Mary Bennet and the Substitute Vicar

by Carrie Mollenkopf

  “Really Mary! Was that the best to be had? Surely there were other candidates? I would have been best if the post had been offered to my son-in-law. After all, Mr. Collins is connected to both of our families now. Preference should not have been given to a stranger,” insisted Lady Lucas as she sipped her coffee.

  “He was handsome…even if he did ruin my dress,” added Maria Lucas with a giggle.

  “Indeed, he is quite clumsy… and that stutter. If it were not for Atlas, poor Maria would be wearing the fish course,” agreed Mrs. Bennet.

  Surprised at her mother’s show of solidarity with Lady Lucas, Mary tried unsuccessfully to stifle her rising anger. From the first meeting, she had seen a kindred spirit in the awkward nature of Percival Rogers. Many was the time that Mary had been criticized openly. While the sting of such past barbs had long subsided, the scars were still in her memory. She would not see such a gentle man suffer such censure.

  “I suppose you prefer Mr. Kendrick as well? Suddenly everyone has become selective? It was not so long ago that my sisters and I had been thrust upon the miserable visage of Mr. Collins. Poor Charlotte must bear that burden now.”

  Maria Lucas’ face blanched at the memory of the first potential replacement for Reverend Morton. The prospect of being married to such a dour, whey faced man had been dismal, but eligible unmarried men were scarce in the area. Maria had witnessed the strange relationship between her sister Charlotte and Mr. Collins, it was not one she wished for herself, but the prospect of being a spinster was even more alarming. Despite Mr. Roger’s obvious flaws, she had taken an immediate liking to him…and he was handsome.

  “All of this could have been avoided if Mr. Collins was given the post….” Trailed Lady Lucas.

  “He was… and refused…preferring to go crawling back to Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

  During this entire exchange, the gentlemen of the room had prudently chosen to remain silent. In reality, not one of them cared much about who exactly took the post of vicar at Meryton. As long as the ladies were satisfied, and the man was of good character, they were content. Unfortunately, it was appearing that disagreement was the order of the evening. It was left to Sir Philip Evans, head of the church council, as well as magistrate, to once again serve as mediator for his community. Interrupting the now awkward silence, he proposed a solution.

  “I suggest we give the man a trial period…say six months or so? If he is still unsuitable then, we can advertise for another. Perhaps it is just nervousness that is the cause of his awkwardness, we are a rather harsh jury.”

  Feeling appropriately admonished, it was agreed by all that an unofficial trial period was in order, but smoldering tempers had put a damper on the evening. Soon after the last carriage could be heard leaving Longbourn, the elder Bennets said good night, as Mary and Atlas were now alone in the parlor, free to discuss the night’s events without interruption.

  “All things considered, I would say that he did rather well. I still remember my first welcome from the good people of Meryton. They thought I was some sort of grave robber,” Atlas recalled.

  Mary giggled slightly, she too remembered her first opinions of the man she now loved. He had irritated her to no end, but at the time, Meryton desperately needed a doctor. The nearest one had been over ten miles away, hardly convenient in emergencies. The lack of a vicar was equally dire, but not one of mortal consequence. The only newcomers that had been well received from the first had been Charles Bingley and George Wickham. That made the chance of Percival Rogers being permanently accepted a fifty percent risk. It was unfortunate that Charles and Jane had been unable to dine at Longbourn that evening. Their young sons had taken a bit of fever, requiring the doting new parents to be cautious. The presence of the Bingleys and their inability to think poorly of anyone would have been a blessing for Mr. Rogers. Jane’s optimism had often swayed the staunchest adversary, even when misguided as in the case of Mr. Wickham.

  “I fear he only did so well do to your timely intervention and Maria Lucas’ inability to see past a handsome face, but I have my doubts for the future. We cannot be everywhere, nor will the parishioners be supportive of a priest that stammers through every sermon, however charming he may be,” Mary worried aloud.

  “Nor should we always need to save him… but we may be able to provide some solution to his speech impediment,” Altas offered.

