Previous Section, Section IV
Posted on Monday, 17 September 2007
Chapter Nineteen
Although Elizabeth forgot to feel even a drop of self-pity as she was encircled in Fitzwilliam's embrace, eventually she did remember to be surprised that he was there at all.
"What are you doing here?" she blurted, pulling away slightly.
"Holding you?"
"In Hertfordshire, I mean. You were to spend the holidays in London with Georgiana and return only for the wedding. That is nearly a week away."
"Shall I return to London, then?" he laughed. "Although if I do Georgiana will certainly think I am mad, considering how miserable I was there."
"Miserable? It was Christmas and you were with your beloved sister. I believe you do not understand the definition of the word misery, Sir, if you felt yourself experiencing it under such favourable circumstances."
"Are we going to argue semantics?" Darcy chided, bringing them both back to previous conversations in their favourite glade. He led Lizzy to her special boulder so she could sit. "You will have to charge Georgiana with its misuse, however, for she is the one who scolded me yesterday: ‘if you are so miserable without her, why do we not travel to Hertfordshire tomorrow instead of Saturday?'" Hearing Fitzwilliam imitate his sister's high pitch and fail, miserably, made Lizzy laugh, but she was sobered by his next comment.
"And once I heard from your father that Wickham had been confined to quarters for the foreseeable future for conduct unbecoming an officer, I felt even safer bringing Georgiana here to ring in the New Year."
"That is a relief. You know, of course, that I would not argue with Miss Darcy for the world---both because I am sure she is as sweet as you describe her and because I am quite in her debt, encouraging you to come sooner. I must own that I was a tiny bit miserable myself."
"Pitiful even?"
"Indeed. Pitiful in my ability to pity myself when you had only been gone such a short time!"
"I am glad to hear it. Irrationally I feared that my absence would make you amend your opinion."
"Yes! You would think me such a changeable creature. After all, one day I was furious with you and almost the next I was agreeing to be courted by you! I assure you, however, that I cannot imagine my current feelings doing anything but growing."
"Your feelings of pitifulness?"
Lizzy paused, blushing, but decided that there was no longer any doubt or any need to dissemble. Their separation had shown her this much at least. So she answered his teasing question in a quiet but resolute tone, "No. My feelings of love."
For such an acknowledgement there was no response possible but to pull her up and back into his arms. He held her even more tightly than before, kissing the top of her head, her temple, her cheek.
"Tell me I am not dreaming," he finally breathed.
There was no answer. He pulled back from his ministrations to look at her still-closed eyes.
"Elizabeth."
"Mmmmm?"
Darcy could not help but laugh, which made her eyes fly open in surprise.
"I asked you to tell me I was not dreaming, but I am afraid it was you who had drifted off!" he teased.
Lizzy, usually able to laugh at her own foibles as well as the foibles of others, smiled sheepishly. "I assure you that I was simply..."
"Entrancing."
"Entranced would be more appropriate. I have never felt more exposed and yet more sheltered than when I am with you."
"I understand the feeling."
"Just that feeling or others as well?" Lizzy asked a bit nervously.
"Elizabeth, I may never have said it directly before, but I believe you know very well how I feel about you."
"Teasing man!" she exclaimed, turning from his presence only to be recalled by his words and the gravity of his tone.
"I love you," he said, kneeling down and reaching for her hand. "I have loved you for longer than you have liked me, I think. But now that I am assured of your love, there is but one thing left to say. Will you marry me, Elizabeth Bennet, and put me out of this misery of living without you?"
Refusing to argue over semantics at such a moment, Elizabeth made her response very plain, even without words.
Refusing to believe what he was hearing, Mr. Bennet's response was inscrutable. He was simply without words.
"Sir? Mr. Bennet?" Mr. Darcy asked when no reply to his request for Elizabeth's hand was forthcoming.
"Mr. Darcy, I had never taken you for an impulsive man, but now I am hard pressed to remember what I thought was so sensible and deliberate about you! You have been courting my daughter barely a month, some of that time spent in absentia, and now you return and without even seeing Elizabeth you are asking permission to marry her."
Now it was Mr. Darcy who was at a loss for words.
"I see. So you have seen Elizabeth. Have you been making morning assignations with her? Did you plan this?" Mr. Bennet did not enjoy having the wool pulled over his eyes in such a manner.
"I promise you, Sir, that Miss Elizabeth and I did not plan to meet this morning. I arrived so late last night that I did not have time to call. This morning, I awoke early and..." Darcy was not used to feeling the fool, except perhaps around Elizabeth, but her father's knowing stare was making him feel the errant schoolboy brought to task.
"And..." prompted Mr. Bennet.
"And I walked three miles from Netherfield just to get a glimpse of her home," Darcy finished, begrudgingly. "I didn't even want to wait for my horse to be saddled."
Mr. Bennet contained his smirk admirably. "I see. And you never imagined you would find Elizabeth along that path?"
"Sir, it is nearly January, and I can assure you that I did not think I would meet man or beast. But I underestimated Elizabeth's fortitude."
"It is easy to underestimate Elizabeth; she is a remarkable woman."
"I know."
"And you think you are up to the task of matching wits with her for the rest of your days?"
"I look forward to it."
"Is she looking forward to it?"
"She is."
"Then you believe she loves you?"
"I know it."
