The Keeper- Mary Bennet's Extraordinary Journey

by Don Jacobson

  “Mrs. Wickham. Please allow me, on behalf of my Father, the King, and all the Royal Family, to express the nation’s grief at your loss. Captain Wickham showed the great courage that put lie to the Tyrant’s words. He was defeated by a nation of shopkeepers.[lviii]

  “Your husband’s valor provided the Duke and, indeed, General Fitzwilliam here, with the margin needed to defeat the enemy. He gave everything. Now it is up to us to pay him the honor he so rightly deserves.”

  After acknowledging Richard, Elizabeth and Darcy, the Prince escorted Lydia up the stairs. When they saw the Prince giving the widow the ultimate honor of precedence, the crowd broke into massive cheers. Lydia stepped away when they reached the casket. The Prince doffed his hat, bowed his head and placed one hand atop the Union flag, binding himself to George’s body.

  After a few moments during which the crowd fell totally silent, the Prince did something astonishing. He removed his GCB sash and insignia and placed them atop the flag covering George. He then unbuckled his ceremonial sword and laid it likewise on the bier. A collective intake of breath swept the square. The Prince turned to the masses and cried out, “Let it forever be known that Captain George Wickham of His Majesty’s Army is hereafter a Knight Grand Cross of the Bath and is due all honors and privileges of this ancient order. Would that we could have honored him in life as we do in death. God Save the King! And three cheers for Mr. Wickham.”

  The crowd roared back “God Save The King!” The Life Guards unsheathed their swords and held them over their heads and led all in three cheers. Even General Sir Richard Fitzwilliam, a Knight Commander of the Bath, roared “huzzah!” with tears running down his tanned cheeks.

  Ceremonies over and mission accomplished, the Prince Regent led the family into the front hallway of Darcy House where all presentable staff were assembled to deeply bow and curtsey in respect. He turned to the Darcys and thanked them for the welcome.

  “Darcy, Mrs. Darcy. I do apologize for descending on you like this, but we needed to strike while the iron was hot, what hey? I could do with something cold. It is deucedly hot today.”

  Mary opened the doors to the parlor that had been reset with a large comfortable armchair on a raised platform placed at the head of the room. Darcy introduced her to the Regent who gratefully accepted a large frosted goblet of wine punch from her hands.

  With the Prince comfortably settled on his “throne,” Lydia meekly approached him and curtseyed again.

  “Your Royal Highness—may I be permitted to thank you for the honor you have paid my husband and my family. Your visit, although unexpected, was so gracious. I assure you that we will always recall the day when the Prince Regent recognized us.”

  “Nonsense, Mrs. Wickham. Given the circumstances, it was the least that I could do. Your husband was the hero of the day. He was the one who tasted the thrill of battle. We royals now are like birds in a gilded cage. Last time a King led his troops was my grandfather back in ‘43. Way before my time. So, the only way we can get that tinge of martial glory is to rub up against men like Captain Wickham or General Fitzwilliam.”

  Darcy visibly relaxed as he overheard this exchange. Perhaps everything would work out after all.

  The Prince continued, “Now, as for you Mrs. Wickham, I know you are Darcy’s wife’s sister. But, how are you set up? I think the solution is that we should make a pension for you…say 1,000 pounds—no—1,500 pounds a year! Yes, that’s the trick! Mrs. Wickham will receive 1,500 pounds a year for life!”

  Lydia leaned back at this onslaught of royal capriciousness. Then she pursed her lips. 1,500 pounds for a widow’s portion! What would Mama say? I would be free and able to have my own establishment. Isn’t that what Martha expected from her family’s lands?

  The thought of her friend stopped Lydia in her tracks. Her journey had erased “flighty Lydia” completely. The welfare of others concerned her now. While she would be set for life, what of the Martha Smithvales of the world? She recalled all that had happened to her since she heard about George’s death—was it just four days—or four years ago? —and she knew this could not be.

  “Your Highness. I am so grateful that you would deign to secure my life with your generosity. But, I would ask that you reconsider after you hear my reasoning.

