A Match for Mary Bennet (14 page)

Wednesday morning, as Mrs. Collins and her two helpers added to Louisa's future wardrobe, Rose interrupted the intermittent, low hum of their homely chatting. “Excuse me, ma'am, but you and Miss Bennet have a caller in the parlour.”

“Who is it, Rose?” asked Charlotte, as Mary looked up in puzzlement at hearing her name.

“Mr. Steven Oliver, ma'am.”

Surprised at having forgotten that the vicar was in the area, Mary slowly laid aside her work, arranging it carefully.

“Thank you, Rose,” Charlotte said as she stood. “Maria, do come along. I believe you will like Mr. Oliver.”

Mary said, “I did not know you were acquainted with the vicar of Kympton.”

“Oh yes. He has been living at the inn for many weeks, but I believe he said he would be returning to Derbyshire this week. Perhaps he has come to take his leave.”

As they entered the parlour and greeted their visitor, Charlotte introduced her sister, and said to Maria, “Mr. Oliver has been consulting with Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine, as he holds a valuable living from her nephew, Mr. Darcy, near Pemberley.”

Mary watched as Oliver bowed to Maria, endeavouring to notice what Kitty called his “kind brown eyes,” but in the low parlour light, they looked to her merely frank, deep, and shaded.

Having greeted Maria, Oliver bowed to Mary. “Miss Bennet, I have met your cousin, as you supposed I would do, and have had many fine conversations with him and also with Lady Catherine. In fact, I reported to her this morning, as my work here is over. Perhaps I will leave for Derbyshire tomorrow. I do long to see the people of Kympton again.”

“I hope you will speak with Mr. Collins again, Mr. Oliver,” Charlotte remarked. “He has greatly enjoyed his talks with you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Collins, but I met Mr. Collins by the beehives just now, and I took leave of him. I could not go without saying farewell to you also, but I see I leave you in better company. Did Miss Bennet tell you what great assistance she offered my parish, Mrs. Collins?” Oliver's smile took in Mary as well as Mrs. Collins.

“No indeed. Mary is far quicker to help than to speak of it. But Lizzy kindly wrote to me of Mary's willingness to play the organ at Kympton.” Charlotte took a seat and gestured the others to take their ease in the small but comfortable parlour. Mary saw that the few tasteful ornaments and the plain chairs exactly fit the modest manse. Only the silky drapery seemed too fine for the room, to Mary's thinking.

Mr. Oliver smiled again as he sat. “Oh more than that! Miss Bennet took on a dozen or more rather lively young girls and formed them into a fine choir. She has a talent for quiet management.”

Charlotte readily agreed. “I believe even my young son has sensed it. She is the first stranger he has ever favoured.”

“You have an astute lad, Mrs. Collins. Or perhaps you have raised him to a discriminating taste. I congratulate you.”

Mary, embarrassed at such notice, turned and meant to speak quietly to Maria on some less personal topic, but Rose came in, and all turned to her. “I beg your pardon, ma'am, but an express just come for Miss Bennet, and the courier wishes to receive a reply.” She offered Mary a short note.

“It is from Papa,” she said after she opened it.

Charlotte showed her concern. “I pray all is well at Longbourn.” Mr. Oliver expressed concern too, and Maria could hardly contain her agitation.

Mary finished the note and assured them. “All is well at home,” and she turned to Maria, “but our family must leave for the North sooner than we had planned.” She caught Charlotte's eye. “Mr. Darcy's cousin, whom I believe you have met, Charlotte, is to be married at the Cathedral of Norwich Mills, and Mama has a special invitation from the earl, which she says must be accepted.” She turned again to Maria. “Oh Maria, Wilkins may come for me on Sunday. I am truly sorry that I cannot stay here longer with you.” Mary took the pen and paper Rose had brought for her reply.

Mr. Oliver hastily broke in. “Miss Bennet, why put Mr. Wilkins to such a journey? As I mean to go so near, could I not accompany you to Longbourn? If I am not mistaken, your mother would take it ill to be sending out a servant when she must make hurried arrangements. I can readily put off my leaving until Friday, if you need time to prepare. You may even be at Longbourn by Sunday.”

Mary saw the sense of it, and she wanted to be grateful. But to miss seeing Mr. Witherspoon now that her curiosity was so aroused disappointed her more than she could admit was proper.

Oliver noted her hesitation. “I assure you, Miss Bennet, I would consider it an honour to be of service to your family. Please allow me to do this.”

Afraid she may have offended the gentleman, Mary turned quickly to Maria. “Now I must ask to abandon you even earlier. I am truly sorry.”

