A Match for Mary Bennet (30 page)

The Christmas holidays rang with special merriment, to be concluded with the wedding on the day after the ball. To that grand ball, Sir Darcy Fitzwilliam brought his beaming Lady. He thanked Mr. Darcy for his wise advice and confided his own prospective fatherhood. “By summer, Caroline will give birth, and how right you were! Caroline's spirits, as you see, are fully restored.”

“And you, sir, are given the recognition that you deserve for your valour.” Darcy could not help being reminded of the other reason for Lady Caroline's joy.

Fitzwilliam looked down. “I should no more be a knight of the crown than Sir Michael, perhaps less. The honour truly belongs to the French women who followed the battles to tend their fallen and who taught me their secrets only because they refrained from treating the wounded British. But for Caroline's insistence that she wished to emulate her sister Lady Helena in every way possible, I would have declined the honour.”

For much of the evening, Sir Fitzwilliam studied Jane Bingley and Elizabeth Darcy, convinced that motherhood produced the serenity and precious contentment they exhibited. He approached Mr. Oliver on the subject, pointing out his observations. “Have you observed among the women of Kympton that special joy that motherhood brings?”

“I fear I have not noticed,” said Oliver. “Perhaps in a year or so, I may have better information.” And he returned his attention to Mary, from whom it had not wandered for a full minute since the ball opened.

Lady Caroline glowed as she greeted her dear sister Jane—who would never be called Lady. She also smiled benignly on her dear cousin Elizabeth—who would be similarly deprived. She actually contrived to bestow pity on them. Her noblesse oblige produced the most fulsome tolerance that she had ever conceived as a substitute for love. She stressed, while gushing her greetings, their lowly titles of Mistress, not even imagining how genuinely both Jane and Elizabeth prized that title more than any the realm could bestow. Caroline's haughty benevolence extended graciously to Miss Anne de Bourgh with special sympathy because she had not inherited the title which her mother had borne like a sceptre. Miss de Bourgh returned her condescension in like sympathy, knowing Lady Caroline's wealth could never approach hers. Mary received Lady Caroline's exuberant greetings as blindly as she received all others, her rapt smile radiating her new-found love, which extended to everyone.

Lydia, however, Caroline studiously ignored as beneath contempt, having wed the man Darcy would abhor above all, and for some reason Darcy's approval still meant something to the lady.

Jane rejoiced heartily to see Caroline in such fine spirits, and Elizabeth amused herself watching the great lady. She found special hilarity in Lady Caroline's broad hint that her noble father-in-law had applied for the knighthood. Elizabeth fervently hoped that the Earl would not disabuse her of the notion. Having Caroline's happiness now closely entwined with that of Darcy's genial cousin bolstered Elizabeth's genuine concern for Lady Caroline's wellbeing.

Darcy's wonderment fell mainly on another cousin at that ball. Having cast mourning aside, Miss de Bourgh presided over the ball as if she were the guest of honour. Her enthusiasm for the dance astonished Darcy, who, at his wife's request, led Miss de Bourgh into the grand march. She danced then with Mr. Bingley, Sir Fitzwilliam, the Lords Exbridge elder and younger, and many other gentlemen present. Only Mr. Oliver did not approach the grand lady, as he danced only with Mary. However, when Anne learned that he and Mary were to travel to Kent right after the wedding to see his family, she insisted they stay at least a few days at Rosings, promising to return in haste to receive them.

Darcy watched the dance, marvelling at Anne's endurance and wondering how she had managed to learn all the steps with such mastery. His imagination gave credit to Witherspoon, but the lady never mentioned him nor did she appear to miss him. All except Lady Caroline, who did not notice, reckoned Anne the belle of the ball. Georgiana and Lord Exbridge made much of Miss de Bourgh, reminding her that she, as well as Georgiana, had often visited in town as young girls. She remembered more than Georgiana could recall, particularly of the departed Lady Exbridge, with whom she had visited while Georgiana played with young David. While this brought Lord Exbridge close to tears, he felt the healing joy of speaking of her at last.

The Reverend and Mrs. Wynters remarked the smiling Anne, having seen her at previous balls, but never so high-spirited. This couple had come expressly to officiate at the next day's wedding and to serve the parish again for the fortnight when the Olivers would sojourn in Kent. Mary wrapped herself in the joy of this day and the day following, but she feared meeting Steven's brothers. She could actually come to terms with the possibility of undergoing childbirth with more equanimity than she could summon to meet face-to-face with the brothers who, as Steven had told her, lived only to tease.

