Lydia’s Story #8
To my surprise, Darcy emerged from within.
He was impeccably dressed, as usual, with his prominent sideburns flawlessly trimmed.
My brother-in-law’s midnight tailcoat topped a dark-patterned waistcoat, and his snowy cravat was tied in an artful knot.
“My dearest sister,” he said with a frosty kiss on my cheek. “I trust you are well.”
“Well enough, thank you,” I lied as we all climbed back into the conveyance. “Where are we going?”
“You shall soon see,” Lizzy said.
We were silent for most of the ride. Darcy and I rarely had much to say to each other, mostly because I sensed his disdain. Lizzy said it was just Darcy being shy and a bit awkward, but I remained skeptical. Although the coach was quiet, a sense of anticipation buzzed off of Lizzy.
I nervously adjusted my bonnet. I’d dressed with care, donning an emerald-green gown with a round neck and a dark green band just above my waist. My bonnet was adorned with a matching ribbon.
Darcy finally spoke. “Your sister tells me that the local vicar has made you a proposal of marriage,” he remarked in his usual solemn manner.
“He has,” I replied, not at all surprised by Lizzy’s loose tongue. I had the impression she kept few secrets from her husband. “But I turned him down.”
“It that because you don’t care for the man, or due to Squire Worsley’s interference? If I may ask.”
“I find the vicar to be most amiable, but, as you know, my reputation precedes me. The squire has made it very clear that he will not abide the marriage.”
“If it were not for the squire, am I to understand that you should like to marry Mr. Haddad?”
Why did he insist on twisting the knife? “Yes,” I said, remembering the feel of Michael’s lips pressing against mine. “I believe I would.”
“I see.” Darcy remained expressionless.
The carriage came to a stop. I glanced out the window. We were at the church. Michael’s church.
Alarm rippled through me. “What are we doing here?”
Lizzy’s eyes twinkled. “We are attending Sunday services.”
“We?”
“Yes.” She grinned. “We.”
“I am not,” I said furiously. “I no longer attend church.”
“That won’t do for the future wife of a vicar,” she said.
“I told you that I am not marrying Michael.”
“Why won’t you go to church?” she asked.
“You know perfectly well why,” I said. “I am not welcome.”
“Instead of hiding yourself in shame, when will you hold your head up high and claim your rightful place in Castleberry?” she asked. “You blame everyone for not accepting you, but the truth is you hide yourself away so much that your absence fosters even more gossip.”
Darcy remained silent while he watched our exchange.
Panic gripped me. “I cannot go in there.”
“You can,” Lizzy urged. “The squire said we don’t support you. Let us show him and all of Castleberry that we do.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t face the disapproving looks I was bound to receive from a church full of people. “I cannot.”
“If you will not do it for yourself, then do it for Mr. Haddad.”
“My attending church will hurt Michael, not help him. Why are you asking me to provoke a scandal?”
Lizzy tried a different approach. “If your alliance has damaged the vicar’s reputation in any way, having Darcy and myself attend his service will help bolster his standing in this community.”
I wanted to assist and protect Michael in any way I could. “Then go on in,” I said. “I shall wait here.”
Lizzy remained right where she was. “I’m not attending the service without you, and neither is Darcy.”
For once, I looked to Darcy for help. “Please talk some sense into your wife.”
“Would that I could,” he said in a mild tone. “But once Lizzy gets something into her mind, she is difficult to dissuade.”
“Very well,” I snapped. “Do not blame me if the entire congregation walks out in protest.”
We alighted from the coach. Darcy offered his arm. “We are beside you.”
Dread filled me as I allowed Darcy to escort me into the church. Most people had already been seated. A hush came over the pews as I proceeded down the aisle. And then the whispering began.
“The audacity,” someone said.
“How can she show her face in church?” another remarked in a loud whisper that was clearly meant to be overheard.
But instead of making me cower, the comments fueled me.
I lifted my chin and pulled back my shoulders.
I wasn’t doing this just for Michael any longer.
It was now for me as well. I wouldn’t allow these people to make me feel shame.
I’d done that for years. But no longer. I was tired of lowering my head to satisfy these people.
Whether they approved or not, I was part of this community.
I had shared my flowers with many a young suitor and fed even more of the villagers.
Darcy led us to the front row, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to take the best seat.
