold the glass out to Mr. Cartwright. ]
Here, sir. Will you take tea?