reflections of a lifelong narrator (an interlude)
Several weeks passed in much of the same way for the Lupins. They seemed to run into the Netherfield party quite frequently; Mr. Potter, Lily, and Mary would chatter away happily when they met in the markets (Mary also got on quite well with him), Marlene and Miss Meadowes would huddle together a bit away from the group and exchange words in hushed voices, and, just like that first night, Remus would be left to speak with Mr. Black.
He was, by all accounts, an exceedingly surprising man. He was sullen and uncommunicative some days and jovial and light-hearted on others; he sought out conversation with Remus every chance he got, although they were never again one-on-one entirely. He was extraordinarily funny when he wanted to be, sometimes joking around with Remus as though they’d known each other all their lives, and sometimes was as stiff and awkward as if they were new acquaintances. Remus enjoyed watching his face when he bantered with Mr. Potter or teased his friends, and was equally entertained by how quickly and visibly he was bored by topics like the weather or who in town had just gotten married or had children. His features weren’t nearly so haughty as Remus had thought at first; when he grinned, he looked like a whole different person. Remus was willing to admit that Mr. Black was always good-looking, strikingly so, but he liked to be the one to make him grin, to see his face light up with laughter in real time.
Neither Lily nor Marlene could see the appeal. To them, he seemed proud and unpleasant, not the sort of person they’d expect Remus to take a liking to at all. Mary publicly withheld judgement of the man, not wishing to take sides, but secretly she understood Mr. Black’s appeal as well. He was like the pomegranates they plucked from the trees every autumn, adored by all four; it took work to crack him open and peel apart the layers, but Mary had a funny feeling that the inside was sweet. Besides, Marlene and Lily had far too biassed a view of their own brother. Remus was often moody and disagreeable himself.
Mary saw the world as an intricate set of patterns and puzzles, a beautiful system that could be solved with a poke here and a prod there and a subtle rearrangement of pawns. Mary had grown up an orphan on the streets of Westminster, in a time where children were valued less than dogs. She’d lived in a warehouse behind a textile factory with thirty other girls until the very day she schemed her way to the Lupins, and it was there in the old warehouse that she began her studies in human nature. Some of her earliest memories were of a discarded chess board one of the older girls had found in a rubbish bin and offered her when it was clear the pieces held no monetary value — Mary never got the chance to learn the official rules. This was of no great sorrow to her. She preferred to make her own rules anyway.
Mary was the youngest addition to the group by a large margin; the textile girls were willing to feed her until she was old enough to take care of herself (at least by their standards), but they were no family. That was alright. She had learned from a very young age that the only power she had in the grand scheme of things was that of her own mind. In that way, she was never really alone. Besides, Mary was a quick learner and a clever child. She learned the lessons every girl had to learn in those days: how to work hard and what to keep secret and which people to endear herself to. She learned that flattery was an invaluable tool when applied correctly and just the right heartstrings to pluck for her benefit. Most importantly, Mary learned to hide in plain sight. But one doesn’t hide without picking up a thing or two about what others are hiding, and she employed this tactic to great effect. When things got rough or money was tight among the factory girls, Mary learned to disappear. It didn’t feel so painful then, if everything was only a game. She was an observer, an actress, and a solver of mysteries. The world tossed her around like a neglected rag doll, but Mary was never helpless. She was the world’s Narrator, and nothing bad could happen to the one who told the story.
She waited and watched and listened all the time, and by the time she was eight, she’d found her way out. The setting: an unexceptional flat in a middle-class suburban district of Westminster. The Director and Lead Actress: a young Mary Macdonald starring in the role of Pitiful Orphan Girl #1 stopping for a rest beside the road after a long day at the dreadful factory. The costume: Mary’s own uniform dress (with an extra smear of mud, just to get the point across). Now the stage was set. Enter the Wealthy Widow stopping by for a visit with her nephew, and it was all too easy from there.
‘Good Heavens!’ the woman had said. ‘Are you alright, my dear child?’
