A Match for Mary Bennet (7 page)

Mary's eyes widened at that. She forgot her embarrassment and her resentment. She determined to find that book some day and take that solace for herself. Catherine showed her discontent with the turn of the conversation by asking, “Mr. Oliver, do you like to dance?”

He smiled at her. “As long as it is not as they say angels do, on the head of a pin.” His smile made his moustache crook unevenly, and he seemed to know this, because he soon stopped smiling. “Or in a sedate parlour, such as this.”

Georgiana exchanged a nod with Kitty, seeming to agree—though she said nothing—that Mr. Oliver was indeed a nice man. Mary just cocked her head. She was not so sure.

By early December, Elizabeth felt strong enough to plan the dinner at which Darcy wished to entertain the Reverend and Mrs. Wynters before they left for their London apartments. Catherine immediately requested a seat near Mr. Oliver, and Elizabeth complied good-naturedly. Mary cared little for such formal affairs and would just as soon forgo the event, but since Lizzy would certainly wish all to be there, she raised no objection. As it happened, she found herself seated comfortably between Georgiana and Mrs. Wynters, and she tried to lean a bit forward and smile her thanks to Elizabeth, who was seated at the foot of the table next to Mrs. Wynters. Georgiana began speaking of their Christmas music, and Mrs. Wynters showed much interest, telling them that she played the church organ at Kympton. This captured Mary's full attention. “Is the organ like enough to the pianoforte that I might learn? I should dearly love to play an organ one day.”

“Really?” Mrs. Wynters set her wine glass down and looked straight at Mary. “I should be delighted to help you try it out any Saturday afternoon before we leave. Would this Saturday suit you?”

“Indeed, yes. When may I meet you at Kympton's church?”

“I look over Sunday's music right after breakfast. Come as soon as you like.”

“Indeed, if Elizabeth will but give me directions, I shall be there as soon as possible.” Mary reckoned this one fancy dinner as time well spent. She smiled around the table at the other guests and noted that Catherine chatted gaily with Mr. Oliver, while Mrs. Bennet, next to her, told Reverend Wynters more than he needed or cared to know about the birth of Elizabeth's son. Darcy, at the head of the table, with Wynters at his right and a quiet Mr. Bennet at his left, tried often to convey his gratitude for the reverend's faithful service these many years. However, as Mrs. Bennet wished to provide Kitty free rein to converse with the young, unmarried Mr. Oliver, she kept up a steady stream of patter with Reverend Wynters. For her part, Elizabeth was prevented from anything more than an occasional word with Mrs. Wynters to her right and Oliver on her left, so she actually found herself committing a social atrocity: chatting with her husband across the table—a pleasure she rarely indulged in at these dinners.

Mary urged Georgiana to accompany her for her organ lesson, but Georgiana had already promised to help Mrs. Darcy prepare for the children's Christmas party on that Saturday. Hearing this, Mrs. Wynters made Mary promise to come, even alone. “You will get on faster, at any rate, and by the end of the session I will wager you will have the feel of the instrument.”

“That is uncommonly good of you, Mrs. Wynters. I shall be there, of course.”

Mrs. Wynters leaned close to Mary and lowered her voice. “You know, the Darcys have been so generous in reviving all the Christmas traditions for their tenants and the nearby villagers. I hate to find any discrepancy in their most wonderful arrangements, but my heart goes out to those young people too old for the children's party and too young for the ball. I often wish they could be involved too.”

Mary could not help but agree. “Could they not join in the ball? It is such a shame to have to wait until a certain age in order to come out socially.” She wondered much at the difference between Derbyshire and Hertfordshire. Meryton's balls welcomed all who wished to attend. “But I suppose they can anticipate attending the ball when they will be of age.”

“Yes, they do, but so often young men who will not inherit must move to town to find some employment. Many of the girls may still be near enough to enjoy it, and some country boys find work on the farms. Still, I remember my own awkward years between childhood and coming out, and I am afraid I wasted too much time envying others.”

“Are there groups of carollers they might join?” Mary thought of Meryton assemblies when she played and young folks sang noels.

Mrs. Wynters thought about that. “Not such as you find in town. But I have a small group of girls who sing in church. Perhaps I will check with Mr. Wynters to see if a waggon could be got to take them around the village and to farmhouses. It is a lovely thought, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth rose, and the women departed to the parlour for coffee. Mary touched Georgiana's hand. “Miss Darcy, would you join a group of carollers if you were free? Or is that something fine ladies do not do?”

