Unable to think of a reply, Mary felt a surge of relief when Mrs. Withers, standing nearby, came to her rescue again.
“Is it not lovely? Your sister had truly been hiding her beautiful hair like a light under a bushel as it says in the Bible—but no longer.”
Stunned by all the attention, Mary allowed Mrs. Withers to take her by the arm and walk her towards a group of visitors.
“Do be so kind as to introduce me to your guests, Miss Bennet,” Mrs. Withers said in a low voice. “I am so eager to meet all who are a part of Robert’s new parish.”
The mention of the handsome rector gave Mary a brief start. Had he noticed how well she looked? She quickly gazed across the room where Mr. Yarby was speaking with her father. The rector glanced up and smiled before returning to his conversation. The briefest of looks—but Mary felt her heart swell. Then she found herself introducing Mrs. Withers to her aunt and uncle Phillips.
***
That evening, as she prepared for bed, Mary was reluctant to comb out her hair. She studied it again carefully, hopeful that she could somewhat replicate it in the morning. Or she might ask Sarah, the underhousemaid, for help. Sarah often had acted as a lady’s maid to Mrs. Bennet, so she could certainly manage the new style, Mary thought. It had always been her desire to avoid vanity and eschew any great consideration to her looks, but now…she felt somewhat differently about it.
Mary braided her hair into one long plait, changed into her nightclothes, and said her nightly prayers. Would it be conceited to ask the Lord to have Mr. Yarby pay her a bit of attention? She concluded it probably would be.
But she added it to her prayers just the same.
Chapter 5
The next two days were a blur for the entire Bennet family. Friends and acquaintances came and went, offering condolences and eating liberally of the trays of treats Mrs. Hill and Sarah refreshed near continuously. Jane arrived with her husband, Charles Bingley, although they left their three children behind with the nursemaid. Lydia had also left her twin sons at home with her husband, George Wickham.
“Wicky was simply too busy with work to get away, Papa, but he sends his most sincere condolences.”
Mr. Bennet, who had merely nodded, had been privately grateful for that son-in-law’s absence. “I wish to speak to you at some point, Lydia, about the details of the fall your mother took.”
Lydia had burst into tears. “Oh, Papa, I cannot speak of it even now! All I can tell you is she took a misstep and tumbled down the stairs. I saw the whole thing…it was dreadful!” Her weeping had escalated into full-fledged wailing, and as if on cue, Mrs. Hill had appeared to drag Lydia off to the kitchen for a strong cup of tea.
The last to arrive were Lizzy and Fitzwilliam Darcy in their finest carriage; it was drawn by four horses bearing black ostrich feathers in the headpiece of their bridles and attended by two footmen. Mindful of the crowded conditions at her childhood home with the presence of Jane, Lydia, and the Gardiners, Lizzy had reserved a suite of rooms in Meryton’s finest inn, much to the disappointment of Jane who told her she had hoped for some intimate discussions with her favorite sister. However, Lizzy assured her they would be at Longbourn House most of the time.
“Besides, we just saw each other quite recently,” she said in a low voice. “Fitzwilliam and I just need some peace. And you know as well as I that, with Lydia here, peace may be decidedly lacking at Longbourn.”
Mr. Bennet gave his second daughter a long, heartfelt embrace. He could see that the hurried trip from Pemberley had been somewhat arduous, and after a brief chat, he sent them away.
“Go along to your inn and return tonight for supper,” he told the couple. “We have it all well in hand. You need your rest.”
“Well, if you are certain, Papa, thank you.”
She and Darcy quickly greeted the other family members and departed.
***
After dining, the family gathered once more in the parlor. It was a somber group, made more so by the black clothing everyone now wore. Even Lydia, who always loved to be the center of attention, was subdued. She and Kitty quietly played piquet at a side table. No one spoke. What was there to say, after all? Yet the silence only seemed to emphasize the absence of Mrs. Bennet. She could always be depended upon to keep a lively—if sometimes a bit inane—conversation going in the evenings.
Jane and Lizzy sat side by side on the best settee, holding hands while their husbands stood by the fireplace, hands identically clasped behind their backs and similarly unable to think of anything to contribute.
Mary held her Bible, several ribbons marking appropriate passages she was ready to read as a comfort to her family. Her offer to do so, however, had been roundly rejected, much to her dismay. So she, too, sat quietly. The ticking of the clock was the only sound in the room as everyone considered their grief over the loss of Mrs. Bennet.
A knock at the door brought an almost audible exhalation of relief from the room, and Mrs. Hill showed Mr. Yarby into the room. The rector went straight to Mr. Bennet and asked how he was faring.
Mr. Bennet nodded slowly. “Thank you, Mr. Yarby, I am fairly well. It helps to have my daughters with me. You have not met all of them, and they are eager to make your acquaintance.”
Mr. Bennet made the rounds, introducing his other children and their spouses. Then he motioned Mr. Yarby to take a seat. As it happened, the only available place was next to Mary on the other settee. Mary clutched her Bible more tightly as he settled in beside her, hoping nobody noticed her sudden nerves.
Mr. Yarby cleared his throat before speaking. “Mr. Bennet, I am sensitive to your request that your dear departed wife not be laid out in your home prior to her burial.”
Lydia failed to smother a hysterical sob and ran from the room, crying, “I could not bear it!” Kitty rose to follow, but catching a glance from her father, sat again, her focus respectfully on the new rector.
After a moment, Mr. Yarby began again. “All the arrangements are in order. Following a short prayer and hymn, we shall process from the church to the graveyard. The rest of the liturgy will be conducted graveside. Is that as you wish?”
