Clouds Over Pemberley

by Walter Oleksy

  Tea was served and small talk began.

  Said Mr. O’Reilly, “I am studying for the ministry.” “A noble profession, if you will,” said Collins pridefully. “Protestant or Catholic?” Elizabeth inquired, just for the sake of conversation. “You being from Ireland, I assume it would be Catholic.”

  “I should like to marry, some day, so I am inclined to study in the Protestant faith. Priests ought to be allowed to marry, don’t you think?”

  Mr. Darcy noticed that Miss O’Reilly showed a slight smile, as if approving. He did, as well, although religion was not of major concern to him.

  Said Miss O’Reilly, “I hope to become a teacher or a governess.” Mr. Collins seemed to want to hurry along the conversation. “They are just visiting. Like, basically, they came to Hunsford for their father’s funeral. Bishop O’Reilly and I were old acquaintances and I thought friends, although he was old enough to be, like, my father. He had been a visiting lecturer in London a few days ago when he had a fatal heart attack. Mr. O’Reilly and his sister knew that their father and I had been friends, if you will, so they asked me to officiate at his funeral, which was, like, held here yesterday.”

  Mr. Darcy’s head began to ache as he felt he was swimming in a sea of Mr. Collins’ hesitating aphorisms. He especially thought that “If You Will's” were a superiority affectation.

  “We have thought of moving to London,” said Mr. O’Reilly. “So we had Father buried here. Our mother, bless her soul, passed on when we were both quite young.”

  How sad, Elizabeth thought, to be so young and already without parents. She was fond of hers, more specifically her feelings toward her father. She merely tolerated her mother who often complained of feeling sickly, or imagined she was ill, frequently lamenting that she had a malfunctioning heart.

  Mr. Bennet knew her illnesses, They never occurred but for her own convenience.

  During a lull in the conversation, Mr. Darcy asked the Irishman,

  “Forgive me for inquiring, but, I have been curious about your trousers. I have never seen anything like them before.”

  “I won them in a craps game in Dublin.” Mr. Darcy and the others looked puzzled. “A roll of the dice. I won them from a fellow who said he had them sewn from canvas that is used to make sturdy tents. He hopes one day to market the trousers. His name is Hirsch Strauss and he hopes to go in business some day with his son, Levi. They will call their trousers bluejeans or, simply, Levi’s.”

  “They are most becoming,” whispered Elizabeth to Darcy. She could not think of two exact words to describe how they felt to her. She thought they had something to do with temperature and sexuality.

  Mr. Darcy replied to his wife in a whisper: “Ladies will swoon over men in them.” It made him think of something, but he almost dismissed it without verbalizing his thought. He then could not resist and asked Mr. O’Reilly, “Do you think Levi’s would ever be made for ladies?”

  “I doubt there would be a market. Why should a woman ever want to wear pants?”

  Said Darcy, “I agree. Pants are for men because they are masculine. Dresses for women because they are feminine.”

  “And never the twin shall meet. Nor should it.”

  Darcy concluded, “That’ll never be the day.”

  They heard a carriage pull up out front of the parsonage cottage and Mrs. Bennet went to a window to see who was arriving unexpectedly.

  “It’s Lady de Bourgh come on a surprise visit,” she reported.

  “Why ever?” Mr. Darcy wondered aloud. If anyone abhorred Mrs. Bennet, it was his aunt. Mr. Collins went to the door and opened it to see his dowager benefactress’ elegant phaeton standing just outside with two horses, its owner stepping out and looking regal and intimidating.

  “Lady de Bourgh, Ma’am,” said Mr. Collins, bowing and almost genuflecting, a trumpet in his throat. “If you will, I trust you are well, and…” She waved him away as if he were an annoying mosquito, without allowing him to finish his salutation and concern. He stifled himself and bowed again, even deeper, lest he offend.

  “I recognized my nephew’s chaise,” said Lady Catherine on the doorstep. “I was driving by and wondered what brought it here. Is Fitzwilliam here? Is he alone?” She asked both questions hopefully.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Darcy came for tea at my wife’s and my invitation, to meet a young brother and sister from Ireland.”

  “Whose?” she asked, regarding whether the Irish were related to Mr. Darcy or his wife.