Mary shook her head wretchedly. ‘No, Miss. I work dawn to dusk at the textile mill. The Foreman says he’ll push any girl who doesn’t work hard enough into the machines. Sometimes I think it’d be better, Miss. To be spun into a beautiful fabric, like that pretty dress of yours, than to live like this.’ She worried she was laying it on too thick when she covered her face and pretended to weep bitterly, but she needn’t have feared. Rich women did love a sob story. It was true, anyway, what she said about the Foreman. The best stories always had cores of truth.
‘This simply can’t be allowed!’ the woman exclaimed passionately. ‘A little thing like you, worked down to the bone? Come inside, darling, have some supper. I’ll see what I can do about you, don’t you cry.’
Mary sniffled a little, wiping away her nonexistent tears. By this time, she’d secured assistance and a meal. Next came the bit that required the most precision. She gazed up at the woman, blinking innocently in a practised performance of awestruck wonder she knew could gain the pity of any conscience-stricken adult. ‘Are you an Angel, Miss?’ she asked in an amazed whisper. That was all it took. The next morning, she was on a train bound for Hertfordshire, clutching an envelope stuffed with banknotes. To this day, she thought Hope and Lyall merely thought Mary had a wealthy aunt herself. That was fine. Mary agreed to give up her plots the day they welcomed her into their home, and she stuck by that rule, most of the time. The Lupins weren’t rich, but having food to eat never again felt like a task that required scheme or strategy. That suited her well.
Sometimes, however, Mary got bored. She’d notice little things, a private look between conspirators or the subtlest slip of the tongue. The people of Meryton had thousands of tiny secrets lurking just beneath the surface, and Mary found herself unconsciously untangling them bit by bit. The truth was, Mary thought people were beautiful. Often, they hid away the best parts of themselves, and it took a certain kind of problem-solver to bring this beauty into the light.
And so, when Remus defended Mr. Black, Mary said nothing. He understood her ways better than most people — Remus was, after all, an observer himself — but in matters pertaining to his own life, he was as oblivious and dull as she’d ever met. Mary left that mystery for another day. At this moment, the person she wished to sort out most was one Lily Evans.
—
One morning in early autumn, Mary (who always fetched the post) burst into Remus and Lily’s bedroom to announce Lily’s invitation to dine for breakfast at Netherfield Park. Marlene followed sleepily in tow, plopping down on Remus’s bed while Mary delivered the news. Lily snatched the letter from Mary’s hands greedily and read through it, grinning, and Remus noted with interest that this act no longer embarrassed her. She and Mr. Potter — or “James”, as she now affectionately called him — had grown to be quite close friends in the short time they’d known each other, but this was the first time she’d be visiting his estate. That certainly meant something, didn’t it?
“Oh, it’ll be such fun,” Lily declared happily, slipping the letter back into its fine-looking envelope. “How kind of him to invite me.”
“How kind of you to accept, Lu!” Mary replied, ruffling Lily’s hair. “Don’t spare a single detail, will you? I want to know just what these three get up to when they’re out of the public eye.”
Lily wrinkled her nose. “Don’t be a busybody, Mary, I’m not invading their privacy for your entertainment.”
Mary smiled and patted Lily’s cheek. “Yes you are, Lily, be a lamb. We’ve got to know if he’s husband material for you.”
Lily flapped her hands to shoo Mary and Marlene out of the room. “Very funny, Mary, we’re not getting married. Now out, you two, I’ve got to get ready.”
Mary and Marlene obediently shuffled back to their own room, stifling giggles, while Lily turned her attention to rummaging around her bureau for something to wear. She chose a pretty pink dress from her mess of belongings and went behind the screen to change.
Remus laid back on his bed. “Lily? May I ask you something?”
“Yes?”
“Do you actually fancy Mr. Potter, or is he only a friend? Do you wish to marry him at all?”
The rustling of fabric behind the screen paused for a moment as Lily considered it. “Hm,” she said. She hung her nightdress thoughtfully over the side. “I do think I would be quite happy to marry him. He’s a very lovely man.”
Remus raised his eyebrows but said nothing, waiting for Lily to continue.
She poked her head over the top of the screen, frowning with the effort to put her thoughts into words. “It’s sort of like— I mean, we’re friends, right? We like each other very well, and I’d sooner marry him than anyone else, but…” She let out a frustrated huff, a few strands of hair fluttering away from her face.
