Unexpected Miss Bennet (9781101552780)

by Sarath, Patrice

  ‘I imagine that she has become unexpected to herself as well,’ Mr Bennet said. ‘But what do you think of your newest future son-in-law? Where does he fall – somewhere lower than Darcy, I think. But is he above Bingley or below him? I can’t work it out. I expect I will have placed him once I get to know him better.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what I think of him, for Mary has gone off and chosen him though we have only met him once. But he doesn’t seem very like Mary at all.’

  ‘He doesn’t read, or sermonize, if that’s what you mean. I think that is why they will do well together. She will read and he will listen and if they are both wise they will find a place where they can meet.’

  Since such a thing had not happened for Mr and Mrs Bennet, he could be forgiven for letting a note of wistfulness enter his voice. Mrs Bennet did not notice, for she had the last word.

  ‘Mark my words, Mr Bennet, Mary will do something even more unexpected before the week is out. I only hope for my poor nerves’ sake that we can discover it beforehand.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  THE DAY KITTY came home, with extra trunks and hatboxes, and wearing a new bonnet and gown, Longbourn resounded with her mother’s joyful greetings and Kitty’s excited retelling of her adventures in London. Jane had implored her little sister not tell their mother about the tigers and hoped for the best. Kitty kept her promise at first, mostly because she was too full of her own tales to tell about her London trip. She and her mother had an animated reunion, and when Mary came in from walking with Mr Aikens and gave her sister a kiss, their mother said,

  ‘And what do you think, Kitty, but that Mary has some news? Tell her, Mary!’

  Kitty looked up from her trunks, her eyes bright. It would be hard to say that she noticed something different in her sister, but since their mother had never before said anything about Mary in such a way, she was interested for a moment.

  ‘Well, Mary?’ she said. ‘Have you ever seen such a bonnet?’ She held it up. It was a ridiculous creation.

  ‘Never, and it’s astonishing that you bought such a thing. I’m engaged, Kitty.’

  ‘I didn’t buy it. Bingley did, and you should have seen Caroline’s face—’ Kitty stopped talking though her mouth stayed open. She looked from Mary to Mrs Bennet. Mrs Bennet had an eager smile on her face, mixed with encouragement and some remaining bewilderment.

  ‘Now, Kitty, you should give your sister a kiss! Aren’t you happy for her?’

  ‘Mary, engaged!’ Kitty said, instead of obeying her mother. ‘Engaged! What for?’

  Mary glared at her sister.

  ‘Kitty!’ Their mother cried. ‘Don’t be a silly girl. She is engaged to be married. He is an unusual young man, rather energetic, I should think, but Mr Darcy thinks highly of him, and so your father thinks we all should.’

  ‘I do think highly of him, and my opinion is the only one that matters,’ Mary said. ‘No need to kiss me, Kitty. That’s an ugly bonnet, and you will look like a mushroom should you wear it.’

  She left them to their astonishment. The last thing that she heard as she walked out was a gasp from Kitty and her mother’s irritable remark, ‘Oh Kitty! She’s right, it’s a ridiculous bonnet.’

  The peacefulness at Longbourn with just Mary and her mother and father at home was now enlivened with Kitty’s presence and the house was almost as animated as when all five daughters had lived there. Kitty did not take long in telling their mother that Wickham had visited in London, and Mrs Bennet lost no time at all in telling Mr Bennet.

  Mrs Bennet faltered when she saw the look on his face.

  ‘Mr Bennet,’ she said softly, ‘I know that Lydia has done much wrong, but can’t we forgive her – just for a little? It has not hurt our girls so very much after all, has it? Even Mary is engaged now, and soon all of these sons-in-law will outweigh the one bad one.’

  ‘Mrs Bennet, I have not your optimism. Mr Wickham is so very bad, it would take twice as many good sons to make up for him, and unfortunately our daughters are only allotted a husband apiece. He did not come to London just to leave his card at Bingley’s. He came to ask for more money. He thinks nothing of bleeding us dry, and for that we cannot forgive Lydia, no, not even just a little.’

  His wife did not remonstrate. Instead, Mrs Bennet sat quietly in the chair across from her husband, and he could see how old and strained she was. When she spoke he could hardly hear her.

