by Don Jacobson
Fitzwilliam broke the silence. “Good morning, Mary. How are you feeling today?”
Swallowing a bit of roll, Mary brightly responded, “Quite well, thank you, especially after a full night’s sleep. I must admit I have been resting very comfortably now that we have resolved Mr. Collins’ status. Whatever we may think of his previous behavior in Hunsford, we must believe that it was his illness acting and not the man himself.”
“I am not so sure of that based upon what Richard has related,” Darcy replied, “but he will not be able to harm anyone again. He is locked away behind both stone and legal walls. And, we have created an annual annuity for his keepers that should make them bribery-proof.
“Even my Aunt has not been able to break through—and she has surely tried—although for the life of me, I cannot understand why she would take the part of someone so far beneath her.”
Lizzy’s eyes snapped to her husband at this last. He quickly threw up both hands to defend himself from the barbs sure to come.
“No, Elizabeth, I am not being the haughty Darcy of old. I was speaking of Aunt Catherine’s attitudes. In her world, Collins is the social equivalent of a fly speck on an elephant’s rump.” Darcy had discovered that an outrageous expression was the best way to defuse the mood swings of an expectant mother.
Lizzy settled back into her seat and gave her husband an indulgent smile, “As long as you keep yourself under strict regulation to avoid slipping back into bad habits, I am satisfied. As for Collins, do you think that my cousin was offering your aunt more than spiritual counsel?”
Mary shuddered at the thought of any woman subjecting herself to the touch let alone congress with that slimy man unless required by God and the law. The memory of his fetid breath in her face, his pink serpent’s tongue jamming between her lips, his oily hand upon her thigh: all twisted her insides. Suddenly her chocolate tasted sour.
All conversation on the subject was dropped as Mr. Wilson brought in a silver salver with a stack of envelopes that he set at Darcy’s right. Fitzwilliam wiped his hands and picked up the mail. As he leafed through the missives, he kept a running commentary.
“Well, a busy morning. It appears that our friends and neighbors are recognizing that we are moving into half-mourning in a few days. They are seeking to involve us in the remaining events of the Season, although many of them are postmarked from Brussels. The fashionable camp followers have a full schedule organized.
“Do they not realize that 100,000 angry Frenchmen are on the march?
“Mary, I think you will want to see this one. It is postmarked Lisbon.
“There are many invitations, Elizabeth, and I will leave you to sort them out. I have my business correspondence and will attend to it in my study. If you ladies would excuse me.”
Mary greedily opened Edward’s note while her sister began dividing up the remainder.
“Mary, there’s a letter from Mama directed to both of us—she writes that Lydia is settled in comfortably at Longbourn and seems to be getting along with Maria Rose and Eddie. There are also what appear to be two invitations—both from Great Cumberland Street—one for Darcy and me and one expressly addressed to you.”
“Great Cumberland Street? Who do we know there?”
Lizzy opened the envelope and extracted a notecard.
“Great Cumberland Street is where the American Mission to the Court of St. James is located. Oh, Fitzwilliam and I have been invited to a reception for the new United States Minister, Mr. Adams the Younger and his wife, Mrs. Louisa Adams, on Thursday, June 15th. I imagine you have also received one as well.”
“Yes, I have. Edward’s employer, the Old President, must have mentioned my connection to Edward when writing to his son. Well, that will be good timing for us to try out our new half-mourning gowns. I assume we are going to accept.”
“Oh, indeed. The Darcys and Bingleys are reopening many business interests in the United States. Mr. Adams, after he had finished the negotiations with our delegation at Ghent, has lately concluded an important trade deal with the Government. On top of that, a reception at the American Chancery will be a good re-entry into society.
“Now, what does Edward write?”
Mary scanned the letter. “He arrived in Lisbon on May 29th after some six weeks in transit. They hit some storms and the ship was damaged which slowed their progress. Now that he is in Portugal, he is having difficulty finding carriage to any port in England. All the shipping has been taken up by the military trying to move men and supplies to the Low Countries.
