by Tilly Davis
Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were in the parsonage with Lydia, Kitty and Mary. The family were now dressed and ready for the forthcoming nuptials, each of the daughters having bought new ribbons for their hair, and Mrs. Bennet having removed and replaced her bonnet at least five times as she waited nervously to make her way to the church.
‘My dear Mrs. Bennet, all you have to do is watch,’ Mr. Bennet said, as his wife complained once again of her nerves, ‘it is I who must give away my daughter in the church, everyone else has a simple role: Lydia and Kitty, you must follow behind as bridesmaids do, and Mary, you must simply support your mother, though perhaps in fact you have the hardest role,’ Mr. Bennet said, winking at his daughter.
‘Oh, Mr. Bennet, walking your daughter down the aisle is nothing when compared to a mother’s distress at ensuring her daughter is properly presented for her duty,’ Mrs. Bennet wailed, for it was all becoming too much for her.
Kitty and Lydia were looking out of the window, they had observed the arrival of the bishop and now, as the clock on the church tower struck half past one o’clock, they watched as the carriage bearing the de Bourgh crest pulled up in front of the church.
Both sisters held onto each other, fortunately not observed by their parents, straining their necks to see who would emerge from inside.
The footman climbed down from the driving board and opened the door of the carriage from which none other than Mr. Darcy himself emerged, holding out his hand to help Lady Catherine de Bourgh down from inside, the Lady of Rosings Park dressed in a fine black and red outfit with a feather plume protruding from her headpiece.
Lydia and Kitty looked at one another in shock as they watched Mr. Darcy escorting his aunt into the church, the gentleman looking nervously around him, no doubt wondering if any of the Bennets would now be present in the church, and what their reaction to him might be.
‘Come away from the window,’ Mrs. Bennet said, ‘it is common to stare from a window out into the road like that.’
‘Coming, Mother,’ they said in unison, each giving the other a nervous glance.
It was now a quarter to two o’clock and the Bennets prepared themselves to walk across to the church, Mrs. Bennet taking her husband’s arm and their daughters proceeding in front, Lydia and Kitty both carrying their posies and Mary appearing perhaps the most attractive she had ever done, her hair nicely tied, and no book in her hand.
Elizabeth gave herself one final look in the mirror which Charlotte Lucas had dutifully held up for her and with all present pronouncing her as appearing remarkably beautiful, she allowed herself to be led from the room and down the stairs of the inn.
‘Mind, you look as pretty as a picture, my girl,’ the landlord said as they passed him on the stairs, ‘I see the carriages are outside the church, they say the bishop is to marry you?’
‘That’s right,’ Elizabeth replied, ‘he’s an old friend of Mr. Collins.’
‘You’re a brave lady marrying him, there’s not many in these parts who take to him, they say he’s pompous and full of himself, but I am not one to speak ill of folk, I just say what I hear.’
Such a character assassination of the man one is about to marry is not generally welcomed, but if Elizabeth knew one thing about Mr. Collins it was that the landlord was sadly right in repeating the slander levelled upon him. As she and her sisters left the inn, she could not help but feel a deep sense of sadness overwhelming her, so much so that she didn’t speak a word as they crossed the village green towards the church at which a small crowd had gathered to witness the proceedings.
‘You look beautiful, ma’am,’ an elderly lady by the lychgate said, ‘the dress is the like I have only seen in the fine shops of the market towns.’
‘Thank you,’ Elizabeth said, blushing a little.
Her father had waited at the gate for the arrival of his daughter, Lydia and Kitty at his side, themselves also enjoying the compliments of the villagers.
It was only Mrs. Bennet and Mary who, upon entering the church, had noticed Mr. Darcy sat on the right of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
‘Why do you suppose he is here?’ Mary whispered to her mother as they took their own seats, the church filling with the acquaintances of Mr. Collins who was currently instructing the bishop as to how he wished the ceremony to proceed, the bishop paying him very little attention.
