Page 48 of To Love And To Cherish
“Jane,” he said as they reached the rose arbor, “I have been courting you for several weeks now, and with each meeting, you grow more dear to me. Your character is lovelier than even your appearance, which, forgive me, is saying something. I confess, I half-expected to find some fault. But you have been only kind, gracious, and good.”
Jane met his gaze, her eyes shining.
“Miss Bennet… Jane… will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She laughed softly, tears gathering in her lashes. “Yes,” she said, her voice trembling. “Yes.”
Bingley took both her hands. “May I… may I kiss you to seal our promise?”
Still smiling, she nodded, and as she leaned into him, he drew her into his arms and kissed her.
In the study, Darcy could delay no longer. He stood and offered his hand.
“I shall write to my aunt regarding the quarterly visits. For now, I must check on my sister.”
The gentlemen followed him out. In the drawing room, only Mary remained.
“Mr. Bingley asked Jane to walk in the gardens,” she informed her father. “Kitty is out with Miss Darcy, reading a letter from Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“Thank you, Mary,” said Mr. Bennet. “Perhaps Mr. Darcy would care for some tea?”
Darcy declined with a smile. “We have already trespassed upon your morning for some forty-five minutes. Forgive me, sir, I did not intend to linger.”
“Not at all,” said Mr. Bennet. "You are doing me and my estate a great service, sir, by prevailing upon your formidable aunt to permit my heir to visit me here at Longbourn. I only hope she allows it.”
Darcy bowed. “I shall walk out and collect my sister. I daresay Mr. Bingley will prolong his visit, if I understand the motive behind it correctly.”
His expression was dry, and Mr. Bennet chuckled. “You do not say. I was beginning to think he might never come to the point.”
Darcy allowed himself a brief smile. “You may thank your travelling daughter for this, sir. She charged me not to fail in assisting Mr. Bingley. I knew I must act swiftly or else answer to her.”
Mr. Bennet laughed aloud. “Then I shall write and thank her.”
Mary, seated by the window, said nothing. Her gaze was fixed on the garden, where two young ladies sat in cheerful conversation upon a bench, and farther off, a gentleman bent his head close to dear Jane’s as they walked together in the golden light. Soon, Jane would be free of their mother’s clutches, and for that, Mary was quietly thankful.
Chapter 25: Wedding Bells
The church bells pealed brightly through the clear morning air on May 05, 1811. It was Mary Bennet’s wedding day, and the sun bathed the churchyard in a warm golden glow. Laughter mingled with the cheerful murmur of voices, and every face in the assembly was lit with expectation and delight, the moment brimming with the happy promise of a new beginning.
Jane Bennet sat beside Mr. Bingley, radiant in a gown of pale blue silk, her hair simply dressed, a small string of pearls resting at her throat. She had chosen modesty and simplicity over show, and in doing so had won admiration from all but one. A few pews behind her, Miss Bingley leaned toward Mrs. Hurst and murmured behind her fan.
“I declare, Louisa, it is a pity Jane did not think to embellish her gown with even a little lace or embroidery. One would hardly know it is a wedding. But I suppose such economy is in keeping with Longbourn.”
Mrs. Hurst tittered in soft agreement, adjusting her bracelet with studied indifference. Caroline, not yet satisfied, added in a sharp undertone, “Still, I am immensely grateful that the obstinate, headstrong Eliza is not here to sully the day with her impertinence.”
The remark struck Jane like a blow. Her breath caught, a tiny, involuntary gasp, and Bingley, ever attentive, turned at once.
“Jane, my dear,” he whispered, bending closer, “do not let Caroline’s spite disturb your peace. She is displeased because I told her only yesterday that she will remove to Scarborough this week, and remain there until I have found her a proper house inLondon and a suitable companion. She will not reside with us, my love. I wish our marriage to be untroubled, as far as it is in our power to make it so, full of laughter and love. Were Caroline underfoot, we should both suffer.”
Jane turned to him, her eyes luminous with gratitude. “Thank you,” she said softly, “for being so careful with my happiness.”
Bingley smiled with quiet affection. “It is for my happiness too, Jane.” He wrapped his warm, steady hand around hers, and thus entwined, they turned back to the altar as the clergyman began the service.
Mary and William Collins Bennet stood together before the congregation, both tall, dark-haired, and remarkably well-suited. They made a comely pair. Jane watched with quiet emotion, her heart stirred by the gentleness in their voices as they spoke their vows. When William slipped the ring onto Mary’s finger, it was done. Her sister, bookish and earnest Mary, was now a wife. She would leave Longbourn that very day and begin a new life in Kent.
A hush settled over Jane’s heart. The moment was beautiful, yet tinged with melancholy. One by one, her sisters were departing. And in three weeks, it would be her turn; she would stand with Mr. Bingley at the altar, and she too would leave behind the only home she had ever known.
Kitty Bennet sat several rows behind, a demure figure in pale blue, her gloves clutched in her lap, her eyes misted with tears. She was proud of Mary, happy for her in every respect, but the solemnity of the vows, the reverent hush of the church, saddened her heart. So many changes had come so swiftly. Lizzy had gone to Scotland, Jane was to be married, Mary was now Mrs. William Collins Bennet and would be departing this veryday, and Lydia had been gone these many years. Kitty felt herself left behind in their wake.