Maria quickly assured her. “Do not worry about me. Charlotte promised me that if we are invited to Rosings, she will bring the children, and Lady Catherine always concentrates on them, so I will have little to fear.”

Mr. Oliver laughed gently. “Yes, Lady Catherine is a formidable, majestic presence, is she not? But, I think, harmless.”

When Mary saw that Maria too could laugh, she thanked Mr. Oliver, and wrote her note, with a message sure to please Mr. Bennet, who hated to part with Wilkins. She promised to be home by Monday or Tuesday, hoping to surprise them even earlier if possible. Oliver certainly read Mrs. Bennet accurately in assuming that she would want all servants at her ready call. How astute he was, even with so slight an acquaintance of Mrs. Bennet! She felt confirmed in taking his word on Lydia's true feelings.

As Mary handed the finished and sealed note to Rose, Oliver took his leave, promising to call for Mary early on Friday. As the three ladies returned to the morning room, Mary pondered the kind of discernment Oliver showed with Elizabeth, Lydia, and even Mrs. Bennet. Perhaps along the way, he might reveal his assessment of the paradoxical Witherspoon.

Mary, not overly eager to attend the Norfolk wedding, but happy to save time and effort for her family, took leave of Hunsford early on Friday with a secret sigh of disappointment at never seeing for herself the storied Harold Witherspoon. Maria, in saying good-bye, whispered her promise of a full report on the young man. Oliver called for her in a hired carriage whose owner had business in London, and he sat aboveboard with the owner as far as the London post house. Mary, alone within the carriage, tried to collect her thoughts after the day of rushing to get ready, but instead she nodded off. She woke to a view of needlelike trunks of pines in a sea of mist, and she idly watched a bead of water run a trail down the carriage window. Only then was she aware of a steady light rain, and she feared for the health of the two exposed on the highboard.

Soon the whirring of the wheels changed to a clatter, and Mary looked out at a dim and foggy London. Inside the Bell, Oliver assured her that the two on the highboard had kept fairly dry beneath a heavy blanket. They bade farewell to the carriage-man and ordered supper. After a generous cut of a joint of beef, with tea and buns for Mary and ale for Oliver, they learned, to their dismay, that the mist had erupted into a deluge. The postillion announced that no post could leave for Hertfordshire until morning, and then not until the road was tested and found safe. Mr. Oliver apologised to Mary as if the delay were his fault, and he guaranteed her a proper room for the night, as Mr. Darcy had provided ample funds.

Mary, sorry that she could not reach Longbourn early, yet rejoiced in the consolation that she had not promised the early return, so her parents would not worry. And if rain made the Hertfordshire road impassable, they would understand any further delay. Evening at the common room of the inn found Mr. Oliver in apparently good spirits. When Mary mentioned her regret at being the reason for his not leaving on Thursday as he had planned, he dismissed her concern. “I have sent my report to Mr. Darcy days ago, and I am not needed at Kympton while the Reverend Wynters is there. I hurried my departure merely because of my wish to see Kympton and its people again. Mr. Wynters does not plan to return to London until Michaelmas.” Mary silently approved this eagerness to return. Surely a clergyman must feel close to his parish.

“Did you meet a Mr. Witherspoon, sir, while you were in Kent? I have heard much of him, and I really wished to see him for myself. Unfortunately, I never did.”

Oliver's moustache turned up with his wry smile. “Oh yes. He is a strange character, indeed, rather small of stature, and somewhat ill-favoured in appearance. Perhaps for that reason he multiplies his bows and scrapes, as if everyone else is of the nobility and he the lone underling. But I found him a rather simple, trivial fellow for all his obsequious gestures. Miss de Bourgh appears to enjoy him, in an amused way. But I believe only your cousin Mr. Collins is truly fond of him.”

Mary nodded, again regretting that she had not seen the fellow but not wishing to show undue interest. “Thank you. Perhaps it is as well I did not meet him. It might be embarrassing to be so treated.”

“It was for me, I assure you. Like Mrs. Collins, I curtailed my conversation with him.”

As the number of travellers stranded by the weather grew to a large mass huddled around the fire, Mary and Mr. Oliver moved to a far corner. For a while, at that remove, they could converse easily. Mr. Oliver expressed again his thanks for her work at Kympton. “The fine selection of hymns you taught those girls will fill their minds with a wealth of devotion as they mature.”

