Chapter Forty-Six
M eryton church was known about the town to date back to the fourteenth century but was by no means considered worthy of any particular note, looking as it did very like a hundred other such buildings scattered across the country. Visitors to the area exclaimed more over the pretty and neatly kept churchyard, as the vicar's wife, Mrs. Robilard, had a notable way with flowers. But never having been in a large or even particularly wealthy parish, the church itself had not been designed to contain so many grand personages as it did on the fifteenth day of June 1811.
The vicar, by nature a retiring sort of man although performing his part well, did as was expected of him and greeted attendees by the door, welcoming them in his soft voice and passing them on to his curate to be seated. It seemed that each successive titled gentleman or lady that was shown to a pew gave the poor curate less notice than the previous, so occupied as they were by nodding to this acquaintance or another or attempting to catch the eye of an attendee more exalted than themselves.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet, had she been present to see her childhood church slowly filling up, might have been afforded some amusement at the sight of Lady Langley's eyes widening at the admittedly spectacular appearance of a purple-clad Mrs. Houghton making her way down the church aisle, the priceless amethysts nestled in the lace at her neck winking in the milky light. As it was full morning, the candles had not been lit, the sunlight spilling through the stained glass being deemed sufficient for the solemn ceremony to be conducted .
Miss de Bourgh of Rosings Park, less splendidly arrayed in a velvet brown pelisse and quite unaccompanied, was duly impressed by the quality of those in attendance. She was in a good temper that day, in spite of the tedium of travelling, for she nursed within herself a certain triumph that she had herself arranged the whole of the journey from Kent — arriving, just as she meant to, with a bare ten minutes to spare. She was beckoned over by her aunt, the Dowager Viscountess Langley .
“Anne, my dear, do come and sit beside Langley and me. He does not notice you. Langley, Langley . It is your cousin Anne as you see.” Swiftly giving up, Her Ladyship's curls quivered as her head turned back to her niece. “Mrs. Jenkinson does not attend you? But perhaps she remains at the back of the church — did Catherine instruct her to do so?” Lady Catherine had always been unnecessarily demeaning when it came to paid companions. Lewis, of course, had been too idle to correct her but he had certainly been raised better by their parents.
Anne nodded coolly to her cousin, who barely glanced in her direction to acknowledge her. “Mrs. Jenkinson was always Mama's subordinate rather than mine, Your Ladyship. I paid her off and I have not engaged another lady. I shall do so if I feel the need for one. Darcy wishes I might have one for the sake of respectability but I do not see why that ought to matter to me.”
“How wildly you speak, Anne! But it is good that you came — there are ever so many tonnish people here, you know. I spoke to Mrs. Lambeth and she said anyone who is anyone is desperate to have been invited. Do you see that gentleman over there speaking to your uncle Matlock? That is Mr. Gardiner — he is Mrs. Bennet's brother and a genius in the business world. Langley wishes to invest with him but Mrs. Gardiner is said to be a trifle high in the instep so it is by no means a done thing. The Gardiners , my dear!”
Anne observed the man as directed, thinking that he did not look nearly so impressive as her aunt's awe indicated. She elected to change the subject. “Who is Langley looking for? I am sure there are at least a few more minutes before the procession arrives.” Miss de Bourgh straightened the fur stole about her arms — it was too warm for it, of course, but she liked the softness. “This may be the last wedding I trouble myself to attend, Your Ladyship, for I do not enjoy them. There is so much waiting and so many people one must speak to. I only really decided to come because Mama forbade me and I thought it would be a good lesson — boundaries must be put in place, you know. ”
Lady Langley gaped, ignoring the more rebellious part of Anne's announcement. Catherine had ever been a difficult woman to live with — she knew that from when Lewis had brought the creature home. “Why on earth should she forbid you to come to the wedding of the season? She surely cannot begrudge your cousin his happiness, and to such a connected family as they are. Anyone who is anyone will be talking of today, and Mrs. Bennet herself says that a fashion will be set to hold the best weddings in the country rather than in London.”
