Chapter 23 A Wedding at Rosings Park
Richard tapped upon Lady Catherine’s bedchamber door, then opened it and stepped inside. Anne sat bowed over her mother’s form, weeping.
At the sound of his footsteps, she rose and hurried to him. “Richard, Mamma’s pulse is very weak and grows fainter with time. I am afraid.”
He gathered her against him, his arms holding her fast. “I am here for you, Annie. You are not alone.”
“Richard, do not leave me.”
“I am here. I shall not leave you.”
“You left me for years. I have been so alone.”
“I am here now, Annie, and I shall not leave you. We shall marry and be happy together.”
She wept openly. “We must wait for months. You cannot remain here, for I have no chaperone.”
“We may marry tomorrow, or the day following, and if your mother does not recover from this attack, you shall at least have me beside you.”
She drew back, pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, and dabbed at her eyes.
“Tomorrow? You would marry me tomorrow?”
“Yes, Annie. We have always loved one another.” He laughed softly. “Do you remember how you used to follow after me everywhere?”
“Yes.”
“The others would ride ahead, but I always remained behind, waiting for you. Even then, I wished to protect you. We have been apart many years, yet it seems to me that nothing between us has changed, save that you are grown now and very beautiful.”
She rested against his chest. “Richard, I have missed you these many years. I have spent hours on my knees, begging God to send His angels to protect you. I prayed for you always.”
“Did you, Darling?”
“Yes, I did. After all, He sent angels to Daniel when he languished in the den of lions. Why should He not send them to you?”
He bent and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you, my darling, for your prayers. They brought me safely home. I saw so much during the war, so many fine men lost. But for the grace of God…”
She slipped an arm about him and raised her eyes to his. “Oh, Richard, you returned to me safe. And now you say we may marry. Do you speak in earnest? We may marry tomorrow?”
“Yes, though it would ease matters if we married the day after. Tomorrow I could ride to London and procure a common license. It may occupy most of the day…”
“No, do not ride through the night. Wait until morning and then return. Mr. Collins shall marry us. I will make the arrangements here. What if Mamma should pass while you are away?”
“Then have Garvey prepare her body for burial. I shall arrange everything upon my return. But we shall marry whether she lives or dies. It will be a quiet ceremony, and our marriage will allow us to remain together. I shall be here to attend to all matters. Do not fear, Annie.”
And so it was. Richard Fitzwilliam and Anne de Bourgh were married quietly in Hunsford Church, with Mrs. Collins and Mr. Darcy standing as witnesses.
The colonel had gone away to London and procured the license while Anne kept vigil at her mother’s side.
They both considered it a mercy that Lady Catherine’s condition remained unchanged, though Dr. Miller urged caution, declaring it still too early to know whether she would recover.
After the wedding service, the Rosings party returned to the great house, but Mary remained behind. She walked beside her husband back to the parsonage to pack a few additional gowns to last her through the end of the week.
“Mrs. Collins, when do you mean to return home?”
She lifted her eyes to her husband, who stood at the entrance to her chamber regarding her with disapproval.
“Sir, I can hardly abandon my sister to the care of servants and strangers. What would the family think of us?”
His expression softened. “But of course. We must always attend to appearances. How fares Miss Elizabeth? Will she recover? Does she require prayers for the sick?”
“Dr. Miller says she improves, though she remains very ill and requires continual treatments. I sent for my elder sister, and she arrived last evening. She sat up with Elizabeth through the night, and I was able to sleep for a few hours. Once Lizzy no longer requires care throughout the day and night, I will return to you, sir.”
Mary hesitated, debating whether she ought to disclose Lady Catherine’s condition. The family had not summoned her husband, but in the end she chose to tell him, fearing he might resent her if he learned she had kept the news from him.
“Sir, Lady Catherine was struck down last night. I know not whether it was a faint or an apoplexy. I know not her true condition, for the family does not speak of it.”
Mr. Collins fell silent, genuine concern crossing his features. “I must go at once and offer my services to the family. I may provide spiritual comfort and pray for her ladyship.” He then asked, “Does Miss Elizabeth also require my services?”
“No, sir. She sleeps through much of the day and night. Miss Georgiana attends her when I am absent, and now that Jane has arrived, Lizzy has all the assistance she requires. I believe, sir, your efforts would be better directed toward Lady Catherine.”
“Yes, certainly. The great lady of the estate must command my services before one of lesser consequence.”
Mary lowered her eyes and answered only, “Yes, sir.” She knew she must keep him far from Elizabeth. She had observed his attraction to her sister from the moment Lizzy first came among them. Mary resolved to watch over her sister and ensure that Mr. Collins came nowhere near her.
Downstairs in the drawing room, the men celebrated quietly. Darcy raised his glass. “To long life and marital felicity.”
Richard grinned and drained his drink. “I am happy, Darcy. Annie is a clever little minx. I shall never know boredom with her for a wife. She is far livelier than I ever imagined.”
“Yes. Our aunt kept her too much under her command. If Lady Catherine recovers, she may remove to the dower house, or we may settle her at one of the watering places, Ramsgate, Bath, or Weymouth. I am sorry your wedding day has been clouded by so melancholy a circumstance.”
“It is well, Darcy. I am a very happy man.”
Both gentlemen rose as Dr. Miller was shown in.
“Come, Dr. Miller. I shall take you up to my mother-in-law.”
Dr. Miller extended his hand. “Congratulations, Colonel. I wish you every happiness.”
