Mr. Bennet thought, Times are changing. After all, this is the Nineteenth century. But I doubt the times are changing fast enough for that sort of magazine.
Lord Henderson wrote of his wife. I did not dislike Mrs. Henderson, I just did not love her. Perhaps I did, once. I may have been in that state, but fell out of it after knowing her better and we grew in different directions of interest. She was a good match for me, being then beautiful and having inherited twenty thousand pounds a year which enabled me to start the two newspapers that began my own fortune. Did you love Mrs. Bennet when you married her?
Mr. Bennett thought, It was much the same with me, Mrs. Bennet’s beauty and inheritance, although much smaller than yours. I must have loved her over the years, since we had five daughters together. I believe I grew accustomed to her serving me tea in the mornings and bringing me my slippers. She was back then my dear, fair lady.
Lord Henderson wrote, There is something to be said for companionship. Indeed, a great deal. That is what I have in mind if you join me in Virginia. Friendship is sacred to me. I feel instinctively that we have much in common and could be great friends.
Life often can be so short. We must try to find love, or great friendship, before the candles burn down too low, or go out. I would pay for your passage, and you would have no expenses in Virginia, living in my home there. If you preferred, I could find you a nice house to have by yourself. Not too far from mine.
We would engage in what I believe is called 'An English friendship.' A bestfriend partnership with no physical contact.
Your friend, Stanley Mr. Bennet was glad Lord Henderson wrote that last. He was tempted, since Mrs. Bennet had gone to care for Lord Henderson’s older brother, hoping he might expire and leave her some of his fortune.
He considered the invitation, but felt guilty at the thought of leaving Mrs. Bennet and their three youngest daughters, silly as they all were.
Yet Mr. Bennet thought, about Lord Henderson, I must be in want of a friend, an agreeable companion, than I have yet been, to procure one.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Elizabeth received a note from her dear friend Charlotte Collins and read it silently as Mr. Darcy sat with Maxer in his lap.
My dearest Elizabeth, You know or may have guessed that I have grown increasingly unhappy with Mr. Collins, but have not known what to do about the situation. Also, you know that I have been making other uses for some fruit from the market. Apple, pears, peaches, apricots, plums, and such. A book at the library in Meryton provided instruction on how to make homemade liqueurs, wines, and brandies.
I learned that by fermenting the fruit, I could and have made some very acceptable and often intoxicating spirits that are very relaxing and take the edge off of dilemmas such I am in with Mr. Collins. I have lately begun to sell my home brews to neighboring wives and now their husbands. It occurs to me that if my cottage business thrives, as I will strive to make that happen, I could become independent and leave Mr. Collins.
Ladies are not favored if they engage in trade, so I have obtained the services of your former milkman to represent my products and deliver them, as a part-time occupation on evenings and weekends.
By-the-by, Mr. Flynt said he likes my provisions very much and that they are even of finer taste and stronger strength than he has enjoyed at pubs. He is, incidentally, a most agreeable young man, as well as agreeable-looking. I think he has taken an interest in me, despite my plainness and age. I might, should things develop, make him my partner. In the business, I mean, of course, since I am still a married woman.
Yours always,
Charlotte
Elizabeth smiled as she refolded the letter, but did not share it with Mr. Darcy.
The following afternoon, Elizabeth received a letter from her sister Lydia, the envelope marked “Urgent!”
Dear sister, I am afraid I am the bearer of most distressing news. Our mother has departed our home and hearth. She has gone off to live with and care for Lord Henderson’s older brother, a lonely widower, at his mansion on a vast estate close-by his brother’s. The senior Mr. Henderson is seriously ailing with a bad heart and may be at death’s door. Mrs. Bennet has hurried to him in the hope of becoming of help to him, perhaps indispensably, and being generously rewarded.
I almost forgot to mention, Mary’s husband has left her again, to go off to sea. He said it would be a long, long voyage and not to count on his return for years, so she has returned home to be with Kitty and me.