  ‘I miss her so,’ she said. ‘My youngest, my dearest, my Lydia.’

  And for a moment so did Mr Bennet. He remembered her, his youngest. They had been so hopeful that she would be a boy, and save them all from the entail. And he had no doubt that they had doted so on her because of that disappointment. But she – such a fat, greedy, bossy little thing, even then! All her sisters had cosseted her, and it had done her no good at all. The house had never been peaceful, not since Lydia’s arrival.

  ‘Do not think about Lydia, Mrs Bennet,’ he said. ‘She is not your daughter any longer.’

  THERE WAS MORE news, of course. At dinner Kitty had to hear the whole tale of Mary’s stay at Rosings, and she squealed with laughter.

  ‘I will tell Maria Lucas at once, for she will think it the funniest thing!

  ‘No, you will not,’ Mary said crossly. ‘Stop it, Kitty.’

  Kitty made a face. ‘You are never any fun, Mary.’

  Mary had quite enough. ‘At least,’ she said, ‘I didn’t get tipsy and almost eaten by tigers.’

  As this was news to Mr and Mrs Bennet and had been told to Mary in confidence by Lizzy, there was a resounding gasp around the table. Mary put down her fork but couldn’t help a small, satisfied smile.

  ‘I’m sorry, wasn’t I supposed to say that?’

  ‘Mama!’ Kitty cried. ‘Mary!’ It was hard to tell what she meant – she was torn between expressing her anger at Mary and denying the charge. Mr Bennet threw down his napkin.

  ‘What else, Kitty? Do you have anything else to tell us? I know you have very little sense, but I expected more of Jane and Bingley. Well, not Jane perhaps. But Bingley.’

  ‘You always think I’m so bad!’ Kitty said, sobbing. ‘But Mary got turned out of Rosings! Why isn’t she bad?’

  Her mother tried to contain her tears. ‘Now, Kitty, you are no worse than Mary, and indeed, we were very upset with her, but now she is soon to be married and so we must be happy for her.’

  Kitty merely redoubled her tears. Mr Bennet looked as if he wished he were anywhere but at dinner with his loving family. Mary looked out the window and wondered whether she had made a mistake in asking for a long engagement.

  HER MISGIVINGS DEEPENED when Mr Aikens was called away home. He came to visit before he left, sitting but tapping his booted foot incessantly while he talked to her. Mrs Bennet kept looking at it, then looking away, and her breathing was strained. Kitty looked sullenly upon this new future brother-in-law. Mr Aikens still tried to have a private conversation with Mary under the eyes of her chaperones.

  ‘It can’t be helped,’ he said. ‘My farm is my income, and so I must be careful to oversee my lands as best I can. I am in need of a good manager but have found no one who takes the care I require.’

  ‘I understand,’ Mary said, though her heart sank. He had the freedom to come and go as he pleased while she had to sit and be quiet. A thought struck her. ‘Perhaps Darcy could recommend someone.’

  He brightened. ‘Capital idea! That is just the thing! We will do well together, you’ll see!’ He leaned forward and kissed her. Mary froze as still as a statue. Of a sudden he remembered who else was in the room with them and drew back. ‘Ah. I do beg your pardon. I forgot you were there, ma’am.’

  Kitty looked as if she were going to burst with laughter or horror. Mrs Bennet was left speechless. Her wrinkled cheeks flamed red and she swallowed hard. But she could not look at Mr Aikens or her daughters.

  Mary looked down at her interlaced fingers, and wished she could sink through the floor. Mr Aikens
coughed uncomfortably, then rose to his feet with relief. He made a quick bow, said his goodbyes and left them in their uncomfortable tableau. As soon as he was gone, Kitty shrieked and threw herself down on the sofa, muffling her face in a cushion. Having recovered from her emotional outburst, Mrs Bennet looked at her daughter.

  ‘Mary,’ she said with all the calm she could muster. ‘You must marry Mr Aikens. You must marry him at once. I will brook no more delay.’

  Mary set down her hated needlepoint and stood up. ‘As you wish, Mama.’

