P & P

Hidden in Plain Sight

Previously:

Richard shot his own grin back and then gave his farewells, headed out the door, and climbed into the carriage. His mind now on Mr. MacDonald, Miss Thayne; he could not—even at this moment—risk thinking of them in connection with their true names. That would be done only in front of one man, and under certain conditions.

Funeral

Ch. 24

Cold air nipped at Bennet's skin and the men with him or attempted to. He, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, Mr. Johnston, and others wore heavy coats, hats, and gloves as a closed pine box was lowered into the ground. The sky was overcast, casting a slight gray pallor over the somber gathering. The bare branches of the surrounding trees swayed gently in the cold breeze, their skeletal forms creating a mournful -eerie- atmosphere. Colonel Fitzwilliam had made sure the casket had been closed the whole time, even when Mr. Collins had tactlessly suggested her father had every right to see her one last time.

"Mr. Bennet, why are you not insisting that the casket stay open before the burial? It is right and proper that you, as her father, have the opportunity to see your dear departed daughter one last time, regardless of the state of her remains."

"Kitty was burnt. Why on earth would I wish to see my lovely daughter in such a condition?" Thomas did not have to act appalled at such a suggestion; he honestly was.

"I understand that Kitty's body was reportedly burnt, but it was just a report. And even if it is true, it is still a father's right and duty to bid a final farewell. It is most unbecoming to deny you this somber moment, and it is essential for closure and the proper observance of our Christian rites."

"You, sir, give my faith a bad name." Thomas managed not to snap, though his eyes narrowed. "No father in his right mind wishes to have the last memory of their child being one of black ashes."

Mr. Bennet, looking around the circle of men, kept his eyes held the look of profound sorrow. The ground was covered in a thick layer of frost, crunching loudly underfoot as the men shifted uncomfortably. They all knew how close he and Kitty had grown since her mother's death. They all kept quiet as the parson, not Collins, spoke. The parson's voice was a low murmur, blending with the rustling leaves and the distant cawing of crows. Thomas heard not the words as he had been dwelling on what Richard had said and now he was talking to Kitty in his head as if she were standing next to him.

'How I wish I could tell your sisters you yet live. And I was not thinking straight myself. What was I doing, breaking the news like I did. I should have prepared Mary better. Thank heavens, she still carries her baby. I so do wish Mr. Hurst could have gotten to Brighton in time to send you home before you had witnessed that note passing between the one called Mr. Dexter and his associate. Why did I not see just how sharp you were? Yes, I saw more than I would have with your older sisters; I told the colonel how much I knew. And yet, from what he told me, I feel as if it was not as much as I thought. Did I let you down again?'

"This is not your fault." Mr. Darcy, who, like anyone else around him, did not hold the ability to read minds, laid a hand on Elizabeth's father's hand as the wind picked up and made the leaves wave back and forth as if Kitty were there waving goodbye. Well, that is what Charles thought; it was not something he spoke out loud as he simply gave a sympathetic smile as he walked by Fitzwilliam and Jane's wind carried a heavy chill, causing the men to pull their coats tighter around themselves.

"My head knows that." Mr. Bennet replied and walked to his coach, laid his fingers on the door's handle, and turned to Elizabeth's husband. "But my heart still hurts over this whole mess."

Mr. Darcy had no words to speak, so he simply kept quiet as he watched Mr. Bennet climb into the carriage and shut the door. The carriage wheels crunched over the gravel path as it began to move away, the sound echoing in the stillness of the cemetery which now stood empty.

No one had wanted things to end like this. His own fist wanted to hit something… hard. Two years ago, seven Bennets lived at Longbourn, things looking fine. Now, Lydia was married to Wickham, that was barely respectable, Mrs. Bennet had been buried shortly thereafter, and now Kitty, left perfectly healthy, was buried closed casket, no last views. Looking up, Mr. Bennet's carriage, barely visible, Fitzwilliam -who stood by his own coach outside the cemetery fence- turned away. He looked back at the grave, something felt off and had said as much to his cousin, but had gotten no backing.

"Fitzwilliam, I hate this mess as much as you." A controlled snap could be heard in Richard's voice. "But we simply have to deal with things. The Bennet sisters do not need us losing control of ourselves and you are not known for being a loose cannon. Do not begin now."

His cousin was right; Mr. Darcy could not start now. Elizabeth needed him to be stable. Her moods with carrying their first child had been crazy enough, but with the news of Kitty… she and Mary might as well have been racing neck to neck with the tears falling. And even quiet Jane was not far behind in that department. Probably, the only reason Mary had kept her baby was because of the strong support she had from her sisters.

Tears falling may have come to an end with Thomas upon his return home from the cemetery, but swinging an axe had not. SWOOSH! WHACK! KER-CHUNK! Mr. Bennet's axe swung and hit more than one thick piece of wood as he took out his anger and frustration over men he had never met, but now had James Hurst and his daughter running into Scotland not only after Lord Ashford's grandson, but for the safety of their own lives as well. The forest around him was silent except for the rhythmic sound of the axe, the scent of fresh pine filling the air.

"I think I am glad it is not me on the other end of that axe." Anne spoke from a safe distance.

"You are definitely safe from the chopping block." Thomas quit swinging the sharp tool and propped it up on the tree stump but did not let go. The stump was rough and weathered, a sign of many years of it being in use. "How did your mother take the news of our engagement?"

"You might not want to go near Rosings Park for a while." Smiled Anne as she walked lovingly up to Thomas and laid a hand onto Thomas' arm. Her touch was gentle, a definite contrast to the harshness of the axe. "I think if I was younger it is your head that might be a candidate for that stump."

"Might be?" Thomas laughed. "It would be." He let go of the axe that was now stuck in the stump. "How long did you know? I mean about Kitty?"

"For certain?" Anne shook her head. "Not very long." She laid her head against his shoulder. The warmth of her presence was a great comfort to Thomas in the cold air. "And when I did figure things out, I still could not say a word and I hated it. I finally told Richard he better tell you. I did not care what they did to me; I was going to spill the beans no matter what." She tilted her head and gave a not-so-innocent grin. "And I may have, sort of, done it in front of Lord Ashford."

"I think I love you all over again." Thomas, for the first time since feeling as if he wished to punch someone into next year, laughed and hugged Anne. The embrace was warm and reassuring, a great relief from the self-inflicted torture he had been feeling all day. "Mary said her sisters, and their husbands, are joining us for dinner. Also, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth are spending the night. What do you say about joining us for our meal? Our first banns will be read this Sunday as it is."

"I would be more than happy to; London has gotten extremely boring of late."

"I do..." Thomas thought back -yet again- how he had broken then news to Mary. "Why was I not thinking... She could have lost that child, still might."

"Thomas, this whole situation is a mess. Mary said herself she does not blame you. You need to drop the subject and move on. However," Anne grinned wide. "I suggest you keep that axe out of her hands if Dexter has the audacity to show his face around here."

"Forget her hands, keep it out of mine."