The wedding, at which the bride and groom exhibited solemn contentment, rendered Mrs. Bennet positively giddy. To see the daughter who had perversely insisted that she need not marry actually win a husband gave her unspeakable relief. Why, four-fifths of her main task in life was completed! The new couple left directly from the church to visit the groom's family in Kent, and Darcy escorted Miss de Bourgh from Kympton while Elizabeth rode to Pemberley with the Bingleys. Darcy took advantage of the short ride to enquire about Anne's plans. “If you are considering marriage, I assure you I support your choice. I have become a great proponent of following one's heart.”

Anne shook her head. “I know far too much about a woman's property rights after marriage. I will not likely sacrifice both consequence and control for the dubious compensation of a husband.”

“You surprise me,” Darcy replied as the carriage started up. “I trust this reflects your fondest desires and not mere financial prudence.”

“Financial prudence is never mere, Cousin, and someone must display it. My substantial property may one day benefit your children, who may well be numerous—the usual consequence of marrying a charming and healthy woman. I will do what I can to provide for them, no matter how cavalierly you dismiss the need.” She waited for Darcy to hand her out at Pemberley. “And when the Collins family moves to Longbourn, you may have a son in orders who desires a place.”

Darcy laughed as they entered the splendid front hallway. “I do intend to raise my sons to be useful, but if one chooses to serve the church, I can find livings closer than Hunsford.”

“But Reverend Wynters tells me you have given Kympton to the Olivers in perpetuity, a most generous wedding gift indeed. Someone must tend to the welfare of your sons, when their father casts off his most productive benefice. And who is to say you will not have a son who wishes to remove far from Pemberley?” She stood in the entrance looking up at him almost defiantly but with an unaccustomed twinkle in her eye.

Darcy presented a deliberately stern countenance. “I appreciate your concern, but I insist that you act strictly on your own desire. I had heard of a certain verger who had caught your fancy. Do not sacrifice love, even for my poor deprived children.”

Anne laughed long and heartily, amazing Darcy even more. “A mere entertainment!” she finally managed. “To marry such a one would be sacrifice indeed—of my property, of the living at Hunsford to a blackguard, and of my own wits. Witherspoon's aspirations were my greatest amusement, along with his obsequious endearments. Now that Mr. Collins affords me the attentions he once accorded Mama, he will be sufficient amusement for me. Collins must dismiss the cunning verger, who knows by now that his intrigues for himself and his rogue ally are for naught.” Anne smiled wryly. “Of late he has grown tiresome and has taken to whining about my domineering attitude.”

Darcy returned her smile, grateful that Wickham's manipulations came up against the new-found iron will of Miss de Bourgh. Collins and Mrs. Jenkinson may have felt they had a new Lady Catherine to answer to as well. She may not have inherited the title, but she seemed fully intent on inheriting the deference. How well the doctor had assessed the situation, transferring his allegiance even before Lady Catherine's death! Others' allegiance would follow as convenience and profitability demanded. As the two progressed slowly to the parlour, Darcy thought again of Witherspoon, to whom the loss must be material, and of Wickham, deprived of his hoped-for living. Did Wickham suspect this when he sent Lydia off to fend for herself?

They entered the great parlour where family wedding guests talked of the new Mrs. Oliver. Mrs. Gardiner remarked the bride's radiance despite her simple attire. Elizabeth said, “Mary never felt comfortable in lace or jewelry.”

“Once I expected Mary to remain at Longbourn. She seemed not to desire anything more.” Aunt Gardiner went to the generous repast and selected some fruit from the tray on the table.

Elizabeth, after thanking Mrs. Reynolds for pouring tea, showed her agreement with Mrs. Gardiner. “Who ever knew what Mary desired, beyond books and music? In fact, if I understood Mr. Darcy right, she surprised even herself to find that she loved Mr. Oliver.”

Darcy seated himself next to his wife and helped himself to a scone from her plate. “Did you not see it that way, Mr. Bennet?”

Bennet agreed immediately. “Indeed, yes. She had just allowed that she looked for no happiness in marriage, and Mary did not forsake the truth knowingly.”

Elizabeth smiled. “How glad I am that happiness looked for her. She is a good soul, and she deserves it.”

Catherine, more thoughtful than usual, nodded. “Lizzy, does it not seem as if Mary, of all of us, fell into the most striking romance? She had not developed a great liking for him from the first, as Jane did Mr. Bingley”—Jane blushed at this—“nor did she develop a dislike to him that would turn to love later, as someone we know did.” She fixed her teasing look on Lizzy, who cast her eyes down as Darcy pulled her close. “And she certainly did not lose her mind over him, as Lydia did over Wickham.” Even Lydia smiled at that. “Her love for Mr. Oliver must have hidden deep inside of her until he called it out.”

“Howled it out is more like!” laughed Darcy.

“I wonder which way I will find love, if ever I do.” Kitty continued thoughtful.

Mr. Bennet asked teasingly, “And if you have your choice, which would you choose?”

