by Don Jacobson
Maria looked at her wide-eyed, her mouth forming a perfect “0.” She stood stock-still. Based upon her experience with Lydia, Maria had been enamored with romantic notions surrounding officers. Never had any of the ideas Mary had touched upon in her rant crossed her innocent mind.
These men were not interested in them, but rather what they could get from them. And, while young Maria Lucas had no direct knowledge of what a man would expect from a willing girl, Mary’s allusion to the idea that officers who would seek out women on the street were already seeing them as fallen was a revelation. From that moment on, Maria modeled herself after a different Bennet sister.
Georgiana broke the moment saying, “Oh my, Mary. Oh my…I have never heard anyone speak so forcefully about such a topic. Well, maybe when my brother and Richard are arguing about Lady Catherine’s latest outrage, but never from a woman. And, I thought Caroline Bingley had the put-down mastered.”
Georgie strengthened and straightened up before adding, “Please, sister, promise me that, if I ever forget and do manage to get on your wrong side, you will give me fair warning before tearing a strip off my hide.
“Oh my,” she giggled, “I cannot believe I just said that!”
Now with two pairs of admiring eyes looking up to her, Mary Bennet felt a wave of relief and, strangely, joy wash over her. Happy to stand on the High Street in Meryton with two girls who were, YES!, her friends, she started to chuckle and then laugh which increased until she had to hold her sides. Propriety and public display be damned. Did I just think the word “damned?” To quote Georgie— “Oh My!”
Quickly all three were laughing in relief. Turning into the front door of the modiste’s shop, the girls happily resumed their shopping expedition.
Chapter XXIV
In her later years, sitting in her living room looking out over the Wobbly Bridge, Mary would smile wryly at the image the three young women must have presented after they exited the modiste’s shop that afternoon. Heads together, chattering about this new style of gown, that delightful pelisse, and how new gloves and bonnets were needed all around. They were the stereotype of what Papa so often referred to as the silliest girls in all England—besotted with clothes and that which clothes were designed to attract: men. Men! Now, that was a topic about which Mary had never immersed herself with any other living human being!
Maria declared that refreshments were needed before the girls could possibly consider their next foray—be it the milliner’s or returning to Longbourn and Lucas Lodge. Luckily, M. et Mme Rochet’s Maison au Chocolat had survived last month’s blaze undamaged.[xxix] The door still squeaked the way it always had as they made their way into the shop. The beverages offered at the Maison were favorites of Meryton’s younger set. The chocolate brew had a special punch that intrigued the English palate, so used to bland flavors. Mary was of a like mind with Kitty who had thoroughly enjoyed both the drink and the Rochets. There were four small tables, each situated to offer an excellent view of the street and passersby. Only one was occupied—and that by a lady of older years.
The Rochets had escaped France with their lives before the murders of the old King and the bulk of French aristocracy. Settling in Meryton in 1793 with their infant son, the couple quickly blended into the easy flow of Hertfordshire life. There was a sense of mystery about the family with the underlying belief being that they were of the nobility but living incognito to avoid the Emperor’s agents who were assumed to have penetrated every locality in the country.
Their son, Guillaume, now nine-and-ten, had secured a Midshipman’s berth in 1805 after Trafalgar. By 1807 he was in the Comus when it took the Frederiksværn off Sweden as Gambier invested Copenhagen in support of Wellesley. His service that day marked him in the eyes of the more aggressive officers in the fleet. He now stood as Third Lieutenant under Captain Aubrey in the frigate Surprise.[xxx]
As the girls settled into their seats, Madame Rochet bustled over. She was a woman of medium height and graced with golden-colored tresses streaked with graying hairs. The Rochets stood as confectioner, brewer, server, and did not employ any staff except for a kitchen skivvy. Mary had always been struck by the egalitarian nature of the proprietors, considering that it was likely that they had been waited upon throughout their previous lives, and now they were the ones bowing to customers.
“Ah…Mademoiselles Lucas and Bennet. How are you,” Mme Rochet exclaimed, “I am afraid I have not yet met your friend. Would you please do me the kindness of introducing me to her?”