"Oh." There was not much to say to so bald a statement as that, and Mr. Bennet dropped his interrogation. He was not exactly happy to be losing his favourite daughter, but he was resigned to losing her and pleased with her choice. "Well, Mr. Darcy, you have my blessing. I could not have parted with my Lizzy to anyone less worthy." At this he removed his spectacles and looked into Darcy's hopeful eyes. "Not materially worthy, mind you, of that there was never doubt---but I believe you will take care of her heart and mind as well as her person and material needs; will you not?"
"I will. I will endeavour to be worthy of her in just that way, Mr. Bennet."
"Bennet will do, Darcy."
"Thank you, Bennet," said his future son-in-law.
"Bennet" and "Darcy" they remained until they became "Father" and "Son", forgetting eventually how that even came about. Neither one, however, ever forgot their conversation on that New Year's Eve morning.
There were many unforgettable conversations and events that New Year's Eve morning.
Charles Bingley would never forget the almost sheepish look on Darcy's face when he handed over Charles' mother's ring, casually mentioning that he had already proposed to Elizabeth, sans ring, that very morning. To be beaten to the punch by the normally staid Darcy was a blow to Charles' belief in his own impetuosity, and he set out immediately to restore his self-respect. Not to be outdone by Darcy and his unplanned proposal on a furtive morning walk, Charles entered Longbourn and boldly requested a moment alone with Miss Bennet---which was hastily granted---and asked for Jane's hand without preamble and before he had even got the ring out of the box.
Jane Bennet would never forget the look of mingled shock and joy on Charles' face when she immediately made her response very plain, even without words---all of her worries about Charles' relative languor in proposing forgotten forever in that moment.
Kitty Bennet would never forget how happy she had been for both her sisters and---secretly from all but Jane and Lizzy---also for herself. After all, with Jane married to Charles and Lizzy living near Kympton, her chances of seeing a certain singing parson more frequently had just increased greatly.
Lydia Bennet would never forget---or at least it felt like she would not---her shock at discovering that not one but three of her sisters were now engaged while her own prospects were dimmed. Lizzy had informed her of the news of Mr. Wickham's disgrace and unavailability. Lydia did nothing without words that day or for many days afterward as she sought to inflict her own dissatisfaction on everyone else.
Mrs. Bennet would never forget hearing that Lizzy was engaged---engaged to Mr. Darcy!---nor ushering her other daughters out of the parlour so that Jane could become likewise betrothed. (Truth be told, that was not so very much of a shock.) The knowledge that three of her daughters were soon to be well settled, that no one would turn them out in the hedgerows if her husband should die, and that her other two girls would surely meet only the most eligible of men from now on changed Mrs. Bennet forever. It gave her a peace and confidence not experienced since her first confinement when she had been sure an heir was on the way and all had seemed right in the world. Her peace was shaken from time to time, and she was certainly still far too interested in fripperies and gossip for her husband's taste, but neither one of them would ever forget the greater understanding between them that seemed to develop from this day. Mr. Bennet was also relieved to find his wife speaking of his impending demise with far less frequency once she had the impending arrival of potential grandchildren to think about.
Georgiana Darcy would most certainly never forget her first introduction to the entire Bennet family, most especially her future sister, Elizabeth. The general merriment of the group and obvious affection they held for each other, along with her brother's reserved approbation of them, helped her to overcome her diffidence little by little. She did not spend as much time at Longbourn in the ensuing days as her brother, but she did enjoy her visits there and eagerly looked forward to the wedding.
Mr. Collins would not have remembered this particular morning if left to his own devices. It had not included any visit to Rosings, and though his time spent with Mary getting ready for the wedding was companionable, it was unmemorable. However, in future years when people reminisced about this very significant New Year's Eve, Mary would often remind her husband that they too had had good news that morning, beyond her sisters' engagements. For Mr. Collins had received a letter from his old university friend and mentor, stating that the Reverend Doctor would arrive the day before the Collinses' wedding and would be happy to have the honour of uniting the couple. He had conveniently not been told of wardrobe malfunctions or forced engagements, though he probably would have done the job anyway---but not without embarrassment.
Lizzy, upon hearing of this impending addition, laughed with her visitor, Charlotte, about the arrival of yet another holy man, wondering if there was a word that carried an even more replete connotation than "surfeit" for this ever expanding group of clerics!
Charlotte, for her part, would never forget that conversation for reasons which would not become clear to her or anyone else for several days.
For reasons which would not become clear to any people, ever, unless perhaps they believed in Providence, Charlotte Lucas had volunteered to help decorate the church for Mary Bennet's wedding. The Altar Guild ladies had been largely struck down with an ague that was making the rounds of Meryton, and the Bennet women were busy with various preparations around home, including of course the requisite shoe ribbons, hair ribbons and lace about which Mr. Bennet was so sick of hearing.
As dissatisfied as Charlotte was in her single state, she could not deny that she loved everything about weddings. The decorations, the dresses, the solemnity, and the wedding breakfast all thrilled the outwardly pragmatic woman.
So Charlotte, in a world of her own as she straightened the altar cloth and arranged the candelabrum, did not hear the door opening or see the man walking backward up the aisle toward her until his back encountered hers with a mighty thump.
"Oh!"
"Madam! I must beg your pardon. I was not attending. A habit of mine I am afraid. Well, I was attending, just not to where I was heading. I was attending to where I had been. To get a sense of the space, you see..." Finally looking at Charlotte's pale face, the Reverend Doctor Robert Fullworth was shocked into a rare and momentary silence.
"Robert."
"Charlotte."
"What are you doing here?"
"Besides crashing into my past?" Fullworth had regained his composure and was amazed to be once again face to face with Charlotte Lucas. "I am here to perform a wedding of a former student of mine, William Collins."