“He has no idea when he will be able to get home.”
Elizabeth commiserated with her sister’s glum tone. She knew how much she missed Fitzwilliam when he was away from home. She could not imagine the distress Mary felt after a three-and-a-half-year separation of over 3,000 miles.
“You know that Edward is moving heaven and earth to get home,” Lizzy consoled.
This was a universal truth, that a man in love would not allow mountains, rivers, or even oceans to delay his return to the side of his beloved. Or so Mary believed. Unfortunately, the needs of the British Army trumped all. She reached up and gently rubbed her ebony cross. You have been gone far too long, my darling.
Straightening, Mary shook off her pensive attitude.
“I think I will go practice. There is a very difficult phrase that I want to address before I go upstairs to be with the children. Could you accept the invitation on my behalf when you reply with yours?”
Chapter XXXIII
The Chancery of the United States Mission, London, June 15, 1815
The first days of summer had thankfully given London two days of rain that washed the streets clean and cleared the air of the regular manure and coal dust cloud. Ladies’ gloves stayed cleaner longer. Pattens could be foregone—at least for a day or two. In the wealthier quarters, nosegays could be replaced with deep breaths of blossom-scented air.
The Darcy carriage pulled up to the address in Great Cumberland Street at the appointed hour, and Darcy handed down first Lizzy and then Mary, both dressed in half-mourning gowns—Elizabeth in lavender and Mary in grey. Offering an arm to each, Darcy led them up the steps where they presented their invitations to the doorman who turned and walked the threesome to the head butler stationed at the door leading to the ballroom where the reception was being held. As they waited to be announced, they observed the milling crowd of representatives from the ton as well as the upper reaches of British commerce. As was usual with American functions, class played a tiny role.
“Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley and Miss Bennet of London,” called the butler. More than a few faces turned toward the doorway, clearly interested to see what changes had been wrought over six months of enforced social seclusion.
As the party entered, there was movement in the crowd. The waters parted to reveal a smiling Charles Bingley with Jane in tow. Following slightly behind them was Charles’ sister Caroline. The ever-ebullient Bingley unleashed a torrent of greeting.
“Darcy, Elizabeth, Mary. How good to see you. Hope you are all well. Elizabeth, you do look a bit peaked. We just got into town yesterday from Thornhill. Visited Lydia and your mother at Longbourn. Lydia is in fine fettle with Wickham still off in Belgium. The children are all good, thank-you. Young Charlie is learning to talk in complete sentences, which can be quite a shock when he hits you with an absurd combination. Little Emily is walking around as if she is Queen Charlotte. And, you have not seen Caroline in quite a while. She has been resting in Bath until just recently.”
At this, Charles reached for his sister’s hand and gently pulled her forward. Caroline was not reluctant, but she was hesitant. Her eyes averted to the floor, she quietly greeted the Darcy party. As the conversation progressed along conventional lines, Caroline stayed to the side, not quite avoiding contact, but clearly staying immersed in her own world.
Caroline’s behavior surprised Mary. The Caroline Bingley she knew was haughty, acerbic, and full of
her own self-importance. But, Mary also recollected that she had not seen Caroline since Jane and Lizzy’s wedding day, over three years ago. Where before Caroline always had been dressed to the height of London fashion, she was now clad in a subdued, if still elegant, day gown suitable for someone of her age—nearly eight-and-twenty. Mary understood that Caroline’s worst fears had been realized; she was certainly on the shelf, destined to be the spinster aunt to Charles’ and Louisa’s children.
Her appearance was also markedly different. Previously tall and slender, the woman standing before Mary was now thin to the point of boniness and looked frail. Caroline’s skin was drawn tightly across her angular cheekbones, and her eyes were circled with dark smudges. Her hands had a slight quiver that could not be hidden even though she kept them tightly clasped in front of her. Her crowning glory, her auburn tresses, while still abundant, no longer had that soft sheen of youth.