  ‘There is a young woman, a war widow, upstairs abed right now who has lost her husband, her position, and very nearly her life. If not for my recognizing her outside these very doors earlier today, she may very well have passed away on the morrow.

  “She has no family left. She gave her husband to the cause and now she is ignored. Is her Lieutenant who lies buried in a pit near Toulouse any less a hero than my George who rests twenty feet from this spot? She is starving and has but one outfit of clothing, her widow’s weeds. This young woman of but nine-and-ten should have shed her mourning regalia months ago, but still she must be a blackbird for she has nothing else to wear.

  “Luckily, fortune has shined on her because her friends will save her, but what of the others? Your Highness, this cannot be…this must not be all that we as a nation can do for the families of those who never returned.

  “Please Your Highness, grant me but 100 pounds a year and help fourteen other grieving wives, many of whom, unlike me, have little mouths to feed.”

  The Prince looked at her, his eyes widening, his face growing red. Darcy’s stomach dropped to his feet. Why would Lydia pick this moment to act like Elizabeth? Richard took great interest in studying the murals painted on the ceiling of the parlor. Lizzy smiled to herself. Mary had folded her hands across her middle and looked at her younger sister with newfound respect.

  I have no idea what happened to you down the timeline, little sister, but whatever it may have been, it had to be nothing short of momentous.

  Then Priney laughed in one giant snort. Finding his voice at last, “Well, I never. No, seriously, I never have heard anything like this. You are no typical bloodsucker like most of the ton, always looking for a handout.

  “Oh, stop looking so offended, Darcy. You know damn well that the ten thousand are for the most part a bunch of greedy, self-serving leeches. Maybe I am, too, but at least I have an excuse, I must keep two households and I am almost King.

  “But, that is neither here nor there.

  “Mrs. Wickham, am I clear in understanding that you would rather get a paltry 100 pounds a year so four-and-ten other widows could get the same?” Young Lydia, petrified at her own impertinence simply nodded in reply.

  “Hmm, well, I will compromise in a way. You are still going to get your 1,500 pounds a year. No, you cannot refuse the money. I have decided. What you do with it is your business.

  “But, I do respect your concern for other widows, so I am going to establish The Prince’s Fund for Widows and Orphans. I will get Liverpool to slip it into the next budget. Maybe we’ll start with 100,000 pounds.

  “Darcy, you are a smart businessman and you know other smart men—fellows like Gardiner and Rothschild. I hear they are doing wonders with closely held trusts like one for the Bennet family. Would you chair the commission and set up a method for women to apply for assistance?”

  Then, turning his head slightly, the Prince addressed a richly uniformed attendant, “Chamberlain, make a note to advise Lord Liverpool that we will need to set up a government commission and start it with 100,000 pounds.

  “And now, it is time to take our leave. Thank you, Darcy, Mrs. Darcy, for your hospitality. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bennet. Mrs. Wickham—it was a singular honor to meet you. If your husband had but half of your courage, he would still be a great hero. General Fitzwilliam, I look forward to our next meeting at Horse Guards. Until then.”

  All dipped in respect as the august presence swept from the room and out the door to more cheers from the assembled multitude.

  Darcy scowled at Lydia, “I do not know if I should throttle you or kowtow three times. Remind me never to roll dice with you. Somehow I think you would end up being th
e new Master of Pemberley.”

  Mary jumped to her sister’s defense, “Now Fitzwilliam, do you really think my sister could possibly have held her tongue when she has a friend upstairs near death’s door because of hunger? I am so proud of you, Lydia. You could have accepted your fortune and said nothing.

  “But, you took a stand and now our country is going to help those who have lost the most!

  “They say that the young learn from their elders. But, I think you may have much to teach us.”

  Lydia paused and then cryptically replied,” Actually Mary, your first part was the right of it. I did learn from an elder but not quite the one you imagine.”

  

  The line snaked past Darcy House into the early morning hours. Torches were lit to illuminate Wickham’s coffin. The Prince’s regalia remained atop all that time. Finally, as dawn broke on Tuesday, Darcy decreed that the funeral cavalcade must prepare to depart. The only way they could get the crowd to disperse was to send Lydia outside to thank them for their devotion, but also to beg that the family had to begin their trip north for the burial.