"Oh."
"Is that all you can say after more than ten years?"
"I do not know what to say, Mr. Fullworth. I never expected to see you again."
"Nor I you. But I am glad I have, Miss Lucas. If it is still ‘Miss Lucas', that is. It would be perfectly natural for you to be married. Are you married? You must be married." Fullworth's habit of babbling when he was nervous had changed not one iota since Charlotte had known him all those years ago. She smiled at the thought, which was immediately misinterpreted.
"Ah. So, you are."
"I am?"
"Married."
"I am not."
"You are not?"
"No. I have never even come close to being married."
"Except to me."
"Was I close?"
"In my mind. For a time. Then it all seemed so hopeless, and..."
"You ran away."
"I did not! I got an appointment to do research under the best theologian I know, and I took it. You knew I wanted to further my education. You knew I wanted to teach. Felt a call, even. But you did not want to wait. You made it perfectly clear. You... I..."
"You were focused and I was young."
"Yes." The silent weight of ten years fell between them as memories rushed back, unbidden. Then Robert gathered the courage he needed to add, "But I have always regretted you."
Charlotte merely coloured at this. After all her advice about Jane Bennet, when she was faced with Robert saying such a thing, she could not be so bold as to tell him the truth. That she had regretted him for over ten years. That she had longed to take back her hurtful words and tell him she would gladly wait. That she had almost broken convention and written to him so many times over the years.
Robert did not know what to make of the silence, but for once he decided not to fill it. Seeing her, after all these years, unengaged and unmarried was more than he had let himself dream. But they were different people now, fully formed in ways they had not been ten years ago. Did he still have a chance?
They stared at each other until Mr. Collins bustled in, unaware of the frisson of tension filling the holy space.
"Fullworth, my friend, what do you think? I know it is not up to the grandeur of the places in which you are used to speaking, but in its own way and as the family church of my beloved Mary, I think you will not take exception to performing such little services as we require. No indeed, the more I see it, the more I am convinced that even Lady Catherine herself would approve of my being wed in such a place."
Robert agreed with this absently and by the time he was able to turn his attention back to Charlotte, she had disappeared out of his life yet again.
Chapter Twenty
She had disappeared out of his life yet again. Or at least his presence. But Charlotte Lucas' feelings were in such a whirl that she could not have stayed a minute longer.
For a while she knew not where she walked until she realised her feet had placed her on the path not toward home but toward Longbourn.
Surely a good laugh with Lizzy will make me feel myself again.
It was not until she was nearly at Longbourn's gates that she realised her error---Longbourn was not just the home of her dear friend but of three engaged daughters of a very proud and busy mother. On most days Charlotte would have no doubt of a warm reception, but today was not most days. Yet, how could she return home to her oblivious family of brothers and sisters, much too self-involved or too young to understand what had just occurred. She was sure, in fact, that none of her much younger siblings would believe that dependable old Charlotte could ever be so impractical as to fall in love. Her mother, the only other soul of her acquaintance who knew of her past with Robert, was so prejudiced by his ‘defection' that she could never hear his name spoken without launching into a tirade about his unworthiness.
That was hardly what Charlotte wanted to hear right now.
Charlotte decided to brave Longbourn's frenzied inhabitants under the pretext of reporting on the church's state of readiness. That would appease Mrs. Bennet, she was sure, and buy her some much-needed time with Lizzy as a result.
Mrs. Bennet appeased, Charlotte's much-needed time with Lizzy was about to commence when Misters Darcy and Bingley happened to call.
Tea was called for and served, wedding plans were rehashed, and happy couples were twitted about their own "big day". Many other things happened as well. What did not happen was Charlotte's much-needed time, alone, with Lizzy.
Charlotte was just getting ready to take her leave of the Bennets when the voices of the bridegroom and his clerical friend were heard in the hall. Before Lizzy knew what had hit her, Charlotte had dragged her back to the still room on some spurious pretext or another.
"Charlotte Lucas! What is the matter? I have never seen my dear, sober friend act in such a manner. Mr. Darcy will surely be wondering why I did not even take my leave of him!" Her words were chiding but her tone was mischievous, both of which were lost on her agitated audience.
"Eliza, I must ask your counsel about something. I am all confusion."
"Certainly, Charlotte. What has happened?"
"Have I ever told you about my one season?"
"I do not believe so, but I would gladly hear of it if it would bring you some present relief."
"When you were still running around the park with my brother Billy, I had my first and only season in London. I refused a second." Charlotte got lost for a minute in the memory of it.
"May I ask why?"
"I had fallen in love, more deeply than I knew at the time, during my first season. He was a theological student who danced divinely and spouted the most charming nonsense one minute yet could engage my mind on topics with great conviction and earnestness the next. He wanted to finish his studies and be ordained before settling down. I was not yet seventeen and the number of years he was talking about seemed nearly infinite." Charlotte laughed mirthlessly, "We would, ironically, have been married and started a family by now. How short-sighted I was!
"And I knew it too. Almost as soon as he had gone, I knew that I had made a terrible mistake. I know you think me practical, perhaps even a little mercenary, in matters of the heart, but I can assure you that I was as sick over Robert's departure as any Fanny Burney heroine."
"Robert?"
"The Reverend Doctor Robert Fullworth is his full title, I believe---if all he had hoped for has been achieved."