Anne raised a brow at this prediction, little caring which venues silly women chose for the purpose of enslaving themselves. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet did not find favour in Mama's eyes. I believe there was an argument while she was in Kent.”
“Oh dear, I do hope the family will not hold Catherine against me,” said Her Ladyship, leaping to the accurate conclusion that any argument must be of her sister-in-law's making. “For Langley met Miss Mary Bennet in London and is so very set upon having her. It is as determined as I have ever seen him, but that too is not an assured thing. She is unimpressed — even put off, I should say — by the thought of a title and she has her own money. He begged me to come to Longbourn to see if I could persuade her to permit a courtship, and he has not asked me for a thing since your dear uncle died, you know.”
Anne looked pleased. “Miss Bennet sounds eminently sensible. I shall meet her. It may be that she has all the sense I had hoped to find in her sister.”
Her aunt opened her mouth, strongly objecting to Miss de Bourgh's callous dismissal of her cousin's potential disappointment, but was distracted by the murmurs from the back of the church. An impeccably dressed gentleman came into view and made one or two half-bows to certain of his acquaintance that he felt merited them. Charles Bingley, who had quite forgotten inviting the newcomer, hailed him with his natural exuberance. Mr. Darcy, standing beside his friend at the front of the church, did not wear the same expression of good cheer as his fellow bridegroom but nodded in greeting with his usual quiet manners.
“Mr. Sutton! I had not expected that you would be able to come. I shall shake your hand, indeed I shall. I am quite overjoyed this morning.” Bingley pumped Mr. Sutton's hand twice and beamed. “Well met, sir. I hope your return from the north was uneventful. It is as fine a day as it could be, is it not?”
Mr. Sutton was an insouciant man by nature, but Bingley's enthusiasm moved him to bow in response. “Good day, sir, and to you, Mr. Darcy. The weather has indeed smiled upon you, a sure sign that your marriage will be a favourable one, I am certain. At least, that is what my grandmama used to say, but I daresay Her Grace was always in the right. ”
Mr. Darcy did not reply, but instead satisfied himself that Miss Darcy had situated herself beside the Countess of Matlock, and was attempting to hide from notice as much as possible whilst occasionally leaning forward for a better view of her surroundings. Darcy issued a brief bow in response to Mr. Sutton's speech. He had certainly not forgotten the unpleasant jolt that had gone through him when he beheld his Elizabeth dancing with this notable rake, and he little liked the idea that the famous charm might be turned on his sister.
Georgiana had been overcome with delight upon hearing the news of her brother's betrothal, and had written an earnest request that she be permitted to meet the young lady who had secured his good opinion before the day she became her own sister. Darcy had been pleased to grant the favour, particularly given Elizabeth's equally enthusiastic response, and a short time later, Miss Darcy, attended by Mrs. Annesley and her maid, had been received into his arms at Netherfield .
In Georgiana's timid opinion, Miss Elizabeth, having been chosen by her brother, must necessarily be the most fortunate of all women. Upon meeting the second Miss Bennet the morning after she arrived and hearing that same young lady's laughter as she heartily concurred with Miss Darcy's assessment, Georgiana was disposed to like her very well. It spoke well of the future Mrs. Darcy that she should be aware of how great, how excellent a man Fitzwilliam was. There was never a better brother in all the world, nor a gentler one.
The profusion of lively sisters Miss Elizabeth possessed was a source of intimidation, to be sure, but Georgiana found a pleasant companion in the quieter Miss Catherine and, when sat beside her on a window-seat away from the rest of the company in Mrs. Bennet's drawing room, Georgiana did very well. She later went even so far as to confide in her brother that she should not be sorry to return there. Miss Darcy had been pressed to join the other sisters as a bridesmaid but that had altogether been too much for the timid young lady to face. She was distraught to disoblige them when offered so great a favour, and had tearfully begged off, but was soothed by the sincere assurance of Lizzy and Jane that she need not do anything that gave her unease. They were happy, they told her, that she should be present in the church, regardless of what role she might prefer to take.
