Chapter 57
The day of the wedding, the village was alive with excitement. Last minute deliveries were made to both Netherfield and Longbourn all morning. The servants had barely slept the night before with the excitement of making everything perfect for this most special day for the eldest Miss Bennets. Elizabeth was caught sneaking down the stairs for her morning walk shortly after dawn, and plunged instead into a steaming bath scented with sweet orange oils, where she was left to soak for a half hour before Hill and Betsey were upon her, scrubbing her from head to toe as if she had just been rescued from a life in the East End of London.
When she had been released from the bath and dried, the bath was scrubbed until the copper shone, and more water was ready for Jane. Elizabeth spent an hour sipping chocolate, and enjoying a breakfast of rare fruits and more, sent by Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley, who had heard that brides and grooms alike were often too nervous to eat on their wedding day, and so they provided an array of tempting delicacies. The spread included assorted pineapples, melons, cherries, peaches, plums, and grapes, purchased from the hothouses of the rich, and delivered to Meryton for the purpose. There was another such spread downstairs for the rest of the family on the sideboard in the breakfast room. There was also a tray of meats, eggs, and cheeses, plum cakes, hot rolls, and scones with marmalade.
The other maid, Sarah, filed Elizabeth’s nails as she ate, then set to arranging her hair, as Jane left the bath and entered the dressing room with Elizabeth. This series of events was repeated with Mary, and the three brides were pampered and beautified for some hours before their mother deemed them ready, and the last touches, the jewels, were added to the effect.
Jane looked stunning in her Maria Luisa blue gown with the matching norman cap and incredible oval sapphire. Elizabeth was likewise a vision in her gown of rose silk and norman cap, with the impressively large citrine, and Mary was magnificent in her white satin with red trimming and sempstress bonnet. The enormous heart shaped garnet at her throat would become an important Bennet heirloom that the family would pass down for many generations.
It had never been considered possible that Lydia might be anything but striking in the parma violet, and she accepted their compliments and their thanks for her part in the discovery of the bonnets and yard goods. The brides were gratified indeed by the impressive sight of Mrs Bennet in her turban and seafoam green silk, as well as Kitty, in her amber satin. They had been the perfect gifts for their mother and sister, and Mrs Bennet preened under their flattery. Mr Bennet had decided that it was proper for the mother of the brides to have something fine, and so Mr Darcy had assisted him in procuring a most impressive set of pearls for their station, at quite an affordable price. His wife glowed with happiness, and Bennet was happy for her. All of her dreams were coming true on this day.
Mrs Bennet and her two youngest daughters departed for the church in the Bennet carriage while the brides followed in Georgiana Darcy’s carriage with Mr Bennet. The entire neighbourhood was out, everyone who had been invited, and everyone who had not. The tenants and villagers cheered for their Miss Bennets as they passed. Everyone was prodigiously proud of Elizabeth, Darcy, and William, and all of their neighbours were elated that their neighbourhood was, once again, distinguished by a visit from the foreign secretary and his wife.
Mr Bennet had his hands full walking three brides down the aisle, but he managed the task and joined his wife, who already sobbed with joy in their pew. Bennet was solemn as he watched his three eldest daughters say their vows. He had once considered them his three worthiest daughters, but perhaps he had been mistaken. Catherine had blossomed with both of her parent’s undivided attention this summer, and his youngest had come home with a harp, an expensive one no less, then had distinguished herself in the neighbourhood by playing it creditably. Now that his wife’s worst fears were laid to rest, the two of them could settle down to educating their two youngest and polishing them up to join their sisters in society. His wife was not wrong. The marriages of Jane and Elizabeth would throw Catherine and Lydia into the paths of other rich men.
All three brides and all three grooms each remembered the wedding as a blur. They were all so stimulated by their nerves, their hopes, and their happiness that none could even remember the ceremony, though it was certain that Mrs Bennet and her friends had all memorised every detail, to be expounded upon at length once the excitement was over. Mr Bennet smiled. Whatever the fates of their two youngest, his wife could live on the memories of this day for the rest of her life.
The brides and grooms burst out of the church, followed by the guests, as the villagers threw rice and grain. They boarded their carriages and the men joyfully threw coins to the children as they pulled away from the church. The couples each had a moment or two to themselves as they travelled to meet the rest of the party for the wedding breakfast at Netherfield.
Three hours later, Elizabeth approached Darcy in the drawing room at Netherfield. “Have you seen my father?” she asked her husband. “I wished to say goodbye before we leave.”
Darcy had not seen Mr Bennet in some time, though he had not paid very close attention to his father-in-law this afternoon. He happily followed his bride from room to room in search of her father. His mother-in-law had contentedly spent her day in the company of her friends from Meryton, as well as Lady Matlock, and Lady Catherine. She was easy enough to find, but she had no notion of the whereabouts of her husband. William and Mary were talking to Mr Elton, who had stood up with William at the wedding. Richard had of course stood up with Darcy, and Mr Hurst had good naturedly agreed to stand up with Mr Bingley.