  “Like, neither is related to them,” said Mr. Collins, and Lady Catherine looked puzzled.

  “Am I to stand here forever in the hot sun?” asked she impatiently. “I left my parasol in the chaise.”

  Mr. Darcy got up and went to the door just as his aunt ushered herself into the cottage.

  “May I introduce the young people?” he asked. Lady Catherine looked at them with disdain, as if they were of no consequence, being from Ireland. She still objected strongly to Ireland becoming part of the British Empire eleven years before. All Irish were far inferior to English, she maintained. Perhaps even below Americans.

  Mr. Darcy introduced Mr. O’Reilly and his sister, and Lady Catherine accepted their bows as if she were the queen. She found them to be both quite decorative, but presumed they were of the lower class, even among the Irish. She did not approve of Mr. O’Reilly’s silken blouse. Silk was to be worn by ladies of fashion, not men, although she did not think he looked effeminate in it.

  Elizabeth could not guess what were the trousers the young man was wearing. Noticing this, Mr. O’Reilly explained with a smile, “I won both the pants and shirt in a crap game.”

  Lady de Bourgh’s eyes grew wide, not understanding a word he said, but disapproving nonetheless. “They came to attend the funeral of their father,” explained Mr. Collins. “Like, if you will, he was a long-time friend of mine and fellow Anglican priest who was lecturing in London when he suffered a fatal heart attack.”

  Lady Catherine’s nose wrinkled. “I should get a heart attack if I visited that city more than once a year or even decade, with its fog, squalor, and poor.”

  The dowager then turned her attention on her nephew. “Fitzwilliam, you have been an infrequent visitor to Rosings Park of late. You cannot be too busy, having accepted an invitation to tea from the vicar. Shall I expect you for four o’clock tea at Rosings on Sunday? Then you could stay for dinner and overnight.”

  The invitation was not said to include Elizabeth, but Mr. Darcy knew it was taking his aunt time to get used to his bride. He doubted she would ever totally accept her as an equal in her class or his. His aunt rarely changed her mind about anything or anyone, once established there. In that, he thought, they were much alike.

  “Mrs. Darcy and I expect to be otherwise engaged Sunday,” said Mr. Darcy vaguely.

  His aunt pressed on. “Then Sunday week?”

  “We shall make every effort, Lady Catherine,” said Elizabeth. “Then I shall expect you, Sunday week,” said Lady de Bourgh, looking at Mr. Darcy, and then turning so fast to leave, Mr. Collins tripped in hurrying to open the door for her.

  “Your sermon last Sunday,” she said loud enough for everyone to hear. “I kept dozing off. Too many ‘like’s,’ ‘you knows,’ and ‘If you will’s.’ It also needed more thought. More research. More authenticity. Salvation is not a subject to twaddle over. You could have given examples. You did not mention that it is dependent upon our good works in this life.”

  Mr. Darcy fought back a grin. That aspect of salvation was as foreign to her as mountain climbing or being able to speak Swahili. Mr. Collins’s feelings were hurt, as they often were when Lady Catherine criticized him, because he felt he had given sufficient thought to the subject of salvation. Perhaps she was right, though. He needed to give his sermon subjects more research, more depth.

  She had criticized him about that more than once before. It was with that in mind that he had begun research on a new sermon topic, to be given a few weeks hence
. It was one that he was certain would keep Lady Catherine and his other often sleepy parishioners awake.

  The parson conjectured that perhaps his sermons would command more attention if he gave them outdoors, in clement weather, of course. There was a small promontory, a hill just outside the chapel on which he could stand, to deliver his sermons from that mount.

  After the dowager left, Mr. Darcy merely explained to the Irish visitors that she was a wealthy relation. Miss O’Reilly did not comment, but Mr. O’Reilly said, “I can’t help thinking, she reminded me of aristocratic Lady Wishford in William Congreve’s The Way of the World. I saw the play a few years ago in Dublin and enjoyed it very much.”

  “My dear aunt could have been a role model for the part of the proud lady,” said Mr. Darcy.

  Elizabeth said, “If you enjoy the theatre, you will be able to see a great deal of it in London.”

