Hertford's Sweetheart

　　Dear sisters,

　　Having been caught in the rain yesterday, I awoke this morning feeling quite unwell. The kind Miss Bentley has insisted I stay at Netherfield Park until I have fully recovered. Should you hear of Mr. Jones being called to Netherfield to attend to me, please do not be alarmed - this is but the family's thoughtful consideration. In truth, I only suffer from a slight headache and sore throat, nothing serious.

　　—Your sister, Jane.

　　This letter arrived from Netherfield Park, delivered by a servant of the estate.

　　Mary and Elizabeth sat together on chairs, their heads close as young ladies' often are, and after Elizabeth finished reading the letter aloud, she passed it to Mary.

　　Mary took the letter and, looking toward their parents seated across from them, announced: "Jane has fallen ill."

　　"Yes, dear Mary, we all heard what Lizzie read," said Mr. Bennett, one hand resting on the chair arm, his brow slightly furrowed as he looked at Mrs. Bennett.

　　Mr. Bennett addressed his wife with a somewhat ironic tone: "My dear Mrs. Bennett, what are your thoughts now that your daughter has fallen ill while pursuing Mr. Bentley at Netherfield - following your instructions？"

　　Upon hearing of Jane's illness, Mrs. Bennett initially showed some concern, but her excitement became evident when she learned Jane would be staying at Netherfield Manor to recuperate.

　　A mere minor illness is nothing to worry about.

　　It's actually a blessing for Jane to have this opportunity to be close at hand and gain an advantage with Mr. Bentley.

　　She clasped her hands together and joyfully said to Mr. Bennett: "Although we had no carriage to send Jane to Netherfield Manor yesterday, causing her to get caught in the rain on the way, this is undoubtedly one of the wisest decisions I've ever made. It's excellent that she can stay at Netherfield Manor for a while. This also gives her the perfect chance to become better acquainted with Mr. Bentley."

　　Mr. Bennett snorted coldly and said with a sarcastic smile: "It seems even if our daughter were to fall seriously ill because of this, you would still consider it a wise decision."

　　"My dear Mr. Bennett, please don't be so sarcastic," Mrs. Bennett said with a smile, not taking his words to heart. "No one becomes gravely ill just from getting caught in the rain. Jane will be well cared for by the hosts at Netherfield Manor."

　　Mr. Bennett glanced faintly at Mrs. Bennett, "My dear wife, you don't seem particularly worried about your daughter's condition."

　　Mrs. Bennett began to argue that she was not unconcerned about Jane; in fact, if the family had a carriage, she would willingly go to Netherfield immediately to visit Jane.

　　Holding the letter delivered from Netherfield, Mary listened to her parents' conversation and felt a headache coming on.

　　She, Mary Bennett, had transmigrated into this body a year ago and was now eighteen years old.

　　She was no stranger to the Bennett family, as they were all characters from one of the world's most beloved classics, "Pride and Prejudice.

　　Mary Bennett, with both parents alive and a relatively comfortable life, was the third child in the family, having two older sisters and two younger sisters.

　　The eldest sister, Jane, was the pride of their parents, renowned for her beauty and admired for her gentle, serene, and proper disposition.

　　The second sister, Elizabeth, was their father's favorite, cherished for her intelligence, liveliness, and remarkable insight.

　　As for the two younger sisters, they were lively, charming, and beautiful but rather empty-headed, which made them their mother's darlings.

　　Especially the youngest, Lydia, who was tall and beautiful, resembling Mrs. Bennett in her youth, was the apple of Mrs. Bennett's eye.

　　As for her, Mary Bennet, being the least attractive among the sisters, neither as lively as her two younger sisters nor as insightful as Elizabeth, she received little affection from either parent. When her elder sisters gathered for intimate conversations, she had no place to join in; when her younger sisters went off to Meryton for fun, she couldn't fit in…

　　Thus, she was the most overlooked daughter in the Bennet family.

　　When she first became Mary Bennet, her heart was utterly shattered.