They encountered the Woodhouses. Miss Woodhouse had recently become engaged on a visit to her sister in London, to a Mr Tom Bertram, the heir to a baronetcy from Northamptonshire. She said that his father was a very proper person, though she longed to marry quickly and take this Mansfield Park in hand. It was said that Lady Bertram was too mild a woman, and that her sister, the local vicar’s wife, was practically in control of all that went on there.
“Someone simply must take his ghastly sisters in hand,” Emma confessed to Anne and Priscilla. “There is a mousy little cousin that lives there as well who desperately wants some attention. I am eager to begin putting things in order.”
They approached the Knightleys, and Elizabeth could not have been happier than to hide in a corner and speak intimately with Charlotte for a half hour some time earlier. The Knightleys were expecting an addition to their family in February or March, and this would be the last time they travelled before then. Charlotte assured her that she had settled in well in Highbury, that the society was small, but warm and well-meaning. The knowledge that Miss Woodhouse’s return to the community would be temporary only increased Charlotte’s enjoyment of the neighbourhood. Unfortunately, Miss Woodhouse was no less a snob than she had been, and on her recent visit to Highbury, had snubbed Charlotte quite scandalously. Mr Knightley was still incensed at his old friend for her behaviour.
Everyone was asked, none had seen Mr Bennet in at least an hour. Elizabeth and Darcy went into the hall and saw none other than Denomme guarding the door of the study. “Denomme!” cried Elizabeth.
“ Madame , you must rescue the comte , he has been the hostage of your father for nearly an hour,” Denomme pleaded. “Our time runs short, we must leave soon. I go to prepare our departure, you will tell the comte .”
Elizabeth and Darcy entered the study where Mr Bennet had been questioning the Count of St Germain regarding his historical knowledge for some time. “ Monsieur le comte !” exclaimed Darcy, bowing, then shaking the man’s hand. “Welcome! We just met Monsieur Denomme in the hall, he wishes us to inform you that he is preparing your departure.”
“ Bonjour, Monsieur D’Arcy ,” said St Germain, rising from his seat.
“ Monsieur , please allow us to thank you for the magnificent wedding gifts.” Elizabeth curtsied. “My sisters and their husbands will wish to thank you as well.”
“I require no thanks, brides as lovely as yourself require such things on their wedding day.” The comte shook his head, refusing more effusions of gratitude. “I told you – the citrine – did I not?”
“You most certainly did!” Elizabeth laughed. “I confess I am excessively fond of the colour.”
Suddenly, William and Mary entered. “We just glimpsed Denomme slipping outside, so we knew you were hiding somewhere!” Mary exclaimed. “Thank you, monsieur , for the beautiful wedding gifts.”
“And for your unexampled kindness to my wife,” said William. “You helped my Mary’s dreams come true with your kind assistance at the instrument, and you will always have my gratitude.”
“We come to bid you farewell before leaving these shores,” said the comte . “And to show you what the French came for that night. You have, I think, earned the right to know.” He turned, revealing, seated behind him, an elderly woman of perhaps seventy. “ Monsieur, Madame D’Arcy , Mr and Mrs Bennet, may I introduce Jeanne du Barry .”
“ Madame du Barry !” gasped Elizabeth curtseying to the lady. “But she was killed-”
“In Paris? That is the story that is told, and many believe it,” said the woman. She was incredibly beautiful despite her age. Her hair was set in thick grey ringlets, and her almond shaped blue eyes were arresting in the setting of her heart-shaped face. “One of my ladies in waiting was my half-sister, and she shared my looks. They mistook her for me, and we could not save her.”
Their party listened in awe as Madame du Barry told her harrowing story. “Once my sister had been killed in her attempt to help me get people out of France, it was decided that I had an opportunity to disappear. Rather than to travel notoriously in exile across the warring continent, we thought that perhaps I might go to England,” she said. “Even so, it was years before I could escape France. A crossing was too perilous to be sensible in wartime. It was not until the British defeated Napoleon in the year 1801 that I could cross, and then only because there was a priceless object that must be taken away and hidden. Then, a boat was provided for me, and a castle was purchased, so that this object might hide safely in England until the true king returns to the throne. Though ma bien-aimée’s son banished me from court, I will save this for his heirs.”
Madame du Barry opened a case which was in her lap, revealing an incredible stone. “This emerald was said to be owned by Cleopatra. It was obtained by Louis XIV in the year 1661. It is so priceless that it was one of the few jewels ma bien-aimée did not boast of, for fear it would be stolen. This is a jewel worth sending men into battle for.”