We arrived late enough that the service began almost as soon as we were seated.
Squire Worsley’s eyes widened when he realized who’d joined him in the front pew, which had low walls around it, and he dipped his head in respectful acknowledgment to Darcy just as Michael began the service.
He approached the pulpit wearing a black cassock and a shorter white surplice over his black suit. I had never seen him in his robes. They made him seem larger than life and more out of my humble reach than ever.
He began with a call for confession and repentance, a rite I remembered from the days before I met Wickham. As a girl, I viewed church as mostly an opportunity to socialize, which, of course, I adored. It had been many years since I’d attended Sunday services.
“We ought, at all times, to humbly acknowledge our sins,” Michael began.
I’d kept my head lowered, but his vibrant voice compelled me to look up to fully experience Michael in all of his glory.
My anticipation grew, my breath coming in shorter spurts, as I waited for him to realize that I was in attendance.
When our eyes finally met, his smile widened, and I felt the full force of his welcome.
I envied the parishioners who were fortunate to hear his sermon every Sunday.
The congregation knelt, reading a prayer aloud that confessed our sins and asked for forgiveness. “We have erred and strayed from our ways,” Michael said.
As I recited the prayer, a powerful feeling came over me. I felt the full effects of the words. The realization dawned that I was deserving of forgiveness.
Michael was compelling as he led us through the service.
He came even more alive, his voice, loud and clear, carrying throughout the church.
He made eye contact with his audience, and his expression was not severe and dour.
He smiled and was welcoming. We could all feel his joy, and it was infectious.
In that moment, I vowed never to do anything that would rob Michael of his ability to do what he was clearly born to do.
The service went by quickly, a huge change from girlhood when the hours-long services seemed like they would never end. But with Michael, I could easily listen forever. Once the final prayers were recited and the service ended, Squire Worsley was the first to hurry over and introduce himself.
“Mr. Darcy, welcome to our humble church. You honor us with your presence.”
“Worsley,” Darcy acknowledged the man in a tone that suggested he was doing him a great favor. For once, I appreciated Darcy’s distant dignity. “Allow me to make known my wife, Mrs. Darcy, and my sister in marriage, Mrs. Wickham.”
“We have had the pleasure of meeting,” Worsley said, darting a fleeting look in my general direction. Michael joined us, and I proudly introduced him to Lizzy and Darcy.
“How do you do?” Darcy said. “It gives me great joy to meet the man who is betrothed to my wife’s beloved sister.”
The air left my lungs. For Darcy to publicly express his approval of the union carried great power in a society that revered men of wealth and standing. Michael’s eyes lit with surprise, and then happiness.
“I am the most fortunate of men,” Michael said. He looked at me askance. Darcy’s approval was not sufficient; he needed to hear my acceptance of his proposal directly from me.
Our gazes locked. “And I am the most fortunate of women.”
Michael smiled widely at this acknowledgment, and I grinned back, exhilarated that we could be together after all.
Darcy, and Lizzy, had made it so.
Darcy turned to Worsley. “I trust you have heard the excellent news?”
Worsley flushed. “I offer my deepest congratulations to you both.” He dared not defy someone of Darcy’s stature.
His circumstances in life were dwarfed by Darcy’s.
By escorting me to church, Darcy had publicly acknowledged my role as a treasured member of his family.
In doing so, he shielded me with the full force of his influence.
And made my marriage to Michael possible.
Lizzy beamed. “They truly make a lovely couple. Wouldn’t you agree, Squire?”
“Yes,” Worsley said tightly. “I certainly do.”
Michael offered his arm, and I excitedly took it. The parishioners, who’d closely followed the conversation, shocked me with murmurs of congratulations as Michael led me up the aisle toward the exit.
“I look forward with great anticipation,” Michael said as he tucked my hand deeper into his elbow, “to your walking the opposite way down the aisle, to the altar.”
Anticipation rippled through me. “I cannot wait to meet you there.”
“Three weeks,” he said, “just long enough to read the banns, and then I will make you mine.”
“And you,” I said, “will be mine. Forever and always.”
I glanced back over my shoulder and caught Darcy’s eye. He dipped his chin, and, despite his dour expression, I registered the smile in his eyes.
At long last, after many years of wondering why Lizzy tolerated the man, I finally glimpsed what my sister saw in Mr. Darcy.