{ psl: the storm }

[moralized]

[ The countryside around Meryton can be a delightful sight to take in on a mild day where white clouds glide slowly across the sky to far off places. This, however, is not one of those days. It had started out overcast and gray, and ordinarily Mary Bennet would have lit a candle in her room and read the day away, but today such an arrangement is not meant to be. Today her mother has been yelling all morning and has been in the most foul of moods that Mary cannot recall having ever witnessed its equal.

Today is the servants' floor washing day and that has sent Mrs. Bennet off on a tirade about that man and how he has ruined her floors with his blatant unconcern and cavalier attitude. Mr. Bennet escaped the breakfast room soon after realizing that his teasing was merely adding to the powder keg that was his wife's mood and Mary quietly excused herself to her studies. Studies which she simply could not focus on due to the yelling. And so she had done something that had truly been a last resort. She had put on her walking boots, spencer, bonnet, and picked up her reticule. With the housemaids so busy, she had decided to walk to Meryton alone to pick up the daily post. Perhaps when she returned the yelling would have stopped.

Naturally her plans were thwarted by her Aunt Phillips spotting her through her parlor window and uncouthly shouting down for Mary to come visit. Mary had been obliged to go, hearing the latest gossip about that mysterious Mr. Cartwright, of course, and after fifteen minutes Mary made her excuses and left. By now the sky was turning very dark indeed, but she decided to risk a little rain rather than spend more time in her Aunt's company.

And that is how Mary has come to find herself completely soaked as the heavens have opened up over her head as she travels the lane back home. She's miserable, with mud splattered across her dress and petticoat's hem, and the rain is coming down in sheets that are blinding. The only reason she is not completely lost is due to the ditch beside the lane keeping her on course. She's adopted somewhat of a jog in hopes of reaching home faster and that's lead to blisters forming from her not oft worn boots. Such a storm must not have been seen in England in an age. And suddenly the ditch veers and she follows it in confusion until a gate appears before her. Exhausted, she leans against it to catch her breath, trying to see what lies beyond. Whose house lies there? Surely she has not reached the village of Longbourn yet? Sneezing twice in a row, Mary places a hand to her nose and then her forehead. She's overheated from the exertion of jogging and is starting to feel a little faint. ]