  And then she too fled from the room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  A LONG, QUIET engagement no longer being wished for by any of the parties, the news was announced to as great a fanfare as the middle daughter of a respected gentlemen in a small village could reasonably expect. That is to say, that hardly any persons outside the small acquaintance of Longbourn and Meryton could have been interested. Of those, a few can be of concern to us: the Lucases, the Collinses and Lady Catherine and her daughter. What Mr Collins thought was conveyed at great length in wordy letter to his cousin, Mr Bennet, who merely lifted his eyes to the ceiling and tucked the letter under some papers in his study. Lady Catherine was not silent upon the matter, but allowed her displeasure to be conveyed by Mr Collins. Whatever Anne had to say or think remained with Anne.

  In the general excitement the Lucases gave their hearty congratulations on hearing the news and relations between the two families lost their stiffness. Sir William responded with genuine pleasure, because weddings meant balls, and he loved to see young people dancing; Lady Lucas felt some envy. She still had daughters remaining, and while Charlotte had managed her own affairs admirably (although Lady Lucas remained a little uneasy about it), it was not clear that Maria would manage so capably. So many months ago, when Thomas Aikens had visited Lucas Lodge as a friend to her many sons, she had looked upon him as affording the likeliest opportunity for Maria, despite his very singular character. Lady Lucas had probably never heard the word irony in her life, but even she had to allow that there was something uncomfortably à propos in that a young single gentleman with connections to the Lucas family had become engaged to a Bennet.

  Still, Lady Lucas managed to tell Mrs Bennet over tea that she was so glad she had been able to introduce Miss Mary and Mr Aikens. ‘For do you remember, Mrs Bennet? He visited us last year and Mary played the piano. I could see something when they spoke, I could see it. And don’t you know, I remember it so well, I must have marked something in my mind then.’

  Mrs Bennet, feeling gracious, allowed Lady Lucas credit for introducing Mary and Mr Aikens. She even forgave the Lucases their not entirely unexpected surprise at Mary’s making any match at all, though she complained crossly to Mr Bennet later that it wasn’t as if Mary had a squint and a hare-lip.

  ‘She is a Bennet, after all, even if she is not as pretty as Jane.’

  Lizzy and Jane sent their felicitations and vowed to help the young couple with their start in life. The letters between them lacked self-congratulation, because they both knew that when it came to matchmaking, there was very little art to it, and a great deal of luck. Kitty was only excited that here was another wedding at which she could be the object of some attention as the sister of the bride, and, despite her adventures in London, that was still all she cared for.

  WITH THE WEDDING approaching, Mary and her mother and father took a journey to meet Mrs Aikens and to see her new home for the first time. Mr Aikens was so anxious to make sure that she would be pleased that he rode beside the carriage on Hyperion, telling her that she could make any changes she wished, any at all, and had he mentioned that the chimneys smoked and he put up with it, but he would ensure that this inconvenience would be remedied forthwith.

  Once again Mary was struck by the ease with which she could become a dictator, since she was deferred to so often. She had to remember what had become of Lady Catherine, who, given so much deference on account of her breeding and her character, abused her power.

  The house was at the end of a long lane, which was rutted and overgrown. But her father noted the good pastureage and the sturdy hedges, and he and Mr Aikens fell into a long conversation about husbandry of the rustic sort.

  The carriage turned a corner and they could see the house. It was very different from the one at Longbourn. It was smaller and, as Mr Aikens said, was old and run down. But it was sound and comfortable, with a pleasing façade of warm stone. When they alighted from the carriage, several hounds came out to meet them, and Mr Aikens greeted every one, calling them by name. He pushed open the door and let them in.

  This will be my house, Mary thought, looking around everywhere. It had an old-fashioned elegance, but she could see by the rugs and the furniture that it was meant for comfort. Yes, she thought. I can make this pleasant. The chimneys smoked, as promised, but they could be cleaned and patched. There were three pleasant open rooms downstairs and smaller, serviceable rooms upstairs, and a view of the farm that had a charming sort of wildness. There was one room to which Mary took an instant liking. The rug was faded and stuffing came out of the sofa, but she envisaged herself and Mr Aikens spending evenings in there together and she knew she could be happy.

