Unfortunately, this question would remain unanswered as Stephen Kendrick approached his new home. The house was completely dark, not even a lantern had been left out for his convenience. Perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Collins were out for the evening? As of yet, he had not had the place to himself. One set of eyes always seemed to be watching his every move as he wandered about the small property. As it was still somewhat early, he might be able to indulge in a glass of sherry before retiring. An unfinished sermon, meant to be his first as vicar, still required his attention. Peace and quiet would see the task complete.
Unlatching the door, it creaked open, announcing his presence to an empty hall. Relief flooded him as he at first believed the house to be empty, but a high pitched giggle broke the silence, causing his heart to fall into the pit of his stomach. Grimacing as the laughter continued, followed by the only slightly deeper voice of Mr. Collins as he sweetly called his wife’s name. Stephen Kendrick instantly wished that he was anywhere but there. Grabbing a blanket from a basket by the fireplace, he returned into the night and made his way to the church. It was in its frigid stony darkness that he found a semblance of peace as he curled up on a pew and tried to sleep.
*****
The residents of Longbourn were also awake well past the usual hour of sleep, save the elder Bennet’s. After offering the use of a guest chamber to Sir Franklin Amesbury, Mary and Kitty’s parents went off to their rest, leaving the two young couples alone in the parlor. The atmosphere was intimate, but not of the nature to be found at the Meryton Vicarage. Rather, Mary wished to discuss the first impressions had by all present of the new vicar. She also wished to question Sir Franklin about the disappearance of Lydia and Lt. Bullen. He had hinted to some news, but was hesitant to tell in the presence of Mrs. Bennet and a new acquaintance. Now, as they sat casually at their leisure, sipping tea laced with brandy, Mary broke the silence with an uncharacteristic giggle.
“Well, what say you about our new vicar?” she asked candidly with a twinkle of humor in her eyes.
“He is a dour thing. I thought he would expire from an apoplexy over your choice of wedding vows,” Kitty added with a smile.
“Indeed… perhaps we should request something completely outlandish for ours, just to see his reaction?” Franklin Amesbury suggested playfully as he poked Kitty in the side, sending her into a fit of laughter.
“Now seriously… have we made a poor choice?” Mary asked, but was met with shrugs of indecision.
“It is a bit early to tell, but I imagine that he and Mr. Collins are getting on famously,” Atlas suggested dryly only to be received by another round of laughter.
“I suppose so, at least we now have a minister to perform the wedding,” Mary acknowledged, but felt a bit hesitant. Something was strange about that man, something that went beyond his deathlike appearance. Perhaps she had been so surrounded by death lately that it had begun to affect her senses. Shaking her head, as if to clear the images, Mary changed the subject and addressed Sir Franklin.
“Frank, have you found out anything about Lt. Bullen or Lydia?
“Actually, I have… and it is not good, but I did not want to distress your parents.”
As a police investigator for the crown, Sir Franklin Amesbury had been instrumental in the stoppage of illegal sale of opium in the Army. He had been forced to arrest George Wickham, but Lydia’s husband had died before the trial. Mary still winced slightly at the memory. It had been her carriage that had struck him down, she could still feel the crush of bones beneath the wheels. However, any feelings of guilt had vanished as it had taken weeks for Lydia to recover from the addictive qualities the drug had instilled in her body. Lt. Albert Bullen had been by her side in support the entire time. Most everyone had thought him a fine fellow, but Mary was not so sure, especially with the recent letter left by Lydia.
“I inquired at Northampshire a few days ago as to my final report on the opium matter, and had hoped to interview Lt. Bullen one last time, but what I discovered was most disturbing…He had resigned his commission.”
“Well, that is news, but not a complete surprise. He did seem to have a growing attachment to Lydia. Perhaps they had planned to elope the entire time,” reasoned Kitty.
“That is hardly appropriate, especially given her recent widow status,” Mary added.
“True, but when has Lydia ever been worried about appearances? Why, she had stopped wearing black the moment everyone ceased paying their respects,” Kitty added but knew that nothing was ever simple in regard to Lydia.
“Unfortunately, that is not all. While a resignation is quite acceptable, misappropriation of regimental property is not. Apparently the supplies and equipment in Bullen’s charge has gone missing.”
“Missing? How does a dozen cannon and over a ton of medical supplies simply go missing?” Atlas demanded.
“They don’t. It is suspected that the former Lt. Bullen has stolen and subsequently sold the items on the black market.”
“Oh dear!” Mary and Kitty exclaimed in unison.
“Indeed. All told, it was estimated to be worth some ten thousand pounds… and whether Lydia was aware or not, she would be considered an accomplice.”
The room went silent as the Bennet sisters contemplated the significance of such a thing. This was far worse than a simple elopement. Mary frowned slightly as her mind worked over the details. Someone had to know where they were. Lydia was far too much a selfish show off to keep any secret, no matter how dire.
“What is it Mary? I know that look…What are you thinking?” Atlas inquired quietly.
“Mama….Mama must know something that she is not telling. She is far too complacent, almost pleasant… a most unusual state for my mother.”