Mary tried to engage Caroline in conversation. She felt like a magistrate with an unwilling witness. Caroline’s one-word answers said little but revealed much. T’was clear to Mary that Caroline was a broken woman, someone who had totally lost her way. Mary knew that, even though Darcy would never have married her, Caroline’s blind pursuit of Fitzwilliam had become an obsession which exploded on that December day in 1811. Apparently, her outburst at the wedding breakfast was only the beginning of a precipitous decline. The “rest” in Bath had obviously been something more and had been kept under wraps to avoid scandal.
Yet, her appearance here today may be a signal that Miss Bingley is re-emerging. One can hope.
The biggest nugget of intelligence Mary gleaned, and the one point about which Caroline was forthcoming, was that Caroline’s invitation, like Mary’s, had been made to her directly. She had a distant connection in her own right to Mr. and Mrs. Adams.
According to Caroline’s near-whispered story, since Mrs. Adams’ family had been well-to-do merchants, the Johnsons and the Bingleys often traveled in the same circles. Even though Louisa Adams’ father, Mr. Joshua Johnson, was an American, he had married an Englishwoman. Living in France from 1776 to 1783, the family returned to London once American Independence had been established.
While too young to have been a childhood acquaintance of Mrs. Adams, Caroline was just one year older than the youngest Johnson child, Adelaide. The two girls had been close friends from their earliest days to the point the Johnson family suddenly decamped for the United States in 1797. The young ladies had planned to go to seminary together. The rupture caused by Mr. Johnson’s indebtedness had saddened Caroline. But, the level of Louisa Johnson’s success of marrying into one of America’s first families erased all embarrassment resulting from Mr. Johnson’s failure. And the Johnson bonds to the Adams family went beyond Louisa. Another sister, Kitty, had married Mr. Smith, a grandson of the President. President Washington had named an uncle, Thomas Johnson, to the Supreme Court.
After telling her tale, Caroline subsided into herself, seemingly exhausted by the exertion of communicating with others. Mary focused on the byplay between the Bingleys and the Darcys. So consumed was she with that conversation that Mary did not notice the arrival of another person until he made his presence known through a gentle squeeze on her left elbow and a murmured “Miss Bennet.” The thrill of the sound of that voice caused her to spin around. Edward is here!
The moment she had been waiting for since December 22, 1811 was now. Blood rushed to her cheeks. Her knees wobbled. Two strong hands caught her and spun her. She looked up into the brown eyes that had so frequently populated her nocturnal musings. His brown hair tumbled over his forehead. His face was tanned with white squint lines radiating from around his eyes. His lips were parted in a glorious smile to reveal pearl white teeth.
“Steady on, there, Miss Bennet. I did not mean to startle you.”
“Oh, Mr. Benton, t’is not surprise that weakens me, but rather happiness.”
At that point, the ceiling could have collapsed on the two people caught inside of their own feelings for one another, and they would not have noticed it. As it was, they did feel four, perhaps five, pairs of eyes boring into their backs. They quickly separated. Mary turned with a radiant smile to face her family and perform the happiest of introductions.
Elizabeth and Jane glowed to meet Mary’s Edward. Charles and Fitzwilliam subjected him to a stringent examination, asserting their protective role as Mary’s older brothers. Caroline evinced some interest in Edward’s existence.
“I only just arrived yesterday from Portsmouth,” Edward explained, “As I had a letter from President Adams to his son, I went directly to the Adams’ residence in Ealing to deliver it. They were kind enough to offer me a room for the night. They asked me to come to the reception knowing that you would be in attendance.
“You see, the elder Mr. Adams enjoys a bit of romantic gossip as much as the next man, I guess. He must have passed on news of our long-distance relationship to His Excellency.”
At that moment, the entire group was approached by a balding man of middle age accompanied by an elegant woman dressed in the height of fashion.
“Mr. Benton. Would you kindly introduce us to your party?” he asked.
“Certainly, sir. Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Bingley, Miss Bingley, and Miss Bennet; may I present you to our hosts, His Excellency the Minister Plenipotentiary, Mr. John Quincy Adams and his wife, Mrs. Adams? Your Excellency and Mrs. Adams, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, Miss Bingley, and Miss Bennet?”