Mary expressed her doubts, knowing well that their minds at present were hardly so enhanced. “Once, when they were mocking me, Miss Langley fingered the organ and they sang a different version of a hymn. They had changed ‘wash the stains of sin away' to ‘Miss Bennet staying in the way.'” She relayed this, feeling he should be shocked at such irreverence.

Instead, he laughed heartily, saying only, “Oh, that Emmaline! She certainly is a handful. Did you mind her acting such a quiz?”

Mary had to admit that she did not, especially since he had pointed out her resemblance to Lydia. “I believe it is quite natural for young people to display high spirits.” But a tinge of resentment at his lack of compassion for her wounded dignity gave her second thoughts about this favourite of Kitty's. Also, it seemed that Emmaline presented stronger competition for Kitty than she had before realized. How very inopportune that by the time Oliver reached Kympton, Catherine may very well be on her way to Norfolk for the wedding, in the company of the Darcys. She would be losing any occasion to further the acquaintance she so desired.

Oliver spoke next of Charlotte Collins, whose good sense he respected highly, and he praised young Lucas, so devoted to his calm, sensible mother. Of Mr. Collins, he said little. Mary ventured to ask how he got on with Lady Catherine. His initial response was a grin and “Very carefully,” but then he turned serious and thoughtful. “I was distracted by her continuous straightening and stretching her back as she sat. I fear she was in great pain, but she said nothing of it. One can understand curt speech, and even petulance if pain is tormenting a person.” Again, Mary marvelled at his keen observations.

After a brief silence, Mr. Oliver seemed to relax another degree, and he mentioned that he had found time to visit one of his brothers. “Richard is ostler now where my father once worked, on Lord Gibbon's estate. We sometimes used to play there when Papa let us ride on the waggon with him. Richard reminded me how he and Martin teased me, calling me a dreamer and ‘Preacher.' Now he prides himself on being a prophet, announcing my calling before I knew it.”

Mary well understood teasing. “My younger sisters used to call me ‘Miss Conscience,' and they meant nothing good by it. They also called me clumsy because they learned to dance before I could even curtsy. But dear Jane—Mrs. Bingley—patiently taught me both to curtsy and to dance.”

“You were fortunate in Mrs. Bingley. I had no such relieving kindness, having only brothers. They outstripped me in all physical feats, usually daring me to imitate them, often to disastrous results, which amused them no end. Even when I grew taller than either of them, they could climb our large elder tree by leaping to a branch and hoisting themselves up. I could reach that branch without leaping, but never could get up there with them. They would sit up in that tree and laugh uproariously.”

By the fire, a raucous singing swelled, more lively than tuneful, and Oliver spoke louder and faster, as if trying to keep Mary from being exposed to unseemly ribaldry. “Miss Bennet, will you be visiting Pemberley after the wedding in Norfolk?”

Mary also had to raise her voice. “I believe I am to visit at Otherfield—that is, my sister Jane's home in Nottingham. But we may venture occasionally to visit Lizzy at Pemberley. My two older sisters are very close. And I hope occasionally to revisit that fine library.”

“Did I not see Mrs. Bingley at the Christmas ball? She was, I believe, that beautiful woman with a smile as serene as any angel in heaven.”

“Oh yes. Everyone notices Jane for her beauty and goodness, though people are sometimes easier with Lizzy, whose lively wit charms them.”

Oliver nodded as if he understood. “And I observed at supper on that occasion that the Bennet sisters enjoyed one another's company for a long time. I felt a twinge of envy.”

“Then I am glad you found time to visit your brother in Kent.”

“Not quite the same, I'll warrant. Richard still teemed with memories of my greatest embarrassments.” The singing near the bar grew bawdy indeed, and Oliver hurried on. “Until I was sixteen, I believed every word they said, and they pulled some wild tales on me. Once when I was about ten, I noticed that Papa had milked all the cows but one, and I asked why he did not milk that one. Papa said, ‘Oh, she is dry.' And my brother Martin took me aside to explain that she was lying in the pasture that morning when a snake came up and milked her dry. He spoke so solemnly I believed it, even after hearing him and Richard snickering together shortly afterward. The next day I offered to go to the farm with Papa to watch the cows and chase snakes away from them, and those boys got another laugh.”

Mary smiled as she asked, “And did you forgive them?” She stressed the word “forgive.”

Oliver laughed. Mary thanked him for so entertaining an evening and asked to retire. He saw her safely upstairs to her room and pointed out his, in case she should need anything. Mary could only surmise that his mission at Hunsford must have satisfied him greatly, to put him in such fine spirits. Perhaps Lady Catherine's fear for Anne had proved groundless.