"Yes, that is his name, as Mr. Collins has enjoyed telling all of us for several days now." Lizzy did not say this with her customary mirth, as she could tell that Charlotte was truly upset. "Should I be sorry for you or happy? I cannot tell. Seeing him again could certainly be awkward, but need it remain so? He is, after all, still unattached, I believe."
"He is. As am I. I spoke with him at the church, you see, and he said such things..."
"Such things?"
"He said he had always regretted me."
"Ah. Such things. I see. And yet you are unhappy."
"Eliza, he loved the young woman I was, not this practical spinster I have become. And he is just the same---if anything he is more handsome."
"Charlotte, you are hardly a spinster and you are far more than just dependable Charlotte Lucas---you have a wicked wit when you choose to exercise it, you are patient and kind and loving. I am sure there is as much to love and even more to admire in this Charlotte. If you had married him then, you would be together at this age as well."
"Yes, but we would have grown and changed together."
"You are determined to take the most pessimistic view possible, then? Well, I shall not stop you from wallowing in self-doubt. I will leave you, however, with a piece of advice that someone once gave to me: ‘In nine cases out of ten, a woman must show more affection than she feels.' Poor Doctor Fullworth may never be more than hopelessly in love with you if you do not help him on!"
"Elizabeth Bennet, you are merciless."
"Yes, she is," a male voice interrupted.
"Mr. Bingley!" the ladies cried in unison, shocked at being interrupted in their out-of-the-way tête-à-tête---especially by someone whom they did not even know was in the neighbourhood.
For Henry Bingley had returned.
Henry Bingley had returned. That much was obvious. What in the world he was doing here in the still room was less so.
"Smelling salts."
"Smelling salts?" Lizzy could not make sense of this non-sequitur.
"Smelling salts. Do you have any?"
"Why, yes. But I believe this tincture would serve as well," said Lizzy, handing him a vinaigrette she had bottled last week. "My mother?"
"Mr. Collins."
"Mr. Collins?"
"And your mother. I will explain after I have administered this."
Charlotte and Elizabeth looked at each other, consternation and curiosity mirrored on their similarly puzzled countenances.
And then they burst into laughter and scurried off to see what was amiss in the drawing room, Charlotte forgetting entirely that there was indeed a surfeit of clerics on hand.
The scene that greeted them was rather farcical.
Kitty fanned her mother who had apparently been brought ‘round by Mr. Henry Bingley's ministrations already. The Reverend Doctor Robert Fullworth was fanning Mr. Collins as Mr. Henry Bingley wafted the vinaigrette under his nose. Jane looked upset, while Charles tried to comfort her.
And Mr. Darcy looked as though he was about to burst into laughter.
Lizzy approached him and inquired as to what had happened.
"I do not think this the most proper place to tell you," he said in a low voice, "especially since I doubt I could relate it without some inappropriate merriment. Perhaps you would take a turn in the garden with me? Miss Lucas, would you care to join us?"
Charlotte was torn between her curiosity and the penetrating look that Robert was giving her. "No, thank you, Mr. Darcy. I would like to be of service, if I am needed." The last was directed toward her erstwhile lover, who smiled and gave a brief nod, afraid that if he started speaking, he would run away with himself again.
Lizzy donned her pelisse and an additional shawl as proof against the winter chill. She and Mr. Darcy had barely shut the garden doors when Mr. Darcy burst into peals of laughter such as Elizabeth had never heard before. She could not help but join in though she genuinely wished she knew what was so funny.
Darcy recollected himself and began, "It seems that Mr. Collins and his friend had met Henry Bingley in the road and walked with him to the house. As you can well imagine, the unexpected arrival of this third cleric had your mother in quite a tizzy to start with. Your younger sisters were called for and much merriment and confusion ensued."
"I did not see much merriment when I returned."
"You must let me finish. It seems as though Mary and Mr. Collins used the confusion to slip behind that decorative screen in the drawing room and..."
"And?"
"Well, I am not certain exactly what ‘and' included, but your mother happened to look ‘round the back of the screen and see something that caused her to...sort of gasp...and collapse. Mr Collins, in his haste to emerge from his hiding place, apparently bumped his head and was knocked out as well."
"Oh dear! Where was Mary in all this commotion? I did not see her when I returned."
"She, well, she seems to have experienced some sort of...another?...wardrobe malfunction---at least that was what Lydia seemed to be laughing about as she followed Mary up the stairs."
"Poor Mary!" Elizabeth tried for a sympathetic tone but couldn't help giggling at the folly of it all. "You appear to have taken all this very well, Mr. Darcy. What luck that Georgiana decided to stay at Netherfield today! I am certain you would not wish her to act in such a manner, and Mary will be your sister, too, very soon."
"No, I would not want Georgiana embarrassed so publicly---or any of my sisters. But, even I have to admit that what happened was more absurd than evil. And, I have sympathies for a man trying to keep himself in check around his fiancée and failing miserably."
"You do?" Elizabeth's eyes were wide with something that was not their previous mirth.
"I do. We have only been engaged a few days, but I have the feeling that when that has become ‘a few weeks', I will have had my own share of keeping myself in check."
"Oh." Elizabeth could not stop some colour from rising into her cheeks, though she did not want to appear too missish at such a time. It seemed Mr. Darcy would never cease to amaze her.
"Did I frighten you?"
"Frighten?" Her look was more saucy than scared, which took Darcy aback. "No, I would not call what I am feeling fright."
"I see you plan to make me exercise self-command even sooner than I had imagined." Darcy spoke in a deep, low voice that made Elizabeth feel that she was falling from a great height. Caught by the look in his eyes, she could not look away for several moments until, recollecting herself, she broke the silence with a teasing remark.