“You are right,” Kitty agreed, “the last time Lydia ran off, Mama was unbearable. She threw one tantrum after another and refused to leave her bed. Now, it is almost as if she is celebrating some secret.”
“Lydia must have sent a message of some sort. It needs to be found… and no matter the consequence, Lydia must stand accountable for any part she has taken in this.”
Sir Franklin only sighed and nodded. It was always a difficult situation when a person had to incriminate family members. In the past, he would have worried about the taint of scandal causing ruin to the Bennets, but now none of that mattered. All of the Bennet sisters, save Lydia, were to be respectably married, let scandal be had. They would survive it together.
Taking this decision as a closure to the evening, the couples said their good nights and sought some semblance of rest in their solitary beds. Unfortunately, all four had difficulty in achieving peaceful dreams.
~Fifteen~
Stephen Kendrick awoke the next morning to a pain in his back where it had rested against the spine of a hymnal. Shaking his head to clear his vision and erase what he believed to be the remnants of a nightmare, he was gravely disappointed to discover that he had indeed spent the night in the church. As the previous evenings events came rushing back, a twinge of disgruntled anger threatened to overtake him. Today, he must confront Mr. Collins as to the expectations of his post, as well as set a date for his full occupation of the house. After that, he would deal with Miss Bennet and her family. She may make demands, but find herself in no positon to enforce such… especially upon a representative of the church. He simply would refuse to accommodate her improprieties. If she did not want a traditional ceremony, then she could go elsewhere and good luck to her!
Sitting up, and doing his best to straighten the wrinkled mess of his clothing. Reverend Stephen Kendrick turned to the altar as if seeking approval for what he deemed necessary actions. In an alcove stood a carved effigy of an unknown saint. Smiling up at it, he was rewarded with a cold marble stare. Unnerved by the censure, he hurried out into the bright sunlight. Blinking against the glare, a dull pain at the base of his head began to instantly throb. Always having been one prone to headaches, and without a supply of medicinal powders, he wondered where the near
est surgery was to be had. Did Meryton even have a resident physician? They must... wasn’t Atlas Sutton introduced as “doctor”? Kendrick sincerely hoped the man was not a veterinarian as he entered the vicarage through the kitchens. Once inside the pungent odor of eggs assaulted his nose, causing an instantaneous wave of nausea to sweep over him. With mouthwatering dangerously, he drank a cold cup of discarded tea and left the room, gagging slightly. Undecided as to whether it was best to seek his bed or some fresh air, he chose the former and slowly climbed the stair as his stomach settled a bit. The house was quiet, and he muttered a prayer for some hours of solace as he pushed open his chamber door. However, slumber was not to be had as Mr. Kendrick found his room already occupied by Mr. Collins.
Seated at the small table that aside from the narrow bed, was the only stick of furniture with its mismatched straight-backed chair, Mr. Collins was unaware of being observed.
“This simply will not do… what nonsense have the seminaries been instilling in the new scholars?” he asked aloud as he took up a pen and crossed through the partially finished sermon that lay upon the scarred wooden surface.
Stephen Kendrick held back his gorge as a building rage threatened to erupt in full force. It was one thing to be treated like a servant in what was presumed to be home, that he could tolerate for a time. However, to deliberately invade another’s privacy with destructive intent was simply unacceptable.
“Can I assist you in your critique of my work?” he asked casually with an audible touch of irritation. Kendrick had leaned against the door frame, and folded his arms. It was just as much a show of what he believed was strength as it was a need to find stability as his vision had begun to swim from nausea and pain.
“Oh, there you are…” Collins stated flatly with no apology for his intrusion.
“I trust that this…” he waved the sheets of paper in the air, “is a draft of the roughest sort? It is clear that you are in no way ready to take up the most sacred reins of this post. I must, as a man of God, insist upon taking all clerical duties of importance until such a day arrives… if indeed it does.”
“Mr. Collins, I see that you have never benefited by the instruction of proper manners in regards to another person’s belongings. I believe that the Meryton church council has offered the post to ME… not you. I shall decide what is to be preached and how… without your unwanted advice. Now, please… Leave my chamber immediately!”
“Well!... I was only offering my advice. I am sure you are aware that I was only recently the personal vicar to Lady Catherine de Bourgh… of Rosings Park. My experience is far greater than yours…”
Stephen Kendrick raised a hand to halt the little man’s sputtering. He had indeed heard all about Mr. Collins’ reason for being in Meryton.
“I believe you were sacked… replaced with a younger and no doubt more accomplished person. Now again… get out of my room!”
To this order, Mr. Collins slowly stood. Placing a finger underneath his clerical collar, he pulled slightly, as if the marker of his calling suddenly choked him. He opened his mouth for a moment, as if considering an appropriate reply, but realizing none was to be had, closed it and quietly left the room, dropping the sermon on the floor as he did.
Once alone, Stephen Kendrick closed the door behind him and engaged the lock. By now, his head was pounding in time with his heartbeat. It felt as if Napoleon himself was marching the entire French Army through his ears. Falling forward onto the lumpy thin mattress of his bed, Stephen Kendrick pulled the single blanket around his ears and sought oblivion. He would deal with Mr. Collins later…much later... once the drums in his head ceased.
