Chapter 6 Capital Exploration #5
Cognizant of the day’s ongoing agenda and the time rapidly ticking away, they finished their midafternoon meal.
The men led the ladies down the Piazza arcade, leisurely strolling to Russell Street where the carriage waited.
Encumbered with several bouquets of aromatic flowers and four baskets of assorted fruits and vegetables for the coachman to safely stow in the landau’s luggage rack, they once again climbed into the carriage.
With an improved grip on her directional bearings and the hint of passing through Charing Cross and then south on Whitehall, Lizzy was ready to guess the next destination.
“Is Saint James’s Park next to be explored, then? Or are you two jesters leading us on another wild ride which will end on the opposite bank of the Thames or the East India Docks or Hampstead Heath?”
Gravely nodding, his face serious, Darcy proclaimed, “We considered the latter three, at great length, and the debate was intense. Alas, in the end, we settled on the more logical, and closer, Westminster Abbey. Thus, tragically, your guess is incorrect, Miss Elizabeth. Another win for the men.”
“Darcy! You are a rascal!” Bingley exclaimed in between laughs.
“Miss Elizabeth, I can assure that the docks were never a consideration, although Darcy did suggest Newgate, which I deem unpalatable. To be fair, as much as I would like to keep the prize tally in our favor, we do plan to walk in Saint James’s Park as a twilight end to our day, so Miss Elizabeth’s guess is correct. ”
Georgiana was shaking her head. “As the official arbiter, I call a technicality. Miss Elizabeth did say ‘next’ when guessing the park, after all. Hence, the score should, by rights, belong to the gentlemen.”
Darcy’s left brow lifted and his eyes widened in feigned perplexity.
“I don’t recall granting you the office of arbiter, Georgie.
Although, you are the designated chaperone, so it makes sense.
Moreover, being the only neutral person in the challenge gives you a clearer view.
Hence, your conclusion to award the point to us is logical.
However”—Darcy furrowed his brows and sighed dramatically—“Miss Elizabeth’s guess is also correct, the sequence qualifier a minor detail.
How shall we solve such a severe dilemma? ”
Lizzy narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, points of argument running through her brain, while Jane shook with silent laughter.
Eventually, after further banter, they agreed to award each team a point.
The tally tied at three each, the group exited the parked carriage eager to begin the late afternoon portion of the day.
A church was not the place for encounters of a romantic nature, so the collection of kisses remained a pleasure to anticipate, the sensual sensations bubbling below the surface of the lovers’ skin all day.
As with most of the significant places in London, Lizzy had seen dozens of paintings and drawings of the Abbey of Saint Peter at Westminster.
None of them prepared her for the breathtaking reality.
Standing on the Tothill Street walkway across from the enormous paved, circular concourse fronting the western facade to the church, the impression of holiness was already palpable.
Lizzy gazed in awe at the incredible beauty of the structure, stunned by the magnificence of the twin towers flanking the main entrance rising two-hundred twenty-five feet into the heavens.
In silence, Lizzy absorbed the majestic vision, spellbound as were the others, into a sort of paralysis.
Darcy’s resonant voice gently broke the stasis, his subdued delivery of the expected historical background given as the group drifted toward the doors.
“The original church built on this site in honor of the Apostle Peter was ordered by King Edward I in the eleventh century. Tragically, the king died days after the consecration ceremony, which he was too ill to attend. The following year, in 1066, William the Conqueror was the first monarch to be crowned here. That tradition has continued without fail ever since.”
Pausing a few feet away from the arched entrance, he continued, “After two centuries, Henry III decided to rebuild the church in the Gothic style sweeping Europe. As the location for royal coronations and the burial of monarchs, the king believed Westminster Abbey should be grander and comparable to a cathedral. The new church was consecrated in 1269 and is unchanged, other than some reconstruction as necessary over long centuries. There have been a handful of additions made to the church, primarily the stunning, Tudor-influenced Lady Chapel by Henry VII in the first decade of 1500, and the towers of Portland stone we see before us, completed in 1745. Truly a marvel to behold.”
