The Keeper- Mary Bennet's Extraordinary Journey

by Don Jacobson

  For if we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.[xlvii]

  “Mary, may we have the opportunity to return to Meryton before the summer ends? I want to pay my respects to Thomas where he rests.”

  Mary felt waves of emotion sweep across her at Edward’s homily—sadness again for Papa, to be sure, but also a flooding of warmth at the depths of Edward’s enveloping love. She knew now—at this very moment—the profound loneliness she had felt these past three years. She had been living only part of a life that only had become complete this past hour.

  She impulsively reached out and gripped his hand, tears dancing at the corners of her eyes.

  “Of course, we can travel to Hertfordshire to see Papa,” she began. Then in a saucier tone, “But, when you say ‘we,’ you are implying much more than we officially have now. After all, Mr. Benton, are we not still courting?

  “Earlier when we were with Mr. and Mrs. Adams, you alluded to sacraments. I reminded you that there is a proper sequence of events that must be followed. Or have you been out in the wilds of America too long to remember that?”

  Caught up in a similar surge of feeling, Edward gripped Mary’s waist and lifted her in the air. She squealed which got Mr. Darcy’s attention. A low rumble began in the Master of Pemberley’s broad chest. Elizabeth’s small hand on his arm restrained any further reaction. The family watched.

  But then Edward set Mary down on the front steps of the American Chancery and, looking up at her, reached into his pocket and removed an ebony box marked with the Bennet family crest. When he opened it, Mary beheld a ring—a small star sapphire mounted in a silver setting. Then he spoke.

  “Miss Bennet…our paths crossed but once on a very dark night and day. Yet, through it all, the purity of your spirit, the power of your love for those in need, and your gentle beauty shined like the brightest star in the heavens. Then we were separated for years.

  “That departure tore at my heart. Although my knowledge of you was measured in hours rather than days or months, leaving you and Meryton behind for Boston was the most difficult moment of my life. Yet, over those three years, rather than weaken, my love has matured like one of Mr. Jefferson’s favorite wines.

  “I love you with every fiber of my being. Every ounce of my soul is and will forever be engaged by your fine eyes, gracious smile, gentle laughter, spirited conversation, and moral sensibility.

  “Miss Mary Amelia Bennet, although I am destined to be a simple parson, I can promise that you will never find another who will worship you more than I will. Would you please end our courtship by accepting my mother’s betrothal ring and consent to make me the happiest of men by agreeing to become my wife?”

  Miss Bennet looked at the earnest dark eyes staring up at her. Then she glanced out at her family looking on their scene with so much more love than she ever imagined they would have for her. She took two steps down to stand next to and equal to Edward.

  “Mr. Benton, Mr. Edward George Benton. You have asked me to spend this life and the next with you. You have proven yourself to me to be the best of men. You have been steadfast in your love. You have the most beautiful soul I have ever seen. Your morals are the compass that leads you toward the same place I seek. I cannot imagine going there with anyone else by my side. Of course, I will marry you.”

  And, then Miss Bennet reached her arms around his neck and sealed her promise with a kiss that started out chaste enough, but quickly deepened. Edward’s arms wrapped around her and lifted her body into his. They broke upon a loud cough from Mr. Darcy’s direction.

  “I imagine, Benton, that the Bingleys will have to make a detour to Gracechurch Street, am I correct?” Darcy asked, “and are congratulations in order?”

  The couple turned to their family with bright smiles. Lizzy and Jane rushed to their little sister with cries of happiness. The men shook Edward’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder. Miss Bingley looked on sadly. Edward worried.

  Chapter XXXIV

  Gardiner House, Gracechurch Street, June 15, 1815

  There could be no prevarication. Every word had to be the truth. Edward prayed that Thomas had somehow smoothed the way for him.

