by Don Jacobson
“Mr. Benton, pray give me this opportunity to thank you once again for all your assistance earlier this morning. I am certain that I would have been injured or worse if it had not been for your intervention,” Mary said.
Benton stopped his walk and looked over at her, dark smudges beneath his eyes—eyes that were filled with a painful and haunted note. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, trying to shake off the fatigue. He ran his hand through his tousled hair.
“Miss Bennet, I do accept your thanks, but you must also accept mine. Throughout this day as we have been working at our separate tasks, I have watched you as you took care of your patients. My God…how tender you are. You freely dispensed the balm of Christian charity to all without judgment. Your example made my grim work a little lighter,” Benton assured her.
Mary bowed her head at this unexpected compliment, but her blush was not caused by his words, but rather by his presence. She was pulled to him like iron filings to a lodestone. Edward Benton was unlike any man she had ever known…and she wanted to know him better. Yet, now was not the time for society, but rather work.
“May I impose upon you to assist me yet again, Mr. Benton? My father has agreed with my suggestion to move the orphaned children to Longbourn. Could I beg you to join me in the wagon to keep them safe and warm? Our Mr. Hill will drive, but I am worried that with two infants, I will not be able to adequately care for the other little ones,” Mary implored.
Benton paused, his face a study in surprise. Here was someone completely new. Her thoughts were of the children, of the weakest of all, not of herself or the inconvenience that inserting a crowd of little people of unknown heritage into the household of an estate. Mary Bennet was a different sort of English gentlewoman, one who placed the welfare of others above herself. With that reflection, he readily agreed to the task.
“Then let us be going, Miss Bennet. The sun is low, and the temperatures will soon drop.”
The loading of the wagon was quickly accomplished. Mr. Bennet spoke quietly with Edward while Mary was settling herself on fresh straw with a baby girl bundled in a blanket supported on her lap. In her arms was an infant boy, not more than a fortnight old. After shaking hands with the elder gentleman, Benton climbed up onto the wagon’s bed, positioning himself to prevent any small ones from rolling off the back.
“All right, children,” Edward cajoled slapping his thighs for emphasis, “would anyone like to sing a song as we take our trip?”
Ring around the rosy,
a pocket full of posies;
ashes, ashes
we all fall down!
That old medieval classic and other rhymes were lifted to the smoky skies in halting childish voices as well as a sweetly feminine alto accompanied by a masculine baritone. Even George Hill found the breath to add to the chorus as he drove home to Longbourn House.
Chapter XVIII
Mr. Hill had taken great care to drive slowly so as not to jostle the precious cargo. But, that also meant that the journey consumed the last available light of the year’s shortest day. By the time the wagon turned into Longbourn’s drive, torches had been lit to guide the horses’ last steps.
The children had long since tired of singing and stories. Most had snuggled into their blanket wrappings and were slipping into an exhausted but carefree sleep. This gave Edward the chance to look at Mary seated just a few feet away. Her head was bowed over the two babes. Every once in a while he could hear her cooing comforting sounds to keep them calm. His heart ached at the tenderness etched across her face. Throughout the day he had chanced to gaze at her unawares. Unlike so many women of her class, Mary Bennet was without affectation or guile. She was earnest, to be sure, but there were streaks of humor and spice that made hers a unique personality. And her intelligence…
What broke his heart was that he knew he had to continue his journey. He could not stay in Meryton, Mary Bennet or no. He had already tarried well beyond his original intent. She had prevented him from leaving; having arrested his progress toward Liverpool since he saw her in front of Longbourn not quite a fortnight ago. But, Thomas had just reminded him that he needed to get to Boston to complete his legend. He would have to depart on the morrow if he was to make his way to the great Western port in time to catch his ship. He would have to leave Mary behind.