  Once they got under way, it became abundantly clear that it was not only in London where Wickham was revered but also throughout the realm. People crowded the roadsides and slowed progress to such an extent that Darcy finally decided to split the funeral cortege off from the family train. After that, the carriages carrying the sisters and servants quickly arrived in Lambton after just three days.

  The wagon bearing the coffin was escorted by a small troop of cavalry led by General Fitzwilliam and snaked from town to town. Local mayors and dignitaries competed for the honor of hosting the hero’s body overnight. Canvas was hung to protect the casket from the weather. An honor guard waited by Wickham’s side. Torches were lit throughout the night. Lines of people stretched into the darkness. This was the case at every stop along the way.

  Richard and Wickham’s coffin took another week to finish the journey.

  George Wickham was finally laid to rest next to his mother, father, and baby sister. A nationwide subscription campaign raised nearly 3,000 pounds, according to Lizzy a fitting sum, to erect that monument against which Darcy had so ardently argued. One year later, Lydia solemnly dedicated a fourteen-foot obelisk, symbolic of the number of French soldiers who perished at Wickham’s hands on that steamy June afternoon ‘neath the boughs of Hougoumont’s trees.

  Chapter XL

  Pemberley House, Derbyshire, July 24, 1815

  Edward Benton and Mary Bennet exchanged their wedding vows before a small group of family and friends on Monday, July 24th in the chapel at Pemberley. The banns had been read in Kympton on the three Sundays following Wickham’s interment. Given the fact that Wickham had died a hero and was thus to be celebrated rather than mourned, the rules of propriety were suspended so that the couple could finalize their long-delayed nuptials.

  Only Mrs. Bennet had lamented the brief engagement. However, she realized that the clerical couple never would have agreed to participate in any ceremony that had been subjected to her lace-driven style. To Edward’s relief, Fanny had sent her regrets noting that she was still just a half-year away from having buried her husband and the distance from Meryton to Pemberley was prohibitive for such a short visit.

  With her Papa so recently gone, Mary chose a demure gown of grey and lavender. Grandmother (she thought of Martha Bennet as such) Bennet’s engagement ring glittered on her left hand. Martha’s ebony cross rested on Mary’s breast. Without veil and with an unadorned hairstyle, Mary was escorted down the aisle by her Uncle Gardiner.

  Mary had asked all three of her sisters to stand with her at the altar. By way of explanation to her betrothed, all she said was, “You marry one Bennet sister, and you will have to deal with us all.” Outnumbered, Edward had quietly asked Mr. Gardiner to do double duty—first giving Mary away and then, as his best friend, standing as witness to his declarations of love and fealty.

  Mrs. Reynolds offered up a wedding breakfast much to the newlyweds liking. The sumptuous spread on the terrace overlooking Lady Anne’s rose garden was, as Richard Fitzwilliam suggested, enough for the 33rd Foot with leftovers for Queen Charlotte’s Own. And that plenteous offering neatly played into the couple’s plan.

  Once all guests had been served, Edward stood from his place at the head table and tapped his wine glass to focus everybody’s attention.

  “Family and friends. Thank you so much for joining us today as Mary and I exchanged our vows.” He reached down and grasped his new wife’s hand before continuing, “Mrs. Reynolds…you deserve a round of applause for this wonderful meal.” The veranda erupted into a loud and raucous chorus of cheers and handclapping.

  Once the crowd had settled, Benton added, “You may recall that we asked for donations to the Kympton Parish Day School Fund in lieu of wedding gifts. I am pleased to tell you that your generosity has allowed us to hire a full-time teacher—Mrs. Martha Smithvale. Mrs. Smithvale, please stand up and be recognized.” Now restored to her former vitality, the young widow rose from her seat next to Lydia and nodded to the audience. Buoyed by Darcy’s wine cellar, the throng cheered again.