“Remus, have you ever wanted to want something so badly you almost convinced yourself that you did, in fact, want that thing, even when you didn’t? And everyone else wants you to want that thing so you agree and think to yourself ‘yes, I do want this thing!’ So you try your hardest, but even though the thing is perfect and you absolutely should want it, you just can’t make yourself! And that thing, that thing you want to want so badly, also wants to want you, but it doesn’t really want you, because it is you, you’re the same and that’s why you understand each other, but you don’t want each other and nothing can fix it. You’re just going in circles again and again and driving yourself mad.”
Remus sat up slowly, blinking. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, Lily, I have. I know what you mean.”
Lily ducked behind the screen again to pull on her dress. “And you think Mr. Potter feels the same?” Remus asked.
She emerged, clothed in pink and combing her fingers through her hair. She seemed to consider this thoroughly. “Yes. No. Sort of,” she responded vaguely. “It’s— Oh, you’re going to say it’s just my own self-doubt talking, but I promise it isn't. I know he likes me, but I also know he’s deluding himself to a certain extent, like there’s something more he’s not saying. D’you know, he’s really quite pigheaded sometimes. He practically told me so himself.”
Remus absorbed this knowledge with mild amusement. “I see. Well, you’re only twenty, Lily. Plenty of time to sow wild oats and all that.”
Lily snorted, scrunching up her nose at him. “Don’t be disgusting, Remus. Say, do you happen to know—”
Marlene leaned against the doorframe of their room at that moment, nervously knocking on the wood. “Pardon the interruption, but Mary said that Father said that he’s lent the carriage to the Fortescues for the day, and that you must go on foot. She also said—” Mary could be heard clearing her throat pointedly from the hallway. Marlene shifted her feet. “I mean, I think you’d better head out soon, Lily. You wouldn’t want to be late, and it’s miles away.”
Lily gave Marlene a suspicious once-over, but accepted her message without much protest. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll be off, then. Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone, will you?”
She directed this last comment at Remus, who offered her a cheerful salute. “No, ma’am,” he replied cheekily, but Lily just fastened her bonnet under her chin and strolled out of the room, nearly bumping into Mary in the hallway. Head held high, she ignored her sister and made her way out of Longbourn with an unexpected energy for someone setting out for the roughly six-mile journey to Netherfield Park and back.
As soon as the door slammed shut behind her, Mary and Marlene tumbled into the room, Mary giggling happily and Marlene wringing her hands.
“I don’t like lying to her, Mary,” Marlene objected half-heartedly. “I don’t understand this plan at all.”
“Oh shush,” Mary said. “Just come here.” Grabbing Marlene’s wrist, she pulled her to Remus and Lily’s little window and pulled back the curtain. “I don’t like the look of those clouds, do you?”
Marlene peered up at the dark grey clouds floating above them, frowning slightly. “Er, sure, they're sub-optimal. Your point?”
The scheme suddenly dawned on Remus; he was usually the one to catch up with Mary the quickest. “Oh Jesus, Mary,” he said. “You’re mad.”
Marlene shot him an annoyed look. “Remus, what on Earth is going on?”
Mary grinned, letting go of the curtain and allowing the fabric to flutter back into place. “Lennie, darling, picture this,” she began kindly, gesturing for Marlene to close her eyes. (Remus loved this about her. Mary could be quarrelsome and antagonistic and spiteful and she held grudges longer than anybody Remus knew, but she was never not patient with her family, and she was always willing to spread whatever she enjoyed around. Remus sighed and let her explain herself. It was sort of funny, after all.)
“You’re Lily Evans. Alright? You’re exceptionally independent, and you’re worried about getting married because you don’t want to feel like you have to rely on someone else to take care of you, even if said person is an adorable ray of sunshine of a man who worships the ground you walk on. You’re Lily, so you’re all ‘woe is me, no one loves me’ all the time, or whatever other bollocks she’s worried about.”
Remus smirked. “That’s an excellent Lily impression, I must say.”