  “Both Mr. O’Reilly and I are very fond of the theatre,” Miss O’Reilly replied. Mr. O’Reilly looked at Mr. Collins, who was frowning, and caught his desire that the subject needed to be changed. “Reverend and Mrs. Collins have generously offered to put us up in their guest rooms, but we don’t wish to impose. We’re staying at an inn in Meryton that Reverend Collins suggested. It’s The Royal Arms.”

  Elizabeth asked, “Don’t you just love the name?”

  “It will be our domicile until we decide definitely to move to London and can find a flat there,” said Miss O’Reilly. Mr. Darcy took pleasure in knowing that the small market town of Meryton was close to Netherfield, where his good friend Mr. Bingley and his wife Jane lived. Perhaps, should he and Elizabeth find the young Irish couple to be as agreeable as house guests as he anticipated, they might introduce the Bingley’s to them.

  But, he frowned, Meryton also was close to where lived someone else he knew and whom he profoundly detested. A former friend of his youth who had fallen out of his favor because of the young man’s frequent dalliances. The subject of his displeasure was Mr. Wickham, whom he considered to be prone to unbridled temptation whose flame was rarely if ever countered by temperance.

  The object of his thoughts was now married to Elizabeth’s silly youngest sister, Lydia. It had been a marriage ceremony that had come about with a shotgun bribe he had offered after Mr. Wickham had deflowered the girl, although she had willingly allowed herself to be taken. It was another match that about its making Mr. Darcy was uncertain.

  Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy and he caught what she was thinking. He nodded with a slight smile, so she made a suggestion.

  “We’ve taken lunch at The Arms, and I’m sure its lodgings are quite nice, but why don’t you spend a few days with us? We’d love to have you at Pemberley.” Mr. Collins was astonished, that the Darcy’s would make such an invitation to those they had just met. But he was most pleased, thinking their association with the Irish could aid his sermon research.

  “Charlotte told us how beautiful Pemberley is,” said Mr. O’Reilly.

  “We’d love to visit you,” said Miss O’Reilly. “Just for a short stay. We shouldn’t want to impose.”

  “You both would be no imposition,” said Mr. Darcy. “Mrs. Darcy and I shall look forward to it.”

  “Like, tomorrow?” asked Mr. Collins, hopefully.

  “I’ll send a carriage,” said Mr. Darcy. “For our guests and their luggage.”

  “We did not bring much,” said Miss O’Reilly. “We should not want to outstay our welcome.”

  “Nonsense!” said Elizabeth.

  Mr. O’Reilly chuckled at hearing the word. He liked it. Perhaps he would add it to his vocabulary, should the need sometime arise.

  “Shall we say the carriage will arrive for you at your lodgings in Meryton at noon tomorrow?” asked Mr. Darcy.

  “We shall have rooms ready for you when you arrive at Pemberley,” said Elizabeth.

  It was agreed, and the afternoon passed quickly before Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy said their good-byes and departed. The longer they conversed with the young people from Ireland, the more they had enjoyed their company.

  Was Mr. Darcy attracted to the lass?, Elizabeth wondered. Then she had to admit to herself that that would be perfectly natural, considering the girl’s beauty and ease of conversation. Was she attracted to the young man?, she wondered as well. That, too, was perfectly natural, considering his countenance, which she remembered Mr. Darcy had said he found to be uncommonly agreeable-looking.

  Before the Darcy’s departed, and Elizabeth and Charlotte were alone for a few minutes to say their good-byes, her friend whispered to Elizabeth: “I believe the young Irish couple are innocent of any deception or malice, but sense there is something. I have no idea of what it is, but feel they are engaged in some mutual venture, or adventure.”

  Elizabeth could not guess what that could be, or what her friend meant by saying it, as if cautioning her. But she always admired Charlotte’s ability regarding perception about people.

  Charlotte concluded: “Perhaps all I mean to say is to be on your guard while they are visiting you at Pemberley.”

  “You mean more than count the silverware after they leave,” Elizabeth said with a smile.

  “Assuredly more. A teacher once advised me, ‘Never take anyone’s word for anything. Always check it out. If your mother says she loves you, check it out.’” Elizabeth laughed, but could see that her friend was serious, then Charlotte saying, “Take notice of their feelings for you and Mr. Darcy, and your feelings toward them. They are, after all, not only very handsome but charming. Good looks can be used to the possessor’s advantage, and charm as well.”

