“Perhaps services should be held out of doors this week?” she suggested calmly.
“I have made a mess of things, haven’t I?”
“Not at all, accidents will happen. The candelabra was most in appropriately placed…but the congregation is yet waiting.”
“Sh..shouldn’t w..we cancel?” he whispered.
“No… just go out there and pretend nothing out of the ordinary has happened. After this, a singing priest will appear quite normal.”
“Oh! I…I…c…c…can’t!”
“You must… believe me, it will be wonderful,” Mary assured.
“B…B….but what hymn?”
“Might I suggest ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’? Atlas interjected with a wink.
“That’s perfect, now march out there and meet your flock!” Mary ordered as she and Atlas followed the terrified priest to the open door. As he neared the opening, Mary gave him a gentle push.
“Sing....just sing.”
Percival Rogers took one last breath and closed his eyes for divine inspiration before bursting into song. The acoustical resonance provided by the nave of the church seemed in agreement as his voice reached the ears of the milieu of people now scattered about the churchyard. Raising his hands in welcome, Reverend Rogers continued to sing as Mary and Atlas gestured for all to return inside. Soon, as others joined in song, the church was once again filled. For the rest of the service, not a single person seemed to notice that the entire sermon was sung by a young man wearing singed garments. As the attendees filed out nearly an hour later, many persons hook hands in appreciation of his efforts. Just as many demands for Mr. Rogers’ presence at future social engagements were issued. Eventually, only Mary and Atlas remained in the church, both in agreement that it had gone remarkably well.
“Well Mary, it appears that there is nothing left standing in the way of a certain social engagement scheduled to take place in this very church…in seven days’ time. Are you still sure about me?”
“Now more than ever…especially should I ever find myself afire,” she teased.
“Hmm… I shall endeavor to do my best should the occasion arise.”
“See to it that you do,” she ordered as she pulled his neck cloth forward to seal the promise with a kiss.
~Twenty-six~
For the following week, the residents of Meryton were a buzz with excitement over the events that took place on Sunday. Many families bragged of their ability to host the new vicar as Mama’s of unmarried daughters sought to make close acquaintances. Hardly a person, aside from the kitchen staff at Longbourn, even remembered that Mary Bennet’s wedding was to be held in a few days. It wasn’t until the very evening before that Mrs. Bennet began to fuss uncharacteristically over her often neglected middle child. Now, with the grand event looming in just a few short hours, the Bennet matriarch made herself the greatest possible inconvenience to all.
“Bridget! Bridget! Where are you when I need you most?” screeched Mary’s mother as she trod heavily down the upstairs hall. The elder woman’s footsteps could be heard as if an army were on the march as she searched for Longbourn’s new housekeeper to no avail.
Bridget Murphy was already occupied and ignored the calls of the woman who had made the previous year of her life miserable. It would not be soon enough until Mary’s parents removed themselves permanently to the new dower house. Fortunately, the equally ancient Mrs. Hill had gone to accompany them, leaving the big house in a state of refreshment. Her mouth full of pins, Bridget was placing a last minute adornment to her mistress’s wedding gown as Mary herself indulged in a hot bath behind a screen. Hearing the young bride to be splash about as she hummed a tune, it appeared that all was as it should be.
Poor Atlas Sutton, the intended groom, had been banished back to his bachelor quarters above the surgery since the middle of the week. Only Ben, the young groom of Longbourn had been sent to attend him. Mary herself, had also been sequestered in preparation for the ceremony.
“It be bad luck to see himself before the great day!” Bridget had insisted as she had practically shoved Mary into her chamber on the day that Atlas had removed himself. The housekeeper had stood with arms folded, allowing only a few short words through the closed door before ordering him away.
“If there is a medical emergency, please send a messenger and I will be there as soon as possible,” Mary promised, but was refused.
“Oh no she won’t! I don’t care if Plague takes the town. Miss Mary is going to be well rested and perfect. If the world falls apart, you just handle it yourself!” Bridget ordered and pointed in the direction of the stairs to hurry Dr. Sutton’s exit.