“Oh, I know,” Mary replied. “She’s ridiculous. Anyway, Lennie, you think you’re the only one who can protect yourself. And then one day,” she pointed towards the window again, “you’re on the way to visit a gentleman friend of yours, on foot, and it begins to rain.”
Marlene scratched her cheek, eyes still closed. “Okay?” she said. “So it’s raining. Then what?”
“Then,” Remus joined in, “you fall terribly ill from the weather and are forced to stay in his home, where he waits on you hand and foot and attends to your every need because he’s just that sort of fellow.”
Mary nodded, satisfied. “Exactly. Now all of a sudden you see a life stretching out before you, where you don’t have to be alone and there’s a handsome, darling man looking after you. Doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”
Marlene opened her eyes, shooting the pair of them a disgruntled look. “What are the chances it’ll actually—”
Just as she spoke, a tremendous pitter-pattering of rain pounded the rooftop of Longbourn, immediately muddying the grass in their garden. Mary’s grin widened. “The two of you have got to trust me. I’ve never had a plan fail.”
Remus shook his head at her, amazed. “You can hardly take credit for making it rain, can you?”
Marlene gave her sister an uneasy look. “I don’t know,” she whispered to Remus. “Sometimes I think she can.”
Mary laughed, pulling aside the curtain again to watch her sister break out into a run in the distance. “I’ve outdone myself this time,” she declared, almost to herself.
Marlene joined her at the window, peering out with interest. She was always on board with Mary’s plans once she understood them. “Your matchmaking skills are positively occult, Mary.”
The downpour outside began to intensify as they watched, and a faint roll of thunder could be heard in the distance. Remus shook his head again. “Both of you are nutty, d’you know that? Letting Lily go out into this storm on foot is mad. Is the carriage even on loan to the Fortescues at all?”
Mary gave him a mysterious look, not answering his question. “What, jealous she’s off to Netherfield and you’re not?”
“Pardon?”
“Tell you what,” she said. “If it ends up one of us has to go fetch her, you’ll be the one to do it, Remus. Now calm down and stop worrying. I’ve got a plan.”
Remus flopped down on his bed with a distinct grumble of “you and your plans,” but he left Mary and Marlene to their plotting anyway. As irritating as it was, Marlene was right about Mary. There was hardly a limit to what she could make happen.
—
The next morning, Lily had still not returned. Just as Mary had predicted, a letter arrived from Netherfield in her handwriting along with the morning post, addressed to Remus:
To R. J. Lupin:
I find myself greatly unwell this morning, which I attribute to my getting soaked through in the rain yesterday. It was unwise of me to set off on foot, I suppose. In any case, my friends will not hear of my leaving until I am better. I shall be staying at Netherfield until I am well enough to return. Do not worry for my health; excepting a sore throat, a fever, and a headache, nothing much is wrong with me. I would be delighted for you to visit me, should you get the chance. Tell Marlene and Mary I am alright.
Sincerely, L. J. Evans
Inexplicably, Remus felt a slight thrill in his gut at the prospect of visiting Netherifield, a sentiment he hoped to disguise from Mary’s watchful eye. He let her read the letter while he finished his porridge — Marlene peering over her shoulder to scan its contents as well — and then casually stood and fetched his coat.
“I suppose I’ll visit, shall I? Just to make sure she’s being properly attended to,” Remus declared, feigning disinterest. Mary scrutinised him closely, the tiniest of smirks on her face. “It’ll be a comfort to know that if Lily dies of this illness, it’ll have been in pursuit of Mr. Potter, won’t it, Mary?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Of course it will. Be off posthaste, brother, I’m quite sure Lily’s on her deathbed.”
Marlene swallowed a bite of eggs and piped in, “He doesn’t have to go on foot this time, I thought you said he could use the—”
Mary placed a gentle hand on her arm. Marlene fell silent immediately. “Go on, you fancy a walk, don’t you, Remus?” she said.
Remus studied them suspiciously for a moment, but ultimately couldn’t see the harm in walking. It was a lovely day out after all, the storm had quite passed. And Remus always fancied a walk.
