Chapter 37
Green's Gentlemen's Club
London
Benedict Hurst, cozily perched on a chair in the corner of the bar, took a bite of his ham sandwich and glanced around at the crowded room. It was mid morning, and the club was filled with various gentlemen coming and going, eating and drinking, chatting and, yes, gossiping.
He used to spend a great deal of time at Green's, where he could be certain of a good meal, followed by as many glasses of wine as he wished – the Green was famous for her cellars. Moreover, he had, if not friends, at least acquaintances here; his brother-in-law Bingley, Lord Talbot, Mr. Sinclair, and a host of others. He had often felt more at home in his club than in his actual house.
But now Louisa was pregnant with their first child, and Hurst was far less inclined to wander the streets of London during the day. Some days, she felt so poorly that she could not even manage to order dinner, and he was glad to take that minor burden off of her shoulders.
He smiled to himself and took a mouthful of wine. He had longed for a son or daughter for so long, and given that five years had passed without a pregnancy, he had been on the verge of losing hope. But now he thanked God that his wife, his Louisa, was pregnant.
She had felt better than usual today and was currently calling on a friend. He did not wish to be in an empty house, so had made his way to Green's to spend a few convivial hours with any cronies who might appear. He was actually quite skilled at whist and piquet, and might be fortunate enough to win a few pounds.
The door into the bar swung open, and Lord Talbot marched in, strode over to the bar, and said to the liveried servant behind it, "Give me your best brandy, Gallagher. No, give me two brandies!"
Hurst eyed the young noble as Talbot poured one drink down his throat, and then the other, before saying, "Another two, my good fellow, please!"
Hurst cocked a curious eyebrow. Talbot liked his alcohol as much as any man, but four brandies in quick succession was bizarre.
"Whatever are you doing, Talbot?" Sinclair asked lazily, lounging up to the bar to eye his friend with confusion. "Trying to drink yourself under the table?"
"I am," the young lord said with a roll of his eyes, "and you will be as well in short order. I have just heard the most dreadful thing!"
This, naturally enough, attracted the attention of everyone within earshot.
"Whatever has happened?" Sinclair demanded, sidling closer to his friend.
Lord Talbot paused, glanced around dramatically, and intoned, "Elizabeth Bennet is engaged."
There were multiple groans and sighs from the assembled gentlemen and nobles, and Lord Carlyle, an impoverished baron who had been one of the lady's more enthusiastic suitors, demanded, "Who is the lucky man?"
"That it the worst part of it," Talbot moaned and poured another finger of brandy down his throat before saying, "She is engaged to Fitzwilliam Darcy!"
Hurst's vision wobbled for a moment, and he leaned against the bar to reorient himself. The air was thick with men complaining vigorously. It was, everyone considered, quite absurd that an already wealthy man would snatch up the most beautiful, charming heiress of the Season.
"I cannot imagine why she chose him!" Carlyle whined, and Talbot said gloomily, "It appears that Darcy had a head start on us all, as they met in Hertfordshire last autumn. I believe ... oh, Hurst! I did not see you there before! You doubtless know more about this than any of us!"
"I do not," Hurst said quickly, "though I am aware that Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth met last year at Netherfield Park, my brother Bingley's estate."
"Well, dash it," Sinclair grumbled. "Some gentlemen have all the luck. I confess to some surprise that Richard Fitzwilliam did not cut his cousin out. He is, in my humble opinion, far more charming than Darcy, along with being an earl's son."
"Oh, Mr. Fitzwilliam is engaged as well, to Miss Elizabeth's elder sister Jane," Talbot remarked, and now Hurst felt like he might fall over. Jane Bennet was engaged to Richard Fitzwilliam? It had only been a few weeks since Bingley had gone north with Caroline to Scarborough, and ... had not returned. Hurst appreciated Charles Bingley very much; his ductility of temper, his generous nature, and his general bonhomie made him a most valuable relation, but it was true that Caroline generally led her brother around by the nose. It was no surprise that Jane Bennet had decided to find another man for a husband.
Bingley would be immensely upset, of course, and Hurst, though he could not spare much emotion apart from Louisa's pregnancy, felt a genuine throb of sorrow for his friend and brother.
Caroline would … oh, she would be … she would be absolutely outraged at the news of Darcy's engagement to Miss Elizabeth. She would be furious. She would likely scream and shout and carry on. She might even faint!
Hurst had long disliked Caroline Bingley, though he had rarely said anything to his wife, but he felt no regret that he would miss the fireworks when the news arrived in Scarborough. It would, perhaps, be amusing to hear her whining and wailing, but Bingley would be sorrowful over the loss of Jane Bennet. He would write a letter when he had time bearing the ill tidings north.
/
Mary's Bedchamber
Longbourn
Rain rapped hard against the window, the drops racing down the length of the pane to plash against the sill. The view outside was wavering and obscured by the downpour, but Mary could see, across the lawn, the old oak tree tossing in the gusty wind like a horse shaking out its mane. Rivulets ran through the grass, the carriage drive one long rushing stream of tiny rapids.
Mary unlocked the window and pushed it open, leaning on the sill. She loved the smell of the spring rain; the clean water and the green leaves and grass and the earth sodden through, and something else that came with the thunderstorms. A sudden bluster slapped water across her face, skimming white across the grass, and she retreated, closing the window again and wiping her face off on her sleeve.
She was just as glad that the weather did not permit a walk to Meryton. The carriage would be returning from London any minute, and as soon as it did, Mrs. Bennet would want to share her transports of joy with everyone else. She would dash into town as quickly as possible, telling the news of Jane's and Elizabeth's engagements with her sister Mrs. Phillips, with Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long and all of her cronies. And she would, of course, take her girls with her, to listen as she regaled all her friends with the news over and over again.
