The Bennets (Providence & Perception)

Chapter 1

“Mr. Bennet!”

A shrill and familiar voice yanked Mr. Bennet’s attention from the book he was peacefully enjoying and startled him so thoroughly that he lost his grip, dropping the reading material into his lap.

He took a moment to compose himself and mark his place, then turned to the doorway of his library where his wife stood.

Her tapping foot, he noted, clearly signaled her irritation.

“Mr. Bennet, the carriage has arrived. Are you not going to wish me well?”

Mrs. Bennet rarely set foot in her husband’s library unless it was the only way to converse with him.

Mr. Bennet knew that his wife, never a reader, found the room dusty and dull, preferring to spend her time in the family’s sitting room or upstairs in her private bedroom.

Her absence from his book room made it that much more of a sanctuary for Mr. Bennet, which is why he spent so many hours in it.

He took a deep breath and studied his wife who was wearing her new pelisse trimmed in swan’s down, purchased solely for this trip.

When he had chided her over the bill, she had thrown a fit, declaring that of course she must look her best on her visit, or what would the acquaintances of their youngest daughter think of her?

No point in bringing it up again, however. He just smiled.

“I am, my dear,” he replied calmly. “Have a good trip. Would that I could join you to see our Lydia and Mr. Wickham—not to mention the grandchildren. But I must devote myself to securing a new rector for Longbourn parish. We have been without one for nearly a month now.”

“Yes, quite inconvenient for Mr. Dudley to die so suddenly. How could he be so vexing?”

Mr. Bennet suppressed a smile. “Well, the good Lord giveth and taketh away in equal measure, and I am certain He must have had more important things on His mind than how His calling Mr. Dudley home would force me to give up my share of the visit.” He gestured to some papers on his desk.

“Bishop Wilson has sent me applications for three highly viable candidates from which to choose Mr. Dudley’s replacement.

While you are intent on pleasure up north, I shall study them carefully.

By the time you return, we very well may have a new vicar. ”

Mrs. Bennet made a scoffing sound. “What does Bishop Wilson have to do with it? You own the advowson. That gives you the ability to choose whomever you wish for Longbourn parish! Why should Bishop Wilson have a say?”

“It is true the advowson gives me complete and legal right to fill the living. As it stands, however, I have no particular rector candidates in mind just now, so I thought it best to ask for some guidance from our bishop.” He chuckled.

“It cannot hurt to stay on his good side, after all, and let him believe he had a say in my choice.”

“I suppose you are right,” Mrs. Bennet said peevishly. “Oh, if only Mr. Dudley had left us sooner when all five of our daughters were still available. Then you could have given the living to Mr. Collins, and he might have married one of our girls!”

“Thanks to Charlotte Lucas, that ship has long sailed, my dear, and I think it highly unlikely my cousin would have been willing to leave the distinguished patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh in any case. Besides, with three of our five daughters securely wed, we can have little reason to complain. Now, come—you have a long ride ahead of you.”

Mr. Bennet escorted his wife outside to the waiting carriage.

He inhaled deeply, enjoying the moist, earthy odor of new spring growth.

A breeze sent white petals down on them from the nearby blossoming apple trees, causing Mrs. Bennet to brush them off her new coat in agitation.

Their middle two daughters, Mary and Kitty, were standing by the carriage.

Each gave their mother a hug and kiss, then Mr. Bennet helped her inside and gave her a peck on the cheek.

Mrs. Bennet fretted as she settled into her seat. “I should feel safer on the long journey if you were with me; I fear for my poor nerves! Are you absolutely certain you cannot join me?”

“Young Master Miles will keep you safe; have no worries. It is nearly mid-May now, and the roads will give you no trouble. Give my apologies to Lydia and Wickham, kiss the twins, and I shall see you in a month’s time.

Write if you like; I am certain Mary and Kitty would enjoy hearing all the news of their sister and nephews from up north. ”

“Well, I can try, of course, but I am certain Lydia will keep me far too entertained to write.” Mrs. Bennet shot a sharp glance at her daughters.

“However, I shall rely on hearing from both of you very often. Relay all the town gossip—especially if you hear aught of what is behind Miss Bailey’s broken engagement.

I could have told her that man was not to be trusted, and indeed, I did tell her mother so, but she paid me no mind—”

Mr. Bennet interrupted his wife’s diatribe. “Yes, yes—well, you have a long journey ahead of you, my dear. Best be off now.” He stepped back and nodded to the driver and Miles, the young man hired to travel along as escort.

The carriage lurched forward, prompting a little yip of surprise from Mrs. Bennet who nearly lost her balance.

Recovering, she leaned out of the window and shook her handkerchief, calling goodbye.

Mary, Kitty, and Mr. Bennet waved back until the carriage turned off Longbourn grounds and out of sight.