Mary quickly introduced Georgiana to the chocolatier who looked upon the young miss before switching to her native tongue.
“C’est un plaisir de vous recontrer. Comment allez vous?”
Without hesitation, Georgie smoothly replied, “Tres bien, merci. Et vous, Madame?”
“Bien aussi. Ah, Miss Darcy, your accent is tres beautiful for one so young. Have you been speaking French for long?”
“Why, only since I entered the schoolroom at the age of eight. My brother, Mr. Darcy, will be pleased to know that his investment in my education has been well spent.
“I do so desire to visit France. It must be beautiful to hear the music, see the art, and tour the remarkable countryside. I have only read picture books, but I assume it is quite pretty there. Perhaps you could tell me about it, if it would not be an imposition,” Georgiana enthused.
“My dear, it is never an imposition to be given the opportunity to talk about home. Sadly, though, I have not seen it for nearly 20 years. I am sure much has changed under the rule of the Beast. Perhaps when our boy and his comrades have strangled Napoleon with the blockade and Lord Wellesley has driven cold steel into his…
“Oh, forgive me!” Madame Rochet’s voice had broken, and tears had sprung to her bright blue eyes. “I get very angry when I remember how much was lost during la Terreur that I forget myself. You youngsters have no idea of the horrors, but, then again, you should not. I am so sorry.”
Mary’s heart went out to the distraught woman. She reached up from her seat and placed her hand on the matron’s arm.
“Madame Rochet, please do not trouble yourself. Our shoulders may be young, but they are strong, certainly strong enough for you to unburden yourself. For heaven’s sake, your family has been a Meryton fixture since before any of us were born. If not us, your neighbors, to share your pain at being separated from your childhood home, then whom?”
Mme Rochet regarded Mary and a smile played across her lips. Placing her hand atop Mary’s, she gave it a squeeze before making a nod of thanks. Georgiana, seated around the table to Mary’s right on the other side of Mme Rochet, noticed that the other customer was watching the scene with a degree of intensity that came close to being a stare—something quite improper! As soon as the older woman caught the Darcy gaze, she colored slightly and quickly turned back to observe the traffic outside the window.
After Mme Rochet had calmed herself, the girls ordered three chocolat deluxe and petit fours. Conversation reverted to the shopping expedition.
If any had been able to see it, they would have noticed the wistful look that passed across the older patron’s face. After a decent interval had passed, the lady raised her hand to gain Mme Rochet’s attention. When the proprietor reached the table, the customer beckoned her closer and murmured some words in French to her. Mme Rochet replied in kind and accepted a relatively large, brown-paper wrapped parcel lifted from an adjacent seat. A few coins changed hands, and Mme Rochet carried the package behind the counter and called to her kitchen maid. The item again was passed, and the child flew off on some errand.
Within minutes, the elderly gentlewoman, for such she was if an observer had closely looked at her fair skin, lined with the emblems of a long life, collected her things and rose to leave. Before turning to the girls’ table, she dropped a delicate deep blue lace veil that softened her features and hid her eyes. With this adjustment completed, she glided over to the group and waited until the conversation had ebbed a
nd all eyes were on her.
Speaking softly, she said, “Please excuse my interruption. I could not help but overhear some of the young lady’s,” at this she nodded toward Georgiana, “comments discussing her wish to visit France. If I may offer some suggestions from my experience in that unfortunate land, you will be able to direct your reading.
“Once the present trials have been concluded in the next few years, I am certain that she would find the nearby Norman town of Deauville to be a wonderful escape. T’is located directly on La Manche and has many miles of beautiful beach. Peaceful beyond words, its vistas are breathtaking. Not many people live there today, perhaps no more than 100, but its proximity to Paris suggests that Deauville will not remain undiscovered for long.
“Again, please forgive my intrusion into your private conversation, but I imagined that you would enjoy my information,” she concluded, gently curtseying and left the shop.