Edward’s musings were interrupted by a rising clamor as the dray approached Longbourn’s familiar front portico. He lifted himself enough to see Mrs. Bennet surrounded by a cluster of servants waiting for it to grind to a halt. Her sister, Mrs. Philips, was nowhere to be seen. As soon as the Hill pulled the teams heads back, Edward scrambled to the ground, keeping to the shadows to avoid Fanny Bennet’s view. To his relief, her focus was on the children who were quickly gathered and ushered into the homestead.
Mary exited last, handing the baby from her lap over the wagon’s side to a waiting Mrs. Hill. Edward reached out for the little boy held in her arms. Cradling him carefully, Edward stood to face Mary as she exited the wagon, giving her a chance to brush the straw from her skirts before he returned the infant to her.
“Miss Bennet, I must make my farewell right now as I need to return to Meryton to assist in the efforts to bring the fire under control. Every able-bodied man must take part. I will certainly try to look in on the children over the next few days, but I cannot be certain when or if that will be possible,” Edward stated.
There was a look on his face that told Mary much more than his words. The longing she began to feel, the need to have him near transcended any emotion she had ever felt. But, she also knew that he could not stay. And, he would not return for months, perhaps years, if ever. His little lie spoken now was meant to ease any pain she might feel later rather than to deceive her. Yet, she did not fear his departure. The growing bond was too strong. If she never saw him again, the past day was enough to show her that she, too, could give her heart…and receive one in return.
Stepping closer to him, she reached out and placed her free hand on his arm. Speaking quietly, Mary opened her soul.
“Mr. Benton, Edward. I know that you must leave. I cannot hold you here. Leave for Meryton, for Liverpool, for the Americas. But as you go, I earnestly desire that you have happy memories of the time you spent with a middling gentlewoman from the wilds of Hertfordshire. I know that she admires a quiet, strong, and pious man and will think upon him with great fondness. She will pray every day that he stays safe in his journeys and will discover that for which he searches. Carry those thoughts with you across the ocean.”
Only the proximity of her family and the multitude crowding the front entry prevented Benton from enveloping Mary in his arms and burying his face in her hair now freed from its woolen confines and pins. But, as that was not possible, he laid his hand atop hers, gently squeezed it and wistfully smiled into the flickering torchlight.
Who is this Mary Bennet, and why has she so successfully stormed my defenses?
“Go with God, Miss Bennet. May he send angels to watch over you as you sleep. May they walk by your side each day. I can only hope that will be enough until…” his voice trailed away as emotion choked him. With a final squeeze, he gently disengaged his arm, turned and disappeared into the murky gloom.
I return to you. Both Mary and Edward completed his speech silently.
Mary stared into the darkness for what seemed an eternity.
“Mary! Mary Bennet,” her mother called bustling up to her side, “Are you just going to stand there like a tree stump? There is work to be done with all these urchins you and your father have decided are now our boarders.
“Oh…what have you there? Another babe?” She reached out, and Mary passed the little boy over to the older woman.
Mrs. Bennet settled child against her bosom, and he immediately started making smacking sounds as he sought to feed. The innocence of that simple urge cracked through Fanny Bennet’s selfish and silly personality, driving directly to maternal instincts honed by five successful births.
“My little man…hungry are ye? Well, you’ll find this well quite dry. Yet, we do have dinner waiting for you. You come with me, and I will introduce you to Mrs. Dixon. Her babe is weaning, but she can still feed the strong wee likes of you,” Mrs. Bennet murmured. With that, she left Mary standing alone in the drive where she stayed until Mrs. Hill came out and gently guided her into Longbourn and up to bed.
Chapter XIX
Mary awakened from a deep and mostly dreamless sleep fueled by utter exhaustion. Recognizing that it had to be early afternoon from the way the sun was streaming into her room’s windows, she gazed up at the canopy, feeling a terrible sense of loss. She grieved that Edward had gone away. But, while lonely for herself, she could not begrudge him his future. If what she felt was love, then she believed that her love for him would also sustain her, even if he never returned.
