Chapter 15 #2
Darcy watched as the church slowly filled with local gentry and shopkeepers and tenants from the nearby estates and a handful of red-coated militiamen.
The Bennets hurried into their pew opposite the Netherfield pew, and Jane Bennet sat at the very end and smiled brightly across at her fiancé.
Bingley’s head was turned away toward the aisle, but Darcy had no doubt he was beaming just as joyously.
Darcy acknowledged to himself that Miss Bennet looked especially beautiful today.
Periwinkle looked lovely on her, highlighting her delicate blonde hair and deep blue eyes.
The demure pearls in her ears and simple silver cross around her neck were flattering and eminently appropriate for a young lady not yet married.
But in his mind Miss Elizabeth, seated on Miss Bennet’s other side, looked even more handsome.
She wore a yellow dress with a green overdress, and her straw bonnet was adorned with only a few saffron ribbons.
But she seemed to glow like sunlight, he thought, studying the brown of her hair against her gown and her bonnet and the way her eyes sparkled.
Mr. Allen, the rector of the parish, took his place at the pulpit and proclaimed the Collect, “Lord, who hast caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning, grant that we may in such wise hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that by patience and comfort of thy holy Word, we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which thou hast given us in our Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.”
“Amen,” Darcy murmured along with the rest of the congregation, and everyone sat down except for the rector who adjusted his spectacles, glanced at the paper in his hands, and then looked over those present with a benevolent smile.
“I publish the Banns of marriage between Mr. Charles Bingley of Kensington and Miss Jane Bennet of Meryton. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in Holy matrimony, ye are to declare it. This is the second time of asking.”
There was a stir from the surrounding congregation, and a sibilant whisper of, “Only a little more than a week, my dear Jane,” from Mrs. Bennet, which provoked a slight giggle from Georgiana.
Mr. Allen smiled approvingly and turned his attention to the Book of Common Prayer sitting on the lectern.
“Now, the Epistle for this, the second Sunday of Advent, from the book of Romans.”
“Whatsoever things were written aforetime were written for our learning; that we through patience and comfort of the Scriptures might have hope. Now the God of patience and consolation grant you to be like-minded one towards another, according to Christ Jesus, that ye may with one mind and one mouth glorify God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ…”
Darcy’s mind drifted, and he pulled it back with an effort, chastising himself.
Rarely did he have trouble focusing; indeed, it had long been a point of pride that he could concentrate on even the most boring task, not that he found church services generally dull.
He had in fact been the envy of many of his peers at Cambridge for his studious dedication and the resulting accolades from the dons, and he had always applied himself to listening and studying the scriptures while at church.
And yet, for the last few days, his ability to focus had been seriously disrupted.
His conversation with Georgiana kept going around and around in his mind.
He had been startled and shocked by her cavalier attitude towards what they both owed the Darcy name.
But what he found even more surprising was his own inability to argue against her points, though he was still certain that connections were vitally important!
They were, after all, what allowed one to move through Society easily.
He had known all of his life that he would one day marry a woman of equal or greater societal footing than himself, with an abundance of beauty and wealth to recommend her; a bride truly worthy of a Darcy.
And yet, despite this assumption, he remained unwed, with not a single woman of the ton attracting him.
At every society party he attended, he found himself bored and irritated as beautiful, accomplished, well-connected women threw themselves at him in vain bids to acquire his own wealth, standing, and advantageous relatives.
He had coldly discouraged and rejected them all, complacent in his vague imaginings of some nebulous woman who had all their advantages but added to them a sound mind, a sharp wit, and an affection for him quite apart from his position in society.
Then along came Elizabeth Bennet. She was not highly born, her wealth was nonexistent, her connections execrable.
Yet her mind was quicker than many – if not most – of his acquaintances, her wit keener, her eyes brighter and finer than those of any other woman he had seen.
Never had she flirted with him, his own prideful delusions notwithstanding, and had not paid a lick of attention to his wealth despite her own precarious position and her mother’s overt wishes.
Indeed she had despised and disdained him, rightfully offended by his slight of her at the Meryton assembly where they first met.
Now he dared to think that they were, perhaps, friends; that perchance their arch conversations were as playful and lighthearted as he had always assumed.
But she gave no indication of a desire to deepen their friendship into anything more; she remained entirely disinterested in pursuing him, even as his admiration for her grew.
She was an exemplary sister and daughter, he knew firsthand, and she had won sweet Georgiana’s rare approval.
No doubt she would be an equally excellent wife.
It was an outrageous thought – utterly absurd.
He had a responsibility to Georgiana, after all, even if she did not understand that.
Their mother was dead, and thus it was absolutely necessary that Darcy wed a woman conversant with the ways of the ton in London, who could shepherd his sister through parties and gatherings, who was well-connected and could smooth over any slight contretemps.
Elizabeth Bennet’s family was, alas, not appropriate at all.
For all that the younger Misses Bennet had shown improved behavior of late, they had still been loud and vulgar and shameful at the Netherfield ball.
And as for Mrs. Bennet, she had shown no improvement whatsoever! No, no, it was ridiculous.
No matter how much he might wish it otherwise.
His eyes wandered back across the aisle.
Miss Elizabeth appeared to be listening intently, her own gaze fastened on the pulpit.
She was so beautiful, so fascinating, so different.
At this very moment, Miss Elizabeth turned her head toward Darcy, and their eyes met, prompting Darcy’s chest to constrict as he quickly turned his eyes towards the rector.
If things were different, Darcy thought, he could fall in love with Miss Elizabeth Bennet rather easily.