Chapter 7 Sensational Revelation #4
Georgiana’s gaze darted between the two, confused by the banter, to Darcy’s relief.
Then she shrugged, declaring, “I’ll spare you guessing my favorite aspect of the chapel, Miss Elizabeth.
It is the organ! A fabulous instrument built by organ specialist Abraham Jordon of elegantly carved oak and brass pipes.
It dates to 1732, and the sound is incredible.
The rector let me play it once. Oh, it was such a thrill! ”
“If only your recollection of and enthusiasm for historical dates and facts filtered to other subjects besides music.” His tease was accented by a brotherly peck on her cheek and tweak to her nose before he opened the door and hopped out of the carriage.
Assisting Georgiana from the carriage first, he then turned to Elizabeth, watching as she scrutinized the outside of Grosvenor Chapel.
“I can already understand your appreciation, William,” she said after a few minutes.
“It is the classical form and modesty of construction, as seen in the simple tan bricks and white stucco, and in the pediment gables which are bold and in the Romanesque style reminiscent of Pemberley. Even the bell tower, though shorter than I suspect you would prefer, is strong and beautifully ornamental.”
Leaving off her visual inspection of the chapel, she looked up at him and continued softly.
“You are a man of contradictions in many ways.
The grandeur, dramatic beauty, and boldness of Baroque styling appeals to you greatly, I believe.
Yet, when tempered with aspects of romanticism and the picturesque, a perfect balance is achieved for your sensibilities—an equal melding of the natural form and minimalism expressing harmony and reserve, with the intense contrasts and opulence declaring power and wealth.
“Your aesthetic style is a dichotomy, of sorts, as is your personality in many respects. The exception to this is in your relationship with God and how you believe it best manifested in a house of worship. My guess is that while you can appreciate the artistic beauty of ornate architecture, sculptures, paintings, and the like, you feel it subtracts from the purity and simplicity of the Biblical message. Hence, a plain chapel such as this is more to your liking, as it was, I deduce, for your grandfather.”
This was not the first time Elizabeth had amazed him at her insights into his soul and mind, so perhaps he should not have been so stunned.
Nevertheless, once again, he was flabbergasted.
He could not recall discussing his personal religious beliefs with her beyond the most cursory of comments, and after touring Westminster Abbey, where grandeur and opulent architecture were prevalent, it would be logical for her to conclude that more to his taste.
Instead, she somehow comprehended his feelings on the subject with absolute accuracy and summarized her conclusions in precise language.
“I can only attribute your remarkable insights to Him, Elizabeth. I swear you know me better than I know myself.” He lifted her gloved hand for a light kiss, then placed it on his forearm. Offering the other arm to Georgiana, he escorted his two favorite women toward the small church.
The possibility of encountering people of his acquaintance who might have heard the lies disseminated by Lady Catherine de Bourgh had occurred to him moments after Elizabeth asked to accompany him and Georgiana to church services.
There were much higher odds of it happening at the chapel attended by many of the families who resided in the Mayfair district, which included Grosvenor Square.
His joy over her request overcame the worst of his anxieties.
Furthermore, as far as he was aware, over a week in London had passed without any confrontations or overheard whispers disturbing Elizabeth.
Darcy was beginning to believe the gossip wasn’t as bad as his cousin Richard had reported, had already faded away as gossip naturally did when unfuelled, or had given way to a more scintillating scandal.
Despite this, he was on alert as they entered the church.
Being a reserved, closemouthed, and somewhat aloof man by nature, and with a sister who instantly reverted to her innate shyness when in a crowd, it was typical for the Darcys to nod noncommittally as they silently passed through.
If there was one skill Mr. Darcy of Pemberley possessed that was as natural to him as breathing, it was the ability to exude imperious indifference and ignore anyone he chose to.
With this tactic in his favor, and the fact that services were soon to begin, he adroitly evaded conversation.
Even Elizabeth’s sunny smile and openly welcome expression failed against the perfected aura of Darcy unsociability.
Darcy led his sister and fiancée through the chapel narthex, ascended the stairs to the upper gallery, and unlocked the door to the secluded box-pew long ago designated for the Darcy family.
