“Forgive me for sounding rude, but sometimes wealthy people are dreadful, are they not? Of course, I do not know that many, but one hears tales of how greedy and cruel the rich can be, always wanting their own way. And yet they have everything while most people have very little. Why should God reward them and not a poor beggar?”
Mr. Yarby laughed gently. “That is a question scholars have been trying to answer for many, many centuries, Miss Bennet. I can only tell you this: a true believer of Christ, full of passion for him and his words, shall have no will that is not in harmony with the Divine will. Then, faith is possible in the fulfillment of his own desire, and prayer becomes a pledge of that answer. Do you see?”
“Hebrews chapter eleven, verse one.” Mary quoted from memory, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”
She saw a broad smile spread across Mr. Yarby’s face. “Exactly. We cannot go around expecting God to grant our every wish like some magical being in a fairy tale. But it is faith, Miss Bennet; faith is what brings us to accord with God’s will for us.”
“You make it sound so logical and understandable, Mr. Yarby,” Mary said. “Thank you so much. May I…may I call again if I have other questions?”
“Of course, Miss Bennet. You are one of my spiritual flock here, and I must tend to you as I would to any of my parish.”
Wishing she could somehow continue the conversation, but realizing she had no more questions, Mary nodded and rose. He stood as well and smiled. Was there anything in particular in that smile for her? She could only hope. Mary curtseyed and left.
***
As she walked home, Mary reflected on her first private encounter with Mr. Yarby. She was slightly disappointed to be referred to as just one more of his “flock.” And she was equally dismayed that no offer of tea was issued; that would have been a good opportunity for more informal conversation. Still, she decided it was a good start. Surely, more time discussing the holy book would bring them closer. And one day, she had no doubt that he would begin to realize Mary would be the perfect wife for him. It was only a matter of time.
Chapter 12
It was now October. Shawls were brought out and worn with regularity around the Bennet household so as to keep warm without having to use too much costly wood for heating. However, the cooler weather did not stop Mr. Bennet from taking his daily walks, frequently in the company of Mrs. Withers. He doubted any tongues were wagging in town about their tours although he continued to suggest paths that would steer clear of Meryton or areas more populated. The hills and meadows seemed to give them plenty of areas to explore and enjoy in solitude.
That month the Bennets were also anxiously awaiting word from Pemberley on Elizabeth’s safe delivery of her second child. When the letter did arrive, it did not bring happy news. It was a horrifically long labor, Darcy wrote, and Lizzy bled so much she nearly died. She was still confined to her bed. The baby—a girl—seemed sickly and of a poor constitution. They had named her Lavinia Jane, and prayed she would rally. Darcy asked the Bennets to add their prayers for Lizzy and the child as well.
The day after receiving the news from Pemberley, Mr. Bennet called Mary into his library. She brought along the most recent book they were discussing, but he waved it aside and asked her to sit.
“Mary, I have decided I shall send you to Pemberley. Your sister is not well following her difficult childbirth, and I believe having you there will help.”
“Papa, I shall do as you ask, of course, but I cannot see that I shall be of much use. Surely they have servants and nursemaids and such who are more suited to the tasks at hand.”
“Your role will be more of spiritual, uplifting support than actual caregiving, my dear. In his letter, Darcy says she is ‘quite low in spirits’ and in need of cheering up.”
“Is Jane unable to attend her? They are much closer than Lizzy and I ever were.”
“Jane is not able to be with Lizzy at this time. She and her children have caught very bad colds and it would not be prudent to send her now. Go and pack your things, for you will leave tomorrow. Think of it as an opportunity to become closer to your older sister. And,” he added with a smile, “do not discount the joys of the Pemberley library. It is the envy of many counties.”
Mary nodded obediently and exited, calling for Sarah to assist her in packing.
***
The trunks were nearly filled—after all, when you are still in mourning, what did it really matter what you wore, Mary thought—when Kitty poked her head in the bedroom.
“Papa just told me you are going to Pemberley—lucky you.”
“Am I?” Mary replied as she dismissed Sarah with a nod. “I think you would have been a better choice. You enjoy all the socializing of Pemberley. Who knows? Perhaps you could meet some dashing young lord from the county and gain a husband.”
Kitty snorted as she strolled in. “Yes, and dressed in black I would be such a fetching catch. I cannot wait to be done with deep mourning and at least be able to wear violet or something. Two more months.” She plopped down in a chair and arched an eyebrow at her sister. “Besides, who is to say I shan’t find somebody local?”
Mary blinked in surprise and pushed her spectacles up on her nose. “Is there someone—that is, have you met someone of interest around Meryton? There are just the same old people we all know. Oh! Is it Digby Morrison? I believe he has always admired you.”
Kitty burst out laughing. “I would prefer to remain single my entire life than marry that picksome old thing! Besides, Maria Lucas has her eyes set on him and is welcome to him. No. There is nobody…in particular, but who knows? Things can always change in a heartbeat, you know.” She got up and walked to the door, then turned with what Mary thought was an impish expression. “I shall miss you though. With just Papa and me here, it will be so quiet. Give Lizzy my love. And who knows—perhaps you will be the one to catch the eye of a handsome lord in Derbyshire.” With a laugh, she flounced out.
Mary closed the lid on her trunk. She knew she had to go; it would not do to disobey her father. But she might be gone for weeks—a month or more! That would mean so much time away from Mr. Yarby. She had contrived to come up with Bible passages that needed his explanations at least once a week, and she felt that it had been time well spent. The two were more and more comfortable with each other, Mary felt. While she had to admit there was nothing overt in Mr. Yarby’s behavior to make her believe he was falling in love with her, and he was still formal in all his addresses to her, it was only a matter of time, she was certain, before he would declare himself.
I hate to be gone just now, but perhaps he will miss me. As the old saying goes, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Annoying as it is to leave, it might actually work in my favor.
***
Three days later, Mary arrived at Pemberley. Mr. Hill had accompanied her, but he was a man of such a taciturn nature that, even when he was not sleeping, there was next to no conversation to make the tedious journey seem faster. Mary reflected she might as well have traveled alone after all—improper though that would have been. Mr. Hill would stay the night at Pemberley and return at once to Longbourn.