Our father has taken our mother’s departure admirably and has gone again to visit Lord Henderson at Downtown Abbey. He did not know how long he would be gone, but your sisters are concerned that he may not return.
I am near to desperate for a new husband, so I answered a request in The Times for a mail-order bride. It was from Turkey so I sent a sketch Mary fashioned of me in a head scarf with only my eyes showing. I got a reply from a Mr. Abdul BulBul Ameer, a rug merchant in Istanbul, saying, “No thank you. If that’s all you can show me, forget it!”
So I ask, what are your three sisters to do? Where shall we go? Your reply will be urgently awaited.
Yours always, Lydia.
Elizabeth pondered on that last as she passed the note to her husband saying, “Mr. Darcy, Longbourn has a problem.”
After he read the note, a domestic called out from the kitchen. “Pemberley is on fire!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sitting in the upstairs music room, the Darcy’s smelled smoke from below in the house at Pemberley. It was heavier than ever before on the numerous fires there. Mr. Darcy rushed down to see that the fire had engulfed the kitchen and already spread. Pemberley was in grave danger, since firemen in Meryton could never arrive in time to save it.
He ordered all the servants out of the house, then smelled smoke coming from upstairs.
“Mrs. Danvers is upstairs!” Paula called on her way out of the house which was now an inferno.
There was no way to try to rescue Mrs. Danvers or save any possessions, so the Darcy’s fled the house with Heidi and Max.
While they watched horrified as Pemberley went down in flames, they saw Mrs. Danvers at the window up in the Darcy’s bed chamber, laughing hysterically.
“The poor woman has lost it,” said Mr. Darcy.
“I thought there was something troubling her,” said Elizabeth.
Paula approached Mr. Darcy with a letter that had just arrived before the fire.
“You’ve got mail,” she said and Mr. Darcy cringed. Not only because of how she delivered the mail, but that it also was marked with an “Urgent” notice. Dear Mr. Darcy, this is to inform you that Exceptional Carriages has been notified by government vehicle inspectors that the models of all three carriages you purchased from us two years ago are among a million at fault and in need of a recall to the factory. The wheels may fall off when driven over three miles an hour after two years’ usage and the brakes are also at fault. It is urgent that the carriages be transported by wagon to the factory warranty repair station in Manchester for immediate attention. Your insurance is likely to increase.”
He did not show the notice to Elizabeth, so as not to further distress her. He then remembered that insurance on his carriages did not cover fire, and they had been lost when flames consumed the garage attached to the house. And he had forgotten to pay the quarterly homeowner’s property insurance premium on Pemberley while on honeymoon so the policy had lapsed. He lamented, it never rains but it pours.
And why had he not been notified by post before his home owner’s insurance had expired? He lamented about the abominable postal delivery service. He had been delivered letters addressed to his neighbors and suspected they had been delivered letters addressed to him or Mrs. Darcy. The British Postal Service was cost-cutting and it was rumored that Sunday delivery would be stopped.
He despaired since every service was cost-cutting because of the war in the colonies or just inefficiency. Bills were going up regularly for gas, oil, wa
ter, lawn cutting and snow removal, medical and dental insurance, even the price of cigars, snuff, and candles. He wouldn’t be worth ten thousand pounds a year, if this kept up. And his retirement nest egg would go up in flames, like his house.
Two open wagons came onto the estate and stopped by the Darcy’s and their servants. Two poor couples, both tenant farmers on their estate but strangers to the Darcy’s, had seen the blaze and came to help.
Soon the Darcy’s were given tea and sympathy and seated on hard kitchen chairs before a fire in the fireplace that warmed and comforted them. However, the farmer’s wife needed comforting herself, after taking Elizabeth aside and whispering,
“My husband received notice this morning. He is being conscripted to serve in the King’s Regular Army and must report to London on the morrow.”
As Darcy sat with Max curled up in his lap, Elizabeth sat with Heidi in her arms, thinking, It could always be worse.
“We can go to the Bingley’s,” said Mr. Darcy.