Mary sighed. She was happy for her sisters; very happy, even, and more than greatly relieved that the family no longer feared the hedgerows when their father died, but she was a little … wistful, as well. It was painful to sit and listen and smile to excited chatter about her sisters' weddings, when it seemed so dreadfully unlikely that she would ever have one of her own. She was not rich like Lizzy or lively like Lydia or pretty like all of her sisters. It seemed improbable that her accomplishments would ever win her a husband. She worked so very hard on them, but they were only mediocre in comparison to what could be found in Town. What man would want a plain, poor woman with nothing to recommend her except some dubious accomplishments?
Mary took a breath and straightened. At least, she would not be required to earn her bread, as the poor Adler twins had been. She had long thought that she would make an adequate governess for some moderately well-to-do country family. Indeed, she had quietly intended to do exactly that after her father died, or perhaps even before. She had made such plans with dread, but had feared that none of her sisters would make sufficiently advantageous marriages to support all of them, and she was fully, if quietly, aware that their father had made no provision for them.
But now she could relinquish that plan, she reflected gratefully as she leaned once more on the sill of the window. Elizabeth was wealthy and Jane, while not rich, would be quite comfortable. Neither of them would leave their remaining sisters to starve or work for unkind mistresses. Even if Mary never became anything more than a spinster aunt to her sisters' children, they would ensure she would be comfortable, and she could make herself useful around their households.
A soft knock on the door caused her to turn around. She called out a welcome and was pleased when Miss Adler entered the room. A moment later, she frowned in some confusion, as the governess had her arms full of scarves and shawls.
"Miss Mary," Sophia said, and pushed the door shut behind her with her foot, "I know that you will be having Mrs. Thompson make up a dress for you, and thought you and I could test these garments against your coloring to see what would suit you best."
Mary looked at the clothing, then at Miss Adler, and felt herself shrink a little. "Oh, that is not necessary," she said a little breathlessly. "I am certain that my mother will be pleased to choose the appropriate fabrics and colors for a gown for me."
Sophia carefully laid the various items on a convenient chair, straightened, and planted her fists on her hips.
"With all due respect to your mother, she has no idea how to dress you properly. Miss Bennet and Miss Lydia are blondes, and Miss Elizabeth and Miss Kitty are brunettes with a tint of auburn in their hair. You are the only black haired daughter, and that, combined with your pale skin, means that pastels and olive and browns make you look sallow. There are far better colors for you, I assure you."
"It hardly matters," Mary said, pivoting on her heel to stare out the window, willing herself not to cry. "I am plain, and nothing can change that."
A gentle touch on her arm caused her to turn toward her companion, and Sophia said, "Your sisters are very handsome, yes, but that does not mean you are plain. Forgive me for moving beyond the bounds of propriety, but I believe I understand you very well. You have given up any thought of being attractive because not only are you surrounded by handsome sisters, but your mother has indicated, from your earliest days, that a beautiful face is the most valuable of assets for a woman, and she has made it clear that she finds you wanting. But surely you do not imagine that Mr. Darcy, master of Pemberley, or Colonel Fitzwilliam, second son of an earl, offered for your sisters based on looks alone? I am confident that it was the characters of your elder sisters which won them good husbands."
Mary sighed and said, "I agree, but why should I try to look more attractive? Does the Good Book not say, 'Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing, but a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised.'?"
Sophia stepped forward and looked out of the window at the rain, which had slackened subst. "My dear Miss Mary, do look out at the world which God has given us. Are the flowers not beautiful? Are the twilights not glorious when the clouds shine pink and orange as the sun disappears behind the horizon? Was the tabernacle, with its gold and silver and richly dyed curtains not a lovely place? We should not think that personal appearance is of the highest priority, of course! But neither should we think that there is anything inherently wrong in looking pretty. God made us to appreciate beautiful things."
Mary considered and then turned a shy smile on her companion and friend. "You are very wise, Miss Adler."
"Thank you," Sophia said and sighed. "When Phoebe and I were still girls, we were greatly blessed by our rector's wife, who gave us godly advice. We were quite striking back then, you know; not that we were ever as handsome as your elder sisters, but given that we are identical twins, we drew many a stare! Mrs. Robinson encouraged us not to be vain or overly forward, but she also encouraged us to choose colors and styles that suited our looks. Our mother died when we were but three years old, you know."
"I did not," Mary said. "I am sorry, though I am thankful that your rector's wife was so kind and helpful."
"We are as well. Later, when our father died and left us penniless, she helped us face our suddenly uncertain future with at least moderate courage."
"I cannot imagine," Mary said, her throat suddenly constricted. "It must have been very hard to give up the life you anticipated."
"It was, but truly it was not the clothes and the parties that we missed, but one another. It was difficult to be separated. My daily prayer was that Phoebe and I would live near one another again, and God answered."
"And now Miss Phoebe has been torn away from you due to Lydia's idiocy!"
"She will be back in time," Sophia said confidently. "Now, let us see which colors look best on you, shall we?"
/
/
Author Note: The published version of 'Elizabeth Bennet's Inheritance' will have various additions, edits, and tweaks ... plus 3 chapters of epilogue so you can see how your favorite characters are doing in the future. It will be available as an ebook (including on KU), paperback and as an audiobook! I hope you're able to read or listen to the story in its final form. :-) Go to this link to subscribe to my newsletter to make sure you get the latest news on this story PLUS you get a free short story that is only for subscribers:
www. subscribepage dot com /s1p4z6