Mrs. Bennet had been exceedingly surprised to see Mr. Darcy sitting across from them, she had thought their association with Netherfield to have come to an end, and she resented the presence of the man responsible, no doubt, for ridding Jane of her future happiness.
‘I should say something to him,’ Mrs. Bennet replied, ‘or you should tell your father to come and say he is not wanted, of all the nerve.’
‘He is Lady Catherine’s nephew,’ Mary said, ‘surely it is she who has invited him.’
‘Well, she has no right to do so,’ Mrs. Bennet said, ‘will he celebrate with us and make merry on our victuals?’
At length Mary was able to placate her mother, and it was only a short time before the sound of the church organ broke the chatter in the church, Mr. Collins now sitting in his stall awaiting Elizabeth’s arrival.
It was nearly two o’clock, and outside and inside the scene was set for the wedding to begin.
Jane and Charlotte went ahead into the church, where they too noticed Mr. Darcy, a similar conversation to that which had just taken place now occurring. Jane was half minded to return outside and inform Elizabeth of his presence but the church clock had just struck the hour and the organist had begun the middle up to the entrance of the bride, the church now becoming hushed as the congregation took their seats in anticipation.
Mr. Collins now waited at the front of the church as the Bishop of Rochester emerged from the vestry in his robes, carrying with him the prayer book, ready to begin the ceremony.
Lady Catherine and Mr. Darcy sat expectantly at the front of the church, the latter having been subjected to Mr. Collins’ attentions before he took his place. On his part Mr. Darcy had grown more and more nervous as two o’clock approached, casting nervous glances over towards the Bennet family, who he knew were discussing his presence in earnest.
Lydia and Kitty now took their places behind Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet, he pronouncing his daughter to be inestimably beautiful, a rose he had no desire to lose.
The verger, who also happened to be one of the local farmers, appeared at the door of the church to signal that now was the time for the wedding to begin, and gripping her father’s arm somewhat tightly Elizabeth approached the entrance to her fate.
Whilst her emotions had been somewhat mixed these past few days, they had now resolved themselves into a mixture of abject terror, remorse and resignation, hardly the combination which one would expect of a bride upon her wedding day. Elizabeth had no sense of how she would feel upon pronouncing those immortal words before God, was she committing a grave sin by marrying someone she did not love? But then, if that were the case then so many other women in history, and no doubt some men, had committed such an offence too.
The organ was now playing her entrance, and the congregation had stood, there were so many people there that she did not know, here to witness her fate, and she gripped her father’s arm more tightly.
The bishop was looking expectantly at her as she steeled herself to begin the walk down the aisle, Mr. Collins standing at the front, and to the side.
The organ was almost deafening, the eyes of everyone in the congregation upon her. There was her mother, smiling radiantly at her daughter, there also her sisters, dear Jane and Mary, behind her Kitty and Lydia, and on the end of the pew next to Jane, her dearest friend Charlotte.
Oh, what she would give for just one more day of happiness with her family.
Mr. Bennet was walking her steadily and purposefully down the aisle, this was it, her destiny. It had seemed like such a theoretical thing to say yes to Mr. Collins before Christmas, to agree to a marriage which had seemed so fa
r off then but was now here, this was it, there was no more waiting, only the inevitability of a fate she herself had sealed with those immortal words: ‘I will.’
But then she saw him.
As Elizabeth and her father approached the front of the church, she turned her head to the right, not able to look at her mother’s radiant face, wishing that happiness could be hers, and there was Mr. Darcy, standing next to his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
That lady had upon her countenance a look of mild displeasure and disapproval, but her nephew looked only embarrassed, or even perhaps a little sorrowful, standing awkwardly next to the woman who considered herself to be doing Elizabeth a great honour merely by allowing her presence to be given to this gathering.
As Elizabeth’s eyes met that of Mr. Darcy, she was so startled she let out a cry and dropped her posy of flowers upon the floor. At this her father paused, their arms jolting from one another’s hold, Lydia and Kitty behind whispering for them to go forward or they would step upon their sister’s train.