Remus said his goodbyes and strolled out the door without further delay. The ground was still muddy but the grass smelled deliciously sweet and fresh after the rain, and Remus soon felt his irritation slip away in the early autumn breeze. He could never stay mad at Mary long anyway, and he’d long heard talk of the Netherfield Park estate’s beauty and wished to see it for himself. Remus plucked a few wildflowers as he went, hoping to bring something nice for Lily’s bedside. Knowing her nature, she was likely in far worse condition than she let on.
—
As much as Remus did adore walking, admittedly trudging through a few miles of just-rained upon soil before arriving unannounced at the estate of a posh gentleman he wished very greatly to impress was not the most brilliant idea he’d ever had, but for Lily’s sake, he was willing to soldier on. By the time he arrived, the day had passed into afternoon and the mud on his clothes began to dry and stiffen, a fact Remus hardly noticed in his attempts to locate the entrance. Once inside, he explained his situation nervously to a member of Mr. Potter’s staff who was dusting the gold frame of an old portrait in the front hallway, who seemed unsure at his request but led him to the estate’s dining area nevertheless. If the gleaming corridors were any indication, Netherfield Park was indeed quite a magnificent structure.
“Here’s Mr. Remus Lupin for you, sir,” the duster announced timidly, scurrying off back to work as soon as the duty was fulfilled. Remus stepped into the room, cringing at the trail of mud he had tracked down the marble hallway.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, not entirely sure on the protocol of these sorts of things. He bowed. “Please pardon my intrusion. I came to inquire about the wellbeing of my sister?”
When he straightened up again, he saw the following before him: Mr. Potter, mouth formed into a silent, surprised “o”; Miss Meadowes, smiling and tactfully averting her gaze from the rim of mud at the bottom of his trousers; and Mr. Black, who had stood politely when Remus entered the room.
“Did you walk here?” Mr. Black asked, his tone not malicious but not exactly friendly either. Remus absently wondered what sort of mood the man would be in today.
“I did,” he replied simply. “My sister?”
Mr. Potter jumped into action then, ready and eager to play the gracious host. “Of course, Mr. Lupin! She’s upstairs, in the guest bedroom with the light green door. If you’d like to join us for tea after you visit with her, we’d all be very much obliged.”
Remus bowed his thanks and hurriedly found his way to the stairs, nearly getting lost in the building’s labyrinthine layout but eventually locating the green-doored bedroom and knocking gently on the wood. “Lily? Are you awake? It’s me, Remus,” he called through the door.
“Come in,” croaked her hoarse voice from inside.
Upon entering the room, Remus found his concerns about Lily to be accurate; her state was far worse than she made out in her brief letter to him. She looked exhausted and pale, struggling to sit up as he walked towards her but eventually giving up and laying back on the pillows.
“Remus, you came,” she said weakly. “I feel such a terrible imposition.” Remus quickly sat at her bedside, smoothing back her hair. “Don’t be silly,” he told her. “Oh, I knew you must’ve been more ill than you let on.”
Lily looked positively miserable. "They're being so kind to me..."
Remus grinned cheekily, setting the flowers he plucked for her on the bedside table. "Of course they are, Lily, they adore you. I'm not sure who's more pleased at your staying here, Mr. Potter or Mary."
Lily tried to laugh, but was pulled into a coughing fit instead. “Oh, it’s simply awful. Who could have predicted that rain?” she bemoaned.
Remus stood, smiling wryly. “You’d be surprised.”
Seeing she was being well cared for, Remus allowed Lily to rest, returning downstairs to dine with Mr. Potter and his companions.
“Thank you for tending to my sister so diligently,” Remus told Mr. Potter at the earliest possible opportunity. “She’s in far greater comfort here than she would be at home.”
“It’s a pleasure!” Mr. Potter exclaimed right away. Remus raised his eyebrows, and Mr. Potter blushed fiercely. “I mean, it’s not a pleasure at all that she’s ill, of course. Of course not! Only that we get to spend a bit more time with her. You know.”
Remus quickly understood why all of Hertfordshire found the man so charming. Remus smirked at Mr. Potter, not intending to put him at ease. “I do know,” he emphasised. He could hear Mr. Black and Miss Meadowes chuckling from the breakfast table.
Perhaps the afternoon would pass pleasantly after all.