"But do you plan to ‘fail miserably'?"
"Perhaps we should turn back to the house. Your mother has had enough shocks for one day."
"Yes, I suppose she has! Henry Bingley's return was a pleasant surprise, however."
"Charles wasn't expecting him until tomorrow or maybe even next week. It seems he came back early for the wedding."
"That was so kind of him. I am sorry that he had to bear witness to..."
"To the shocking events inside?"
"Yes, I suppose that is the appropriate word. I myself was quite shocked to have my impromptu conference with Charlotte interrupted by Mr. Bingley!"
"I myself had been shocked to have my fiancée dragged off before my very eyes before this all occurred. Miss Lucas seemed uncharacteristically agitated."
Lizzy could not help herself, adding, "She had just received quite a shock!"
They laughed for several minutes by which time they had nearly reached the house. "Charlotte had been acquainted with the Reverend Doctor many years ago and was quite surprised to see him again."
"And?"
"And of course there is more, but it is not my story to tell. I will beg her leave to tell you, though. I do not like having secrets between us, even if they belong to others."
"Nor do I, but my thoughts are so full of a certain young lady these days that I am not sure I shall even remember that Miss Lucas has a secret."
Chapter Twenty-one
Miss Lucas had a secret. And that secret was gazing at her with an intensity that all and sundry would surely have noticed, had everyone else not been occupied.
Fortunately for the pair, everyone else was occupied.
Elizabeth and Darcy were taking a walk. Henry was helping Mr. Collins to his room. Kitty was helping her mother to the couch. Jane was going to arrange some refreshment, so as not to draw the servants' attention to the shocking events.
Robert approached Charlotte with trepidation. He had been bold at the church and stated his regrets clearly enough, but although she seemed to receive his attentions with pleasure, she had also fled his presence at the first opportunity. This was not an auspicious beginning, but he had endured too many wasted years to let such an opportunity pass.
"Miss Lucas?"
"Yes?"
"I was wondering if I might call on you whilst I am in Hertfordshire. I had only planned to be here for a few days, but if the Bennets are amenable, I was hoping I might trespass on their kindness a little longer. Of course, I would have to get permission, but since the next term has yet to start, I am sure that I could..."
"Yes."
"Pardon?"
"I believe there was a question of sorts in your..."
"Blathering. You know I blather when I am nervous. At least you used to. You found it rather charming, if I recall correctly. I am surprised I can recall anything right now with you standing here before me....Did you say, ‘yes'?"
"Yes. And yes, I did find it charming."
"Did? Well, I suppose what is charming in a young man may be seen as rather silly in one approaching middle age."
"Middle age! Reverend Fullworth, I would hardly call you middle aged. You look as though you have not aged at all. To me." Immediately on uttering such bold statements, Charlotte felt all the weight of the possible comparisons to her own more marked aging and wished her words back again. She turned away, chagrined.
"Nor you. To me."
"You never were one for false flattery, if I recall correctly. Please do not start now."
"And if I told you it was not false?"
"Then I would say that your eyesight is probably going."
Robert laughed. "Perhaps. But, that is all to the good."
Although she had goaded him into it, Charlotte was a bit taken aback at this. Surely he could have protested a bit longer! "Oh, and why is that?"
"Then you will only grow more beautiful as I grow blinder."
Now it was Charlotte's turn to laugh. And blush. Oh, how she had missed him!
I have missed him, Kitty thought, as she watched Henry Bingley descend the staircase. It was not a surprising idea, nor an unpleasant one, just rather...strange.
"Have you missed me?" Henry Bingley was addressing the room at large, and perhaps his brother most particularly, but his echoing of Kitty's thoughts caused her to look up suddenly, a deep blush overspreading her face. As her eyes met Henry's, she felt as though he could read her like a book. His eyes widened slightly.
"You've only been gone ten minutes," answered Charles.
"And before that, several weeks!" retorted Henry.
"Ah, yes, there has not been much of a chance to welcome you back with all this..." Charles did not have a chance to finish his sentence, for he was interrupted by the entrance of his fiancée.
"You are most welcome back to Longbourn, Mr. Bingley," Jane added, as she carried in a tray, followed by Hill. "Kitty, would you pour?"
Kitty most definitely did not want to pour. How, in just one unguarded look, had she communicated her interest? And yet, she knew she had. Not being able to think of a single rational excuse, Kitty went to pour.
"That is just right. Thank you, Miss Kitty," said Henry as he gratefully accepted the well-prepared cup of tea. "I am surprised that you remembered me after such a protracted absence, much less how I take my tea." His tone was teasing, and yet Kitty felt that she would be in danger if she met his eye. She attempted nonchalance.
"You were not gone so very long."
"Perhaps the time flies more swiftly here at Longbourn, in the company of one's friends and family, but in the wilds of the north, when kith and kin are far, time stretches long, I can assure you."
"Do you have no friends in Kympton, then? I did not take you for a reclusive sort."
"Perhaps I exaggerate. Of course I have acquaintances, and several men I call friends, but I find I agree with my brother's assessment of Hertfordshire. I have never met with pleasanter people anywhere else."
Charles, grinning at Jane, said, "I believe I said ‘pleasanter people or prettier girls'," which caused more than just Jane to blush.
Henry, after smiling into his teacup, replied, "Do not worry, Charles; I could hardly forget such an aphorism."
