“Very well,” she said, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “What is it?”
“Only this. If you are in any way unhappy in your new situation, you must come home. I know your husband will have power over you, but you are not without family and friends, Mary, and we will protect you, even if it must be from your husband.”
“Have you any reason to believe Mr. Collins would mistreat me, Papa?”
“No, none at all. But you are the first of my girls to marry, and I find myself not just reluctant to let you go, but also eager to assure myself of your well-being. Promise me that you will let me know if you need anything; in return, I promise that I will take care of you.”
Mary felt tears welling up in her eyes. Had she doubted that her father cared for her? She felt, at that moment, that she had never understood him; and now that she had glimpsed a small piece of him, she was leaving!
“Papa, thank you. Thank you for your kind words, and your – your –“ And here, poor Mary broke down and was quite unable to finish.
“There, there, child,” her father said. “Do not let your mother or your sisters know of my kind words, or they shall be expecting the same.”
It was like him, Mary now understood, to make a joke; but she could not doubt that he loved his daughters.
The Gardiners arrived in time for dinner. It was impossible for them not to attend Mary’s wedding; while she had never been invited to stay with them in London and, in fact, had said more than once that she had no desire for such frivolity, it was nonetheless important for the girl to understand that she was valued by her family.
She welcomed them warmly and was proud to introduce her intended. Mr. Collins went on for some time about how pleased, how very pleased, he was to meet more of his Mary’s most excellent family, until Mrs. Gardiner was forced to retire with a headache.
***
The next day dawned fair, and Jane, Elizabeth, Kitty and Lydia all walked down the aisle of the small church, holding identical nosegays. Mary then followed them on her father’s arm. Mrs. Bennet sat in the front pew, waving her handkerchief. She turned around to address Mr. Bingley, who was sitting behind her. “You will be next!” she cried, waving the handkerchief at him.
Mr. Collins looked almost dapper as he stood at the altar, waiting for his bride. In fact, it had been Jane who had taken him in hand that morning, insisting that he bathe, brush his clothing, shine his shoes and clean his teeth before the ceremony. Mary knew nothing of it, and everyone agreed that it was not necessary that she be told.
When the ceremony was done, the new couple faced the congregation and beamed at the applause and congratulations that flowed their way. The wedding breakfast was held at Longbourn, of course, and the house was full to bursting with guests eager to partake of Mrs. Bennet’s well-known hospitality.
The Gardiners presented Mary with a large wicker basket; upon its being opened, it was found to contain a set of fine teacups, saucers and a large teapot. Mary was all but speechless at being the recipient of so fine and elegant a gift, and Mr. Collins’ gratitude was expressed at length. It was, he said, so fine that even Miss de Bourgh would not take it amiss at being offered tea in such a cup! This, the Gardiners were given to understand, was the highest compliment that could be paid to any item of tableware.
It seemed like no time at all before it was over, and Mary’s trunks were being tied to the carriage that Lady Catherine had loanedMr. Collins. “Mary, oh, Mary!” Elizabeth cried, holding her sister close. “We shall miss you so!”
“You promised to visit me, Lizzy; I insist that you do so! For I must have something familiar to look forward to in all this change and upheaval,” Mary whispered to her sister.
“I shall, Mary!”
All the other Bennet sisters took their turn, wishing Mary well, and finally it was Mrs. Bennet who hugged her middle daughter and said, “You have saved me, Mary! I would never have believed it!”
Mary had heard this often enough in the past weeks, and was as irritated by it now as she had been when it was first spoken. Her mother’s disbelief did neither of them any credit, she felt. She disentangled herself from her mother’s embrace, turned to her new husband and told him that she was ready to go. He escorted her to the carriage and helped her to climb in. With a good deal of last-minute good-byes and wishes for a safe journey, Mr. and Mrs. Collins drove away.
The Gardiners were to leave soon after, but Mrs. Gardiner found a moment to speak with Elizabeth. “So it was Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy after all! How very strange! How did you find him?”
Mrs. Gardiner was astonished when Elizabeth turned colour and looked down before replying that he had been a very fine gentleman indeed. She put a finger under her niece’s chin and raised Elizabeth’s face. “Oh, Lizzy, truly?”
“Oh, Aunt,” Elizabeth sighed. “I have no one to blame but myself. I knew he was destined for better.”
“Not better, never better,” her aunt replied, hugging her tight. “Richer, perhaps, but not better.”
“He was not unaffected, Aunt; he told me that he found me compelling.”
“Does that make it better or worse?”
“Better. No, worse. Oh, Aunt, I hardly know!”
***
Once the Gardiners had been thanked and waved off, Mrs. Bennet insisted that the family sit in the parlour and congratulate one another on such a beautiful event. Each guest was mentioned, and Lady Lucas was singled out as having looked quite envious. “For Charlotte is not likely to ever marry,” Mrs. Bennet added.
It was noted that Mr. Bingley had congratulated the Bennets most sincerely, as had Mrs. Hurst. Mr. Hurst had, it appeared, slept through the ceremony, but had been everything gracious in complimenting Mrs. Bennet on the viands offered at the wedding breakfast. Miss Bingley, curiously enough, had been absent. “Jane,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Where was Miss Bingley?”