  Edward was admitted to the elegant house on Gracechurch Street in the late afternoon. He was very conflicted, feeling elation at Mary’s acceptance on the one hand, experiencing a deep concern at seeing Edward Gardiner for the first time in over six-and-thirty years on the other. He certainly did not want to deceive one of his oldest friends, but he had no idea how he could explain himself either.

  Mrs. Gardiner was gracious in every respect. Remembering how his friend had acted toward Meryton’s eligible female population, Benton knew that Madelyn was the perfect mate for Edward Gardiner. She received this unknown young man into her home with all the unflappability of a matron of the highest reaches of the ton. They quietly conversed in a well-appointed parlor until Mr. Gardiner returned from his office. The opening of the front door disturbed their conversation.

  When the gentleman had handed off his gloves and hat to the butler, he walked into the parlor. Coming to a sudden stop, he stared intently at Edward, but his expression did not change. He glanced at his wife for an explanation and an introduction that was quickly made. A nod acknowledged this, and Gardiner told his wife not to hold dinner for him, but rather that he imagined his talk with the young man might last a while. He then beckoned for Edward to follow him into his study.

  Closing the door behind them, Gardiner walked over to a decanter on a well-appointed sideboard. He picked it up and clasped two glasses. He motioned toward one of two leather wingbacks facing the fireplace. He deliberately placed the glassware on a low table. Only then did he speak.

  “If I recall correctly, you had started to develop a taste for that whiskey made in Ireland. I have a good stock of Mr. Bushmill’s finest reserve. I have a feeling we are going to need more than one dram tonight, Edward.”

  Bennet listened to his old friend utterly abashed. Gardiner had every right to be astonished, outraged, incredulous—anything but calm and civilized. Yet, here he was, as if he was entertaining another at his club, offering a drink of Irish whiskey to a man with whom he had shared his birthday celebration nearly forty years ago and who had then vanished the next day. Edward looked down into the proffered glass of amber fluid and sighed.

  “Mr. Gardiner, Edward, how odd it must be for you to see me but three years older than when last we met. There is a tale to tell, how much of it you will believe and how much you will credit to your insanity or mine, I know not.

  “There will be some aspects which I cannot explain because I have given my oath to keep them secret. I beg your forbearance. To better understand your knowledge of my circumstances, did Thomas apprise you of anything?”

  Gardiner paused for nearly a minute before replying.

  “Your brother in the months before he passed away did make some general references. But, I knew something odd was going on with the Bennet family long before. You know that one of Thomas’ other daughters, Catherine, vanished much in the way you did, except she was much younger, just seven-and-ten. Thomas explained it as her having been sent to a seminary in Cornwall.

  “That excuse would have sufficed for me if, after the Great Meryton Fire, I had not had the fortune to become acquainted with an elderly lady sent to Town by Thomas to organize some financial matters for the Bennet family.

  ” Even though my wife and I are much more familiar with my older nieces, Jane, Lizzy, and Mary, we certainly did spend time with the younger girls. This woman reminded me greatly of the fourth in line—Catherine or Kitty.

  “She was transformed into a woman more elegant and cultured than the young girl I knew, but there was no mistaking the resemblance. And, the more time I spent with her, the more I could not ignore the thought that this woman was Kitty. How she could be my niece who was a young girl in my time, I could not imagine. Yet, there it
was, an unshakable impression of something that was on every level impossible.

  “Yet, could this be possible? It was 1812. Catherine Marie Bennet was born in 1794. She could not be sitting beside me in a solicitor’s office, a woman of sixty-plus years.

  “If I have learned one thing it is that once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.[xlviii]

  “Point—Kitty could not be both an adolescent and an elderly woman at the same time.

  “Point—Kitty was not present in Hertfordshire having been ‘sent to school.’

  “Point—The woman looked like Kitty and in many subtle ways acted like Kitty.

  “Point—She was acting on Bennet family business at Thomas’ behest.

  “Point—Members of the Bennet family—you—had unaccountably vanished before.

