Chapter 16
The following day, Mary had to force herself to visit her sister. She was still vexed with Elizabeth’s comments about beauty. But knowing her duty to her father, she knocked gently, then opened the door to see whether Elizabeth was awake.
As soon as she stepped into the room, Elizabeth, sitting up in bed, reached out with both hands to her. Mary caught the glimmer of tears shining in her sister’s eyes.
“Mary, I am so glad you have come to see me today. I must speak with you. I have not slept but a wink last night, and I fear tonight will be no different if I do not settle things between us.”
“Oh?” Mary was so surprised, she could think of nothing else to say. She crossed the room and sat beside the bed to give Elizabeth her full attention.
“Mary, I wish to apologize for my thoughtless and hateful comments yesterday. Not only was I far too harsh about my own, dear daughter, but I greatly fear you might feel I was also speaking of you in some way. I was not—please be assured of that. I can only account for my language by saying I was feeling weak and unwell yesterday, and I let my mood get the better of my manners. Please excuse me. You have come all this way just to cheer me up, and now if I have hurt your feelings to the point where you wish to leave and return to Longbourn, I shall be so angry with myself. Please say you will forgive me, please.”
Mary blinked a moment, taking in this remarkable apology. “Of course, I forgive you, Lizzy. After all, the Bible exhorts us to forgive our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”
Elizabeth nodded. “But do speak from your heart please, Mary—not the Bible. Do you accept my apology?”
Mary could see remorse in her sister’s eyes—and a hint of fear as well. She felt her own resentment melt away.
“Yes, Lizzy, I fully accept your apology. Let there be no impediment to our sisterly bond.”
Elizabeth exhaled and smiled. “Thank you, Mary. Now—if you will ring the bell for tea, I have a treat for us.” She reached under the covers and pulled out two letters.
She held them up, with an excited expression.
“These two letters arrived today, and I have saved them to read with you. One is from Jane, and one is from Charlotte. Let us savor their news and gossip and have a happy afternoon together.”
Mary returned Elizabeth’s smile. She could not think of a better way to spend the next couple of hours.
***
For two days, Mr. Bennet had gone to his and Amelia’s usual meeting place for their afternoon walk and found no one waiting for him. He had tarried for a quarter hour both times, hopeful that she would appear, only to be disappointed and continue his walk alone.
On the third day, finding himself unmet yet again, he turned from his usual path and went to the rectory.
Perhaps she was ill. He knocked on the door and asked to see Mrs. Withers.
He was shown to the parlor, and after a few minutes, Amelia entered, a subdued expression on her face.
She remained near the door, making no effort to come closer.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Bennet,” she greeted him as she dropped a polite curtsey. “I hope you are well this day.”
He stood. “I am, thank you. It is you I have come to inquire about. You have not met me for our walk for three days now. I feared you were ailing.”
Amelia glanced behind her and shut the door, then motioned Mr. Bennet to sit, taking a place on the settee across from him, leaning in to speak softly.
“I am well—be assured. I have not been able to walk of late because I feel our rambles are putting you in a somewhat compromising position.”
“How so?”
Amelia took a deep breath before replying. “Remember the recent walk we took when you plucked a leaf from my bonnet and I impulsively brought your hand to my cheek?”
“I do. Why do you bring this up? If you are worried that I considered your action inappropriate, be at ease. It felt both natural and comfortable.”
“Indeed, it was for me as well. But you see—someone witnessed that act and has made mention of it to Robert.”
“How dare someone spy upon me! Who was it?”
“It matters not who it is. But for the sake of our reputations, we must reduce our time together in public. And we must be more circumspect in our behavior towards one another at all times so that, if we are seen, no one will suspect we are anything other than…indifferent acquaintances who happen to be walking together.”
Mr. Bennet pressed his lips together a moment then rose, crossed over, and sat beside Amelia, taking her hand. She did not pull back but did not look at him. He spoke in a low voice, gazing at her intently. “But we are more than indifferent acquaintances, are we not?”
When she remained silent, he softly stroked her hand. “I do not think I am misinterpreting your feelings for me. I confess, my own inclination towards you has led me to hope for a time—very soon—when we may be quite close…Amelia.”
Hearing him speak her given name brought tears to her eyes. She lifted her face to his, but still could not speak.
“Am I wrong to speak of this?” Mr. Bennet asked, anxiety in his voice. “Am I being a presumptuous old man? If you do not return my feelings, you have only to say so, and I shall be silent on the issue from here on.”
She gave a gentle smile and placed a hand on one of his. “I do return your feelings…Eugene. I never anticipated it, nor sought it, but I do care for you a great deal.” Her face turned serious. “But you are still in mourning! It would be a scandal for us to make any pronouncement at this time.”
He nodded. “I am aware of that. And while I do not care three straws for society’s good opinion of me, out of deference and respect to my late wife’s memory, we cannot make our…
understanding known—yet.” He drew her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.
