Page 49 of To Love And To Cherish
Mary, by contrast, was quietly exultant. Her eyes gleamed with anticipation, her cheeks glowed with vitality. Beside her, William stood unexpectedly solemn, his hair neatly combed, his cravat pristine, his jacket beautifully tailored. They would travel to Kent immediately after the wedding breakfast to begin their new life together. Far from sorrowful, they were beginning an adventure.
Mr. Darcy sat near the front with his sister Georgiana, whose gloved hands were clasped tightly in her lap. She looked shyly about the church, her gaze drifting over the floral garlands and sunlit windows; her thoughts, Darcy suspected, were not entirely present. He reached over and gently squeezed her hand. She looked up and offered a faint smile, drawing comfort from his presence.
“Are you well, little sister?” he asked softly.
She smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. “Lizzy ought to be here, sitting with her sisters. But her mother forbade it.”
Darcy’s brow furrowed. “Are you certain, Georgiana?”
“I am. I asked Lizzy when I might see her again, whether she could return if Mary and the rector were to marry. She told me her mother said she was no longer welcome at Longbourn, and that if she heard of her sisters marrying, she was not to think of attending. She blamed Lizzy for Jane’s delayed marriage, insisting she would have been wed years ago if not for her interference.”
Georgiana grimaced. “The man was nearly sixty. That was the match her mother had arranged.”
Darcy’s brows lifted. “Sixty? Are you quite certain of your facts, little sister?”
“He must have been,” she insisted. “His hair was entirely grey.”
Amusement flickered in Darcy’s eyes. “Ah. Grey hair, the surest sign of decrepitude. He must have been sixty at the very least. Perhaps older. Practically a fossil.”
Georgiana gave a reluctant smile, and Darcy, satisfied to have coaxed a measure of mirth from her, turned his gaze back toward the altar, though his thoughts lingered on Miss Bingley.
Caroline’s bitter whispers had not escaped his notice. Nor, he suspected, had they escaped Jane’s. Darcy’s eyes flicked briefly toward Miss Bingley. There was nothing to be said. Her fate, too, was sealed.
Mr. Bennet sat in pensive silence beside Mrs. Bennet, who looked thoroughly gratified to have one daughter at last respectably wed. Her mind was already occupied with the wedding breakfast to follow the ceremony, then drifted to Jane, who, after all these years, would soon be married as well. But she could not rest. Lizzy, Kitty, and Lydia remained. She must see them all matched before she would allow herself any peace.
Mr. Bennet’s thoughts, too, were of his daughters. Lydia had long been away at a girls’ seminary, safely removed from her mother’s reach. Elizabeth was in Cambridge, soon to travel north to Scotland, perhaps to find a husband and remain there. The thought brought a quiet ache to his heart. And now Mary was to reside in Kent, with her new husband. Jane, the gentle, golden heart of his household, would be wed in three weeks’ time. Though he masked it well, a quiet grief hung about him. There was pride, certainly, and a measure of satisfaction. But the pew that once held five young daughters now sat nearly empty.He had daughters still, but the old days were gone. The future had arrived, and with it came silence.
The clergyman’s voice rang out in the final declaration. Mary and William turned to face the congregation, joined now in holy matrimony. The guests rose, filing out into the churchyard behind them as bells pealed once more.
Kitty dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. Caroline Bingley remained stiff and unsmiling, her lips thin and her glances cold.
Darcy stepped forward with Georgiana to offer congratulations. “My best wishes to you both,” he said with quiet warmth. “May your days be full of peace.”
Mary beamed at him. William bowed with solemn dignity.
By three o’clock, the wedding breakfast was concluded and the bride’s carriage made ready. Mary slipped her hand into her husband’s. He looked down at her with undisguised affection, and she smiled, serene, contented.
And Mr. Bennet, standing quietly behind them all, murmured, “Well, at least one of my girls is well settled. God keep her happy. And the rest… may time be kind.”
Chapter 26: Cambridge
Miss Mary King and Elizabeth each sat on her side of the carriage, gazing silently out their respective windows as the city of Cambridge came gradually into view. The road had long since flattened into the level lands south of the Fens, and now they passed fields dark with gault clay and the occasional outcropping of Chalk Marl. When Elizabeth inquired about it, the professor replied that it was the distinctive Cambridge Greensand. Off in the hazy distance, Elizabeth caught sight of a low hill where pits disrupted the earth.
"Is that a mine?" she asked, turning to Professor Trent, seated opposite the young ladies.
"Indeed it is," he replied. "Coprolite, Miss Bennet. A rather inelegant name for fossilized remains, but they contain valuable phosphate. It is mined heavily for fertilizer and is an important industry in these parts."
Elizabeth looked again at the pitted ground, struck by the utilitarian nature of the town, which produced both intellect and fertilizer.
"You seem interested," he said with a smile.
"Very much so. There is something oddly satisfying about the land yielding such variety."
He nodded. "Cambridge has always struck a balance between the lofty and the practical. The Romans knew it, too. Our principal Roman site lies just northwest of the city center, a small fort on Castle Hill, called Duroliponte."
Elizabeth's eyes lit with interest. "May I see it?"
"Certainly. I shall take you myself, or if you prefer, Ancilla will escort you. In fact, the student my daughter and I tutor spent months at the excavation. A clever boy, Gilbert Ludwig. Though now his father will have him shipped off to Italy as attaché to the ambassador."