Georgiana thought awhile and then giggled. “I believe the answer is yes—to both! Fine ladies probably do not do it, but I would.”

“Then let us try.” She found Mrs. Wynters talking to Elizabeth near the silver urn from which Elizabeth filled coffee bowls. Mary spoke to her confidentially. “If you make up that group of carollers, Miss Darcy and I would like to join them. And perhaps Kitty might come also.” She hoped to ask Kitty about it whenever Kitty finished telling Mrs. Bennet all about her dinner conversation with Mr. Oliver.

Mrs. Wynters squeezed Mary's hand. “Bless you, Miss Bennet. We shall be honoured to have you.” The gentlemen joined them in the parlour, and Mrs. Wynters signaled her husband to join her in a corner where she could propose to him their projected excursion. Mary managed to apprise Kitty of the plan, and seeing Oliver alone, Kitty ran to tell him of it—rather loudly Mary thought, scowling.

Mr. Oliver commented that such involvement of the young people in festivities of the holy season impressed him favourably. “Reverend Wynters tells me that the young men of the parish work each year on a stable scene in the church yard. It seems they add figures to it each year, though he says he wishes they would improve the principal figures instead of adding figures of townspeople like the French do. And when the scene is up for viewing, they like to celebrate with wassail.” Kitty laughed at that. “But still, they have their part, so I'm glad the girls will have theirs.” Mary noticed that Kitty's exuberance made Mr. Oliver raise his voice too. She wished for more decorum in the handsome parlour. She had no desire to hear the man's pulpit voice.

Her father approached her and asked, “What is the matter, Mary? Are we growing too boisterous for your refined taste?”

Mary realized that she must have been frowning, and she shook her head. “Oh Papa, Kitty seems to want to shout out all our plans before they are even settled. She thinks her precious Mr. Oliver should be interested in all she does.”

“Well, Mary, Kitty could do worse.” Bennet took his daughter's arm and steered her to a chair. “Darcy speaks well of the young man. I never pictured Kitty marrying a clergyman, but if she does, it won't bother you or me. Let the church elders and the pious dowagers of the parish worry about it. They might be loath to accept a flibbertigibbet for their parson's wife!”

On Saturday Mary, provided with Elizabeth's simple directions, set out early to walk to Kympton, there being no servant available at so busy a time to take her by carriage. She knew she had the right path when she passed the cottage with its sentinels of sculptured yews at the front door. Reaching the church and finding the door open, she ventured in and looked around. She walked up the aisle and savoured the lingering beeswax-and-linseed oil smell of the small country church, so like Longbourn's church and yet somehow even more comfortable. Perhaps its emptiness encouraged her to feel she belonged to these pews, this pulpit, and this polished wood altar with its plain white covering. She was admiring the oval window above the altar when she heard a noise behind her like a cough, but when she turned, she saw no one.

“Up here,” Mrs. Wynters said, and Mary raised her eyes to a loft in the rear of the church.

“How do I reach you?”

“The stairway is below, opposite the door you came through.”

She made her way back to a door marked “Choir,” which opened onto a well-worn stairway. It circled around as it rose, and its old wood steps creaked as she ascended, some noisier than others. She found herself at last in an open loft with a low banister rail that reminded her of her library balcony. Her eyes beheld the small organ and Mrs. Wynters standing next to it, pumping a bellows. The kind organist pointed to the organ bench. “Take a seat. I'll work the bellows.”

Mary thought the organ just the right size to learn on. She tried a few keys but no sound came out. Mrs. Wynters leaned over and pulled out some stops. She also pointed out the foot pedals. “Try those first.”

As Mrs. Wynters pumped, Mary played tentatively at the foot pedals, and then tried the lower keyboard, and finally the upper. By the time she had managed to play one hymn completely through, the light streaming through the east clerestory window had paled, and she knew she must start for Pemberley.

“You will make an organist, I believe, Miss Bennet. Come next Saturday if you like.”

“Oh, thank you. I shall!” Mary thanked her again and again as they descended the creaking old stairway.

“And the following Saturday evening, prepare to join the carollers. I will give you the music next week, and I am certain you and Miss Darcy will know the noels. We have obtained the much-used, Langley-farm waggon, so wear your warmest and oldest gown and pelisse.”

