In fact, it was his impending proposal that had led her uncle to remove her from Meryton. She had opposed the move vehemently and resented her uncle for it for months. She had defended Wickham's honour and kept the memory of him and their love alive. She was always certain that he would come for her -- that he would declare his love and agree to disclaim her fortune if only her uncle would consent to their union. But he never arrived. It was his scandalous elopement with Lydia Bennet that had dashed all her hopes and had finally allowed her to see the truth of her uncle's assertions. Wickham had never loved her, had only wanted her inheritance, and would never return. He and Lydia deserved each other.

It had caused her to look back over their courtship, to recollect that he had never paid her the slightest attention until after her grandfather's death had made her mistress of a fortune of ten thousand pounds. She had been blind to the coincidence of Wickham's sudden interest in her and the general intelligence of her inheritance. He had been so charming, so attentive. She was the only girl that existed for him. She remembered with shame the triumphant feelings that arose within her when she perceived Elizabeth Bennet's disappointment in the transfer of her favorite's affections. Lizzy had never been unkind to her, but Mary had been starved for attention from the opposite sex and all the local young men had thought both Lizzy and Jane to be very handsome while they all but ignored her. So when the handsome and charming Mr. Wickham had singled her out, she could not help feeling some satisfaction.

Wickham had made his preference very evident in company and he called upon her frequently. They would walk out together and he would listen to her chatter about all the little things in her life. He had seemed captivated by her and she thought he had a sincere interest in all aspects of her life. Only later did she realize that he had never actually responded to anything she said in a way that showed any interest at all.

Within a few weeks, he made it evident that he intended to propose, and certainly she was not the only one who had noticed his attentions to her. And thankfully some of those who saw it were not blinded by his smiles and charm, and had loved her enough to protect her. She was now exceedingly thankful she had been spared a life of misery and pain with a mercenary wastrel; and that her salvation had left her the opportunity to find real love was all the more reason for her to be grateful for her escape. The elucidation upon learning his true nature had been liberating for her. She emerged from her depression and returned to her former good spirits.

She began to partake in the merriments offered by Liverpool society. She attended the monthly balls with her aunt and uncle, and was invited to dinners and parties. She soon forgot about Mr. Wickham. Her aunt began to speak to her again of the possiblity of finding a good husband. And that is when she insisted that her relations not reveal to anyone that she was in possession of such a fortune. She would not be taken in again. Any man who wished to marry her would do so because he loved her.

But this had been a mistake as well, for she soon learned that man cannot live on love alone and though a gentleman might sincerely be attached to her he might also feel a need to marry with some thought to prudence, and if such a man thought she was penniless he might very well restrain himself from allowing his feelings to develop into something more. Indeed, keeping her fortune a secret had almost prevented her marriage.

She had met her husband at one of the local assembly balls. He was in Liverpool visiting his brother who had a house there. They had been introduced only as dancing partners at first, but he had been quite taken with her wit and charm during the conversation. They spoke again when they found themselves guests in the same home for a musical evening. There, they discerned that they had similar tastes in music as well as art and literature. From that evening, their friendship grew in so natural and comfortable a progression that neither of them really noticed how steadfastly they were attached, though those around them had noticed. They were in the middle before they knew it had begun!

Mary realized it when her aunt began to speculate on when he might make her an offer. At first she denied that their friendship had become so intimate, but then she realized that a proposal from him would answer her every wish. And he was yet ignorant of her fortune. Her relations thought it would be a very good match indeed. Although he was a second son, his family was titled, wealthy, and well-respected. She thought it was too good to be true. And, indeed, it was. For within a week of that conversation with her aunt, he was gone. He left Liverpool for London with no definite plans of returning. She was despondent, heartbroken -- again. She had not before realized how much she depended upon his company and hoped for so much more. She told herself that she had read too much into his behavior, that he had not cared for her as she did for him. And she never for a moment thought him guilty of misleading her.

Two months passed and she had learned to forget him, her broken heart had begun to heal, when he resurfaced again in Liverpool. He seemed genuinely happy to see her but mentioned nothing of his extended absence excepting a hope that she had been well since he had last seen her. Mary was more guarded in her dealings with him now. She was certain that he was simply of a friendly nature -- but she could not reasonably tell herself that he was equally friendly with everyone as he was with her, that he did not show her some partiality, for she was not the only one who had seen it. She loved him and she was certain he loved her. But, she could not imagine what could have been holding him back?