The loss that dragged on her most profoundly, though, came from the memory of the line of shrouded bodies that stretched before her mind’s eye. Some were clearly people in repose, as if they had gone onto their final rest in peace. But there were some, perhaps those discovered in the burned-out shells of houses and flats down by the river, which betrayed a terrible struggle before death claimed them. Legs distorted the sheets giving the dead some final dignity. Others had arms locked in grotesque positions, testament to the horrors of a fiery end.
Mary shuddered at the recollection of those lumps of humanity being borne to the communal grave. Occasionally, a shroud slipped aside. Her stomach recoiled at the sight of blackened flesh of corpses so badly burned that that they could not be identified as man or woman.
Every bit of her screamed that she was safe at home at Longbourn. But, the pictures playing in her head were so real. The smell of death was so prevalent in her nose. She curled into a ball huddled under the bedclothes. Eventually the visions passed, and she rejoined the present.
As she came out of her gloomy reverie, she became aware of an increased noise level in the house. The hubbub exceeded what had been the norm since the weddings. She could discern the children chattering in the nursery just down the hall, but the sounds of adult voices modulating through the floorboards piqued her curiosity. Dressing quickly, Mary descended the main stairs to a full-scale family reunion.
“My Lord, Mary, we were sure you would never appear,” Lizzy’s clear soprano pealed out with a laugh, “Mrs. Hill told us she had tucked you in at about half-seven yesterday evening. It is now nearly mid-afternoon and finally you have condescended to join us.”
Mary stopped and looked at her two elder sisters settled comfortably in their usual places in the sitting room. If Lizzy expected Mary to rise to her teasing tone, the young woman’s reply surely surprised her.
“Lizzy, Jane… Papa and I were down at the parade ground from before dawn until nearly dark. I really do not know if I slept from exhaustion of the body or a weariness of my soul. It was horrible. Those poor people…” her voice broke as tears pooled in her eyes.
Jane leaped from her seat, followed quickly by Lizzy. Both women embraced the weeping Mary and gently guided her to sit on the sofa between them.
Jane spoke first. “Dear sister, we have heard various accounts of the devastation and death.” She stroked Mary’s tear-stained cheek in the manner that had comforted the younger girl since childhood. “I do not believe I could have done what you did. There is only so much a person can absorb.”
Lizzy picked up the thread, “You brought relief to so many in the hospital tent. Then you collected the weakest and brought them here. You accomplished more good in a day than most gentry do all their lives.”
“But, so many died. And, their deaths were terrible. If they did not burn outright, they screamed in agony for hours. The sound of their voices is haunting me even as we sit here,” Mary lamented, burying her face in her hands.
With that note ringing in a near-silent room, Mary heard a pair of booted feet crossing the room, coming to a halt right in front of her. Shoulders heaving from deep sobs, she lifted her reddened eyes to observe Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam standing in front of her, a soft smile upon his open and friendly face. Dropping to one knee, he carefully took her small hands in his gloved large ones.
“Miss Bennet. You have seen a vision of Hell on earth. I have just returned from the parade grounds. It is still very difficult, but more so because you are not there.
“To a soul, if not your name, then your presence, is on the lips of every man and woman, laborer or gentry alike. They watched as you moved amongst them, tenderly ministering to their needs. They heard your words of comfort and your prayers. They felt your hands soothe painful wounds. They experienced your pain as you shed tears in those few moments you stole for yourself.
“They are calling you ‘The Lady of the Field’ honoring the gentle care you showed all those you comforted yesterday.
“You evidenced a courage that I wish I could find in half of my men. I have seen the gruffest subaltern wobble and cry like a babe when he looked across a battlefield full of the same wreckage you calmly dealt with in Meryton’s darkest hours.
“Although I have not known you for very long, Miss Bennet, I must tell you that I admire the selflessness and pure humanity you have demonstrated. You are a beacon for all of us who wish to more closely follow the Good Book.
