by A K Madison
“Is Mr. Randall about?” asked Darcy. “I have been looking for him.”
“I believe you will find him in the library,” replied Bingley.
Darcy bowed. “I shall see everyone at dinner, then. I must speak with Mr. Randall.”
Later, when the family had gathered in the parlor to go into the dining-room, Darcy and Randall were among the last to arrive, and everyone could tell that Darcy was big with news. “We have something to celebrate. I suggest wine all around.”
Though there was some teasing conversation about Darcy’s unconventional behavior, everyone accepted a glass and stood watching him expectantly. Randall stood next to him, his eyes fixed on Mary, who was standing beside her mother.
“Although the past few days have been filled with sorrow and anxiety, there has been some good news, and we ought to celebrate it. As some of you may know, the living at Kympton, which is within my gift, has fallen vacant. After conversations with my betrothed, with Dr. Price, and with Mr. Randall, and after a great deal of correspondence, I am pleased to announce that I have given the living to the Reverend Jeremiah Randall. Mr. Randall, you should know that my betrothed approves of your sermons. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the rector of St. Thomas’ Church, Kympton, the Reverend Jeremiah Randall.” He raised his glass with a smile, saying, “Health and a long and happy life to you, Mr. Randall. We will excuse you from making a speech in case you should wish to consult with a certain young lady.”
Randall managed a graceful acceptance. “Thank you for your faith in me, Mr. Darcy. I hope to be a worthy incumbent and look forward to a life of service to the people of St. Thomas’ Parish and the village of Kympton.”
The room was filled with a happy buzz as the young clergyman made his way to Mary Bennet’s side. Dr. Price went to the couple, clapped Randall on the shoulder, and shook his hand. “Congratulations, my dear boy. And God bless you. Tis important work you are taking on.” The old man looked around before continuing in a lower voice. “Well, have you popped the question, son?”
Randall smiled down at Mary, who smiled back. She had tears in her eyes. “I have, sir, but we thought it would be naught but an understanding—and a very long one at that.”
Mrs. Bennet was standing close by, and she added, “Sir, if you were planning to ask for my permission—and my blessing—you needn’t bother. You have them both. I know you will take good care of my girl, and I see no reason to look any further for a good husband for her.”
“I thank you, madam.”
“You will have to talk over the details with her uncle Philips, but that should not be too difficult.”
Dr. Price smiled. “Mrs. Bennet, will you make an announcement while we are still gathered?”
“You do it, sir. I could never propose a toast in front of all these people even if they are family and friends. Besides, I gave birth to her, but you baptized her.”
Dr. Price went to stand by Darcy, and the announcement was soon made. Everyone drank to the health of the happy couple, and at that moment, Mrs. Nicholls arrived to announce that dinner was served. There was much pleasant conversation over the meal. Darcy described the parish at Kympton in great detail including the architecture (early Norman), the property adjacent to the rectory (enough to sustain a tidy farm), and the fierce devotion of the ladies of the parish, who maintained a school for the village children and participated in many other good works.
“My family have worshiped there for generations,” said Darcy. “I have family buried in the church yard and distant ancestors planted in various spots beneath the church floor. It has been the scene of all our christenings, weddings, and funerals for as long as anyone can remember. I cannot imagine placing it in better hands, Mr. Randall.”
Chapter 26
Elizabeth found herself leaning on Darcy’s arm as they entered the room set aside for the official inquiry into Wickham’s actions at Longbourn church. She would confess later that she half expected Lady Catherine or even Collins himself to leap out at her. Darcy placed his hand briefly over hers as they took their seats. The hearing was being held in the same room that normally served as the scene of Meryton’s monthly assemblies, a fact not lost on the pair. Colonel Forster presided over the inquiry, and those giving testimony included the coachman and footman, the four officers who had been with Wickham, and the Bennet ladies.