  “What can be done? It is puzzling that he can sing so beautifully, but stammers through the most basic of conversation.”

  “It has to do with a constriction in the vocal chords. When a person sings, the way they function is different…uses different muscles to make sound. There have been many theories as to what would be beneficial, some say it is a matter of diet, while others suggest a variety of exercises. I shall write to one of my colleagues in London tomorrow. Dr. Dunniston is an expert in this area and may have some sound advice. Until then we must continue to make him as welcome as possible.”

  “I will stop in tomorrow as promised, there are a few last minute details that I wish to review with him about the wedding. I want everything to be perfect.”

  “It will be. I don’t care if he stammers through the entire thing, the cake falls flat and your dress is full of wrinkles… as long as you are mine when it’s over.”

  Mary smiled, and hoped it would not come to that, but the nagging twinge in her stomach would not be settled until she was indeed Mrs. Atlas Sutton. Until then, worry she would.

  ******

  Several hundred miles away, on a small island in the Caribbean, another wedding had concluded and the contented bride flushed as she left her marriage bed to post an announcement of her tidings to those back in England. Lydia Bennet Wickham… now Lydia Bullen, was well aware of her new husband’s failings. The former Lt. Albert Bullen now lay snoring softly on his back, oblivious to his wife’s doings… and keep secrets she would. Their lives depended upon it. At first, Lydia had been shocked, then frightened when she had overheard Bertie describe what she chose to refer to as ‘the unfortunate accident”. But upon the realization that he was willing to do anything… even kill a priest to wed her… Lydia had been pleased. No one had ever dared so much to have her attentions. And now, they were to start a new life, far from the reach of anyone who could hold them accountable. It really was too bad that they were not staying here…Antigua had such an exotic flair, far more exciting than stuffy old Pemberley or Longbourn. Bertie said their final destination was somewhere called Charleston, in the United States. It was a place filled with great estates called plantations. That is what she would be…a plantation mistress. But first, a letter home was in order… poor mama must be ill with worry over her. Perhaps, once they were settled Mama and Kitty could come for a visit. Taking up pen and ink, Lydia poured out her news, oblivious to the now awake Albert Bullen watching her through his lashes as he feigned sleep. He would let her write her letter, even offer to post it… but things often were lost in the transit of such a distance. No one in England would ever find them…ever.

  ~Twenty-four~

  By mid-morning the next day, after the first crush of ill patients had be tended, Mary Bennet made her way the short distance to the vicarage for her meeting with Reverend Percival Rogers. She took along a large basket filled with an array of savories left over from the previous evening after seeing how he had enjoyed the efforts of Mrs. Kincaid. Swinging her burden lightly, Mary turned down the tree lined avenue that separated the church and grounds from the rest of the town. A semi-circle of great oaks had been planted when the first stones had been laid, not out of any sort of particular design, but rather to hide the cemetery from view. Now, it was nearly a small forest and hid her arrival from the occupants of the house. Stealth was not Mary’s intention, but was glad of the curtain of foliage as she heard a shrill female voice raised in disapproval. Moving closer, Mary saw the ornate carriage belonging to Lucas Lodge tethered to the front gatepost. What was Lady Lucas doing there at so early an hour? Never a woman
to pay calls before luncheon, Mary surmised that the intention of the visit was not one of friendship.

  “I trust you will not be incurring any undue expenses? Frugality in a reverend is a trait to be admired. One cannot be too economical in a position such as this. My daughter Maria is quite the proficient in household management, much like her elder sister. Did I not mention that this post was originally intended for my son-in-law? However, he received a greater offer and could not remain so a substitute needed to be found.”

  “Mama!”

  The less than welcoming speech of Lady Lucas was loud enough to be heard where Mary stood, as was the embarrassed replies of Maria Lucas, no doubt forced to accompany her mother. At any other time, Mary would have encouraged the younger Lucas daughter in her recent admiration of the new vicar, but not today. Not when her mother was doing her best to make the nervous young man feel unwanted. Reaching the open door, Mary pulled the bell out of habit before announcing her presence.