But Elizabeth could not move.
With all eyes upon her she looked at Mr. Darcy, unable to break her stare.
Lady Catherine gave a noise of disapproval, as Elizabeth remained rooted to the spot.
It was as if every ounce of emotion which she had expended these past months in trying to come to terms with that which she had thought to be her fate had now collided together, for if there was one thing she had not expected to find in the church that day it was the presence of the man whom she had truly fallen in love with.
‘Elizabeth,’ Mr. Bennet whispered, ‘come forward now.’
Elizabeth now turned, and her eyes caught that of her mother, she too imploring her forward, Mr. Collins making impatient noises as the bishop looked on in bemusement.
But it was the eyes of Jane which Elizabeth now met, and the look which her sister gave her said everything which was necessary. In that moment, she knew what she must do and with a final look at Mr. Darcy, who now could only look at her in astonishment, she ran from the church, her posy scattering across the floor as around her a great wave of shock erupted.
Emerging from the church Elizabeth dashed for the lychgate, the waiting villagers astonished at seeing the young lady they had just witnessed entering the building on her wedding day now emerging without her groom.
Some of them shouted to her to stop but she continued to run until she came to the inn, pushing her way inside and up the stairs much to the astonishment of the landlord, then throwing herself onto the bed in the little room where she had just prepared herself for her marriage, she wept bitter tears.
In the church uproar had ensued, and it is hard to know where to begin our description of the characters, all of whom reacted in different, though entirely predictable, ways.
The groom himself was outraged, and stomped around the sanctuary like a bad-tempered child, which in many ways he was. Shortly he began shouting and raging, demanding that Mr. Bennet go immediately to return Elizabeth to the church so that the wedding could proceed.
On his part Mr. Bennet informed his nephew, using that title which Mr. Collins detested, since it demonstrated the elder gentleman’s continued authority over him, that it appeared Elizabeth had made her choice with regard to the matrimony and that if she had indeed changed her mind, even at this late stage, then she was perfectly entitled to do so.
At Elizabeth’s exit from the church Mrs. Bennet had dramatically collapsed into the arms of Mary, who had foreseen such an occurrence and readied herself for it. Lydia and Kitty were now holding smelling salts under their mother’s nose, whilst Charlotte Lucas had gone to fetch a glass of water from the vestry, the choir boys sniggering in their pews at the sight of Mr. Collins apoplectic with rage.
Mr. Darcy had immediately sat down and turned to face the wall, not wishing to attract the attention of anyone present, though of course it was clear to all what had just transpired in the look which had been exchanged between he and Elizabeth.
‘I have never seen such a spectacle in all my life,’ Lady Catherine de Bourgh cried, as she seated herself next to Mr. Darcy. But not even Mr. Collins paid her any attention, as around them the congregation began to disperse, astonished at what had just transpired.
7
Much Ado About Much
Amidst the chaos and confusion which had ensued following Elizabeth’s sudden departure from the church, her sister Jane had slipped out, mindful of the need to comfort her sister in her time of distress.
It was not immediately apparent where Elizabeth had gone but as she approached the lychgate the elderly woman who had commented so kindly upon Elizabeth’s dress informed the elder sister that the bride had made for the inn and it was here that Jane now found herself, imploring her sister to allow her to enter the bedroom which had been the scene of such fun just a few hours before.
‘Elizabeth, please,’ Jane called through the door, ‘allow me to enter, we must speak, I am not here to bring you back, but you cannot remain here alone, please open the door.’
Before throwing herself upon the bed Elizabeth had bolted the door, and then buried herself, still dressed in her wedding clothes, amidst the blankets, unable to keep back the tears which flowed freely down her face.
She had heard Jane’s approach, and had wondered who it might be that had come to persuade her to return, perhaps Mr. Collins himself, he would be so angry and she shook with fear and emotion beneath the sheets.