The emerald was enormous, nearly eight inches high, it was sculpted and polished into the shape of a womanly figure. “Cleopatra was said to believe that she was the living embodiment of the Goddess Isis, and that she sometimes had emeralds carved in her form, to be given as gifts to other rulers,” Thomas Bennet said in awe, “But I have never heard an account of one this large. If an emerald this large came from anywhere, it would be from her mines.”
“The British took this stone, and it was intended to travel to England with the Rosetta Stone, and all of the other relics stolen by Napoleon,” said Madame du Barry . “But our people, the resistance, stole it back. There was only one place the English would never think to look for it.”
“England,” Elizabeth breathed.
The old woman nodded, “ Exactement .”
“The Emperor learned of the location of the jewel from the spy, Huguenin,” said St Germain. “The sale of this stone could restore the King of France to some semblance of wealth, were he to return to the throne. The possession of this stone would distinguish Napoleon amongst other rulers. It is time for the jewel to hide again, until it can be restored to the royal family.”
“What is your true interest here?” asked Elizabeth. When the comte raised a brow, she continued. “It cannot just be a good deed.”
The comte smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “It has a flaw.”
“The stone?” Elizabeth and Darcy said simultaneously, peering closer at the jewel.
The comte nodded. “I think I can remove the flaw, it would make it even more priceless.”
Thomas Bennet laughed. “All of that, and your only interest is scientific?”
“The quest for perfection is endless, whether in stones or in souls. Yet perhaps what we call perfection is simply the reflection of the infinite within each,” replied the comte mysteriously. “There is also to consider the safety of my old friend,” he nodded to Madame du Barry . “Her lover played the generous host to me many times. The least I could do is escort his lady to safety.”
“How gallant,” said Elizabeth. She wanted to like the comte . And considering the remarkable gifts he had bestowed upon her and her husband, she felt that she ought to like him. But it was often difficult to sense if he was truly a friend, or if he might not also be a bit of a villain. It was obvious that her father and husband felt the same. Elizabeth suspected that the man had played both parts many times in his life, and that the lines of good and wicked might be rather blurred for a man of his supposed age and experience.
“We should depart,” announced Madame , rising to her feet. “Our time has been much occupied by Madame D’Arcy’s curious pepe .” Suddenly there was a frantic knocking on the door. Darcy went and opened the door a crack and peered out.
“Darcy, I know he is in there,” growled Lord Matlock. “I will speak with him!” Darcy was not in the habit of standing in his uncle’s path. He stepped back to allow his uncle into the room, and the rest of the party turned back to find empty chairs, and an empty room.
“I’ll be damned,” Thomas Bennet exclaimed as he rushed to the open door that adjoined the library to the study, finding no one on the other side. “Downright uncanny !”
Elizabeth Darcy rolled over the next morning to gaze upon her sleeping husband. Much had happened to her since the comte’s and his guest’s most recent disappearance, and the fact that Lord Matlock had turned Netherfield and the surrounding area upside down without a trace of the comte or Madame du Barry , was the least interesting of it all.
Perhaps a half hour after the departure of the comte , a messenger accompanied by the Royal Guard arrived at the wedding breakfast with four invitations for the heroes of Eastbourne. Elizabeth, Darcy, Richard, and William opened the missives and stared at one another in front of all of their guests.
“It is an invitation to St James for an event in our honour in one week’s time,” said Elizabeth, to the surprise of her parents and all of the wedding guests.
“I am to be elevated !” gasped William in disbelief. “ Elevated to baronet !”
“ What ?” shouted his wife and father-in-law, tripping over themselves and each other in their haste to see for themselves.
“So am I,” said Darcy and Richard simultaneously.
“I am to receive the Regent’s Cross? 1 ,” said Elizabeth.
“How about that,” said Matlock, taking his son’s invitation and skimming over it. “I knew about the Regent’s Cross. You are all to receive it, save Richard. He shall receive a military medal and a promotion as well as this elevation. Good for you, son. I could not be more proud.”
“What the devil is the Regent’s Cross?” demanded Bennet. “I have never heard of it!
“It is a brand new medal, created specifically to award the heroes of Eastbourne, and those thereafter who exceed expectations in regards to their civic duty,” Matlock explained. “It is for civilians who demonstrate bravery and selflessness for king and country. I believe Tom Tyler will receive it as well.”
“I knew how it would be when I heard that our Lizzy and our William were heroes!” crowed Mrs Bennet, quite understandably. “How grand my daughters will be! Lady Darcy! Lady Bennet! How well that sounds!”
I wonder how Jane’s night was , Elizabeth wondered as Fitwilliam’s fluttering eyelashes returned her to the present. Her husband woke and smiled to find her watching him. He wordlessly pulled her back into his arms, and Elizabeth forgot about her sister, medals, elevations, and everything else for some days.
The End
1. The Regent’s Cross is a completely fictional medal created for this story because there were not suitable awards for civilians at this time.