“Or we could go to Longbourn and live with my parents and sisters,” said Elizabeth. Mr. Darcy remembered, Elizabeth had agreed to the prenuptial clause that specified they would never spend two consecutive days visiting Mrs. Bennet, or she visiting them. He began to itch all over.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The Darcy’s thanked their tenant hosts and rented a carriage that took them to the Bingley’s at Netherfield that night.
After dinner and retiring for the night after a very trying day, the Darcy’s discoursed while in bed. Darcy said to Elizabeth, “We have lost everything, in the blink of an eye. How quickly things can change. The wind can blow, rain can fall, and everything can be lost.”
“We still have each other,” she reminded him. “Bad things happen to good people. Ours not to reason why. Only God knows why, and we should not question nor doubt His purpose. And despite tragedy, God is still good.”
Darcy marveled again at her wisdom and compassionate sensibility, her courage and faith, although he thought she at times spoke in clichés. From all her reading of inspirational books, he thought. Although, he determined, what she said was true. But was she at times even infuriatingly positive? We all have our faults, and hers are minor. Did he have any? He was uncertain.
Elizabeth suggested further, “All we have to do is take a deep breath, trust in the Lord, and tell ourselves, ‘I can do this. I can survive.” “We shall rebuild our home,” Darcy said. “Pemberley will be better and more beautiful than ever. And we shall get a cat. I know you have wanted one. Perhaps we can get an abandoned kitten or a grown cat from the shelter. I can take something for my allergy, or suffer it, for love of you.”
She smiled, thinking cats are so inscrutable. Like you, at times, Mr. Darcy.
After another moment, Darcy could still feel Elizabeth thinking and said, “Go ahead, have the last thought, or word. Women generally do, bless them.
Darcy lit a cigar, to clear the air. The following day, the Darcy’s were surprised to see Mrs. Danvers in Lampton, miraculously alive.
Mrs. Danvers was not asked, nor did she volunteer to say, what she had been doing in the Darcy’s bed chamber. Or that she had a briquette phosphorique with her.
Although Elizabeth could see that the woman still did not care for her, she asked how she escaped the fire. “I leaped into the arms of a fireman. He was most agreeable-looking and now is calling on me. I am living at the fire station now, and am their new cook. I’ve joined the Lampton volunteer fire department and go along on fires with them.”
She is happy, Mr. Darcy thought. Chapter Thirty-Five At Sunday morning service at the church in Hunsford, the congregation was prepared for an hour’s nap. It included the Darcy’s, Bingley’s, Bennet’s and their three single-again daughters, Mrs. Collins, and Lady Catherine de Bourgh, with Mr. Collins pontificating.
“I regret,” Mr. Collins said, coughing as he began his sermon, “Like, I have a sore throat, perhaps laryngitis, so my sermon will needs be brief this morning, if you will.. But, basically, it shall be on a subject much on my mind lately, you know, from confessions I have heard. Anglican church law prohibits me from naming names, so my sermon will be general in nature, if you will. The subject of my sermon this morning is on, like, Temptation and Temperance.”
The near-to-napping congregation came awake at hearing that, some beginning to squirm in their seats. Some also wanted to leave, but remained seated so as not to draw attention or suspicion to themselves. An outbreak of coughing also spread through the pews.
Mr. Collins began his sermon: “In confession, if you will, parishioners come to me and, basically, tell me their temptations. I am not allowed to reveal their names, but can share with you their dilemmas, their obsessions. Like, the spirit is willing to be temperate, but the flesh is tempted and weak, if you will, you know. Marital infidelity, in both thought and deed, is rampant in the parish, if not the world. It may shock you now, at least some of you, if you will.”
Gasps and looks of incredulity swept threw the pews.
“There has been a lot of, like, basically, touchy-feeling going on, especially men on men, as I was told by a young man no longer in the parish.”
The constable and his brother from the colonies, released from their police duties for the hour of the church service, rolled their eyes. Whatever, they thought.
“And one young lady has confessed she has feelings for another young woman that are unacceptable to society.”