Mr. Sutton, paying no mind to the tall young heiress as Darcy half expected he might, found his seat and smoothly struck up a conversation with Mr. Fitzroy and the Duke of Shrewsbury, who sat with his brother on the same pew. Fitzroy had been engaged in laying a quiet wager with the young duke regarding the probable lateness of the ghosts, but Mr. Sutton, having noted the carriage drawing up as he arrived, was honour bound to decline the bet. Mr. Sutton, clearly used to exalted circles, appeared to be quite unconcerned by the grandeur of the occasion, quite unlike Sir William and Lady Lucas in their box nearby — the former of whom had been reduced to utter silence by the magnificence of the event.
The grooms made their way to the altar. A few more ladies and gentlemen hurried to be seated, and Mrs. Bennet of Longbourn entered the church with her sister Mrs. Phillips beside her. If Mrs. Bennet's pleasure at the full church was apparent on her face, this was quite a pardonable thing. She was followed up the centre aisle by the bridesmaids, who were the three unmarried sisters of the brides. They were garbed simply and elegantly in white silk gowns, matched with bonnets in the same. This, Mrs. Houghton of Houghton Park pronounced later, was testament to the quality of the family that she had instantly recognised when she first became acquainted with the white ghosts. It was one thing, she reported to Mrs. Lambeth, to dress ostentatiously as she herself did, but it was quite a pleasing thing to see restraint in the young such as the Bennet sisters displayed. Little wonder they had caused so great a sensation as they had — quality must always recognise quality, after all .
With her usual keen eye, Mrs. Houghton watched with interest as one of the younger Miss Bennets, a tall girl with dark hair and features much like Miss Elizabeth, caught the attention of Anton Sutton. The bridesmaid did not observe him, intent as she was on smiling broadly at her friends on the opposite side of the building as she walked, but Mrs. Houghton noticed an unusual expression flicker across his face and her brows rose. It seemed that once Mrs. Darcy was returned from her honeymoon, a flurry of letters must fly between Houghton Park and Pemberley.
Mr. Robilard left the door of the church to take his place before the altar and a hush fell upon those assembled. The choir sounded out the first clear note and the guests rose. Mrs. Houghton's attention, along with the rest of the congregation, was diverted to the three figures making their way up the aisle. Mr. Bennet, gentlemanly in blue, soberly escorted his two deserving daughters along toward the vicar they had seen almost every Sunday of their lives since first they were churched with their mama.
If Mrs. Bennet might be forgiven her evident triumph, then Mr. Bennet might also be pardoned for his most becoming reluctance to part with his daughters, even to such fine young men as they had chosen. For chosen them they most certainly had. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, upon receiving Papa's cautious blessing to the match, was asked to name the day .
“You will not wish to do the thing too soon after Jane, I am sure, Lizzy, for they will be off on their honeymoon for almost the whole month and I know you will like to have your sister present.”
Elizabeth, occupied in exchanging none-too-furtive glances with Mr. Darcy as she was, her pleasure at these discussions evident to both gentlemen in the room, answered her father.
“I do not care to wait, sir. May we not be married at the same time as Mr. Bingley and Jane? The preparations are largely complete already, and we have more or less the same circle of friends who will like to attend. All I require is a gown and I have, as you have said before, a surfeit of those to choose from. Fitzwilliam,” here her tone turned tender, “should you prefer our own day or may I have my way and be Mrs. Darcy all the sooner?”
Mr. Darcy, thought Mr. Bennet, was a serious young man who looked as though he were in great danger of spending his married life trying to please his cajoling young wife. A warning, gentleman to gentleman, was required.
“Have a care, Mr. Darcy; my Lizzy will have you agreeing that the sun is the moon before you have time to blink if you give in too easily now.”