  “Reverend Rogers? It’s Mary Bennet….Oh, I see you have visitors. Shall I come another time? Good morning, Lady Lucas… Maria,” Mary added brightly, not giving evidence of having overheard their conversation.

  “Good morning Mary… we were just leaving. Come along Maria,” Lady Lucas replied to the intrusion before dragging her daughter to the waiting carriage.

  The countenance of Percy Rogers bore visible relief at the sight of his rescuer. For nearly an hour, he had borne criticism of his person, belongings and speech without comment. He had not dared… the fear of stammering more than what was his normal had rendered him silent, nodding with each rude assessment.

  “I hope she wasn’t too harsh? Perhaps some explanation is needed,” Mary offered and proceeded to describe the events prior to Percy’s arrival that had seeded such venom in Lady Lucas.

  “Don’t mind her… no one pays her any credence. Besides, I believe that Maria has taken a liking to you.”

  Reverend Rogers blushed profusely and chewed his lip carefully before speaking. “I…I…w…want to m…m…make a good impression.”

  “And so you shall… so you shall,” Mary replied and patted his hand in comfort.

  “Atlas and I overheard your singing when we walked back to the surgery the other day… your voice is truly magnificent.”

  “I…I…don’t st…st…stutter when I sing.”

  “Then perhaps you should sing your sermons,” Mary jested, but stopped when she saw the curious look that passed his features as if in serious consideration of her suggestion.

  “Oh! I didn’t mean to imply…”Mary retracted.

  “N…no apologies…Y…you m…may be right.”

  Reaching under a stack of papers on the table that had been taken for a makeshift desk, Reverend Rogers withdrew his half completed sermon. It was part gratuitous acceptance of his post and half a reminder of the fallibility of human nature, more of an early warning of his own failings. Now, as he peered at the carefully penned words it seemed all wrong, but there was no time to make great changes. Taking a deep breath, he slowly began to sing the opening address. The deep tenor of his voice transformed the apologetic speech into a thing of beauty as if he were making amends to God for the weakness of humanity in song. Mary was speechless as she closed her eyes and let the tones carry her thoughts. Never before had she heard such passionate beliefs put in verse. Seeing her reaction, Reverend Rogers paused, believing her to be displeased with his attempts. Opening her eyes at the silence, Mary begged him to continue.

  “It is positively wonderful! You really must do it this way… everyone will be amazed.”

  Percy smiled sheepishly and blushed. “I…if you really th…think so?”

  “I do… I insist! And you must do this for my wedding, it will be magical. I do believe that God has sent an angel to Meryton… and it is you sir!”

  Blushing again, Percival Rogers replaced the unfinished sermon just as his stomach announced evidence of his having not eaten. Lady Lucas had arrived before he could find his breakfast. Hearing the awkward sound of his abdomen, Mary remembered the basket she had brought.

  “Allow me to quell the opinions of your stomach,” she offered, unpacking the array of delicacies, much to the young man’s delight as the two turned their attention to the upcoming wedding ceremony.

  ****

  It was nearly three hours later when Mary returned to the surgery. It was empty save for Atlas who was penning the letter to his medical friend in London. Looking up when he heard Mary’s footsteps, he offered the single sheet for her perusal before posting the request.

  “I cannot make guarantees, but it will not hurt to ask,” he replied as she read.

  “I believe that a solution has already been found… or at least it might work. Mr. Rogers will try singing his sermons.”

  “What?”

  “Well, he doesn’t stutter when he sings, so while I was at the vicarage I made him try. It was magical! He has promised to sing our wedding ceremony as well.”

  Atlas laughed, but stopped when he saw that Mary was serious. “And what did the new vicar think of our unusual vows?”

  “He actually did not make any judgements. Apparently it has become quite fashionable for engaged couples to design their own wedding vows. He also agrees that for a woman to promise to obey is foolish, especially if she is the more sensible of the pair.”