Mrs. Adams brightened and reached out to Caroline. “Oh, Miss Bingley—you are Miss Bingley now, I assume because your sister has married—it has been far too many years since I saw you last. Addie will be thrilled to know that we encountered you. How are you doing, dear?”
Caroline visibly came to life at Mrs. Adams’ greeting. This was an unspoiled part of her life, laid down before Darcy ever came into her ken before the considerations of the ton and its artificial expectations and snobbery had taken advantage of her sense of inferiority. With the Johnsons, Caroline did not have to fight to fit in. When she smiled back at Louisa Adams, years were stripped away from her face. She chatted briefly with her old friend.
After greetings had been further exchanged, Mr. Adams stepped up to Mary and Edward.
“Miss Bennet, allow me to say that I cannot but admire Mr. Benton’s taste. You remind me greatly of Mrs. Adams when I first met her in 1795.
“My father has mentioned Mr. Benton in a few of his letters, praising him for his assistance, but also his studious nature. I imagine Mr. Benton was rather embarrassed to have to write the true copy of Mr. Adams’ dictation of those missives.
“He also noted that there were times when he could tell that Mr. Benton was pining for you. He would say that Mr. Benton would get that faraway look in his eyes, which, if you knew my father, would be like a red flag to a bull. Mr. Adams is one who thinks you should focus all of your energies to the task.” He laughed, probably recalling his own tenure as his father’s secretary.
Edward smiled as well and in a self-conscious moment ran his free hand over his face. “Oh, he would certainly properly put me in my place. After a firm set down, he would rub his hands together and remind me that he spent a few years as a schoolteacher before being called to the bar. He would laugh and say something like, ‘It is good to know the old man still has it in him to knock a few heads together.’ Then he would suggest a walk.”
The diplomat nodded as he, too, remembered his father’s love of tramping the paths around the South Bay.
As the others listened in, Mr. Adams commented that his father had said that Edward desired to go into church work.
“I understand that you wish to join the church here in England. Will you take Holy Orders or follow one of the Non-Conformist paths?”
Edward smiled. “I know that there has been some recent concern about Harvard’s Unitarian tendencies, but I am more like Erasm
us than Luther. I believe in reform from within rather than burning down the building. I hope to take orders as soon as possible so that I can start my work.
“Of course,” he said looking warmly at Mary, “I hope to engage in another sacrament shortly after that!” Mr. and Mrs. Adams looked on with amusement at the two young people verbally circling the proverbial elephant.
Mary blushed. “First you will need to speak to the object of your affection and her uncle, I would imagine, sir.”
At this Edward bashfully looked at a glowering Darcy and an amused Bingley.
“I am sure that your brothers also will want to discuss any change in status, as well. But, that can wait until tomorrow. We must not burden His Excellency and Mrs. Adams with our family business.”
The Americans bade their guests farewell, but not before Mrs. Adams suggested that all the ladies call upon her at Ealing. She especially urged Caroline to attend. Mary asked if her friend, Miss Darcy, might also visit, a request to which Mrs. Adams readily agreed. The following Tuesday, June 20th was agreed upon.
While the parties awaited their carriages outside of the American Chancery, Edward pulled Mary aside.
“How wonderful it is to finally see you in person, Miss Bennet. You have only become more beautiful in the past three years. We have much to discuss.
“But, first let me say how sad I am about your father. He was a good man who loved his family deeply. I regret not being here, by your side, when he departed this life. I am sure that his last days were happier with most of his family around him.
“And, Mary, I have been thinking upon this for several months. Your Papa lived his life according to the Book. He walked the Way as he best saw it. He died in the arms of the family that he nurtured in his own manner. No, he was not a perfect man. There was only ever one of those. But, we need not mourn his departure for we know that Thomas is in God’s House right now. As the Great Apostle wrote these words of comfort to the Romans, we, too, can take succor as well.