　　Transitioning from a pampered beauty who was the center of attention to an obscure and unnoticed country girl in England, Mary felt she needed time to come to terms with this reality.

　　Later, she realized that being inconspicuous had its advantages.

　　Because she went unnoticed at home and had no close friends in the small village of Longbourn, no one paid attention to her peculiar behavior. Whether she remained silent or occasionally made remarks that her family couldn't understand, no one delved into what might be happening with her.

　　After all, in others' eyes, Mary Bennet possessed neither exceptional talent nor a zest for life, and she hadn't inherited her mother's youthful beauty, making her appearance quite ordinary.

　　To the general public, Mary's diligent studying and pursuit of knowledge were seen as acts of vanity, and her pedantic displays came off as conceited and unworthy of any extra attention.

　　Occasionally, on a whim, they might ask for her opinion, but they rarely took her words to heart.

　　Thus, the transmigrated Mary spent her first year safely and had already grown accustomed to such family dynamics and the rural life of nineteenth-century England.

　　Her family had long been used to her burying herself in books and diligently practicing the piano, unaware of the earth-shattering transformation Mary Bennett's soul had undergone over the year.

　　Life was peaceful, with the only unrest being Mrs. Bennett's daily fretting over how to marry off her five daughters.

　　This was understandable, for in this era, women had very little autonomy over their own lives. To parents, the best destiny for a daughter was to marry a good husband, ensuring her lifelong security and comfort.

　　Mrs. Bennett worried incessantly every day about how her daughters could marry well.

　　This anxiety had intensified dramatically over the past half month.

　　The reason was that Netherfield Park had been leased by the eligible bachelor Mr. Bentley; from the day he moved in, Mrs. Bennett began daily musings that if one of her daughters could become the mistress of Netherfield, she would have no regrets in life.

　　Mr. Bentley, a handsome and amiable young man of twenty-three without airs, attended a ball held in Meryton with his family and friends after moving to Netherfield Park.

　　At the Meryton ball, Mr. Bentley met many young ladies who were all delightful in their gentleness or liveliness, yet none captured his special attention—for that evening, he fell in love with Jane at first sight.

　　Jane was the only young lady with whom Mr. Bentley danced twice at that ball.

　　Jane, now twenty-two years old, is radiantly beautiful with a gentle and serene disposition, easily winning others' favor.

　　Mary was also present at the ball that day.

　　She noticed that from the moment Mr. Bentley saw Jane, his gaze never left her figure.

　　Mr. Bentley's two sisters, likely aware of his particular admiration for Jane, were also very friendly towards her.

　　Within half a month after the ball, Jane and Mr. Bentley met on several occasions in different settings, and his adoration for her became widely known. Probably intending to assist her brother, Miss Bentley sent a letter to Longbourn inviting Jane to dine with her at Netherfield Park.

　　It was on her way to Netherfield Park yesterday to keep this engagement with Miss Bentley that Jane was caught in the rain.

　　Speaking of which, they were supposed to arrange a carriage to send Jane to Netherfield Manor yesterday, but all the horses at home were assigned to work. Mrs. Bennett didn't care whether it was appropriate for a lady to ride to Netherfield Manor; she only saw that the weather was about to rain, so she hastily pushed Jane onto the horseback and made her ride to Netherfield Manor.

　　Shortly after Jane left, it indeed started to rain.

　　Mrs. Bennett looked at the pouring rain outside and smiled with great satisfaction.

　　“With this rain, Jane will surely have to stay overnight at Netherfield Manor. What a perfect opportunity.”

　　Mary had no grounds to criticize Mrs. Bennett's actions; she was merely a mother worried about her daughter's lifelong matter. Combined with her limited insight and Mr. Bennett's constant impatience with her, this often led Mrs. Bennett to achieve half the result with double the effort, gaining little appreciation.

　　Jane and Elizabeth were often embarrassed by the shallowness of Mrs. Bennett and their two younger sisters.

　　As for Mary, perhaps because she came from a future civilization and knew too much about the helplessness and limitations of this era, she always had an astonishingly high tolerance threshold for those around her.