“I do not believe I can choose,” said Kitty. “Perhaps, with the grace of God, it will just happen.” Mrs. Gardiner exchanged admiring looks with Jane and Elizabeth. Kitty would mature after all.

Mrs. Bennet entered the parlour from the nursery. “Our little Bennet is such a gem. He does not cry in the bath as he did when Mr. Oliver christened him. I must say that those ministers would have an easier time of it if they warmed the water and tested it on their elbows, as we do when bathing babies. Mary must enlighten her husband on these things.”

Darcy addressed Mrs. Bennet, “Did Lizzy tell you that she knew two years ago that Mary was destined for Oliver?”

“No!” She turned on Lizzy, frowning. “Why did you never tell me? And me worrying all the time about that worthless coxcomb Stilton being her only chance!” Mrs. Bennet shook her finger accusingly, while Jane, Catherine, and Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed over the revelation.

Elizabeth shrugged. “How could I even tell Mary? It showed in the vicar's face but never in hers. He could even distinguish her playing from Georgiana's when we heard it from the parlour. When Darcy suggested that he accompany Mary to Longbourn, you should have seen the joy in his face, but Mary evidenced no elation or anxiety, either before or afterward.”

Lydia spoke up dreamily, “I never thought to marry a clergyman, but what a nice thing it would be if Wickham took orders and we could be so nicely settled.”

Again Mrs. Gardiner exchanged looks with Jane and Elizabeth, but with a wry smile. Lydia would always relate any topic to herself. Miss de Bourgh interjected, “But then, Mrs. Wickham, you would have to visit the sick and the poor. I am glad it will not be the case.” She did not say she was glad on behalf of the poor, though her look implied it. Lydia took no offence.

Georgiana had been entertaining the Exbridge family in the small parlour, but at that moment Lord Exbridge, Martha, and Susan came in, preparatory to taking their leave. Exbridge whispered to Darcy, who excused himself immediately and left the room as Lady Elliott walked in smiling. Soon, Darcy and Georgiana walked in with David, and they all bid the departing guests a genial farewell. When the Exbridges and Lady Elliott had gone to Foxbridge, Darcy told Elizabeth and the others that spring would bring another family wedding. He was pleased that his sister had found her peace in David, yet he held Georgiana close and knew that losing her would be very like losing a daughter.

The returning Olivers, passing through London, stopped at the Bell, recalling how they had once encountered Wickham and Witherspoon there. After dining, they walked around Hanover Square, and the rector of Kympton pointed out the little bookstore where he had purchased Mary's wedding gift. He apologised for its drawbacks. “The binding was poor, but I strengthened that. I could not find the whole work and likely could not have afforded it if I did. My choice was between the first two books of Augustine's City of God or the final two. It was all I could find in English.”

Mary thanked him anew, even more grateful now that she had read it than when he gave it to her. “I am glad you chose the end, as it was about heaven. Did you know that?”

“Not at all. I have dabbled in that work but never reached the end. It is prodigiously long. I found the part about the demons being like sponges though, as I told you.” They spent some time looking in the window at the fine leather-bound volumes, and then walked on hand-in-hand in companionable silence. As they started back to the post inn, Oliver looked at her seriously. “Was it so terrible an ordeal, meeting my brothers? They are simple labourers and rough-spoken, and I have always tried to shield you from humour such as theirs. I should have known they would consider a new bride fair game for bawdy jokes. I am sorry.”

Mary hastened to assure him that she had come to appreciate their open and honest ways. “I have one brother whose lack of those characteristics you have already sampled. And you know, Mr. Martin sought me out on our final morning to apologise for their remarks.”

Oliver laughed. “I think that you rather disappointed him by neither blushing nor laughing. And you did not blame them nor look mumchance, but only smiled at them. I commend you for that.”

“Oh, but their japery made me prize the treasure of your gift all the more! I sincerely pitied them, for it seemed they could not properly value what Augustine calls ‘a spouse's ministry to the spouse's physical pleasure.' I greatly pitied their dear wives too. They are missing so much!”

Oliver's arm went around her as he helped her into the coach for the long ride to Derbyshire. “Dearest, how you amaze me. I should have read the book while I rebound it. It shall be a central part of our small library.”

On the return journey, they also spoke much of the kindness of Miss de Bourgh, who had hurried home to receive them herself. Mary greatly enjoyed seeing the Collins family, holding Louisa, and seeing Lucas so proudly keep watch over his little sister. Miss de Bourgh had spent much time with Mr. Oliver, and as he recalled it, he told Mary, “From her questions about the work, I believe Miss Anne will attend the poor and the sick with a true charity. She had many questions about it because she fears that Mrs. Collins will lack sufficient time for it for many years.” Mary pictured them when they left. Collins waved them off, Charlotte held Louisa, and Lucas bowed a gracious farewell to his friend “Miz Oliver.”