But at the sound of her sister’s voice, her fear turned a little more to joy and slowly she climbed from the bed and opened the door, her tear-stained face looking round it at her sister, who herself had tears in her eyes.
‘Darling Elizabeth,’ Jane cried, embracing her sister, ‘you have done the right thing, even if no one else but I can see that.’
Elizabeth could once again not hold back her sobs, and the two stood for some moments in an embrace, the full force of the emotional turmoil which had just transpired flooding from them both.
‘Am I in terrible trouble?’ Elizabeth asked momentarily, as the two now sat together on the bed.
‘I think perhaps with some you are, yes,’ Jane said, ‘Mr. Collins was a sight to behold, and mother was given over to the smelling salts.’
‘And what of father?’ Elizabeth asked, for he was the only person whose opinion of her she sought to be favourable.
‘I think father is mightily relieved, Elizabeth, he did not want you to marry Mr. Collins, but neither did he have any intention of dictating to you who you should choose. He had accepted that you had sought to do your duty in marrying our cousin. But I do not think that it is the neglect of duty which caused you to flee from the church this afternoon. I am sorry I could not come to warn you of Mr. Darcy’s presence.’
‘If you had done so then I should have fled even earlier,’ Elizabeth said, ‘I confess it was something of a shock when I beheld him there next to Lady Catherine, he almost seemed surprised to see me too.’
‘He did indeed, though goodness knows why, but what thought went through your mind when you saw him? It was as if you had seen a ghost,’ Jane said.
‘In a way I had, or rather a ghost of things to come, I realised that I could not marry Mr. Collins whilst still harbouring true sentiments of love towards Mr. Darcy, as foolish as that may seem owing to his own current engagement to Miss Bingley. Seeing him there was somehow an affirmation of everything which I have been feeling these past few months, at times bound by duty and at others swept away by my heart.’
‘And today your heart has won,’ Jane said, embracing her sister once again, ‘you will have to face them soon though,’ she continued, ‘and I do not believe that you will find forgiveness as readily as you do from your sister.’
‘As long as I have the forgiveness of my family, that is all I care for,’ Elizabeth said, drawing her knees up and sitting back on the bed, ‘I think I will begin by taking off this wedding dress.’
And so, Jane helped her sister to
transform herself from the future Mrs. William Collins back to the personage of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, still very much of Longbourn, whilst outside the shock and surprise of her actions were giving rise to a number of consequences which would have drastic effects upon them all.
‘You will pack your things and leave immediately, sir,’ Mr. Collins said, as Mr. Bennet attempted to reason with him as to Elizabeth’s state of mind.
‘I will hear of nothing else, your entire family are to be gone this very moment from the parsonage.’
‘My dear Mr. Collins, if perhaps you and I will speak to Elizabeth first, and find out what it is which has caused in her this sudden and dramatic change. I believe her sister is with her now, and Jane is eminently sensible, it is not unheard of for young ladies to find in themselves the need for such displays, one must allow the fairer sex their time and a medium of understanding.’
‘Understanding?’ Mr. Collins raged, ‘I have been humiliated in front of the bishop himself and in front of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am the laughingstock of the village, jilted at the altar by my own cousin. I saw the way she looked at Mr. Darcy, she could not take her eyes from him. No, sir, I will not have it, be gone, all of you, be gone!’
And he stormed from the church where the last remnants of the congregation had now dispersed.
On their parts Lady Catherine and Mr. Darcy had remained long enough to exchange pleasantries with the Bishop of Rochester, who had promised to call and dine at Rosings Park in the near future, if only to discuss the astonishing events which had just transpired.
Mrs. Bennet had soon been revived thanks to Mary and Charlotte’s administrations and the two had assisted her back to the parsonage where she was reclining in a chair next to the fire as Lydia and Kitty fanned her and Mary dabbed her brow with a damp cloth.
‘I cannot believe it, I refuse to believe it, this is all a dream,’ she kept saying, ‘my own daughter, running from the church, I have never heard of such a thing occurring and to think one’s own daughter.’