Chapter Eighty-Five
After a moment of shocked silence, the room erupted. “What?” “But how?” “When?” And finally, “Where is she?”
“I am here,” said a soft voice. Mary came into the room and linked her arm with Mr. Rochester’s.
This was a Mary that no one had seen before.
She was wearing a blue dress and had her hair styled so that it was soft, with loose curls framing her face.
No one had ever imagined Mary looking so lovely! She was brimming with happiness.
“I do not understand,” Mrs. Bennet said, blankly.
Mr. Bennet looked at his wife and chuckled. Her eyes were wide and her lips parted. But she was not complaining about her nerves or calling for her salts! He went to sit beside her.
Mr. Rochester guided Mary to a sofa and sat beside her.
Taking her hand in his own, he looked at her, all the love in the world in his eyes.
He then turned to his audience and began.
“I suppose you do not remember me,” he said.
“But I came to see my grandfather at Netherfield almost twenty years ago. He told me that I was his heir and that I should spend at least some time in the house I was to inherit.”
Jane gasped and put a hand to her mouth. “Robby?” she said, eyes wide. “Is it possible?”
“Hello, Jane,” he said, smiling at her. “No, I suppose it is Miss Bennet now, and soon to be Mrs. Charles Bingley. I congratulate you!”
Elizabeth looked at Jane, questioningly. “Robby?”
Jane said, “He did come to visit Netherfield, though we did not know his relationship to the owner. We thought he was just a boy coming to visit. You do not recall him, Lizzy? Why, you fell out of a tree while chasing after him!”
“Oh, Lord, I had forgotten entirely! Robby! Why, I can scarce credit it!” Elizabeth began to laugh.
Lydia was feeling quite left out, and she complained to Jane, “But I do not remember him at all!”
“Lydia, you were only three years old at the time, of course you do not.”
“But go on, Robby; how is it that you are engaged to Mary?” Jane asked.
“She was all of six years old, but I was so taken with her that I asked her to marry me that summer and she agreed.”
“But you were just a child yourself!” Mrs. Bennet put in. “Surely that is in no way binding.”
“I was no more than eight years of age. But she and I both took our engagement very seriously. She gave me a lock of her hair, which I still have, and we have been corresponding in secret for the past dozen years. Mrs. Hammond has been good enough to receive my letters and give them to Mary, and post Mary’s letters to me. ”
Everyone gasped. A secret engagement and a secret correspondence!
He went on. “At the very start of it, I wrote to Mr. Bennet and asked his consent for me to marry Miss Mary, which he promptly gave.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “I thought it just a childish crush, a bit of play, perhaps. So I wrote back and gave him my consent, in the most solemn possible language. Then, about six months ago, he wrote again, reminding me of my promise. I was quite surprised, I can tell you!”
“This is all extremely untoward,” Lady Lucas began, frowning mightily. “A secret correspondence! It is all very –“
But Mrs. Bennet, quick to see an advantage to her family and unwilling to allow Lady Lucas to throw cold water over this event, interrupted. “And so very romantic! Mary, I congratulate you!”
Mary, blushing rosily, said, “I thank you, Mama. Robby was not going to return to Meryton until Mr. Bingley’s lease had expired, but I asked him to come earlier in the hope,“ and she turned now to Jane and Elizabeth, “that I might be allowed to be the third bride on the sixth of January!”
Jane and Elizabeth both ran to their sister and hugged her in delight. Nothing would make them happier, they assured her.
Casting a triumphant glance at Lady Lucas, Mrs. Bennet said, “Well, Mr. Rochester, I hope you will stay for dinner tonight!”