Still Mr. Darcy did not smile, but there was something in his gaze that made his prospective father-in-law repress a sigh as he observed them. It was all a father could hope for — his beloved daughter would be quietly adored as this man's wife — yet it was undoubtedly a wrench to see it. This day had come too soon.
“It is your right to name the day, Elizabeth,” her betrothed said slowly, after considering. “If Bingley and your sister have no objection I shall not be the one to add time to an already-too-long wait. I see no great need for my relatives to attend but I shall write to inform them regardless, and Miss Darcy will like to come, I am sure. It may all be arranged quite easily.”
“I suppose, sir,” laughed Lizzy, taking his arm as they made to exit the bookroom, “that after such a difficult beginning it stands to reason that our end ought to go smoothly now. How glad I am that this part of our acquaintance is easy. ”
There was nothing improper about an engaged man kissing the hand of his affianced wife, but looking on, Mr. Bennet felt as though he ought to have the fatherly authority to object. Elizabeth evidently did not find it a wholly innocent gesture, judging from the bloom in her cheek once her hand was returned to its resting place on Mr. Darcy's arm .
Papa cleared his throat. The pair were liable to forget his very existence if he did not remind them of his presence. There was little more tedious, he thought, recovering from his sombre mood, than young lovers. “Get along with you then, Lizzy, but leave my door a little ajar so I may better hear your mother's effusions, my dear. You need not fear that I am so hard of hearing that I will not catch the gist.”
Mrs. Bennet had indeed been effusive in her pleasure, and if she had expressed her disappointment that she should not have two separate weddings to arrange, she was consoled by the suggestion that she engage for the occasion the services of Monsieur Jean Moreau, the famed chef who had recently come from Versailles to offer his considerable skills to the elite of English society .
Nothing, in Mrs. Bennet's opinion, could have been better than the exclamations of delight and the compliments she received from the titled and consequential people who eagerly attended the wedding breakfast at Longbourn. The previous week she had directed that the music room be arranged as a further reception room, suspecting quite correctly that there would hardly be room to move if as many came as she hoped. Lady Lucas was forever silenced as a rival in her mind, for Maria Lucas could not possibly make a match grander than the Bennet daughters had, and thus this wedding would be most talked of in Hertfordshire, and even London society, for a long time to come .
Mary, robbed of her refuge behind the pianoforte, found herself led by Lady Langley to a window-seat for what the viscountess termed 'a comfortable coze.' Miss Bennet, as she must now be known — Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy having resigned the privilege — found her instinct to be true when she supposed Her Ladyship might find a tête-à-tête more comfortable than she did .
“How well white suits you and all your sisters, Miss Bennet. You must not mind Miss de Bourgh, you know — I think there is something not quite natural in my niece. Catherine's fault, of course — her upbringing was very badly arranged once my brother died, if you ask me. Of course you would not wish to live alone and independent. Depend upon it, Anne wishes to feel a little less of an oddity and so encourages it in others.”
Mary drew in a steadying breath. In their brief conversation, Anne de Bourgh had reminded her of a hound after a hare. “Miss de Bourgh was quite eloquent concerning the benefits to be gained by shaking off the shackles of society's expectations, Your Ladyship. I might even agree with her on some points, but, as I informed your niece, my decisions must be mine alone. It is hardly independence if she is able to persuade me, after all.”
“Yes, exactly so!” agreed Lady Langley, who Mary quickly realised was not of an intellectual bent of mind, “but what can it be that you agree with her about, Miss Bennet? Come, it may be that I can offer a counter argument that will convince you not to waste yourself by heeding my poor niece.”
Mary shook her head. “I must be blunt, Lady Langley — the thought that one might go where one pleases as one likes is appealing. I had some thought of travelling.”
“Travelling! Oh, as to that it is an easy thing. I never travelled so much in my life as when I first married my late husband — Bath, Harrogate, even Scotland one year, when Edinburgh was hailed as so fashionable. It did not last long, that rage — I suspect it is the climate, and so very far, you know.”