Although Georgiana had been the focus of the woman’s comments, all three quietly digested that which she said. After a moment, Maria piped up, “Well, geography is quite interesting, but we have more immediate concerns. Are we shopping more? Or are we going home?”
France was forgotten, and a vigorous debate ensued. Shopping carried the day.
Mr. Hill gently knocked on the door leading to the library. Mr. Bennet’s voice harrumphed and then bid him enter. George Hill silently handed his master the paper-wrapped parcel that had been brought to Longbourn’s kitchen door by little Annie, the Rochets’ girl-of-all-work. He bowed and then left.
Bennet turned the twine-bound package over and over in his hands. Fairly large, heavy and rigid to a degree, the item did flex so it was nothing encased in a box. It also was not addressed to him, but rather to Mary. There was no return direction. Certainly, Edward was not the sender as the young man was about two weeks into a two-month voyage across the Atlantic.
Like a child with a wrapped gift, Thomas carefully shook the bundle. Not much of a sound until he detected the soft rustles of paper as something shifted under the protective covering. His probing fingers felt the corner of a missive peeping out of the seam where the paper joined. He pulled it clear.
This looked like a letter, but it was encased in something that he had never seen before. Not that he was unfamiliar with envelopes, but this one was supremely made and was clearly using some sort of glue or adhesive to seal the flap as well as to bind the entire item together.[xxxi] And it was addressed to him. He gently opened it and removed several sheets of cream-colored notepaper embossed with the sapphire initials “CMF.”
January 16, 1812
Dearest Papa,
I am taking this opportunity to once again thank you for your forbearance in assisting me with my visit. Your openness to the logic of my arguments showed that I have changed these past 46 years. The carriage was most comfortable and the letters of introduction you so graciously provided opened the correct doors for me. My mission was to prepare long-term financial security so that all members of our family who employ the Wardrobe will not be left without the wherewithal to support themselves after they arrive.
The bankers were very discrete and worked closely with our solicitors to create the Corporation. As you suggested, we have funded it with a starting capitalization of £1,000. The Bennet Family Trust, of which you are listed as Managing Director, will be a closely held Corporation in perpetuity. As no stock will be sold to the public, the existence of the Corporation can remain hidden until the government adjusts the law to require greater transparency.
While they considered it unusual, the solicitors have written the charter to stipulate that only the specific individuals themselves and subsequent direct descendants of the present master of Longbourn, you; Mr. Edward Gardiner of Cheapside, London; a Mr. Edward Benton, current address unknown; the late George and Anne Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire; and Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam of Matlock will be eligible to sit on the Board of the Trust as Life Members. Subsidiary Corporations controlled by the Trust are not limited in this manner. Any person may serve. The Managing Director of such subsidiary Corporations may, upon the unanimous decision of the Life Members, be elected to the Board of the Trust.
You will have to advise the Darcys, Bingleys, Gardiners, and Fitzwilliams of their roles in your own manner and time.
While the lawyers and bankers were reserved toward me, acting as I was on your behalf, they neither questioned my identity nor my authority to act as your agent in this matter. The color of our money removed any doubt: that and Uncle Gardiner’s participation. It is my understanding that you will have to remove to Town upon their notice—most likely in a fortnight—when the documents establishing the Corporation are ready for your signature.
I found it enjoyable if not completely comfortable to visit some of my old haunts. I did indulge myself by attending the Opera as well as the theater. How did you convince Mr. Darcy to allow me to use the family boxes? Well, no matter. It was thoroughly wonderful.
I also visited the Royal Academy and once again immersed myself in the works of Mr. Turner and Mr. Constable. How stunning the colors are when you see them just a few months or years after their completion! You may be interested to know that Mr. Turner’s work has inspired a whole new group of French artists tired of Heroic Romanticism. They call themselves the Impressionists.
You asked me what I missed, if anything. Honestly? Outside of having the chance to be with my sisters (and you and Mama, of course) around the dining table, there is little I would exchange for my present life. It is full of interesting people. While my husband passed two years ago, I have my two beautiful children, your grandchildren, Thomas and Eloise, to keep me young. I have enclosed what is known as a photograph to allow you to “meet” them. I cannot explain the process of capturing an image so lifelike. I do understand that Frenchmen invented it in the 1830s.
