Lady Lucas looked at her daughter, then drew a long breath and let her shoulders fall. At last, she said, with forced composure, “Of course, my dear Frances. We have been neighbors for thesetwenty years and more. Lady Lucas was embarrassed and, after a moment of silence, added, “Let us not allow this incident to stand between us. I vow never to breathe a word of it, and I trust you will do the same.”
Frances agreed. “Very well.” She turned from the two ladies and left the room with her chin held high. Mary was trembling and clung to Mr. Collins’s arm. The young man was also trembling, having understood at last how near he had come to marrying a Lucas instead of a Bennet. Lady Lucas was the last to leave the study, and she followed behind in silence.
Frances could scarcely contain her triumph. To have Mary secured, while Charlotte had exposed herself to a lifetime of shame, was a victory that she could revel in. Lady Lucas might call it what she pleased, but Frances knew a triumph when she saw it.
Chapter 16: Mary Bennet’s Wedding
The following morning brought a great stir to Longbourn. Mr. Collins announced his intention of driving the Bennet carriage to London at once to secure a Common license from the bishop.
“Miss Mary,” he said, “I would prefer to marry in your parish church, with your rector performing the ceremony. As I have no family living, it is a comfort to me to be wed in a small parish church. This is the place where you were raised, where your roots are, and where you and I shall in time reside. I will obtain the license without delay, and your good father will make the arrangements with the rector for the ceremony to take place in five days.”
All were in agreement with the plan. Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands together in agitation. “Five days! Yes, the sooner this wedding is performed, the better, but that still only leaves us five days! What is a woman to do in so short a time? There must be a wedding breakfast, there must be gowns, there must be guests! Oh, Hill! Hill, where are you? I shall be dead before it is all contrived!”
Mary, pale but composed, laid a hand upon her mother’s arm. “Mamma, we will manage. I can alter the gowns Aunt Gardiner is to send. Pray do not distress yourself so.”
Mrs. Bennet shook her head vehemently. “No trousseau is ever ready in five days! And yet, we must have one. Hill! Bring me my smelling salts!”
Kitty watched the scene with a mix of concern and amusement. She drew Mary aside. “All will be fine, Mary. You must only endure a little flurry now. By next week, you will be safe inKent, and Mamma will boast of her married daughter to every neighbor in Hertfordshire.”
An express and a handsome sum were dispatched to Mrs. Gardiner in London, who set about purchasing as many ready-made dresses as could be found in Mary’s size and colors. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner arrived at Longbourn two days before the wedding was to take place, bringing Mary’s new gowns with them. After Jane and Elizabeth kissed their excited sister and offered their congratulations, all the women of the family withdrew to a back parlor and began work on the alterations, so that Mary would have a trousseau to take with her to Kent.
The day of the wedding was sunny, and the little parish church was filled with their Meryton neighbors and friends. Garlands twined around the stone pillars of the nave, and the altar was adorned with vases of summer flowers, lending the whole interior a sweet fragrance.
Mary looked truly lovely. She wore a gown of cream silk, hastily altered from a ready-made dress purchased at a London modiste, the adjustments contrived to display her fine figure. Her waist was slender, her bosom full, and her hair was dressed in an elegant coiffure with soft curls framing her temples. When Mary walked up the aisle, she kept her eyes fixed upon the man who waited for her at the altar. Mr. Collins smiled as she came up the nave to take her place at his side. She had shown courage and determination in Sir William’s study, and he believed in that moment that she loved him and was not marrying him solely for his position as heir to her father’s estate. He had seen her fight for him. He spoke his vows with reverence and affection, and when it was Mary’s turn, she looked into his eyes and said her vows with sincerity and love. Mrs. Bennet was proud of her quiet middle daughter and of everything they had endured together tomake this day possible. Kitty and Maria Lucas sat in the pew and whispered to one another, oblivious to the quiet war that had been waged between their mothers.
The wedding breakfast was lavish, and the food was artfully displayed. There was cold ham, pigeon pie, syllabub, tarts, fruit, and plenty of wine, a wedding gift from the Gardiners. Their neighbors were generous in their well-wishes to the new Mrs. Collins, and they were welcoming to Mr. Collins as well.
The bridal carriage, hired by Mr. Collins, was ready by mid-afternoon, and the Bennet sisters had trimmed it with ribbons and flowers as their contribution to the wedding festivities. When Mary was dressed for travel and prepared to depart for her new home in Kent, all her sisters surrounded her. She was the first to leave the family home, and they all felt the importance of the moment. The family circle was smaller now; a new era had begun for the household of five daughters.
At the wedding service, Alexander sat in the pew with Miss Mary King and her widowed aunt, but at the wedding breakfast, he searched for Elizabeth, and when he found her, he sat beside her.
“Elizabeth, tell me, why did you not marry the rector yourself?”
Elizabeth turned to him, frowning. “Why should you ask such a question? My sister Mary and Mr. Collins are well pleased with one another.”
Alexander lowered his voice. “Are you saving yourself to wed me?”
Elizabeth colored high with anger. “How dare you, Alexander! You sit beside Miss King today, yet you skulk to my side to trifle with me? What can you be thinking? I did not marry Mr. Collinsbecause I did not favor him, and my father did not force me. He allowed me to choose. That is all there is to it.”
She rose, her eyes flashing. “You must excuse me. I see my mother calls me.” And with a curtsey, she left him standing abashed.
That evening, the Gardiners remained at Longbourn, and the following morning, they departed, taking Elizabeth and Jane back with them to Gracechurch Street.
Before their departure, Mr. Bennet drew Mr. Gardiner aside into his study. “Edward,” he said quietly, “I must ask a favor. Jane has been sorely tried, and the neighborhood gossip is merciless. Perhaps, in a week or two, you might begin to introduce her among your acquaintances, both gentlemen and tradesmen. She is too good and too beautiful to be wasted on idle hopes.”
Mr. Gardiner pressed his brother-in-law’s hand. “It shall be done. You may depend upon me.”
That evening, when the house was quiet, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet sat together in the rose garden, the warm air scented with jasmine and rose blossoms. Mrs. Bennet was exhausted by the day’s exertions, but she sighed contentedly now. “Mr. Bennet, all is well at last. Our middle daughter, whom I once despaired of ever marrying, is now wed to the heir of Longbourn. The future is secured, and soon our Jane will be upon the marriage mart. Our eldest is certain to marry well; she could not be so beautiful for nothing.”
Mr. Bennet smiled faintly, well contented, for the moment at least.
Suddenly remembering a grievance, Mrs. Bennet said, “Only think, Mr. Bennet, Alexander has been harassing Elizabeth! Hehad the insolence to ask her if she was saving herself for him. For several weeks now, he has been dangling after that little heiress, and yet he must still taunt our Lizzy. What can he mean by it?”
Mr. Bennet drew upon his pipe, his expression thoughtful. “I believe the Lucas boy loves our Lizzy. He has always loved her, though money has now turned his head. His mother is avaricious, and it would not surprise me if she planted the thought there. I once hoped he might marry Elizabeth; they were ever so well suited, one heart and one mind. But it shall not be. It was best that I sent her away. Were she still at home, he would only continue to trouble her.”
Mrs. Bennet tossed her head. “That Lady Lucas has much to account for. I would not be in her shoes for anything in the world.”
Mr. Bennet sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Nor would I. Yet I cannot help but mourn what might have been, though it is folly to dwell on it now.”