Mary delighted Georgiana with her news, and Miss Darcy joined her the following week. The two young ladies took turns playing the organ and working the bellows, and Mrs. Wynters, though at first she teased that they had left her nothing to do, overlooked them, suggesting stops and techniques.

Georgiana, who had studied organ with a music master at Lambton, had little need of the lesson, but she protested she was glad of it. “It has been so long since I have played one, I had almost forgotten.”

The next week, with helping at the children's party on Tuesday and carolling on Saturday, Mary and Catherine fully entered into the season and had grown to think of Miss Darcy as another sister. But despite the holiday spirit, Mary remained eager to steal some hours in that wonderful library whose balcony so often beckoned to her when she passed the ballroom door. How fortunate that Polly had shown her the entrance which made stealth easy for her. Whenever possible, she slipped across the polished dance floor and through the small door to enjoy the many works of poetry and religion shelved so conveniently right at the balcony. One day she ran her hands longingly over Fordyce's sermons, a much better edition than the one at Longbourn, but she returned to the Bunyan, which had become a favourite. She felt most at home there and in the music room, and daily she came to love Pemberley, though its grandness still awed her. No less did she remain in awe of Mr. Darcy, whom she could hardly address without a trembling at her knees. She would be glad to return to Longbourn, but her time in Derbyshire passed comfortably enough.

A few days after her carolling excursion, having helped Lizzy and Georgiana wrap presents to be given the servants on Boxing Day, Mary again sought her favourite corner on the balcony and read of Christian the pilgrim, now relieved of his load of guilt but confronting the giant Despair. Suddenly an inadvertent sound of both guilt and despair escaped her lips as several pages fell from the book in her hands. She quickly retrieved the pages, glancing over the balcony to assure herself she was alone. She placed them carefully back in the book, closed it tightly, and re-shelved it. Regretting it deeply, she would read no more in
Pilgrim's Progress
. She looked once more to the main library floor, still glad to see no one below. Then she reached for the Cowper volume, examined its binding, and finding it secure, settled down with it, sadly missing the Bunyan work, but resolved to search out only newer, well-bound books in future. She cast her eye on a volume of Blake that looked hardy enough and noted it for her next selection.

As it happened, Mary failed to fully acquaint herself with the Blake, because preparations for the holiday ball had her mother so excited, and consequently the servants so flustered, that Elizabeth encouraged Mary to spend more time with their mother. Mary's deliberate temperament, Elizabeth found, counteracted, to some extent, Mrs. Bennet's more excitable outbursts. Thus, Mary helped her mother watch the transformation of the grand ballroom as the floor was thrice covered with wax and polished, the walls were festooned, sconces filled and fresh candles or oil put in all the lanterns, and candelabra were brought in for all the tables. A platform was erected for a small orchestra, but its placement so near the L-shaped hall where cards would be played became a matter of consternation for Mrs. Bennet. While Mrs. Reynolds announced the places on the refreshment table for punch, tisane, fruit, currant cakes, and pastries, Mrs. Bennet as quickly objected, being certain that more suitable arrangements could be found. Mary, whose two days helping Lizzy wrap presents for Boxing Day had been serenity itself in comparison, now endeavoured to bring calm to Mrs. Bennet when her suggestions went for naught. “Mama, might not the music cover the occasional outbursts from card games?” and “Perhaps Mrs. Reynolds wishes the punch bowl so near the table edge so that no drips may soil the cloth when guests refill their glasses.” And in this manner, the Pemberley ball came to fruition as it had done for many years, even when deprived of the bustling assistance of Mrs. Bennet.

Christmas found the manor teeming with so many guests that every carriage was needed to take them to Lambton's church for the early service in a parade of coaches that resulted in an empty carriage house and an overfilled church. Mary sat with Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, just behind Jane and her family, and Mary found the service both solemn and sweet. Mr. Bennet said it was ample, and Mrs. Bennet pronounced it terribly long. In Darcy's pew across the aisle, Lady Catherine slept silently through it, sitting erect the whole time. From time to time Mary glanced at her, marvelling at that talent, which she supposed all fine ladies must cultivate.

On Boxing Day, Elizabeth asked Mary to help distribute gifts, first to the servants and then to the farm hands and some other tenants. Not that they actually bestowed the gifts, but they had to sort them for the proper recipient, while Darcy personally presented them. The children, who had received their gifts earlier at the party, remained near to enjoy watching their parents.