  Not happier than Jane, for good dear Jane was the sort of person who deserved to be happiest of all, but happier than Lizzy, for she had a grand house to live up to. Instead, Mary thought, I have a house that exactly suits me.

  For once Mrs Bennet bustled around as happily as if she were getting married. She had a great many plans for restoring the house, and her ideas were economical and sound. She was in her element. Mr Aikens listened and agreed to many of her ideas, and so, to her astonishment, did Mary. Mrs Bennet had two grand sons-in-law, and one wicked one, but Mr Aikens gave her what she truly wanted; a chance to be in some measure a part of her daughter’s life.

  Mr Aikens watched Mary hopefully from the doorway.

  ‘I do like it,’ Mary said. ‘I like it very much. It suits me as much as it suits you.’

  He came over to her and took her by the shoulders. ‘Then why are you crying?’

  THERE WAS MUCH to be done. Mary had no trousseau for she had never had any interest or skill enough to sew one. Jane and Lizzy conferred and put one together themselves.

  The wedding was held on what proved to be the first frosty day of winter. The only sour note was that Mr Collins had assumed that he would officiate, and he sent a long letter to Mr Aikens, whom he had met under such unfortunate circumstances, and to Mr Bennet, explaining that he would be happy to join the couple in blessed matrimony and in some small way make amends for their sins against Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Mr Aikens read the first sentence, and unable to make any sense of it, tossed the letter aside, thinking no more of it and having forgotten who Mr Collins was. Mr Bennet, on the other hand, said to himself in his study, ‘Good God. We can’t allow this.’ He wrote to Mr Collins, sternly warning him that he would be welcome at the wedding but that the service would be held at the village church in Longbourn.

  The day dawned. Mary stood in her wedding dress, closed her eyes and swallowed many times, hoping she would not faint or be ill. Her sisters and mother bustled around her; she let them curl her hair and arrange her veil and she hoped that it would soon be over.

  ‘Are you not happy, Mary?’ Kitty asked artlessly. ‘You look as pale as your gown.’

  ‘Now hush, Kitty!’ her mother told her. ‘You’ll only make Mary more nervous than she is. Oh my dear, you look as pretty as a picture. Who would have thought it, Mary? You have a very good figure, you know, and that makes up for all kinds of showier beauty. Though Jane is the loveliest still. But try not to think of that. Dear, you are pale. Remember to pinch your cheeks.’ She took matters into her own hands, taking Mary by surprise and causing her to flinch.

  ‘Mother!’ Lizzy and Jane both said. Remonstrating with her, they managed to get Mrs Bennet to leave off frightening her daughter to death before the wedding.

  A
t last the moment came. Mary felt an unexpected peace when she walked up to the altar, with Mr Aikens waiting for her. He gave her a smile, she smiled in return, and her nerves settled at once, though it was still hard to be the focus of so much attention from all of her friends and neighbours. There was Charlotte and Mr Collins, sitting in the Lucas pew. There were her family, with the exception of Lydia and Mr Wickham. The curate opened his mouth to begin.

  There was yet another delay as a great noise was heard at the entrance of the church. Mary and every one else turned around to look. In came Lady Catherine, quite grand in her travelling garments. Behind her came Anne, with a look of resoluteness, and behind them, restored to her former place, stood Mrs Jenkinson. Anne stands straighter, Mary thought. And when Anne met Mary’s eyes, she gave the smallest of smiles. Mary smiled back, but her face was hidden by her veil.

  The congregation watched as Lady Catherine and her daughter made their own processional up the aisle to the front pews. There was no room, so Sir William and Lady Lucas gave up their places and squeezed in next to the Bennets. There was yet more of a delay as the de Bourghs settled themselves. As they did, Mr Aikens looked very hard at them but a hand on his arm from Darcy managed to settle him down.

  He and Mary turned back to the altar, and allowed the curate to compose himself.

  What composure Mary had found when she saw Mr Aikens waiting for her was now lost. She heard nothing of the service. She could not concentrate and found her mind wandering. Time after time she had to drag her attention back to the present moment. Mr Aikens too, seemed more nervous than usual, if that were possible for him. Perhaps aware of the young couple’s discomfiture, the curate rushed through the service as if he thought they would flee before saying their vows.