All of the accounts matched in every important respect. All of the witnesses had obviously heard and seen most or all of the same events: The assault on Elizabeth Bennet, the attempt to drag her away, the filthy insinuations, the arrival of Mrs. Collins in the lane, and the struggle of William Collins that resulted in his death. Colonel Forster heard each sworn account and had no reason to find otherwise than that Lieutenant George Wickham had acted correctly and in accordance with the law. Wickham saluted his commanding officer and turned to face the witnesses. “I sincerely thank each person who has come forward to testify on my behalf,” he said with another salute. Later, Darcy would reflect that it was the last time he had laid eyes on George Wickham.
* * *
Over the few days before their guests were due to arrive from London, Darcy and Elizabeth enjoyed a number of pleasant rides together on Sirdar and Noor.
On Saturday morning, Cook gave Elizabeth a breakfast picnic for both people and horses. She and Darcy made for the leafy glade at the border between Longbourn and Netherfield.
As was their habit, they first attended to the beasts. Darcy seated himself on the fallen log and said, “Best come here, lass,” pulling Elizabeth down onto his lap. She laid her head on his shoulder and pulled off his hat so that she could touch his hair, sending the hat to a safe landing on a patch of grass.
Darcy made short work of untying her bonnet and sending it off to join his hat. Her hair was put up “en cadogan” for riding, and he found that it was secured by only a few pins. He removed them carefully and placed them in his pocket so that she could secure the thick plait before they returned to civilization. The dark mass of hair fell around them, and he was lost to all reason.
“If you must put this up, would you please avoid those awful caps that married women wear?”
She made a face, and her mock pout made him suddenly crave her lower lip. “But then how will everyone know I am married? And to Mr. Darcy?”
“Then just, just. Oh, just wear some scrap of lace. Surely there is a Frenchwoman among the milliners of London who can make them up for you. Just don’t hide this. It is too beautiful.”
Their lips met and clung, and Darcy began to leave little, enticing kisses on her face, her eyes, and the delicious spot behind her ear that made her tremble. She was trembling in his arms today, and he thought it was with pleasure until his lips felt the moisture on her cheek and he tasted the salt of her tears. “Lizzy! Are you well? Why are you crying? Lizzy?”
She said nothing but continued to weep. Darcy did not urge her to stop. He held her and rocked her back and forth, rubbing her back and crooning little incoherent phrases. “It will all come right—I have you—I am right here.” Her tears continued, great, gasping sobs that seemed they might tear her small form apart and his heart as well.
At length, when Elizabeth had cried herself out, he wiped her face with his handkerchief, smoothing her hair out of the way and holding the linen square so that she could blow her nose. He tended to her gently, and when she was at last calm, though still shuddering, he said, “What has caused your tears, my dearest girl?”
“Why did that man say those dreadful things about me? I keep thinking about what he had in mind, and oh, I cannot bear it! I see him in my mind’s eye, over and over again, dragging me off to—to dishonor me in the church!” This brought about a fresh fit of weeping, and when it was over, she began to speak again. “I ask myself what I ever did to harm him. And I think about poor Charlotte and her little baby.” She gave a great sniff, and he handed her the handkerchief.
“Oh, Lizzy, your only mistake was in choosing to marry me. That
put you under the eyes of my aunt, and I am convinced that she is one of the most wicked people who ever breathed. None of this is your fault. Just look at your neighbors, all of them. They respect you because you are a respectable woman, and no one who knows you says otherwise. Listen to the people who have known you since birth, not to some depraved lunatic!”
“I was afraid of him, you know. From the time he came upon me when I was packing the china at Longbourn, I was truly afraid of him. Every instinct told me to flee or scream whenever I saw him. But part of my mind told me that he was like a vicious animal that I needed to face, showing no fear. Even at Hunsford last year I did not wish to be too close to him. As I think on it, something about him repelled me even when he first came a-courting before the ball at Netherfield.”