At that point, Darcy resumed the journey to the doors, and for the whole of their time inside the massive church, he offered no further history. In fact, he reverted to his typical taciturn manner. The reasons for his abrupt change became immediately obvious.
In the whole of Lizzy’s life, she had only attended religious services in modest, country churches constructed with average-height ceilings, one or two small stained-glass windows, maybe a single carved arch or elaborate statue, and housing a basic organ at best. Nothing she had ever seen, whether a place of worship or other fine structure, remotely came close to the interior of Westminster Abbey.
In fact, the entryway leading to the ornately carved double doors was a cause of awed amazement. Wide and almost tunnellike, the gap between the pillars was recessed and arched to a high pinnacle. Engraved panels, small buttresses, and niched cornices adorned the walls.
Moving past the doors and into the nave wrest the remaining air from Lizzy's lungs, her mind instantly filled with profound wonderment and reverence. She felt her mouth drop open yet was powerless to stop the gawking action. It was the feathery touch of William’s hand against the small of her back which restored her senses, heat rising to her cheeks.
How long have I stood stupefied, blocking the aisle? Was I, heaven forbid, emitting odd sounds or some other mortifying gesture in my abstraction?
Ripping her eyes from the spectacular vaulted ceiling, she rapidly scanned the people close to her, relieved to note no one was paying her any heed.
Then she swung her gaze to Darcy’s face, her mouth opening to whisper her apologies.
Instead, her lips curved into a smile as misty tears coated her eyes.
Mr. Darcy was staring into the nave, his blue eyes gliding slowly over the interior from wall to wall, and the expression he wore was indescribable. His countenance was awash with transcendent joy and peace, amongst other unnamable emotions.
“Beautiful, is it not?” he asked in a hushed whisper. “One can feel God’s Holy Spirit alive within these walls.”
A host of emotions inundated his voice. Then he turned to her, smiling in a way she had never seen before. Suddenly, she understood.
Religion was a part of her life, as it was for most, but admittedly in a peripheral way.
Lizzy believed in God and accepted His presence in her life as a matter of course.
Beyond the obligatory Sunday attendance and other liturgical ceremonies, and her firm commitment to follow the commandments and rules written in Scripture to the best of her ability, Lizzy went no further.
Biblical instruction had never interested her as it had Mary.
Based on offhand comments and almost-forgotten memories of his solemn attitude while attending church services during their stay in Kent, Lizzy suspected his devotion to the church was deeper than most, including herself.
The depth of his piety was another matter, and one not broached by him or contemplated by her. Until now.
Lizzy observed the spiritual euphoria visible upon his face and the full impact struck her.
For Fitzwilliam Darcy, faith was a wholly unique experience that was personal, intense, and absolute.
At this epiphany, her heart was uplifted yet oddly, simultaneously dismayed.
Knowing that her beliefs, while in line with his, were not as extreme was disconcerting.
Would she ever be as religious as he? Would this disparity lead to his disappointment or displeasure? Would it affect their unity?
“Do not be concerned, Elizabeth,” he whispered, somehow reading her thoughts.
“Faith is personal and varies, but I know you are a believer. More importantly, I know that God’s Hand rests upon our relationship.
The miracle of bringing us together, through all the odds against us, is the only proof I need. Trust in that, as I do.”
He said no more, steering her with gentle pressure to her back, where his hand rested, to commence a thorough exploration of the church.
His words soothed her overactive mind in a way she could not explain.
Considering where they were, it was sensible to give the credit where due, her silent prayers of thankfulness offered in a continual litany as she walked closely beside the man she loved more with each passing hour.
For over two hours they drifted from one awe-inspiring view to another, separately and sometimes together.
The wealth of beauty, history, and spiritual imagery overwhelmed.
Lizzy knew she would never sort through all the mental pictures or remember the poetic writings, inscriptions, and famous persons entombed.
In fact, after a while, she stopped trying to maintain order in her mind or read the monument engravings.
Instead, she opted to bask in the glorious atmosphere and delightful impressions.
Eventually, they wandered outside via the great north door, the need for fresh air and space winning over the desire to investigate every inch of the interior, which was impossible to do in one visit anyway.