“Dearest Amelia. I shall count the days until the mourning period ends.”
“As shall I,” Amelia replied breathlessly.
“And dash it all—I still wish to walk with you! The exercise is quite beneficial to me, I find. We shall simply take more care where we walk and be mindful of our comportment when together. But I simply cannot be content only seeing you at our dining table once or twice a month, or at church. Will you continue to meet me for our strolls—at least three times a week? Are you agreeable to that?”
Knowing she should say no for her brother’s sake, Amelia instead replied, “Oh yes. Very agreeable, my dear Eugene.”
***
Two days later, Mr. Bennet and the rector sat in the parsonage’s study. Yarby had sent a note to his employer, asking to discuss something of importance. When he related his decision for Mr. Collins to work at the parish, Mr. Bennet blurted his astonishment.
“I simply do not understand it, Mr. Yarby—of all people to bring on as curate—Mr. Collins! I suppose if your health is in need of assistance that is one thing, but I wish you had consulted me beforehand. I should have severely counseled you to find another candidate—any other candidate, for that matter,” he ended in a mutter.
Mr. Yarby shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He knew he could not confess the real reason Mr. Collins was sharing the pulpit now, and he hated exceedingly to lie to his employer as he considered how to reply.
“It will be temporary at best, I am certain. I shall be my old self soon and able to handle things on my own. I am…quite grateful to Mr. Collins for stepping in.”
“Frankly, I am surprised my pompous cousin would even take on the curacy—a demotion of sorts as it is.”
Mr. Yarby fiddled with a letter opener on his desk. He found it hard to look Mr. Bennet in the eyes. “Oh…no. He was…most gracious. And I am certain he will be accepted by the congregation. All will be well, Mr. Bennet, have no fear.”
“But this will be a financial burden to you, will it not? I wish I could afford to supplement what you will pay Mr. Collins to lessen the impact on you, but I allow I am unable to.”
Yarby raised solemn eyes to Mr. Bennet. “I would not permit you to do so, sir. The…reasons for taking on Mr. Collins are mine, and I alone must bear the cost. My sister is quite good with a budget. We shall be fine.”
Later, as Mr. Bennet reflected upon the rector’s words, they had all the appearance of sincerity, yet they rang hollow to his ear. He made a note to himself to ask Amelia about it when they next walked.
However, he found Amelia every bit as reluctant to discuss the matter as her brother. Several times during their stroll, he pressed her for the real reason her brother had hired Mr. Collins, but she would only demur and say he “knows best, no doubt.”
At last, Mr. Bennet had no choice but to drop the subject. But his instinct told him there was something else at play. And he determined he would do his best to somehow get to the bottom of it.
***
November 5
Dear Amelia,
I hope this letter finds both you and Mr. Yarby well. Thank you for your last letter, and for writing that my father and sister are both enjoying good health. I appreciate your visiting them—the house must seem so empty now, and I am certain you keep them from dwelling upon it.
I feel quite settled now at Pemberley and have a routine that is not too taxing.
I spend mornings with my sister Lizzy, sometimes accompanied by Mr. Darcy’s younger sister, Georgiana.
Together, we have exhorted Lizzy to leave her sick bed and begin walking a bit—first around her room, then up and down the hallways, and finally to come downstairs and sit in the morning room for brief periods.
Her color is better, and she seems to have more stamina.
Her husband’s relief is palpable. I never believed I had the least skill in nursing, but perhaps I am wrong and can claim some minor talent in this regard.
In the afternoons, Georgiana and I go for walks around the grounds of Pemberley if the weather is fine, or I read if not.
We often play the pianoforte too. Sometimes we perform together, sometimes separately, but she has been kind enough to coach me on some of the finer points of my playing, and I hope when we next see each other, you will notice, perhaps, some not insignificant improvement in my performance.
She has also helped me with my dancing. How kind she has been to spend so much effort on me.
In truth, she has shown more sisterly affection than most of the Bennet sisters!
I do not wish to write unkind things about my family, but you know me too well for me to try and dissemble in my discourse.
After tea, I return to my sister’s room when they bring the baby to her for a visit.
Lavinia Jane, although still small, is also improving in health, and I believe fears of her not thriving have been put to rest. She seems to have taken to me quite well, and I find I adore holding her—another revelation to me.
Despite all the kindness shown to me, and the marvelous library at Pemberley, I long to return to Longbourn, my family and, of course, your society.
As rapidly as Lizzy is improving, I expect I may depart for home in early December if the roads are not too bad.
Everyone here wishes me to remain for Christmas, but I would much prefer to be at home since Papa wrote he is not planning on traveling with Kitty to Pemberley as we always have in the past. I fear he thinks such company would be too taxing on Lizzy.
So it will be a quiet Christmas at Longbourn.
I look forward to it and to hearing Mr. Yarby’s first Christmas sermon.
With kindest regards,
Your friend,
Mary Bennet