Darcy continued to hold her close. “I have found over the years that it is well to trust those instinctive feelings. It is better to look past the outward seeming of people and into their hearts and minds. It sounds as though you follow the same practice. I am glad of it. You could see the wickedness that lay in his heart.”
Elizabeth laughed and kissed his cheek. “I did not find you repellant even when you were at your haughtiest. I found you most annoying, but you never made me wish to run screaming out into the night.”
Darcy raised his eyes to Heaven. “And let us hope I never do.” He looked down at the saddlebag beside the log. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“I suggest you go and wash your face in the stream. I will set out our breakfast.”
They were soon munching on the good food as contentedly as their beasts were munching, and neither spoke. Darcy felt so protective towards Elizabeth that he had to prevent himself from feeding her bits of bread and fruit as a mother bird would feed choice insects to a nestling. He rightly suspected that she would take exception to such an action, but he wanted nothing more than to grow a set of wings that he might give her shelter beneath them. He contented himself with seeing to it that she ate every morsel and that she had the choicest fruit and her pick of the little basket of fresh strawberries Cook had included. He also handed her the hairpins he had saved and watched as she quickly set her plait to rights.
“I was hungrier than I thought,” laughed Elizabeth as she finished braiding her hair.
“And how are you feeling? Are you well?”
“I am. I suppose I was due for a good cry. I am the better for it.”
They packed up the remnants of their meal, and then both stood. “It is time to get back,” said Darcy. He folded her into his arms for a kiss, saying “My arms are always available to you should you ever feel the need for another good cry. I only pray that I may never be the cause of it.”
“I do not see how you ever could be.”
They stood in the clearing for long moments, exchanging sweet kisses, each holding fast to the other, until Darcy was satisfied that Elizabeth was prepared to meet the rest of the world. Then he said, “Lizzy, you are not only the handsomest woman of my acquaintance, you are also the strongest woman of my acquaintance.” He stopped for a moment and held up his finger. “No, I am wrong. You are the strongest person of my acquaintance, man or woman.” With that, they mounted their horses and rode slowly back to Netherfield.
When they arrived, the stable was bustling. There was an unfamiliar carriage in the yard, and the grooms and stablehands were busy caring for four matched horses. In response to Darcy’s unspoken question, one of the stable lads said, “Tis Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, just arrived from London with Miss Bingley.”
Neither said a word, but they busied themselves with putting their horses away, rubbing them down, checking their hoofs, and filling their nets with hay. Elizabeth left Noor with a pat on the neck and the promise of another good ride soon. Darcy gave her his arm, and she threw the train of her habit over her other arm, and they walked slowly towards the house.
Elizabeth shook her head. “I should go home and change my clothes,” she said as the arrived at the point on the path where she would turn and walk down to Rose Cottage.
Bingley approached in some haste. “Do come into the house,” he began. “Caroline has already had Jane close to tears.”
“I intended to go home and change my clothes,” replied Elizabeth. “As you see, we have been riding this morning.”
“No time for that. Just come.”
Darcy and Elizabeth followed Bingley, who opened the doors of the family sitting-room, entering with a cheerful “Look who I found,” that was belied by his anxious countenance. They were greeted by silent looks from Jane, Mrs. Bennet, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, and Miss Bingley.
No one said a word until Elizabeth curtsied as best she could and said, “Mr. and Mrs. Hurst. Caroline. What a pleasant surprise. We were not sure you would be able to come.”
With that, the men shook hands and the ladies greeted one another frostily. “Is that a riding habit, Eliza? How quaint! It looks like something you might have inherited from your Mama,” brayed Caroline.
Elizabeth looked down at her skirts. She had chosen a wooden chair to sit in, lest she leave one of Jane’s upholstered chairs with the scent of the stables. “Why yes, it is. Riding habits do not stay fresh for long in the country. There are too many hedges to clear. But I have bespoken two new habits from Mr. Darcy’s own tailor in London. One is in blue velvet, which I will wear in the city. The other is a good, sturdy English wool to wear at Pemberley, where I am sure there are plenty of hedges.” She paused and arranged her voluminous skirts as gracefully as she could. “Do you ride, Caroline?”
