Page 50 of A Prudent Engagement

That was the way of the Methodists, the Baptists, and the other non-conformists. While they did not depend upon such rhetorical flourishes, in their own way the Quakers were yet more mad.

Darcy only realised when the service was nearly over that he was filled with an anxious sentiment.

Elizabeth was somehow…less cheerful than he had expected.

He had also not expected to see that which he disapproved of in the Bennet household so boldly on display.

Elizabeth had accepted his proposal. She had agreed to marry him.

That was sufficient proof of her affection for him and her happiness with him.

And he cared nothing for the deficiencies of her connections and station when he could have the joy of protecting her, bringing her joy, and having her as his companion in life.

Her father had been buried the day before. That was cause enough for Elizabeth’s subdued emotions, even when the season otherwise ought to be of the happiest sort.

And she had quarrelled with her sister—why did Elizabeth choose to hide the subject? Was it that Miss Bennet had begged her sister to intercede with Darcy about the matter of Bingley? Was it a matter even more discreditable to Miss Bennet? Perhaps Elizabeth had not slept well on that account.

She had never said that she admired and loved him.

That did not require her to no longer grieve for her father. That was what he longed to hear. He needed to know that she needed him as much as he needed her.

He studied Elizabeth from the corner of his eye, dressed in black-dyed Sunday clothes, hair pinned tightly inside her bonnet, her expression serious as she listened to the rector say commonplaces about the importance of always living life in the awareness that death could come at any minute.

Her father had been in the grave for barely long enough to go cold. The thought of death and the promise of future happiness might be an old familiar tune, but it also would give her comfort at such a time. The promise of that future happiness was a great consolation to every Christian.

It was this thought, and the attention that he put on Elizabeth’s presence next to him, that calmed Darcy’s unwonted anxiety. It was not his way to be nervous—and certainly not after he had taken the great and irrevocable step.

The one which had made him the happiest man in the world.

Except Darcy knew rather than felt himself to be so very happy at that moment.

When the service ended, a great many people crowded around the three present Bennet sisters to offer their condolences and to look at Darcy with a great deal of curiosity.

He did not smile at them.

The rector, Mr. Miles, came up to them and also expressed his sympathy.

Darcy said to him, “We must speak to you privately on a matter later today.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks turned pink, and she looked down, but then she lifted her head again and smiled at him. “Yes, we must.”

The rector clearly understood from their manner that they wished to speak about the banns, for he smiled and then pinched Elizabeth’s cheek, as an older man who had known a woman since she was a small child might, and said in a cheerful tone, “Life does go on. And so it ought. I shall be at my leisure in the parsonage in half an hour.”

Once the crowd with their mixed congratulations and condolences had dispersed, it was time for them to go to the parsonage. Mr. Gardiner accompanied them, laughingly saying, “I suppose it is my duty to assure Mr. Miles that you have permission to marry.”

Darcy asked, “Might Mr. Phillips wish to also be present?”

“We have already agreed betwixt ourselves that I shall be the one to speak to Mr. Miles since Phillips worships at the church in Meryton itself rather than here in Longbourn village. Unfortunately, there are no close relations on the Bennet side. It is an old family, and very respectable. My father always treated Mr. Bennet’s father with the greatest deference, and I thought Mr. Bennet himself to be an excellent sort of man when I was but a lad and he was about twenty. It rather improved my opinion of my sister for a time that he married her.”

That made Elizabeth laugh a little. “I imagine that if I had a brother, I would not have seen him in the same way that a woman looking for a husband might.”

“Quite,” Mr. Gardiner agreed cheerfully. “But the Bennets have not been fecund for several generations. Mr. Bennet was an only child, and his father only had one brother, of whom the present Mr. Collins is the grandson.”

“Except Mr. Bennet had many daughters,” Darcy replied.

“A great heap of girls,” Mr. Gardiner agreed. “I am particularly concerned about Lydia. Mrs. Gardiner and I have heard enough about how she speaks of the officers—especially that Wickham fellow—to think the girl has half taken leave of her senses. I do not like to leave her with Mrs. Bennet—Mr. Darcy would you be willing to take her with you when you and Elizabeth depart? I think that an estate in the midst of the countryside would be better for her than the bustle of London, and I shall not leave her here without the supervision of someone I consider sound.”

Elizabeth grimaced. “Can you imagine how she would complain if we removed her before the regiment removed itself?”