  “The only conclusion I could arrive at was that somehow Kitty had left this timeline and transited to another where she lived for forty-odd years before returning to this one for some reason. It was an improbable situation, but clearly t’was the only answer that could explain the fact of an elderly Kitty’s existence.

  “My niece must have somehow traveled in time,” Gardiner exclaimed.

  “Did you confront Thomas with this?”

  “Yes, I did mention this during our visit to Pemberley during the summer of 1813 when Thomas, Fanny, Mary, and little Eddie vacationed at Lizzy’s. He was very circumspect which, with Thomas, meant that he did not wish to tell you a falsehood. But, he did enough hemming-and-hawing to confirm for me that some sort of door in time could be opened.

  “Since then, I have explored the writings of the Hindoos, Chinese, and other mystics as well as those of English thinkers like Newton and Gibbons. I am now convinced that it is possible to travel in time. How is a question that does not concern me. I am well satisfied to live in the here-and-now of 1815,” Gardiner concluded and took a long sip of his drink.

  Edward was, by now, thoroughly at ease. Gardiner was a curious audience, not a hostile one. And so, the young man told his story, from his desire to enter a life of service to Christ to arriving in Hertfordshire on December 10, 1811. He spoke of meeting and falling in love with Mary. He spoke of Thomas and his concerns about establishing a complete backstory for Edward—and of the fire. He related his voyage to America, of immersing himself in Boston and working for John Adams.

  He poured out his heart and soul to Gardiner much as he would have to his own father, Samuel. He lamented what he had missed—caring for his parents in their last days, sharing the joy of Thomas’ five daughters, of Gardiner’s wedding to Madelyn, and the births of their four children. Then he turned to his future. At which point Gardiner stopped him.

  “I do not know about you my friend, but this conversation has been thirsty work. We have consumed quite a bit of whiskey. I fear if we do not eat something, both of us will be insensible by the time you reach the inevitable question that led you here tonight.”

  Gardiner rang for the butler and briefly spoke to him. Within minutes, a tray with cold meats, cheese, bread, and mustard had been delivered. Another tray held a pitcher of cider and two mugs. The men made their sandwiches and settled back into their seats.

  Edward looked up from his food and grinned at Gardiner.

  “I hope you are not jealous of me, Gardiner. I took an option open to me, something that you could not do. You have lived 30 years more of your life than I have lived of mine,” Bennet said.

  “Perhaps you have lived fewer years, but those thirty behind me are ones I would never trade. It is not as if you erased thirty years of your life. You have yet to live them. I only hope they will be as fulfilling as mine,” the elder man replied.

  “And that is the best word to describe what I have come about. Fulfillment. I need to talk with you about our niece, Mary,” the young man stated.

  “Yes, that is a concern of mine. Does Mary know about you?”

  “She knows about our family’s gift because Thomas told her, but I have not revealed to her who I am. Thomas avoided the subject as well, saying that my story was not his to tell. I plan to have that conversation tomorrow. She is an intelligent woman, I am sure that she has utilized a similar logical process as you. She may have deduced that I am not whom I have said I am.

  “However, that does not seem to be an impediment. I offered for her earlier today, and she accepted me. Now, I must ask, as I would have asked Thomas who did agree to our courtship, as her oldest living male relative, Mr. Gardiner, do I have your blessing to wed Miss Bennet?”

  Gardiner looked happily at the young man who had been his friend for 40 years. He had worried about Mary’s happiness. She had been such a sad and withdrawn child, bullied by her mother, ignored by her father, and then tormented by her sisters. Now a kind and caring man sat across from him begging for her hand, for his blessing on their union. The merchant’s heart swelled with infinite joy knowing that Mary would be beloved before any other woman in this man’s eyes.

  “Edward Benton—yes, I must get used to your new name—you may marry our niece. Take her hand and her heart. Cherish her. May your marriage be long and a shining example to all.”