  “Indeed… It appears that our new vicar is quite the radical thinker. I hope the parishioners of Meryton are ready.”

  “We will find out tomorrow, it’s his first Sunday service. May God save him from their criticism. It will be horrible if they don’t like him… and I don’t know what we will do. He really is a nice fellow.”

  “They will love him and we will be fine…you worry far too much. That is something I am going to rectify once we wed… no worrying for Mrs. Atlas Sutton allowed…Doctor’s orders.”

  “Ordering me about already? Hmm…. Perhaps I should rethink this whole arrangement,” Mary teased, but was silenced with a kiss that she eagerly returned, no ordering necessary.

  ~Twenty-Five~

  Sunday morning dawned unusually cold, but a bright sun broke the horizon and shone its rays upon the old stone church at Meryton as if to announce the arrival of some great personage. Dressing carefully, as to make the best possible impression, Reverend Percival Rogers nearly reconsidered his promise to sing his sermon. It really was irregular to say the least, but what other option did he have? The prospect of listening to him nervously stammering through scriptures would no doubt make the most devout believer consider an alliance with the devil. Fortunately, the clerical vestments left behind by the late Reverend Morton were an exact fit, as if they were tailored for him to wear. If he could not sound the part, at least he could appear respectable.

  It was more than thirty minutes before the service was scheduled to begin, but carriages had been arriving for nearly a quarter of an hour. The church must already be full to its seams with the devout and curious alike. Percy was grateful for the covered dog-trot that connected the vicarage and church. No one would see him enter the vestry until it was time to begin. If he made it through the sermon, meeting the crowd would be easy. Now, as he peeked through the door at the seated masses, his nerves shouted at him to flee. It was only the sight of Mary Bennet and Atlas Sutton, seated in the second row that calmed his nerves. Swallowing heavily, he pulled at the suddenly tight collar and gathering his courage, stepped out to greet his congregation.

  *****

  From where she sat, Mary Bennet had hoped to have the ability to make eye contact should the new vicar require some kind reassurance. As the crush of people filled the church, she spied movement behind the partially open vestry door. Well, at least he was here. Mary had spent a restless night wondering if the poor man would actually show as promised. Would he actually sing instead of preach? Sensing her apprehension, she felt the gentle reassuring pressure of Atlas’ hand on her arm as the new vicar made his entrance. The entire compliment
of the church rose in response a the minister, for all current appearances of dress made his way slowly to his appointed place at the lectern. All eyes were upon him as he carefully navigated the uneven stone flooring before the altar. It was a procession worthy of a regent as he politely nodded and smiled. Only Mary Bennet noticed how the tasseled edge of his embroidered stole met with the open flame of a taper as he walked. Soon, whispers of smoke became apparent as the acrid odor of burning cloth met the nostrils of those nearest, sending a murmur through the crowd. Eyes wide with alarm, Mary pointed to the increasing flames licking the stole while Reverend Rogers remained oblivious in his reception. Fearing the man’s loose ceremonial vestments would also catch and result in serious harm, Atlas Sutton quickly rose from his seat while grabbing Mary’s pelisse. Using the cape, Atlas dunked it in the baptismal font and smothered the fire just as the heat upon his skin alerted Percival Rogers to the fact that he was on fire. The sight of burning cloth and clouds of smoke that billowed from the sudden extinguishing sent panic through the church as fear of fire propelled the attendants to flee.

  Stunned from the encounter, Percival Rogers sat on the wet stone floor as people streamed out of the building. It had all seemed to be going so well…then suddenly he was on fire. Now, Atlas Sutton was speaking softly to him, but for some reason he could not understand as a loud buzzing in his head, mixed with a wave of dizziness threatened to render him unconscious. It was only the strong whiff of smelling salts under his nose that brought him back to the present.

  “Feeling better?” Mary Bennet inquired as her eyes danced in amusement. For some strange reason, Mary found the entire incident rather amusing. Receiving his affirmative nod, she gestured to Atlas to assist the reverend to his feet.