Caroline Bingley both feared and hated horses and never went near them. However, she would have preferred being boiled in oil to allowing Eliza Bennet to know this. “Of course. It is one of the hallmarks of a true lady.” She smoothed her gown. “However, I generally change my clothes as soon as I enter the house.” She fanned the air in front of her face with a thin hand. “The aromas of the stable can be offensive to those of us who are more genteel.”
Darcy, who had been twirling his riding-crop with increasing irritation, made as if to stand up from his own wooden chair. Elizabeth stopped him with a slight wave of her gloved hand. “Yes, and I was on my way home to change my clothes when Mr. Bingley approached and told us of the unexpected pleasure of your visit. He begged us to return to the house. I can only conclude that he thought we might wish to welcome you.” She paused and twirled her own riding-crop. “Our dear Charles has told us that you might be contemplating a move to Bath, Caroline. Is that so?”
“Yes. London is growing tiresome. I have taken a small house in Laura Place, and I hope that the society in Bath will be more diverse and therefore more interesting.”
“Indeed, and while I have never visited Bath, I understand that those who frequent it come from many parts of England, not just from London. London society is so confining.”
Elizabeth’s eyes were guileless, but her observation had hit home. It was clear that London was growing a little too uncomfortable for Caroline. Rather than waiting for a reply, Elizabeth stood and made her curtsy to the room at large. “Now, I really must go home and change out of these riding-clothes. Mr. Darcy has given me a beautiful Pemberley mare as a betrothal gift, and we ride most mornings. Caro, you simply must and shall come to the stables to visit her. I feel certain we can find a suitable horse there. Perhaps you would enjoy a ride some morning while you are here.”
She did not wait for an answer but took Darcy’s offered arm and swept from the room. When they had left the house, he let go of her and bent at the waist with a hand on each knee, so overcome with laughter that he had to employ his handkerchief. “A masterful set-down, Lizzy! Perfect in every respect. I can only offer my congratulations. London society can be so confining.”
Elizabeth took his arm again. “I am in no mood to tolerate Caroline’s nonsense,” she replied. “It is my wedding and my family, and I intend to enjoy it all. Besides, tomorrow is Sunday. Am I not entitled to a day of rest?”
Dr. Price’s Sunday-morning sermon, on “brotherly love,” made no impression on Caroline. Her mind was less agreeably engaged by the low company being kept at Netherfield. Since her arrival, whenever she could gain private moments with her sister or with Jane, Caroline had raised strong objections to the presence of Mr. Emerson, whom she labeled “the help,” and to the “country curate” who was betrothed to Mary Bennet. “These persons are not worthy of our company, Jane. They should not form a part of our circle.” Jane, made uncomfortable by such talk, chose to ignore it. Louisa merely frowned.
When Morning Prayer concluded, the family made their way home through the gloomy rain that had descended during their worship. After the midday dinner, when everyone had settled in the parlor for tea, Caroline announced her intention of resting in her rooms. Her sister followed her. “Caroline,” she began as soon as they had gone upstairs. “Hold your tongue regarding Mr. Emerson. He has a much better background than we do. His father is a baronet. Mr. Randall’s father is also a gentleman.”
Caroline shrugged. “He is hired help, Louisa. I do not care to associate with him or with the curate.”
“Then you are stupid, Caroline. This is what has caused you to be ostracized in London. If you are not careful, you will no longer be welcome in your brother’s home.” Louisa turned on her heel and left.
After tea, Mrs. Bennet stood and announced that it was time for the Bennet ladies to return to Rose Cottage. “Jane, dear,” she began. “I hope that perhaps you will take advantage of this quiet Sunday afternoon to rest.” She looked sharply at her daughter, and Jane obediently—and gratefully—retired.