  

  Once she had returned to Darcy House, Mary had spent her time alternately smiling and giggling with happiness over Edward’s proposal and then plunging into brown studies as she considered the ramifications of his mystery. When she retired to her chamber shortly after dinner, her spirits were at low ebb. She endured the early hours of the night curled up in the window seat of her bedroom, surrounded by three years’ worth of letters from America, rereading them and then gazing out the window over the garden. Her prevailing emotion, even though Edward was only a few blocks away at the Bingleys, was loneliness.

  Seeing him, hearing him, touching him at the American Chancery that afternoon reminded her of how incomplete she felt without him. Over three long years, the lack had been dulled by everyday concerns punctuated by momentous events. Then a single hour spent with him reinforced every feature she had missed. She could never go back to being “Mary Alone.”

  Tears came when she worried that Uncle Edward would somehow disapprove of her Edward. While she was now three-and-twenty—and Edward was certainly somewhat older—she could not bear the thought that they would marry without Uncle Edward’s blessing. Mary had stood on the outside for so many years. The idea that her happiness would open a chasm in the Bennet-Gardiner ranks brought her low.

  Then there was Edward’s secret. She could not imagine how it could split them apart. But, fear nagged at the corner of her mind. His letters did little to calm her.

  She heard the clock in the hall chime eleven times…and then she heard a low knock on her door. A voice softly called her name. T’was Lizzy. Mary opened the door and Lizzy stood there in her nightgown and slippers holding two mugs of tea with a small plate of Darcy’s favorite lemon bars balanced atop one.

  “Hurry up, you goose, before I drop everything!” she whispered.

  Mary relieved Lizzy of a drink and the plate and the two walked over to the small seating area near the window. Settling in, the women looked at one another over the rims of their cups.

  Lizzy broke the silence. “Recall when you used to wear those horrid spectacles? You spent half of your life with fogged lenses. Better now that your eyes are naked to the world. Besides, it helps me to see what you are thinking.”

  “I do not imagine you would find my considerations particularly light reading tonight,” Mary commented, “Everything is whirling around. I cannot put two thoughts together without either laughing or crying.”

  “I have been in your seat, sister. You have just accepted an offer from the man of your dreams. You are leaving your life of solitude for a partnership based upon an irresistible force. Every-thing is going to be anticipation and fear.

  “Remember when Mr. Darcy and I were at odds? After we rediscovered each other in Derbyshire? Then, after Lydia’s escapade wit
h Wickham, I ached all the time. I could not think. I did not eat. I was convinced that Darcy had washed his hands of me. Even Mama put aside her complaints about Mr. Collins getting away when she saw the state I was in.”

  “Let us never speak of Collins. You were in love with Mr. Darcy.”

  “Yes, just like you are in love with Edward.”

  “But, I am afraid…not of Edward…but of what he is going to expect of me based upon what he knows of me. What if he finds out the type of person I used to be? We were together for just a day before he went to America. What if he discovers that there are parts of me that disappoint him?”

  “Mary, from everything I have seen of you for the past three years, that old girl is dead and gone. The new woman is proud, courageous, and caring.

  “Now, I am not suggesting that each of you will find no weaknesses in the other. Far from it. But that is what a marriage is all about—using your strengths to match his failings and vice versa.”

  Mary scowled into her tea before replying, “What if I slip? Lord knows I can have a nasty streak. I am petrified that he will leave.”

  Lizzy set her mug on the table before reaching across to gently take hold of her sister’s trembling hand.

  “Listen closely to me. Edward is a good man. I mean it. He is really good. Can you imagine him ever walking away from anything just because it is not to his immediate liking?

  “And he knows more of you than you think. You have been corresponding with Edward for years. While letters are not always as good as in-person conversation, I promise you that there are some letters which will tell truths and erase misunderstandings better than any talk.

  “Besides, you love this man. And he surely loves you. While that cannot be your entire life, imagine what it would be like without love. Look at Lydia. Do you think she is really happy?”