Smiling at her, but not daring to contradict the bossy servant, he whispered one last “I love you… see you soon,” through the keyhole and was gone. As he rode towards town, Atlas silently wondered how England had managed to subdue the Irish people when Bridget Murphy while still alive and well. That woman had the will of a seasoned drill sergeant, but Atlas knew she loved Mary nearly as much as he did. It was with this thought in mind that he rested easy about leaving Mary alone with her mother before the wedding. Bridget would ensure that Mrs. Bennet did not make her miserable. Now, as Mrs. Bennet tried to turn all attentions upon her own demands, it was falling upon deaf ears. The entire household had rallied around Mary, leaving Mrs. Bennet to fend for herself as the matron had insisted upon spending one final night at Longbourn. As it was, the house was relatively empty, despite the number of guests that had traveled from afar. Mary’s elder sister Elizabeth, now Mrs. Darcy of the great estate of Pemberley, had arrived just yesterday with her husband, young sister-in-law and infant daughter. Due to sheer practicalities of accommodations, Elizabeth had prudently chosen to stay nearby with Mary’s eldest sibling Jane Bingley. Jane’s home of Netherfield was vast and filled with extra guest suites, allowing for the comfort and privacy of all. The three sisters had spent a pleasant afternoon the day before fawning over Mary’s choices for both ceremony and reception, in addition to the improvements made to Longbourn since Lizzie’s departure nearly two years prior.
Bouncing baby Evangeline gently on her knee, Lizzie was pleased to see her middle sister so happy. For so long, it had seemed as if fate was determining that Mary be the caretaker of their aging parents, a spinster, cast to a lonely existence. However, that was before the arrival of Atlas Sutton. The charming, if unconventional physician, was a perfect match for Mary. Lizzie only prayed that Mary and Atlas would be as happy as she and Mr. Darcy.
“Mary, I brought you a small gift for your wedding…it is really more for Dr. Sutton than you,” Lizzie said with a wink in Jane’s direction as she gestured to a beribboned parcel that lay on the tea table.
Not missing the exchange, Mary reddened slightly as she reached for the package bearing a label from an expensive London clothier. Lizzie was known for her sense of humor, but Mary could not fathom what was inside that Atlas would appreciate. Opening the box, Mary withdrew what she believed was supposed to be a nightdress, but the material was so sheer that aside from the lace trim, it left very little to be considered worthy of the name. Mortified, but secretly pleased, Mary quickly dropped the filmy garment back into its box as they were interrupted by the arrival of Charles Bingley and Fitzwilliam Darcy. Nodding her thanks amidst the shared giggles of her sisters, Mary hoped the gentlemen were kind enough to no take notice of the pile of silk in Mary’s lap.
“I am sure it will be well admired,” Mary said as she recovered her composure. The nightdress was positively indecent, she thought, but reconsidered as the knowledge that she would soon be a married woman made such things acceptable. Fortunately, as the day was growing late, Mary’s extended family made their excuses and left for Netherfield with well wishes for the morrow.
“We shall be there bright and early to provide whatever last minute assistance you require,” Lizzie promised as she kissed Mary’s cheek, leaving her to some much appreciated solitude....save for her mother. Mrs. Benn
et had not chosen to spend the day with any of her daughters in favor of the demands required to adjust to a last minute change of wardrobe.
“Positively everyone will be noticing what the mother of the bride is wearing… I cannot go about in this!” she had wailed while waving a recent costly purchase, that had yet to be worn.
“Of course not my dear… shall we repair to Meryton and see what is to be had?” her father had uncharacteristically volunteered.
The surprise on Mary’s face must have been evident, but was transformed into relief as Mr. Bennet whispered, “Enjoy the peace while you can… tomorrow is a busy day.” And indeed she had. Now, bathed and dried, Mary too ignored the sound of her mother’s wails as she enjoyed a light supper and prepared for bed. Leaning back against the downy pillows, Mary placed her hand on the empty space beside her. By tomorrow, the place would be filled by a husband, how was she to sleep with such a thing constantly occupying her thoughts? However, it was the image of the very man that filled her dreams and soon, she was fast asleep. Putting out the lamp, Bridget left her mistress to rest and closed the door, but sleep was not on her agenda as there was still much to do. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day for all.