“Now, some practical advice, if I may. You need to care for yourself right now. You have undergone an experience not dissimilar to being in battle. Soldiers continue to fight with their spirits long after they have laid down their muskets. Nightmares are not uncommon. Frequent bouts of unaccountable emotion will overcome you. You will be depressed. You may even forget where you are and imagine you are back on the parade grounds. Do not criticize yourself. It is a natural way for your mind to come to terms with a traumatic experience. I know that you love to play the pianoforte. Perhaps you will find release in your music.
“Your friends and family will be important, too, as you heal. Reach out to them. Let them comfort you. From the expressions on the faces of the two ladies flanking you, I imagine you will be hard pressed to spend a moment without one of them hanging about you like Miss Bingley when she was near Darcy,” the Colonel counseled.
“And do not forget me,” a young voice piped up from the other side of the parlor. Georgiana Darcy confidently stepped forward to stand beside her cousin who had risen to his feet.
Mary blinked and took in the four concerned faces turned toward her. She had never been the center of anybody’s worry, but rather always the target of some form of disapprobation. Everything was different now. She gulped a bit and addressed her family.
“Colonel, Miss Darcy, Jane, Lizzy…I am nearly speechless…
At this Jane and Lizzy giggled.
“…but not so much so that I cannot tell you how much I cherish your concern for me. I know that the Mary you remember would never have set aside her Fordyce’s long enough to lift a finger to help anyone.
“I was so selfish…not like Lydia…perhaps worse. I was so afraid of the possibility that I would lose the favor of someone—Mama; Papa; you, Jane; and especially you, Lizzy—that I was constantly on the defensive, bristling like a hedgehog. So rather than reaching out to people, I pushed them away before they could cut me. As a result, I did nothing, risked nothing and won nothing.
“Now I understand that people will not care for you if you are constantly rejecting their overtures. So, sisters, Colonel, Miss Darcy, here I am…a woman who has learned that the love you take is equal to the love you make.”[xxv]
After this remarkable and vulnerable speech, the company was quiet for nearly a minute before Mary herself broke the spell with questions.
“Touching as all this is…why are the four of you here? And, what news from Meryton? And, oh my, I must check on the children!” She started to rise but was restrained by both Lizzy and Jane.
“First things first, Miss Bennet,” Lizzy said firmly, “Papa sent an express to Town telling us of the fire and that
all hands had turned out to help. His letter put an end to our honeymoon plans. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley quickly went into action.
“They collected the Colonel and Georgiana from Matlock House. The Colonel and Mr. Bingley then worked with Uncle Edward to collect supplies. The Earl, himself, went to Whites and personally collected nearly 500 pounds to support the purchases as well as to have a fund to help provide housing for the displaced families.
“Mr. Darcy contacted Mr. ___________________ in the Government and secured assurances that emergency relief monies would be available to assist Meryton’s business community to rebuild. Darcy convinced him that it would be foolhardy to allow a fire to do the Tyrant’s work and injure our war effort by cutting such an important supply chain given Meryton’s closeness to Town.
“Then, with three cargo wagons and two carriages, we journeyed from Town to Longbourn, arriving late yesterday, after you were abed. That you never knew we were here is testament to your weariness.”
Jane continued the story, “The men and the wagons continued to the parade grounds. Mr. Darcy and Charles are still there. The Colonel just returned with news.”
“I spoke with your father. He advised that the toll has risen to eight-and-seventy souls. I know that you were aware of nearly fifty. The fire is contained and has nearly burned itself out. The additional butcher’s bill came from discoveries in Meryton itself. Searchers were able to probe the rubble of the shantytown. That is where they found many victims, people who were trapped in their beds and never had a chance,” the Colonel reported.
Mary’s shoulders slumped. Eight-and-seventy! In a village the size of Meryton, that many people tore a gaping hole in the fabric of the community. Her tears gathered again.
Lizzy sized up the situation and quickly added by way of changing the subject, “As for the children. They are being watched and cared for by Mama and Aunt Philips.