The interview between father and suitor was brief, for Mr Bennet had no doubts as to the young man’s devotion to his daughter and certainly none regarding his ability to care for her. He required only an assurance that he might visit often and be admitted into the fabled Pemberley library when he did, and having received it, gave his consent. They shook hands upon it and returned to the parlour where the official announcement was made.
A chorus of shrieks and a great rustling of skirts followed. Darcy watched his beloved surrounded by her sisters and her future sister. Bingley, Mrs Hurst, and Captain Carter wisely kept their seats until the Bennet and Darcy ladies had done with their exclamations and embraces, whereupon they each in turn approached Elizabeth with their own felicitations.
“So, we are to be brothers,” Bingley remarked with a broad grin as he pumped his friend’s hand.
“I could not ask for a better one,” Darcy replied.
Bingley lowered his voice. “Jane and I had considered this possibility, and were agreed that if you should settle your engagement in time, we would invite you to share our wedding day with us. Discuss it with Elizabeth, and if the idea appeals to you, let us know.”
Darcy blinked with surprise. “It does appeal. I will ask her.”
He saw Miss Bennet speaking quietly to Elizabeth, likely on the same topic, and it was not long before the newly-acknowledged couple were able to reunite in a corner of the room and agree they could neither of them imagine a more desirable plan. Mr Bennet was approached once more, and as he could have no objections to something that would save him a deal of expense as well as answering the wishes of his eldest daughters, all was easily decided. The couples would marry in a single ceremony on the third Tuesday of June.
* * *
Some few days later Mr and Mrs Jones were busy in their shop, he attending to customers and she carefully affixing labels to a row of bottles upon the preparation table, when an unfamiliar wagon pulled up on the street outside. The driver hopped down, retrieved a smallish, heavy crate from within and bore it inside the shop. Setting it upon the counter, he looked at the young apothecary.
“Mr Evan Jones?”
“I am he. How may I help you?”
“Delivery for you, sir, from London. I were bid to say there’s a letter inside.” With a tug of his forelock, the fellow departed.
“I do not recall you ordering anything from town, my dear,” remarked Charlotte curiously, wiping the glue from her hands before she approached.
“That is because I have not.” He made quick work with a knife, slicing the twine which held the lid on and placing it into a bucket behind the counter where they kept such oddments as might prove useful. With the lid removed, a sealed letter lay atop the straw packing, through which could be faintly seen the spine of several books and a handful of items wrapped in burlap.
Neither of them recognised the seal, and with mounting curiosity they opened the missive and read.
Mr Jones,
Please accept, on behalf of the grateful residents of Meryton and its surrounds, these books and implements which will be required for your remaining term of study at the London Hospital Medical College to commence in August of this year. The fees have been paid, and lodging awaits you and your good wife for the duration of your residence in town with Mr and Mrs Gardiner of 29 Gracechurch Street.
Your instructors at the College are anticipating your return, and Mr Edward Linley most particularly wishes that you will visit him immediately upon your arrival in London. God bless you, sir, and do not concern yourself with those you leave behind—Meryton is a growing town despite its recent setback, and we have no doubt that we may attract another apothecary in short order. Sir William Lucas and Mr Philips stand ready to assist in the transfer of your lease, when and if you wish it.
There followed the signatures of every gentleman of property in the area, along with those of Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley, Mr Gardiner, and several of the more prosperous merchants and tenants. The young couple gaped at the letter in shock for some minutes before Charlotte, at least, regained a modicum of composure. “I suspected Papa was up to something, but I had no notion there was a conspiracy throughout the neighbourhood,” she remarked in surprise.
“Do you think we ought to accept this, then?” Her husband’s voice was rather faint with shock.
“The fees have been paid, my dear, and these items purchased.” She squeezed his hand and smiled, the future beginning to open up before her like a gift unwrapped on Christmas morning. “To refuse would not only be a waste but an insult. They have recognised your qualities and your labours, and I rather think you have little choice but to allow it.”
“Well, then, my dear, I suppose you had best run down to the stationers, for we have a great many letters of thanks to write.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
In the firstweek of May, Jane and Elizabeth ventured to town to shop for their trousseaux with the assistance of Mrs Gardiner. Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley went thither also, to meet with their attorneys and review the settlements which had been drafted. Mrs Hurst, Miss Darcy, and Mrs Annesley would stay at Longbourn during their absence, under the protection of Mr Bennet.
Mrs Hurst and Miss Darcy were already considered by the Bennets as part of the family, so their residence caused no anxiety on either side. One rainy day as they were all sat in the parlour, Mrs Hurst recommended to Kitty the novel she had just finished reading. Mr Bennet looked up from his own book to comment, “You go through those books at a prodigious pace, madam—might you like to borrow something more substantial from my library?”
Mrs Hurst drew herself up, looking somewhat offended. “I have read many books you would callsubstantial, sir, but I generally prefer a novel.”
He tilted his head and regarded her curiously. “I cannot understand why. You strike me as too intelligent to be always reading such silly things.”
“And what right have you to call them silly, sir?” she retorted with uncharacteristic asperity. “Have you ever read one?”
“Certainly not!” he exclaimed.
“Really?” The corners of her mouth twitched upward. “You have not read the works of Fielding or Richardson, then? I understood them to be favourites among bookish gentlemen.”