~Twenty-seven~
The carriage ride to the Meryton church seemed irrationally longer than the short mile distance. Mary Bennet fidgeted with the fur trimmed cape that matched the ivory lace of her wedding dress. The day had finally arrived, but somehow seemed surreal, as if the world was moving around her as she watched. If not for the constant chatter of her mother who sat opposite, Mary would have believed that she was dreaming in some bizarre fairy tale. It was truly her wedding day, there was no backing out or changing one’s mind at this late hour. Not that she had any regrets, on the contrary, Mary could not wait to begin her life married to Atlas. Not that much would really change, as it was they worked and lived together. On the marriage bed awaited, blushing at her own thoughts, Mary could not contain the strange fluttering in her abdomen. All they need do was make it through the ceremony and reception….
Mary’s musings were interrupted as the carriage halted and the footman leaped down to open the carriage door. Waiting until the others had alighted, Mr. Bennet poked his head into the carriage and offered his hand.
“Are you ready my girl?”
“Yes, Papa,” she whispered, and took his arm for support as the open doors of the church gaped wide for her arrival. The sounds of music could be heard as she entered the vestibule where her sisters waited.
“You look truly beautiful,” Lizzie Darcy announced as Jane Bingley adjusted the train of Mary’s gown and handed her the bridal bouquet.
“I feel a bit nervous,” Mary said with a waver in her voice.
“Just keep your eyes on Atlas and all will be fine, trust me,” Lizzie promised.
Peeking through the ajar entry, Mary could see Atlas waiting for her at the altar. His auburn hair shone like a new penny in the candle light. Catching her eye, he winked and turned to face the aisle. As if some sort of signal, the music changed to announce her arrival. Taking her father’s arm once again, Mary Bennet held her head high and walked regally to her place opposite Altas, where Mr. Bennet placed her hand into that of her future husband. For a girl once cast in the shadows of others, Mary Bennet now held all attention as her wedding ceremony commenced. Not one person found a single flaw as the substitute vicar’s voice rose in song as he instructed the couple on the sanctity of their vows, not a single eyebrow was raised at the unique promises the couple made. Instead, more than one handkerchief was discretely raised to dab away errant tears of joy for the newly wedded couple as they were announced husband and wife. And, more than one chuckle of surprise as the sealing kiss was less than chaste. Mary Bennet and Atlas Sutton, for better or worse, through mayhem, murder and mystery, were now married. As the newlyweds walked out of the church, crowded by well-wishers, the sound of Mrs. Bennet’s happy wail could be heard echoing the rafters.
“Just think Mr. Bennet! Four daughters married! What I success of it we have made!”
“Indeed my dear… indeed.”
Oblivious to everything but the man by her side, the always practical mistress of Longbourn now believed that dreams can come true.
Epilogue
Two weeks later…
As the carriage bearing Mary and Atlas home from their wedding trip approached Longbourn, the couple shared one last kiss before returning to what would become their life. The days spent abroad in Spain had been magical, but duty had demanded that they return to the obligations of estate and medical practice. With eyes remaining closed, Mary Bennet Sutton smiled as she recalled her wedding and reception. The use of the Netherfield ballroom and all its appointments had been a wedding gift from Jane and Charles. Only the special dishes and cake made by Mrs. Kincaid had been brought from Longbourn. Mary had been amazed by her household’s ability to keep it a secret from her the entire time. Expecting an informal cold repast at Longbourn, Mary was speechless to discover a ball in honor of the wedding. It had been a truly wonderful day, month and year.
Even Percy Rogers had managed to find acceptance as Meryton’s now permanent vicar. No more did anyone refer to his presence as temporary, despite his continued destruction of fine china. Lady Lucas had even been heard to praise his singing and make favorable remarks of his person. This was much to the delight of Maria, who now gave every plausible reason to be in the vicinity of the vicarage.
It was only the unresolved mystery of Lydia’s whereabouts that cast any shadow on recent events. A short telegram from Franklin Amesbury had informed them that his search for Lydia in Antigua had been fruitless. She and Albert Bullen had managed to again disappear… possibly to America. However, Mary was not about to let anything or anyone ruin her happiness ever again. With this resolution, she took a deep breath and accepted Atlas’ arm as the household of Longbourn stood awaiting the formal arrival of their mistress.
“Welcome home Mrs. Sutton! Welcome home Dr. Sutton,” the staff cheered as Mary and Atlas made their way to the entry of Longbourn.
“Yes, we are home… our home, for now and for always.”
Mary Bennet and the Substitute Vicar Page 12