*****
Some hours later, as Mary Bennet bid the last patient good bye and took a moments rest, Reverend Stephen Kendrick was rising from his sick bed. Feeling better, but not entirely recovered, he checked his pocket watch for the time. It was nearly two in the afternoon. An entire day had been wasted. He really must keep an ample supply of headache remedy on hand. It would hardly do for a vicar to be constantly indisposed. This very ailment had keep him out of university, where his first course of study had been law. Unfortunately, the amount of reading had been extremely taxing and had only exacerbated his weakness. The church, had offered many opportunities to rest his eyes as they closed in prayer in many a darkened chapel. Having made his choice, Mr. Kendrick now endeavored to do his best, and without the interference of Reverend Collins. Going below, Kendrick made his way through the semi-circle of rooms, only to find the house truly empty. A confrontation as to how the living was to be run would have to wait. This would give him time to find the surgery.
As Meryton was a small town, with a single main cobbled street, the search was limited. Less than a dozen smaller lanes branched off in all directions from the center of town, with the vicarage located near the southern extremity. It was less than ten minutes later that Mr. Stephen Kendrick entered the surgery just as Mary Bennet was tidying the reception room in preparation to close. Looking up from her duster, Mary smiled in recognition and offered a seat.
“I do hope it is not an emergency. Dr. Sutton has been called away to a farm accident some miles outside of town. In his absence, I may be able to assist you. Mr. Adams is currently dressing in the exam room, but he should be out shortly.”
Kendrick’s eyes widened at the offer and then took in Mary’s laboratory apron and stethoscope. Did the good people of Meryton actually seek her advice for their ailments? While the need for women in such matters as childbirth was to be expected, it was for those of experienced years, not a mere girl. While he pondered this oddity, a burly man in his middle years emerged from one of two doors that led from the main. Mr. Adams was using one hand to button his shirt as he carefully tried to avoid his heavily bandaged shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Miss Mary, but I cannot seem to manage it,” he admitted sheepishly with a gesture to where his bare chest was exposed.
“Well, I did offer! Male pride is a thing I will never understand, now come here and allow me to help,” Mary admonished gently and deftly put her patient’s clothing to rights.
“See to it that you keep that wound clean and come in for a change of dressings in a few days. I don’t want my work spoiled by infection.”
“Yes, Miss!” Mr. Adams replied with a mock salute and bid her good day.
Now, alone, Mary turned her attentions to a very appalled young vicar. He could not believe the improprieties taken by a member of the church council. To what sort of place had he come? Forgetting his need for medication, Stephen Kendrick rose stiffly and left the clinic, leaving a very confused Mary Bennet alone with her thoughts.
“Well that must be the fastest recovery ever!” she spoke to the empty room and promptly forgot the man. Mary’s mind was on other, more pressing matters… the disappearance of her youngest sister...and her own wedding. Mentally ticking off a list of tasks yet to be completed, Mary quickly finished her work humming a happy tune.
Unfortunately, Mr. Stephen Kendrick was not in such a state of happiness. Finding a female posing as a doctor was the last straw. He simply was not the type of man to thrive on conflict. Taking the Meryton living had been a great mistake, and one that he would rectify. Perhaps his old position as curate had yet to be filled? Would they be willing to take him back? That was an option far more pleasing than remaining in the same house with the insufferable Mr. Collins, as well as ministering to the demands of Mary Bennet. Upon his return to the vicarage, Stephen Kendrick ignored the polite greeting from Charlotte Collins as he rudely swept past her on his way to his chamber. Once secluded inside, he wrote a hasty resignation and began to pack the few belongings he possessed before once again seeking the release of sleep. In the morning, he would leave Meryton forever.
~Sixteen~
Earlier that same week, at Rosings Park…
Anne de Bourgh had hidden herself away in a long neglected part of the attics. It was the one place where she could truly have some peace. To the world,
she had everything anyone could ever want, but in reality, nothing was more from the truth. Furiously she wrote one letter after another, discarding each as not quite believable. The pile of crumpled paper at her feet was growing steadily as she tried to form her words in such a way as to mimic those of her mother.
Mother… how Anne dreaded the esteemed personage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, her own mother. Pausing to sneeze from a cloud of dust that was disturbed by the motions of her writing, Anne reached into her pocket for one of what must be a thousand lace handkerchiefs in her possession. Always considered a sickly child, Anne was forever sneezing and suffering from various ailments. The truth was, she was simply allergic to the collection of small terriers her mother insisted upon allowing the run of the house. When a Harley street physician had dared to suggest that Lady Catherine be rid of the creature which had caused her own daughter a lifetime of distress, the woman laughed.
“You my dear Doctor, are a charlatan! I shall not listen to such nonsense!” Anne’s mother had practically shouted and promptly dragged her sniffling child away. Anne had not seen a doctor since, suffering silently under Lady Catherine’s oppressive control. It had only been during the few visits to Pemberley that Anne had any sense of freedom, from her mother as well as the terriers. Unfortunately, since the marriage of her cousin Fitzwilliam Darcy to Elizabeth Bennet, the visits had ceased.
Mary Bennet and the Substitute Vicar Page 7