"Nor I," said Robert, softly to Charlotte.
"I should think not!" chimed in Mrs. Bennet, whom nearly everyone had forgotten, causing everyone---including the proud mama---to laugh.
"You will all join us for dinner, will you not?" asked Mrs. Bennet with the utmost cordiality, forgetting for just a moment that she was to host a wedding breakfast on the morrow.
"I am afraid it is long past time for us to be leaving, Ma'am," said Henry Bingley.
"Yes, too true," added Charles, "we will all be partaking of your lovely hospitality tomorrow at the wedding breakfast."
At this reminder, one might have thought Mrs. Bennet would faint again. Instead, it worked better than the vinaigrette, and she left to attend to one of the many items on her very long list.
The goodbyes between lovers and former lovers and potential lovers were protracted and only came to a close when Darcy and Lizzy, windblown and glowing, came back from their walk---whence another round of leave taking commenced, until Darcy and the Bingleys were sent off to Netherfield and Charlotte to Lucas Lodge, each of them strangely warmed by this chaotic afternoon and the promise of wedding bells---not all of them on the morrow.
On the morrow, it appeared that wedding bells were not as assured as it had seemed.
The Reverend Doctor Robert Fullworth, expected officiant and unexpected paramour, had laryngitis.
Mr. Hammond, Longbourn's own excellent cleric, had been laid up for days with an attack of the gout and could barely rise from the bed.
Mr. Collins, cousin of the bride, was present and in full voice, but alas was already filling the role of bridegroom.
And so it was that Henry Bingley's early return was an extra blessing, for not just his presence but his office was needed to complete the day.
For a lady prone to nerves---and even prostrated by a very recent fit of actual fainting, Mrs. Bennet took the change in plans with more aplomb than could have been expected. Indeed, happy, for all her maternal feelings, was the day on which Mrs. Bennet got rid of her putative hardest-to-match daughter.
Mr. Bennet, for all that he thought his future son-in-law a very silly sort of man, was secretly relieved to have the entail fulfilled in such a way, all the more so since her actions had showed Mary a more than willing accomplice in accomplishing the scheme.
"Mr. Bennet, God has been very good to us," his wife murmured mid-service, and Mr. Bennet could not but agree.
Mary herself was in good looks that day, and her embarrassment of the day before had fled with the dawn. She was serene and very nearly pretty---certainly Mr. Collins had eyes for no one else. He, in his turn, looked almost dignified in his best coat, with eyes shining with more genuine emotion than some might have believed possible. Added to his regret that Robert had come all this way only to be unable to perform the ceremony was his chagrin at the absence of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, but even these hardships could not overshadow such a fine day. He consoled himself, too, with the presence of his patroness's nephew and niece with whom he would soon share a familial bond. (No one had, as yet, informed that great lady of her nephew's engagement, but Mr. Collins was blissfully ignorant of this state of affairs.)
Elizabeth and Jane and their respective betrotheds were, unsurprisingly, lost in thoughts of their own wedding days. And if their thoughts strayed from time to time to the nights that would inevitably follow, the God who created them and those desires was most likely not too taken aback.
"Soon, we will be standing exactly there," Lizzy could not stop herself whispering to Mr. Darcy, while everyone rose at one point in the service.
Not soon enough, was her intended's unvoiced reply.
Lydia, well, Lydia was bored, for no officers had been invited, and she seemed surrounded by clerics on every side. But, having imparted her greater knowledge of the ways of men and women to Mary the day before, after accompanying her distraught sister upstairs, she felt oddly proprietary about her charge today---and oddly hopeful on Mary's behalf.
The remaining Bennet sister was perhaps the least sanguine of all, for when Kitty Bennet had agreed to serve as Mary's bridesmaid, she had never imagined she would be doing so under the commanding presence of Henry Bingley. He performed the ceremony with both gravity and ease, and this made it even more difficult for her to concentrate on the solemn words of trust and hope.
"Thirdly, it was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity," explained the Reverend Henry Bingley.
She could not yet say that he was the most compelling man she ever would meet, but she was a fair way to believing that he might be the most compelling man she ever had met. The fact that he was a cleric was no longer such an obstacle, seeing him here so natural and assured. She could respect his role, even if she did not precisely admire it as she might have if it had involved a smarter form of dress.
And, he did look rather handsome in that blue coat he had worn...
The current impediment did not lie within her own heart or mind, she feared, but in the fact that she was so young and untutored relative to his erudition and experience. She knew many couples where this was the case: Colonel and Mrs. Forester or even her own parents, for example, but whether or not this particular man would find anything to admire in her particular self was less well understood.
Worst of all, perhaps, was the intuition she had that he was aware of her interest in him as more than the brother of her future brother. She was supposed to attend to his every word during this ceremony and yet at every moment she was afraid he would skewer her with that knowing gaze.
At last the vows were made and the rings exchanged, and no one, not even the bride and groom, was more relieved than the bridesmaid.
If just being in his presence causes this much distress, I hardly know whether I want him to pursue me or avoid me!
Posted on Tuesday, 22 January 2008
Chapter Twenty-two
"To be honest, I hardly know whether I want her to pursue or avoid me."
Elizabeth laughed. "Pursue? Do you really think she would come this far to tell you of her disapproval?"
"If she were angry enough, I am sure she would. I cannot believe I did not think of this earlier! As soon as your sister and brother return to Hunsford with the news of our engagement, I have the feeling we will be in for either a visit or an estrangement. Neither of which holds much appeal."