Richard grinned. “Thank you, doctor. I am exceedingly happy.”
They reached Lady Catherine’s chamber, and all three gentlemen entered.
The two cousins stood back while the physician examined his patient.
Dr. Miller first checked her pulse, then placed his ear against her chest to listen to her heart.
Afterward, he performed a curious test. Both gentlemen watched as he uncovered one of her feet and drew his thumb firmly along the sole.
Her toes curled upward in a rigid spasm.
When he finished, he turned to Anne. “Mrs. Fitzwilliam, I am sorry, but you must prepare yourself. Your mother will not survive beyond the week.”
Tears slipped down Anne’s cheeks as he continued. “Lady Catherine’s pulse is weak and thready, and the spasmodic contraction of her foot indicates a grave injury to the brain.”
Richard moved to stand next to his wife, his arm about her shoulders to steady her. He placed his handkerchief in her hand.
“Doctor, is there anything we may offer my mother for her comfort?”
“Yes. Laudanum will prove a mercy to her. It should ease the spasms of the body. Increase the dose if the rigidity worsens.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“I shall send my man with a bottle of laudanum.”
“No, you need not. I still have a bottle of what remained from my dear Maria.”
He inclined his head. “Send for me if you require more or if you should need anything at all. And now I shall attend my other patient.”
Richard drew a chair and settled next to his wife. Darcy, meanwhile, followed the physician.
They were admitted by Miss Jane Bennet. Dr. Miller introduced himself, and Jane led him to Elizabeth’s bedside.
After examining his patient, he turned to the two sisters with a comforting smile.
“She recovers quickly. Air now moves much more freely throughout the lungs. Does she still have a productive cough?”
“The coughing fits are very trying for Lizzy, but she is more wakeful and says her breathing is easier. She has taken broth, and Cook sent up a pudding which she finished.”
“Very good. She is beginning to regain her appetite and is taking fluids.”
From the far wall where he stood, Mr. Darcy asked, “Sir, if she improves, why does the fever remain?”
“Her body still labors against the inflammation, sir.” He turned to the ladies. “Is she as hot as she was when she first fell ill?”
Mary said, “No, sir. The fevers come and go, but they are never so severe as when she first fell ill.”
He turned to Mr. Darcy. “Continue the percussion treatments. She requires them at least three times each day. Ladies, continue with the tinctures and hot packs. I am greatly pleased with her recovery.”
Mr. Darcy escorted the physician out, and the ladies remained in Elizabeth’s chamber.
“Jane, I must soon return to the parsonage and to Mr. Collins.”
“Is he so very bad, Mary?”
After a long pause, Mary replied, “No, he is not cruel. He is respectful, he has never raised a hand against me, and he pays me every attention, yet I cannot like him, Jane.”
“What is it that troubles you, sister?”
“Jane, Mr. Collins is condescending, and all his remarks spring from a place of superiority. I am but a woman to him. An uneducated, penniless woman. He is forever instructing me, as though I cannot reason for myself. He speaks to me as if I were a simple child who knows no better, rather than a grown woman. I do not know how I shall endure a lifetime at his side.”
Jane embraced her sister.
“You may visit Longbourn whenever you wish, and when Lizzy and I are married, you shall visit each of us as well. You may enjoy several months’ reprieve from him every year, for we shall take care not to invite Mr. Collins upon our sisterly visits.”
Mary could not help but laugh.
“Now tell me about yourself, Jane. Tell me everything about Mr. Bingley.”
Jane’s expression fell before softening into something wistful.
“Mr. Bingley is handsome and every inch a gentleman. His countenance is open and pleasing, and his manners are easy and unaffected. Oh, Mary, he is exactly what a young man ought to be, sensible, good-humored, lively. I never witnessed such happy manners, such ease joined with perfect good breeding.” She clasped Mary’s hands.
“And he is handsome besides, with blue eyes, a finely formed nose, and curly golden-red hair. He is a paragon among men.”
“But what occurred to send him away? I understood he paid you great attention.”
“Oh yes, attentions beyond anything I had ever hoped to receive from any gentleman. And to receive such attentions from a man so superior to all others seemed almost beyond belief. I walked upon clouds, sister. I was so happy.”
Her voice faltered.
“And then, not a fortnight later, he departed. He explained that business required him in London, but promised he would return within the week.”
“Not three days after he left, his sisters closed Netherfield and departed as well. I received a letter from Miss Caroline Bingley informing me that the entire party had gone to town with no intention of returning.”
Jane began to weep quietly. “It all happened so quickly, in September, just after Lizzy came to visit you. It astonishes me that a man whom I knew so little could leave behind so deep a wound. I have been exceedingly unhappy.”
“My dear Jane, I believe it is because you imagined yourself married to him, keeping his house and bearing his children. When he left, it was the death of all your hopes.”
Jane looked at her sister. “Is it so for you as well?”
“Yes. I imagined a life of purpose beside the rector, caring for the people of the parish, managing his household, and one day bearing his children. Yet he is so provoking that my greatest wish each morning is for him to leave the house early and remain away until nightfall.”
“And does he?”
“Yes, several times each week. The parishioners often send for him. He is quite another man in company. Before others, he is deferential and humble, while at home with me, he is superior and proud. He sees only that I brought nothing to the marriage.”
Jane and Mary sat together sharing their grief over disappointed hopes and lost dreams until at last Jane persuaded Mary to retire, while she herself remained beside Elizabeth, tending her sister through the night.