Lydia rolled her eyes and thought as the police officers did. Mr. Collins continued: “Even faithful husbands and wives can be tempted to feel passion for others. But for some, Heaven be blessed, if you will, such feelings are tempered by prudence and sublimated into, at most, basically, friendships.”
Mr. Collins, fearful of a slip of the tongue that might reveal the marital infidelity identity of any of those in the church that morning, proceeded then to give a more generic hell and damnation sermon.
“Like, if tempted into marital infidelity, ask God to help you exercise temperance, for He may cast wicked men and women into the fiery abyss at any given moment.
“At any moment, if you will, God shall permit the Devil who stands ready to fall upon the wicked to seize them as his own. All that wicked men and women may do to save themselves from Hell's pains shall basically afford them nothing if they, like, continue to reject the Lord by exercising marital temperance.
“If any in the congregation feels they are guilty of having failed to exercise temperance, either in deed or thought, I beseech you come to me to confess it. Then go forth and sin no more, if you will.”
Most of those in the congregation who had been tempted through Mr. Collins’ sermon research and responded to a fatal attraction thought he or the Lord was speaking directly to them, and sat uneasy. Some, like the Darcy’s, sat more confidently, but crossed their fingers. Mr. Bingley felt an itch coming on.
“My throat is, like, giving out on me,” said Mr. Collins, “so I will say no more this morning but will let your conscience, your inner demon, Satan, reside with you as the organist plays and the combined boys and girls choirs of Meryton sing some hymns I have selected that are appropriate to this morning’s sermon. God bless you all and may He and temperance go with you, if He will.”
The entire congregation remained seated for the music portion of the service, again lest they be noticed. The organist, Mr. Fantom, who once had played for the Paris Opera, began playing. He wore a mask over one side of his face, having lost the other side in war, as well as a beloved son and daughter. Yet, his faith endured.
The music began with Fantom’s own composition: “I Weep for All the Beauty Lost in War.”
Then followed a selection of Bach cantatas:
“A Horrible End Will Carry You Off.” “See To It, That Your Fear of God Be Not Hypocrisy.”
“Wretched Man That I Am, Who Shall Deliver Me?”
Then, the familiar hymns,
“A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.”
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sp; “God Be With You Till We Meet Again.” Lady Catherine thought that Mr. Collins, for all his faults and lack of official credentials, had acquitted himself quite well with the sermon and music selection. She might keep him on as parson of Hunsford after all. But she would still reserve the right to choose his sermons and reduce his salary.
Each member of the congregation had pause to think about their own temptations and temperance. Mrs. Bennet especially drew spiritual inspiration from the sermon, although she felt she had not sinned, as the Bennet sisters, their spouses, and Mr. Bennet felt they had not.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Mr. Darcy received a surprise letter from Mr. Wickham in Australia that was forwarded to him at the Bingley’s.
My Dear Darcy, It is a hot day here in Australia, as usual in summer. I write to you from a sheep ranch in the desolate Outback desert wilderness far from the madding crowd. I should like you to know that I enjoy my labor here, including sheering sheep. Is there perhaps something sexual about hair or wool cutting?
I am writing from the shepherds’ bunk house I share with a dozen other sheep men. They are all big and burly who smoke cigars, belch and relieve themselves of rectal gas, drink ale by the gallon jug, and constantly brag about their women conquests. We’re all friends or, as the Aussies say, mates. Or us sheep men are called “jackaroos.” There are some “jillaroos” on a nearby station, but sheep women don’t interest me. I wonder why.
It is a Sunday off from work and I am enjoying the gift my new partner gave me. I will write about him shortly. I am wearing the silk flag of Australia. Our mates admired it so much that they ordered similar pairs of shorts for themselves and are wearing them as I write this, sitting at tables playing cards or lounging in their bunk.
They are good fellows all and tolerant of me. I think one or two of them may have a thing for me. I have no such thing for them because I am pleased to inform you that I have met someone who shares my sensibilities. He is not the wealthy owner of the ranch but just another work hand, as I am. We have become soul partners and are good shepherds to each other.
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