Page 49 of A Prudent Engagement

Before leaving Longbourn the previous day, Darcy had discreetly spoken with Mr. Gardiner, as one of Elizabeth’s guardians, and received the gentleman’s clearly pleased consent to the marriage. But of course, he could have imagined no other response from a modest tradesman at seeing his nearly penniless niece about to marry a gentleman of Darcy’s consequence.

When they set out to the church, Elizabeth said, “I shall think of Papa buried in our little mausoleum, the slow decomposition continuing, for the whole of the service.”

He put his hand on top of hers. “Bravery.”

She lifted her chin and smiled at him, her heart in her eyes. “I fear to imagine what these past days would have been without your comfort. More difficult by far. I am so happy that…” She smiled and kissed his hand.

That glow in Darcy’s chest grew hotter.

He was pleased to see that in addition to Miss Bennet and Miss Mary, the Gardiners also walked out to the service. This attention to religious obligation slightly surprised Darcy; he had always thought that tradesmen paid little attention to duties that did not involve money.

As they walked down the path to the church, it was impossible for him to not think about how the previous day he had been part of the procession following Mr. Bennet’s coffin to its final resting place.

Elizabeth was subdued and quiet, likely thinking of the same thing. She tended to look towards the ground rather than admiring the deep green of the leaves or the beautiful blue of the sky—there was a promise of a great deal of rain in the afternoon in the form of a great grey pile of clouds layered on top of each other in the far distance. There was a stiff breeze that flapped Elizabeth’s gown around her legs and that occasionally forced Darcy to press his hand to his hat to keep it secure on his head.

“How are you? Are you thinking about your father?”

Elizabeth blinked with surprise. “Oh yes. I did forget for half a minute. And after I said I would think of nothing but that for the next hour. He was taken down this road. He always liked this walk—you can see all the trees, how lovely it is. Oh, I shall miss him very much.”

“Then if not grief, what weighs on you?” Darcy asked.

Elizabeth flushed and looked down. It seemed that she was hesitant to speak on the matter.

“I beg you to tell me, if you think in any way it might lighten your load to share it.”

“I quarrelled with Jane.” Elizabeth sighed. “She does not understand. She is determined not to understand. But I shall give it no more thought. I will not.”

From her frown, it was clear that she still gave the matter thought.

“What was the substance of the quarrel?”

His beloved went a little pale and looked towards the ground again. “I would much prefer to not discuss it at present.”

They went on in silence till they were nearly at the church, when Darcy asked, “Is it typical for your mother and sisters to not attend services?”

Elizabeth’s blush was clearly from embarrassment and not pleasure. “They do not attend every week. But they go often enough to show respect.”

“They ought to attend every week,” he replied stiffly. “It is their duty. It is our place. It is our natural task as the leaders of England. We must give a proper model of conduct for the servants, the tenant farmers, the artisans, the cottagers, and all the rest of those who live within the scope of our patronage. How can we expect them to respect Sunday if we do not?”

“Do you think that tenant farmers pay so much attention to our doings?” Elizabeth replied with an interested eye. “I attend each week because it is the proper thing to do, because though what is said is familiar, I still enjoy the sermons that Mr. Miles preaches, and for the sake of my own soul. That I should do so for the benefit of the servants has seldom crossed my mind.”

They were through the great doors of the church and passing the pews, so Darcy did not feel he could argue. One should not argue whilst walking through a church.

When he sat down in the Bennet family pew next to Elizabeth, he simply said, “It will be part of your duty as Mrs. Darcy to provide this good example to those around us. I consider that as being of chief importance.”

Elizabeth smiled back at him. “That is one of the many duties I shall happily undertake with you.”

Before they could say anything more, the parish rector stood up before them all, wearing his fine surplice, and began the old, familiar rites of religion.

Despite not looking at any of them, Darcy was aware that the eyes of many in the church were upon him and Elizabeth. All were aware of the significance of him sitting in the Bennet pew as part of the family.

It seemed that Elizabeth was also aware, but she did not smile much. She steadily paid attention to the service, or so it seemed to him.

Darcy in fact found it harder than usual to listen to the sermon. Partly this was because their rector was an older man with a slower speaking voice, and the notions in the text he had written for the sermon were well worn.

This was, of course, no excuse for Mrs. Bennet and the other young ladies to avoid the service, but it did add to the explanation.

However, as a man who considered the established church of the utmost importance, Darcy distrusted those who wished for the shepherds of the flocks to use fiery rhetoric and appealing metaphors and to be able to rivet the crowd to their seat for two hours at a time, simply through the use of their voice and the expressions of their hands and face.