Elizabeth’s faint gasp and lifted brows indicated surprise over something. Confused, Darcy used his assistance in seating as a cover to whisper into her ear, “Is something amiss, Elizabeth?”
“Not at all,” she quickly reassured him, smiling.
“I’ve just never seen such plush seating and unique construction in a pew.
” She ran her hand over the lacquered mahogany paneling, then gently patted the red velvet cushions covering the bench seat.
“I’m rather jealous, to be honest. These benches are molded into a curve befitting the human body to prevent the inevitable aching back.
Furthermore, I’m lamenting the years of sitting on the hard pews in our Meryton church where, apparently, no one considered adding a cushion! ”
“It is a toss-up, I suppose. Too comfortable and one may fall asleep, particularly if the priest is less than riveting in his delivery. Too uncomfortable and the soreness of one’s buttocks preoccupies rather than the message.”
“Indeed,” she agreed, stifling a laugh. “Although, for me, it was the sharp edges digging into my shoulder blades that annoyed. Whichever Darcy ancestor came up with the brilliant idea of curved and padded backs has earned my undying gratitude.”
“Alas, I doubt it was a Darcy invention, as all the pew boxes have them. However, it was my grandfather who increased the depth of this row and added the small footstools. He was taller than me, and legs our length quickly cramp up in tight spaces.”
“Taller than you? My goodness, he must have been a giant.”
“He always seemed so to me, for a host of reasons. I wish you could have known him, Elizabeth, and my father as well. They would have adored you.”
The statement was true, Darcy knew it for certain in his heart, although why the sentiment chose that moment to slip out, he could not say. Her eyes grew slightly misty, and she swiftly caressed the top of his hand where it lay on his thigh as she glanced down into the nave.
It seems we are both easily affected by maudlin emotions these days, he thought, unsure whether this was laughable or alarming. The entrance of the choir as the organ sprang into life diverted further personal analyzing of his strangely unbridled sentimentality.
Upon later evaluation, Darcy would acknowledge the fault in averting the unpleasant after-service encounter lay solely upon his shoulders.
Elizabeth’s proximity throughout the worship and sermon gave him a taste of their future as one soul united in God.
Blanketed in the warmth of his emotions, he exited the church with his guard lowered, mind numbed, and focus narrowed.
At the shouting of his name from amid the milling crowd of churchgoers, he stopped and turned, a bemused smile fixed upon his lips. Worst yet, upon seeing the two men hastening directly toward him with two finely dressed women trailing behind, his smile broadened.
Not a single bell of warning chimed.
* * *
The only bells Lizzy heard were from the residual ringing song of the excellent church choir and organ.
Arm linked with Mr. Darcy’s, she exited the chapel in step with him, but her attention was on the bubbly girl skipping to her left.
Georgiana gushed on about the organ’s tonal qualities, pipe speech, reed timbres, and other technical notations which were gibberish to Lizzy.
This mattered not, of course, as Georgiana was precious in her joyful enthusiasm, and Lizzy was far too happy to be perturbed by anything.
In truth, her mood was remarkably similar to Mr. Darcy’s.
For starters, she had never enjoyed a Sunday service to the extent she had this one.
The music truly was as fantastic as Georgiana claimed, and the priest spoke his message in a voice both pleasant in tone and lively in elocution.
The latter was a rarity, Lizzy unable to resist whispering a comparison with Mr. Collins into Mr. Darcy’s ear, his chuckle thankfully unheard from their sheltered pew in the upper level.
Jesting at her ridiculous cousin’s expense notwithstanding, Lizzy’s present disposition arose in part from the service itself, but not as the primary source. Unlike her serious, religiously inclined betrothed, until recently Lizzy had never envisioned standing in worship with a future spouse.
The night before, when requesting to join him, she had said, “I long with all my heart to be your wife and partner, William. Standing beside you in church, I can, if only for a short while, feel as if I already am.” Though spoken with sincerity, she had not expected how real the illusion of being his wife would feel.
An ordinary, weekly ritual engaged in more times than she could count had today become a momentous experience.