“It will seem so quiet with Mama gone,” Kitty mused as they reentered their home.

“No doubt you and your sister will fill the silent space with little difficulty.” Mr. Bennet turned towards his library. “I have much work to do. Why do you not take a walk into Meryton? I shall see you at dinner, my dears.”

***

Back at his desk, Mr. Bennet again reviewed the bishop’s submissions of candidates for the vacant rector position at Longbourn.

At present, all were curates in small parishes.

Two came with stellar recommendations from the head rectors.

But neither they nor the bishop had included copies of recent sermons for him to review, which indicated the curates likely read sermons from one of the established books available to ministers.

That in itself was not unusual, but Mr. Bennet had hoped to see some original thinking displayed.

He was also suspicious of the overly effusive praise of two of the candidates.

It could be that the parish rectors were trying to rid themselves of their curates for some reason; perhaps, their writing or oratory skills were lacking.

Or worse, there might be a case of dallying with some young woman in the congregation.

He set the two applications aside and picked up the packet submitted on behalf of a Mr. Robert Yarby.

Thirty years of age, Yarby was fairly new to the ministry, having found his calling following the death of his physician father.

Since Mr. Yarby had been a curate for fewer than two years in a small parish in Dorset, he was not the strongest candidate, but his vicar, Mr. Smethurst, had written quite a positive recommendation, saying that he would miss Mr. Yarby but would also feel guilty for holding the young man back as he felt his curate had learned much and was ready now to lead a parish on his own.

Mr. Bennet read the three sermons Yarby had included—all clearly original.

There was an openness to his compositions that Mr. Bennet found youthful and refreshing.

Unless his delivery were dreadful, they most likely would not put him to sleep.

Besides, being eager for his first job as full vicar, Mr. Yarby would probably not balk at the modest living Longbourn provided, whereas the two more experienced curates might try to negotiate a higher wage.

But with an estate that yielded a yearly income of only ￡2,000, Mr. Bennet could guarantee little more than ￡120 a year from the parish’s tithes.

More could be earned, of course, from the fees for such services as christenings, marriages, and burials; still, it was a modest living—barely enough to hire a cook and maid—no doubt another reason there were but three candidates.

His mind made up, Mr. Bennet took out a fresh sheet of paper, dipped his pen in the inkwell, and began to write an invitation for Mr. Robert Yarby to come for a personal interview on Thursday next.

***

Elizabeth Bennet Darcy and her sister Jane Bingley were seated in the cozy parlor at Pemberley, enjoying their afternoon tea.

Jane had come to stay for a week or two at Lizzy’s pleading as Mrs. Darcy was nearing three months into her second pregnancy.

Her first pregnancy had produced a fine, healthy boy, and Elizabeth had no reason to fear, but this one had been a little more stressful than her first, and these were things only a sister could understand.

“Thank you again for coming, Jane. Fitzwilliam thinks I am being overly worried, but I just do not feel the same with this baby as I did with Thomas,” Elizabeth said softly.

She stroked her belly, just beginning to show a small swelling.

“Everything with him was so easy; I was hardly ever ill. But this child has been a trial every step of the way, and I have not even met him yet! Or her,” she added thoughtfully.

Jane replied with a warm smile. “I am always happy to be with you, Lizzy. And a few days away from my youngsters is a nice break.” Her smile vanished. “Oh. Not that I do not love them with all my heart—I do! I just…well, I mean—”

“—it is nice to have a change of scene and society?” Elizabeth finished Jane’s explanation in a teasing voice.

Her sister, face now turning red, nodded and took a sip of her tea.

“I understand,” Elizabeth continued. “You and Charles had three children in the first four years of marriage, whereas Fitzwilliam and I have had only the one. Thomas is a delightful handful, but I can only imagine the stress of having to cope with three—even with the help of a nursemaid.”

“I am sure Mama would have been most happy to come and help you had you asked,” Jane said.

“In point of fact, I did ask her. Not because I thought she would be as sympathetic as you or that I desired her company to that degree, but mostly to prevent her from running off north to be with Lydia and her twins again. Lydia takes such advantage of Mama, you know, and it vexes me greatly. Just because they can never seem to keep a servant for the nursery is no reason for her to call on Mama every few months so Lydia can have a break.”

“Mama could say no if she wanted to,” said Jane gently. “But I believe she likes to be needed. And Lydia is the most similar to Mama in personality and has always been her favorite.”

Elizabeth heaved a sigh. “I know. But there is one consolation: Papa gets to enjoy some peace and quiet when she is gone.”

Jane giggled. “He will be able to spend all his time in his library, reading without any guilt. I feel sorry for Kitty and Mary though. They will likely be bored to tears without our mother.”

“Well, it is only for a month or so. Then Mama will be back to disrupt life at Longbourn as usual.”