  “I shall proceed with caution regarding them,” Elizabeth assured her. “And will watch that Mr. Darcy does as well.”

  “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure,” Charlotte reminded her. “The Irish brother and sister are so charming,” said Elizabeth as she and Mr. Darcy were in their carriage, en route to Netherfield to visit her sister Jane and husband Charles Bingley, perhaps to stay for dinner.

  “They have no close relatives living, Mr. O’Reilly told me.” Elizabeth said, “Then they should find London pleasant. A new beginning.” Mr. Darcy then remembered his first sight of Mr. O’Reilly. “Mr. O’Reilly seemed to be bathed in a bright light, although clouds had covered the sun. I’d never seen anything like that before. Did you notice it?”

  Elizabeth replied that she had not, but had an explanation for it. “To you, he was apparently bathed in what is called an aura. It is a paranormal phenomenon where a person is surrounded by a bright light, a subtle luminous radiation. In Christian tradition, Jesus was bathed in such a light, or sometimes it merely appeared as a halo around his head, as artists have depicted in paintings. The light supposedly comes from within, reflecting the essence of the person who may possess special sensibilities, such as mystic powers or even just goodness. The aura is often accompanied by a gentle breeze. The word aura is Latin, from the Greek word for breeze.”

  Mr. Darcy had not felt a breeze when he saw Mr. O’Reilly engulfed in the aura. Now he wondered if perhaps he just imagined it.

  “And I thought I was well-read,” he conjectured. “My sister Mary told our sister Jane and me about auras after reading about them recently,” Elizabeth confessed. “I should not have otherwise known a thing about them.”

  “I admire your sister for being so well-read and informed. However, Mr. O’Reilly does not appear to me to be a mystic. He seems to be very normal and uncomplicated. But if he emitted an aura that projects his inner goodness, why did only I see it?”

  “Perhaps you and Mr. O’Reilly are meant to be special friends.” Mr. Darcy reflected on that for a few moments. He never had a truly special friend, until he fell in love with Elizabeth. He considered Charles Bingley to be his friend, and even somewhat of a special friend. But never had he seen an aura about him.

  “I wondered about their past,” said Mr. Darcy. “For brother and sister, they do not look at all alike.”

  E
lizabeth teased, “Did you see an aura about Pippa, too?” Mr. Darcy chuckled. “Now you are making fun of me.” “Not really. I believe you did see an aura about Mr. O’Reilly. I just couldn’t resist asking.”

  Said Mr. Darcy, “When I had a chance and was alone with Mr. Collins, I asked and he said they do not resemble each other because they had different mothers. Their father had been a faithful husband until he became strongly attracted to another woman the year after Mr. O’Reilly was born. His temptation led to them having a child together. Pippa. But their father then exercised some temperance and remained with Mr. O’Reilly’s mother and they adopted Pippa shortly after her birth. Pippa never knew her birth mother, although she was told later about being adopted. She and Mr. O’Reilly became close as birth siblings.”

  Elizabeth then felt even more sorry for the young people. Mr. Darcy had more to tell her. “Mr. Collins said Pippa’s mother died in childbirth, and Mr. O’Reilly’s mother passed away only a few months later, of pneumonia. He and Pippa grew up sensing that their father blamed himself for their deaths. Mr. Collins said he suspected that their father felt guilty, that his transgression caused the two women’s early deaths. He felt he was being punished as divine retribution for his lack of temperance. Mr. Collins said he wants to write a sermon some day on Temperance and Temptation, marital infidelity and guilt, if he is able to research the subject adequately.”

  Elizabeth conjectured that neither she nor Mr. Darcy would be able to help the vicar with such research.

  But she would do whatever she could to help their new young friends and ease their grief and loneliness.

  Mr. Darcy gently squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “Sometimes I think we share each other’s thoughts. I sense you want to help them. So too, do I.” Elizabeth returned to wondering if Mr. Darcy had been taken by the girl. Did he feel an attraction to her? She then admitted to herself that she felt somewhat of an attraction to her brother. But in no way serious, she told herself. It was only natural. Even Lady Catherine appeared to have been taken by the young Irish couple’s attractive countenance.