After several weeks of seeing one another regularly, the subject was raised between them when they were dancing together at a ball:

"I understand your parents have arrived in town for a visit. How long will they remain?" Mary had asked.

"I believe they plan to be here three weeks."

"Have they many friends in Liverpool, aside from your brother?"

"My brother's wife's parents are also staying with them for a few weeks. They are very friendly with my parents and provide them with pleasant company."

"It must be very agreeable to your brother to have his own family on such happy terms with his wife's. That is certainly not always the case."

"It was a brilliant match. My brother was lucky to choose a wife his parents would approve." He said the last a little wistfully.

"I suppose she had an excellent fortune, then."

"Yes," he replied with a chuckle, "not that my brother has much use for it."

"The fortune of an heiress should not be wasted upon a gentleman already in possession of a large income." He smiled, and she continued, "Then all those penniless, but agreeable young women may have a chance at them!"

"I have known more than one wealthy young gentlemen to wed a woman with no fortune."

"Indeed, I recently had news of two young ladies of my former acquaintance, who had nothing to recommend them but pretty faces and sweet dispositions, who managed in spite of such limitations to become engaged to very wealthy men."

"And those very wealthy men, I am sure, tortured themselves needlessly over their choices. It is a truth, not often acknowledged, that the men who have to make the most difficult choices are those who are not independently wealthy." He became serious now, and Mary looked at him but did not respond. He continued, in a quiet, wistful tone, "And, it is not just for themselves that they struggle. If one must depend upon his family for his livelihood, then he often must also obtain their approbation in even his most private affairs."

The dance ended and they walked off the floor together. He guided her to two chairs in a quiet corner. She could see from his expression that his comments were not meant generally. "You have some experience with that sort of struggle?"

After a long silence he said, "I confess I have. It is why I went away from Liverpool . . . and the reason I have returned." Her heart began beating faster. "I have no independent fortune. If my parents were to withdraw their support of me because of whom I choose to marry, I would have nothing to offer my wife. The income from my occupation is hardly sufficient for the maintenance of a respectable lifestyle."

"But if the woman you wished to marry had some fortune to bring to the match, it might make the marriage possible?"

"I suppose it would make things easier, but that does not signify as she hasn't any fortune. I have been thinking of this much of late and it is not right that two people who care for one another should be divided over such a thing as money. I would not wish to think myself so mercenary. Indeed, the more noble choice, it seems, would be to marry in spite of the disapproval of my family."

Mary said nothing. She wished to disclose her fortune, but to do so now would seem to evince a presumption that she was the woman he was speaking of; and she was fairly certain it was she, but could not act upon it without a declaration from him. Besides, she knew even her ten-thousand pounds would seem a paltry sum to his family; and it was not just the money, it was her situation in life they would disapprove. Yet, it was something to live on, should the need arise. She was silent for several long moments, lost in her own meditations, while he too appeared contemplative.

Suddenly he spoke again, "You must know it is you I was speaking of." She looked up at him and he continued, "It is you I love, you I hope to marry. I do not know how my parents will react if you accept me, but the possibility that they will disown me is real, though unlikely. You should consider that carefully before making your choice." His assurances together with the meaningful expression with which they were delivered touched her heart deeply. She had never felt such joy. Her blushing smile in response to his declaration gave him hope that the strength of his attachment, which had finally conquered all opposition he had felt, would be rewarded by her acceptance of his hand.

When her initial shock at receiving his proposal had subsided, she said, "I have a fortune of ten-thousand pounds." Now it was his turn to be surprised. He just stared at her. "Is that not a sufficient amount to live on, should it become necessary?"

He smiled and after only a moment of hesitation said, "Yes, it is." She returned his smile. He added, "Then you will consent to marry me?"

"With all my heart."

He raised her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss and watched her blush prettily in response.

Mary's fortune was precious little to appease his family when their engagement was announced. They objected more to her situation in life, her lack of connections and family of any standing in the world than the insufficiency of her fortune. But, her sweetness of temper and sincere affection for their son soon won them over. His parents made them a gift of a considerable sum upon their marriage. When added to her fortune, it provided them with a comfortable and independent income. They had now been married less than a month.

Mary was stirred from her thoughts by the movement of her husband beneath her. He was awake. She lifted her head to look into his eyes, and smiled. He returned her smile and said, "Good morning Mrs. Fitzwilliam."

"Good morning, Colin," she replied.

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