　　Even if she couldn't tolerate it, there was no other way—after all, she had already time-traveled.

　　For a laid-back time-traveler like her, no path felt more comfortable than going with the flow.

　　Mr. Bennett was still discussing Jane's matter with Mrs. Bennett.

　　Elizabeth looked at the muddy road outside, feeling somewhat anxious.

　　"Jane is ill. She'll feel lonely and helpless alone at Netherfield Park, and must be wishing for our company," said Elizabeth.

　　Mrs. Bennett turned to Elizabeth, "Oh, my dear Lizzie. I'm just as concerned about Jane as you are. If we had a carriage at home, I would certainly go to Netherfield Park to see her immediately."

　　Upon hearing his wife's words, Mr. Bennett remarked dismissively, "My dear madam, if you truly cared about Jane, you shouldn't have let her risk getting caught in the rain going to Netherfield Park yesterday."

　　"Mr. Bennett, I've had quite enough of you," Mrs. Bennett frowned and glared at her husband. "Everything I did was for our daughter's benefit. Why must you always misinterpret my intentions？"

　　Starting to argue again.

　　Mary felt inwardly amused. She shook her head slightly and walked out of the dining room.

　　The roads outside were completely muddy. The two younger sisters, Catherine and Lydia, had also come out. Unconcerned about Jane, they were merrily discussing their afternoon plans to visit their aunt in Meryton and stop by the milliner's shop there.

　　Elizabeth's voice came from the dining room, "Mother, I wish to go to Netherfield Park to see Jane."

　　Mrs. Bennett stopped her, "Lizzie, Sir William's family is coming to visit us this afternoon. You and Charlotte are best friends - if she arrives and you're not here, she'll be so disappointed."

　　Elizabeth raised her voice, "But someone must go take care of Jane. Have you forgotten how many people died in last autumn's epidemic？ They all started with just sore throats and fevers, yet ultimately succumbed to the illness. Is it proper that your daughter lies ill alone at Netherfield Park with no one from home going to see her？"

　　"Are you the only person in this household？" Mrs. Bennett's volume rose accordingly, "Mary can go!"

　　Mary：“……”

　　Sitting outside the door, trouble came finding Mary from within the room.

　　Mrs. Bennett's voice successfully quieted Catherine and Lydia who were nearby.

　　The two younger sisters glanced at Mary with great sympathy.

　　Catherine coughed lightly, "Mary, there's no carriage available at home. If you want to go to Netherfield to see Jane, you'll have to walk."

　　Lydia leaned in with a smile, "Don't worry, Kitty and I are going to visit our aunt - we can accompany you as far as Meryton."

　　Kitty is Catherine's nickname.

　　Hearing Lydia's words, Mary maintained a stoic expression, "Well, thank you both for your company then."

　　The distance from Longbourn to Netherfield Manor is about three miles, Mary thought, which means it's just an hour's walk, not unacceptable.

　　It's just this muddy road…

　　Mary looked at the muddy path outside and felt quite troubled.

　　By the time she reaches Netherfield Manor, she'll probably turn into a mud-covered figure, won't she？

　　Mary wasn't wrong; trekking three miles on the muddy road successfully turned her into a little mud-covered figure.

　　However, she had the foresight to bring clean clothes with her beforehand.

　　Among the five sisters, she was quite ordinary; in others' eyes, Mary possessed neither exceptional beauty nor stunning talent, making her the most average member of the Bennett family.

　　Therefore, Mary had no reservations about turning into a little mud-covered figure.

　　After the heavy rain, the wildflowers by the roadside surprisingly hadn't been beaten down and were still blooming brightly and carefreely in the sunlight.

　　Mary, who had parted ways with her two younger sisters in Meryton, picked wildflowers along the way—red, pink, white, purple… A bunch of colorful wildflowers was held in her arms, so much so that when Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley at Netherfield Manor saw Mary, they felt momentarily disoriented.

　　But the girl beamed brightly at the