“Distance is one of the drawbacks of travelling,” said Mary drily, confident that Lady Langley would not understand her enough to take offence, “but I had rather meant that I should like to go abroad.”
“Not to France, surely! There is no need, at any rate, for as your dear mama has proved, the very best of the French have come to us, have they not? I have never had such a sauce with duck as I have today — your mama swears that Monsieur Moreau used three pineapples in its preparation.”
Mary frowned. “It is unfilial to criticize Mama but I for one do not find that sort of excess to be appealing in the least. Naturally, I had meant other countries aside from France. I believe there are several still unconquered by Napoleon that may be travelled.”
“Dear Langley enjoyed his grand tour of Europe — he would not be averse to retracing his steps, I am sure. I think he went so far as Italy, certainly Germany as well, but perhaps I mean Greece — you had much better ask him.”
“I had a pleasant conversation earlier with His Lordship regarding his travels,” Mary said stiffly. She had sufficient grace within herself to admit that he had at least sounded sensible when he spoke of the varying geography he had encountered. She coloured — at least he had been sensible until he had desperately murmured, “Miss Bennet, I should happily follow you to the borders of the Ottoman empire, if only to carry your portmanteau for you, if you would but say the word.”
Mary had not before considered going so far as the Ottoman empire, vast though it was, and found herself unaccountably flustered as she searched for a suitable reply. Few came to mind, for she had not been taught how to repel blatant devotion .
Lady Langley, hearing this report, brightened. “Oh, did you? That is well then. You will not find me officious, I hope, when I say how pleased I am to see my son so content to be near you. It is,” she fluttered, “one of the greatest hopes of a mama that one’s children might find one that would be so eminently suited to…well, I must not upset you — Langley was adamant that I must not speak more than I ought.”
Too late for that, Mary mused. “Lady Langley, you — and your son, I might say — seem to think me something remarkable. I assure you I am not. I am sensible enough, and yes, when occasion arises I will speak what is on my mind, but surely you see that I am not…” Mary waved a hand in the direction of Lady Langley's lace-trimmed gown, designed and made in London and adorned with mother-of-pearl buttons. “I dislike fuss. I dress simply by choice and for my convenience. I abhor dancing, and if I had my way I should never host a ball at all. In truth, I have too much honour to encourage a match that I deem would be disastrous — his…his regard could not outlast the disparity of our characters, Lady Langley. I hold some considerable doubt that I am even equipped to be what you want me to be. That is all there is to it, in my opinion.”
“Yet you told Anne de Bourgh in no uncertain terms that you would not consider emulating her, so you must have at least considered marriage, my dear Miss Bennet!” Lady Langley looked a trifle desperate and glanced over to her son, who was in conversation with Marlborough. “If you mean to become a wife, why not Langley?”
Mary rose from the seat. “I will only say that I will not make any decision regarding my future with undue haste. I do not say I wish to marry, but neither will I attest that I do not. I will go to school first, and make up my mind then what it is I desire in my life.”
“That is all we wish for, Miss Bennet,” cried Lady Langley with, in Mary's opinion, far too much volume given the crowds in the house, “for you not to send my dearest boy packing, as he fears you might. Do not, I beg you, let your first impressions of him cause you to dismiss him out of hand. For what it is worth, I think you would make a very fine viscountess — unconventional, perhaps, but surely with compromise on all parts you need not be unhappy. But that is too far ahead, is it not? Go to school, certainly, but perhaps you will visit me at our country seat when you are at liberty — it is not too much, surely, to gather information that might be important before saying yea or nay? I do as much with my wardrobe, after all.”
Lady Langley, Mary decided as she firmly quit the conversation and made her way across the room to her newly married sisters, was a vapid and to all appearances flighty woman, with a manner far too youthful for her years. Reluctantly, however, her mind supplied the possibility that there was a scheming streak in the woman that ought not be underestimated.