  “As for our gifts to one another—my wife and I have decided that we would like to spend the remainder of this day in service to our neighbors. My newest sisters, Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Bingley, Mrs. Wickham, and Miss Darcy along with my new Aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, graciously have agreed to chair our little intrigue.”

  At this Mr. Reynolds nodded and several footmen and maids marched out onto the porch, each one bearing several covered baskets. They set them along the terrace wall.

  “Mrs. Reynolds and her staff have put together food parcels from the remains of our wedding feast…and that includes several pieces of cake, I understand,” Edward explained.

  Mary now rose to stand by him, “As my husband said, the parcels are full of the festive food which we have just enjoyed. But, we must remember that there are many members of our community who have so much less. Our wedding gift to each other is that you, our friends and loved ones, will help us share our joy by distributing parcels to the needy in Lambton, Kympton, and the surrounding area.

  “My sisters and Aunt have worked with the rectors and their wives of the various parishes to identify the neediest families and individuals. If you turn over your place cards you will discover the name of a person or family. Directions to their homes are written there. Please pick out a basket for either an individual or family. “

  Elizabeth stood and explained that many names were within walking distance of Pemberley.

  Richard hooted, “Maybe for you Mrs. Darcy, but shall we ask Mr. Bingley’s sisters what they thought of your propensity to hike everywhere?” Darcy threw a dinner roll at him.

  Undeterred by their hijinks, Elizabeth added that since some were in the village as well as out toward Thornhill, the Bingley estate, carriages and phaetons were being brought around to the front of the house. All participants were expected to return by mid-afternoon for a light dinner unless they decided to carry on to their own homes.

  As folks milled around Mary and Edward, he tipped his head against hers and whispered.

  “You know that I am loath to be diverted from our honeymoon for even the time it would take for us to deliver a basket. Have we been granted a reprieve?”

  Mary responded with a smile in her voice, “Are you that anxious to go to bed, my love? I know that an old man like you is easily wearied. Getting married and having a sit-down meal can be so tiring. Should I send word to the Parsonage to have your slippers, nightshirt, and cap readied for you along with a glass of warm milk?”

  Edward swatted her rump. “Trust me, my love, my only desire is to learn if you purr as loudly when we touch au natural as when I rub that spot…” He lowered his lips to the top of her neck just below her left ear at which she arched, “…that makes you do that.”

  Mary said with quickened breath, “Oh, we will be speedily done with our mission, and then we w
ill have the rest of the week alone at the Parsonage. I do hope you have already composed your sermon because if you think I am going to let you sneak off to the book room and return to me with fingers all covered with ink stains, you are sorely mistaken, my good husband!”

  Edward was a little surprised at Mary’s forwardness and apparent knowledge of the mysteries of the wedding night. His surprised look elicited a quick response.

  “Edward, do not be such a Puritan. You forget that I am three-and-twenty years old with three sisters already married. We had quite the hen party last evening. I may be a blushing bride, but I think you will discover, also a ready one.”

  Their whispered exchange was interrupted by the simultaneous arrival of the Darcy, Bingley, and Gardiner children clamoring for hugs from their Aunt Mary and Uncle Edward before they were sent upstairs for naps. Duties completed, the pair picked up their basket and made their way through the throng of well-wishers to their own carriage.

  

  Settled on the squabs, the lovers kissed their way to a small cottage located not far from the parsonage itself.

  Edward looked out the window and asked, “Whose house is this?”

  Mary answered, “This is one of Lydia and Martha’s ‘projects.’ Eileen O’Rourke is a war widow. Her husband had been demobilized after Napoleon abdicated last year. They had taken the lease up on this little cottage, farming a few acres…barely enough to survive.

  “But, with the Tyrant’s escape from Elba, Sergeant O’Rourke answered the call to the colors, leaving a very pregnant Eileen home alone. How she made it through the winter is a mystery unto itself. She gave birth to twins last month, a week after Waterloo.

  “The Sergeant was cut down retreating from Quatre Bras.”

  Edward, freshly married and imbued with the bliss of the day, collapsed back in his seat. “So, she was left on a leased plot, a widow with two infants less than a month old? My God!”