"Of course not. How about sending an express to inform her? Hopefully the honour you pay her will soften the horrid news." She was joking, mostly, but it was hard to keep that touch of defensiveness out of her tone.
"You are not regretting your choice, I hope. We do not even know for certain what my family's reaction will be, after all, and Georgiana loves you already."
"Indeed not! Any future wife of Mr. Darcy would have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation, that she could, regardless of his family's approval or lack thereof, have no cause to repine," Lizzy replied, regaining her playful equilibrium as she realized the truth of her half-teasing words.
"I wish rather than believe you to be wholly sincere in that sentiment; however, I will take it at face value and add that I hope you will find many, many sources of happiness through our union. And yet I believe you bring the biggest one with you. Yourself and your inimitable spirit. My family, if they let themselves, will learn to love you as much as I do."
"They will never have the chance to try if you do not write to announce our engagement."
"You will need to stop looking so fetching or I shall never finish. I think your idea of the express is best. Even though the news is rather old, it will seem less so if she hears it by express and from me rather than second-hand. Although it would be much more enjoyable to try to figure out exactly what sources of happiness the future Mrs. Darcy is imagining."
Realizing that Darcy in such a mood would likely procrastinate as long as she remained, she decided to relieve his misery---or at least his distraction---and occupy herself elsewhere.
Henry Bingley had decided to relieve his misery---or at least his distraction---by going for a long ride. This time, however, he had decided to stick to the well-travelled paths so as not to get lost. One could not expect to be rescued by a bevy of beautiful ladies every time one ventured out, especially when it was nearly freezing out!
It was hard for him to believe that less than two months ago he had met Elizabeth Bennet and begun to be smitten by her beauty and her wit and her fine eyes. How in heaven's name could he be contemplating courting her younger---and very different---sister now? The look she gave you upon your return might have something to do with it, his heart answered.
A look like that from a beautiful girl...woman, really, would send any man's thoughts down a different path, especially a man who had recently experienced the emotional awakening he had.
His brief infatuation with Elizabeth Bennet had been like the release of a cork from a bottle of champagne. Feelings he had had no time for in years had bubbled to the surface and now seemed in need of an outlet. But if that was all this was, he had better cork them back up quickly. No woman wanted to be the random recipient of such unfocused effervescence. Or so he imagined.
He knew, in a different but perhaps parallel situation, that Darcy hated being the target of maternal machinations and female flirtations only because of the circumstances of his birth. It had taken Miss Elizabeth's very personal dislike of him to make him sure of his feelings---that and Henry's nudgings, which had felt at once so noble and so stupid!
He knew, as well, that he would not appreciate being pursued by a woman with a generalized fondness for the clergy. Not that he had met many such.
He did not know, however, if his attentions to Miss Elizabeth had been noticed by her sister. And, if they had, would she always feel like second best?
While he had not thought much of her at first, other than as one of Jane's sisters, Henry had begun to enjoy Miss Kitty's company the day she and the others had found him moping about Darcy and Miss Elizabeth under the chestnut tree, well before he left for Kympton. She saw and even understood quite a lot---more than she had the sophistication or boldness to express, perhaps, but that was already changing. They had definitely shared several moments of unspoken understanding, even before that audible-in-its-silence look.
In the midst of his reverie, he was surprised as his mount slowed without his guidance, until he spied the figures on the road ahead of him.
As though he had conjured them with his thoughts, there stood Kitty and Elizabeth Bennet smiling, very probably at his poor horsemanship.
"Are you lost again, Mr. Bingley? Your horse seems to be on this path, but you seemed miles away." Kitty Bennet had found her tongue, it seemed. "Were you back in Kympton?"
"On the contrary, I was very much in Hertfordshire."
"But perhaps not on this path?" ventured Lizzy.
"Touché!" replied Henry, as he dismounted his horse. "I was indeed at Longbourn in my thoughts."
"We have just come from there...obviously." Now that she had had time to think, Kitty's uncertainty around this Mr. Bingley was returning. She forced herself to calm down and said, more boldly, "Would you care to accompany us back, Mr. Bingley? I was just telling Lizzy that my hands were getting cold. Was I not, Lizzy?"
Elizabeth tried to hide her smile at this harmless falsehood and agreed that they should be heading back. The three of them fell into far easier conversation than any such triangle had the right to, but Lizzy's happiness with Darcy was so concrete a fact among them that any thoughts of former feelings between Henry Bingley and Elizabeth Bennet were all but extinguished by its weight.
"How is your curate, Mr. Bingley? Has he recovered?"
"Winstone? Yes, he has. Thank you for asking, Miss Kitty. He was distressed to have caused my return and urged me most sincerely, I believe, to return to Hertfordshire for a time. He would love a parish of his own, but has no one to count on for preferment. When I heard of his plight, I decided the living and my own income could afford some help, so he splits his time between my old curacy at Pemberley and supplying for me at Kympton as well."
"That is an unusual arrangement, is it not?"
"Perhaps it is not the normal way of things, but Kympton and Pemberley are but five miles apart. And a dual-curacy might even allow Winstone to marry, where a single one certainly would not. He seems rather eager to do so---though I have yet to hear of any lady interested in having him!"
"You should bring him to Hertfordshire, Mr. Bingley," laughed Elizabeth, "as marriage seems to be catching around here!"
Kitty blushed at Lizzy's unguarded comment before realizing that Elizabeth was no doubt referring to herself, Mary and Jane.