A small card-like object fluttered onto Bennet’s desktop. He read a feminine hand on the back, the same as that which had composed the letter.
De Gauche à Droit: Thomas (22 ans), Eloise (17 ans), Henry (57 ans) au Plage Deauville, Août, 1919
Now, as we discussed, I am fully aware of the capabilities—and the limitations—of the Wardrobe. While no male Bennet could bear children in the future, the rule left female Bennets free to increase if they did not travel while expecting. Henry and I were the Keepers for nearly 30 years after his cousin, your Great-Grandson Bennet George Darcy, passed away. This moved the Wardrobe from Darcy House back to Matlock House. I am still the Keeper, oddly shifting control backwards several generations. We decided to name Thomas the next Keeper upon our mutual demise.
A word about Mary…she must be named Keeper of the Wardrobe. I realize that tradition holds that Bennets should not be informed until they are 21, but I do not believe that advising her earlier will cause a problem. Including her in the circle with Jane and Lizzy will increase security of the cabinet. That way, if anything happens to you, there is no question that the Wardrobe will be safe. I will leave a note for her in the compartment.
She is the best of us from what I have seen of her behavior since Lizzy and Jane announced their engagements…and also what I have learned in the years since I left. I cannot say more. Just know that Mary Amelia Bennet is not a name that will be forgotten—either by the family or the nation. She combines Jane’s goodness of spirit and belief in people with Lizzy’s wit and temper along with a great dose of Lydie’s tenacity.
Dearest Papa, please let Mama know that I do love her and that I regret not seeing her. I wish we could explain the Wardrobe to her so that she could understand why I have not visited. I am certain that you will think of something.
Time travel creates some interesting anomalies. Here is a woman, born in 1794 writing to her father in 1812 when she, herself, is physically 64 years old—13 years his senior. Yet, over all those years, my love for you has never dimmed. I only wish we could have spent more time together. The stories I could have tol
d you. The people you could have met. But that was my future not yours. Only know that the woman I am today is rooted in the girl you and Mama created. I pray every night for you, Mama and my sisters. What fun we would have had! Would that you could visit me in Deauville.
I must close now as the page end nears. Please leave the French window unlatched for the next two nights. Do not be concerned that the Wardrobe will send me to the wrong time. It will know that I want to go “Home.”
With all my love,
Your daughter,
Catherine Marie Bennet Fitzwilliam
Thomas tasted the salt of his tears. Carefully folding the letter and picking up the “photograph,” he placed both in a drawer before cradling his head in his hands to sob.
Chapter XXV
By the time the three young ladies had finished their shopping, spirits were flagging, and there was considerably less spring in their steps. While the merchants would deliver their purchases to Longbourn and Lucas Lodge, Mary, Georgiana and Maria all paused to consider their folly in deciding to walk into Meryton. Now faced with the return trip, each wished for a gallant knight, no, a knight would be on horseback, a helpful coachman, a farmer—oh, anybody with a wheeled conveyance. Tired feet and limbs unused to extensive outdoor exercise suggested that the trek back home would be a long one.
As they clustered together by the side of the High Street ruminating on their fate, a noisy clatter of an approaching coach disturbed their thoughts. Maria spotted the carriage as it turned onto the avenue. Two men were mounted atop the box. The driver was roughly dressed, deeply tanned with grizzled hair and a patch over one eye. The other was a slender young man who was clearly a naval officer, his uniform coat unadorned with any badges of rank, well worn, and faded from its original deep blue to a tarnished bottle green. He had removed his hat, probably to avoid losing it as the wagon sped to Meryton, allowing his long blond hair held back in the traditional naval queue to glint in the sunlight. Rich blue eyes blazed out of a deeply tanned face to further accentuate his handsome appearance. The vehicle ground to a halt in front of Rochet’s shop. The naval man leapt off the seat and strode across the walk to open the door before disappearing into the shop.