"Yes, but with the surfeit of clerics you already have in Hertfordshire, is there room for one more? Besides, why would I want the competition?" Henry joined Elizabeth's laughter only to glance at Kitty and see her deepening blush. He was unsure whether it would make things worse to apologize, when Kitty surprised them all with an arch comment.
"Mr. Winstone must be very handsome, indeed, if you are afraid of his coming."
Elizabeth uttered something between a gasp and a choke but Henry roared with laughter.
Recovering himself, he looked Kitty square in the eye and replied, "You will have to come to Kympton someday to compare us, I suppose, for I really could not in all humility give my opinion on our relative merits."
The tension between the two was palpable, but Elizabeth finally broke it by continuing up the road and adding, "Perhaps she will meet him someday at Pemberley."
As difficult as it was for Kitty to picture herself in Derbyshire, it was even more difficult for Henry Bingley to stop picturing her there, though certainly not meeting the aforementioned young man and perhaps not even at Pemberley.
They were all silent with their own thoughts for a time---Elizabeth, walking ahead, imagining herself at Pemberley, and Henry, walking next to Kitty, imagining all sorts of possibilities.
Kitty surprised herself and Henry by laying a hand softly on his arm, stopping him in his tracks
"If I do visit Derbyshire, it is not Mr.Winstone I would hope to meet."
At this bold pronouncement Henry was at an uncharacteristic lack of words just long enough for Kitty's face to begin to fall. Realising his mistake, Henry covered Kitty's hand with his, bringing a smile back to her lips and a blush to her cheek.
"Poor Mr. Winstone."
Epilogue
"Poor Mr. Winstone," the gentleman murmured, sotto voce.
Bingley elbowed his normally staid brother in the ribs. "Our mother is a trifle exuberant today, but one can hardly blame her."
"Another daughter married!" Mrs. Bennet's voice was jocular. "Mrs. Winstone, how well that sounds!"
"I quite agree," laughed Maria Winstone, née Lucas, who had married the groom's brother six months ago, and was just beginning to show impending signs of motherhood.
"And now we are sisters," squealed the former Miss Bennet. "But at least I am not married to a clergyman! With two sisters already married to clerics and you and your sister as well, I began to despair that I was doomed only to meet men of the cloth."
"You are fortunate that my new brother is a man of the sword and not a man of the cloth," replied Maria, "for you, Lydia, could never be happy unless your husband wore a red coat---even after all these years have passed since the regiment left Meryton!"
"He does look prodigiously handsome, does he not?"
"Nearly as handsome as his brother."
Jane and Kitty, who were standing nearby, smiled at the conversation, which sounded as though it could have come from their own lips. This set of sisters---double sisters, really---agreed on just about everything these days, except on the relative handsomeness of the Bingley brothers...or the Bingley sons for that matter.
In the five years since they had met their husbands, so much had changed. Lizzy and Jane had married their intendeds in the spring of the year, and Lizzy had invited Kitty to stay on at Pemberley when the Gardiners left for the Lakes.
Kitty remembered that summer as though it were yesterday. She and Henry had taken many long walks over the Derbyshire countryside, and she had attended services in Kympton far more than at Pemberley itself. She had grown to love not only his looks and manners and the sound of his voice, but the content of his character as well. Her tendency toward frivolity had been tempered by his good sense, but they both dearly loved to laugh and even to sing on their jaunts---being very careful never to get lost, of course.
A year to the day that she had seen him asleep under that chestnut tree, Henry proposed under a similar tree in Lambton, and they were married the following spring at Longbourn church.
"Does it strike any of you as strange that Lydia would be the last Bennet girl married?" asked Lizzy, walking up to her other sisters, arm-in-arm with Mary.
"And with the longest engagement!" added Jane, to everyone's surprise.
"Or I the first?" chimed in Mary.
"With by far the shortest engagement!" They all laughed at Kitty's pointed comment, Mary most of all.
Mr. Darcy, heretofore unnoticed by any of the sisters, surprised them all by adding, "Perhaps if they had met at Longbourn, things would have progressed more rapidly. There seems to be something in the water there." Leaving his laughing sisters behind, he adroitly manoeuvred Elizabeth away for a private moment. As much as he had grown to love his not-so-new family, he still required more near-solitude than they usually provided.
Slipping back into her reverie, Kitty recalled more of the intervening years. Jane and Charles had desired to be a bit farther from Longbourn as the birth of their first child approached, and an estate not thirty miles from four of their favourite siblings seemed to answer their needs perfectly. Their son and the Darcys' daughter were nearly the same age and already thick as thieves, with Jane Anne leading little Charles into all sorts of toddler mischief.
When Kitty was expecting her first in the summer of the following year, she had fortuitously invited Lydia and Maria to come for an extended visit. Mr. Winstone, the curate, had become Mr. Winstone the rector of Pemberley. He was still very much in want of a wife, and now he could afford one. His elder brother, Captain Winstone, an officer home because of the albeit short peace, had purchased a sizable home in Lambton. He was comfortable on his half-pay and the income from his inheritance, but had no immediate intentions of becoming so ensnared.
It took Lydia, therefore, a bit longer than Maria to become Mrs. Winstone. However, once the Captain had yet again experienced the horrors of war at Waterloo, he was finally won over by her flirtatious manner, her grace in the dance, and her simple adoration of him and his chosen profession.
"Mr. Bennet! Five daughters married. And one the future mistress of Longbourn with a son of her own to inherit! God has been very good to us."
"I never thought to say it, my dear, but that surfeit of clerics was a blessing indeed!"
The End