by Don Jacobson
Tears rushed down Mary’s cheeks. Kitty, an old woman? How? Why?
“Kitty explained much to me. While she did not know anything about how the Wardrobe worked when she was transported, apparently the Keepers of the Wardrobe had jumped into action to protect her whenever she arrived. They had been looking for her for over half a century. News of Kitty had been passed from generation to generation. Kitty had become the most famous of the wandering Bennets, actually a legend.
“When she tumbled out into the world in 1886, she was protected by the Keeper. An identity had been prepared for her to explain her sudden appearance. The Keeper knew, thanks to the fact that Kitty returned to Longbourn as an older woman, that she remained in the future to live as she had wished to the Wardrobe—away from everybody here who was ruining her life.
“Kitty exiled herself to a future which began after everybody in my cohort and yours had passed from the scene,” Mr. Bennet explained.
He paused to allow Mary to digest what he had related. There was so much here.
“How old was she Papa?”
“Three-and-Sixty years.”
That would put her in 1932 or 1933—exactly when M. Ravel’s portfolio originated.
“Was she carrying anything, Papa?”
“Yes. She clutched that same leather portfolio you have described. She did not show it to me or explain what it was about. I knew nothing of the contents until you revealed them to me this morning. However, I did receive it yesterday. A letter was included for me. That’s how I obtained the photograph of Kitty’s husband and children.”
Her father’s speech stopped Mary’s inquisition. She reflected on the events of yesterday. Images of the brown package and the older lady nibbled at the edges of her mind. Then the recollection coalesced into a clear picture. Rochet’s Chocolate Shop! She had been sitting next to an older woman with a brown paper package—a person who had been very interested to overhear their conversation. And, she even spoke to the three of them as she was leaving. What was it she said? She told Georgie that Deauville was a beautiful place. Flipping the picture Mary read the caption again…Au Plage Deauville!
In 1932 or 1933, her sister Kitty lived in the beachfront town of Deauville, France!
She looked up to see Papa in front of her holding a letter out for her to read. There was no question that the letter was in Kitty’s hand. Even with 40-odd years of maturation, Mary could still recognize some of Kitty’s cursive idiosyncrasies. As she absorbed her sister’s words, she understood that, while Kitty may have expressed her need unaware of what was to occur, the Wardrobe had sent her to a time when she could fulfill her dreams. She had apparently created quite a life for herself in the future. If she was associated with people like Mr. Gershwin and M. Ravel, she had certainly expressed her sensibilities. She had a home in France with her husband and children—and she was a Fitzwilliam! What would the Colonel have to say about that?
Returning the letter and photograph to her father, Mary spoke.
“I understand that Kitty is well. I wish I had known she was here. I would dearly have wanted to hold her and then wish her happiness in her life.
“I also can accept that, with the proofs before me, the Wardrobe enables those of us with Bennet blood to travel in time. But, who is the Keeper?” she quizzed.
“That is an easy answer. The Keeper is the Bennet who has been designated by the Family to maintain the integrity of the Wardrobe. I am the Keeper as my father and grandfather were before me. The Wardrobe itself has been traditionally domiciled here in the Longbourn bookroom, but there is no requirement that it remain in Hertfordshire.
“In fact, in Kitty’s time, the Wardrobe is found at her house in Deauville, France. I imagine that it has moved with its Keepers to other spots as well…at least since my future demise,” Mr. Bennet wryly suggested.
He added, “The Keeper’s most important task is to never allow the Wardrobe to fall into the hands of those who would misuse it. I realize that none of our household could be guilty of this, but there are other branches of the family, thankfully ignorant of the Wardrobe’s capabilities, that could be suspect.
“I am considering the Collinses in specific. Your cousin William Collins is a direct descendent of my Aunt Maude, my father’s sister. He has Bennet blood and could employ the Wardrobe. I shudder to imagine a world with Mr. Collins in control of the Wardrobe.
“As Keeper, it is my responsibility to ensure that the Wardrobe is seamlessly transferred to the next generation. Since Longbourn is entailed away from you girls and given that little Eddie is adopted, we must assume that the courts will hold against him being my heir. Thus, Collins will inherit all upon my death. As we saw during the fire last month, death can take you without warning. I cannot allow the Wardrobe to fall into Collins’ hands.
“So, I have met with your Uncle Philips and have adjusted my will to bequeath you the Wardrobe. It is an heirloom, so I doubt if Collins could contest your claim to it by saying that I had spent estate money on the item. Its provenance is too clear.
“At this point, you are the only one on scene. And, even if Lydia were here, I would not trust her to be reliable. When I die, you, the Keeper of the Wardrobe, will be able to assume immediate control and move the Wardrobe out of Longbourn.
“It would be best, of course, if Collins never got near the cabinet. He could inadvertently activate it and discover the secret. That will be your first task, one you will have to undertake before you can mourn my passing, although I would ask that you spare your energy lamenting the death of one who served his daughters so poorly,” Bennet concluded.
Mary smiled at the contrite older man. He had honestly revised his behavior since Lydia’s disgrace. Her respect for him rose even higher.
But, there was one piece of the puzzle left hanging.
“Father, before we were diverted onto Kitty’s story, you said that the fire changed your view. Was it the fire? Or was it something else?”
Mr. Bennet glowered. He had been caught out. Hoping to divert her attention from the most uncomfortable subject, he had sought to overload Mary with everything important but the most critical item in her life. Miss Bennet was too clever by half!
Mary solved his dilemma by asking the question foremost on her mind since Christmas.
“Papa, who is Mr. Benton?”
“I imagine you have heard what I am about to say from him, but I will repeat it. Who Mr. Benton may be, beyond being the man with whom you are in a courtship, is not my story to tell. How and when he tells you will be the true measure of the man, but I doubt if he will disappoint.”
Chapter XXIX
Lucas Lodge, Hertfordshire, January 20, 1812
Mama had been beside herself with excitement since receiving Lady Lucas’ dinner invitation. While past the traditional Twelfth Night celebration, it did assume the nature of such festivities—at least in the mind of Longbourn’s Mistress. Given that Mary was the only one of her daughters still at home, Fanny Bennet focused all her fashion sense on her. To put it simply, Monday, January 20th was lace hell for Mary and, by proximity, Mr. Bennet. The only saving grace for him was his library, and for Mary it was that Georgiana was in the house.
Georgie had come to Mary’s rescue by offering her a gown from the voluminous Darcy luggage that seemed to follow behind the blonde heiress wherever she went—Pemberley to London to Netherfield to Longbourn. Although not quite as tall as her friend, Mary was shaped in a similar manner. Thankfully at six-and-ten, Miss Darcy was not yet fully grown so Mary, never to be as well-endowed as her elder or younger sisters, could comfortably wear most of Miss Darcy’s wardrobe once the hems had been raised. Mama was hard-pressed to suggest that Miss Darcy’s stylish clothing was anything but a la mode.
As the sky darkened, the two young women finished their preparations in Mary’s room. Mary was very pleased with the modest way Georgie’s modiste had conspired to emphasize her bosom without offending propriety. What was suitable for a young woman wh
o was not yet out, served Mary’s more sedate sense of decorum. The cream-colored gown complemented Mary’s coloring, eyes and hair. Turning to Georgiana, Mary held out the ebony cross and asked her to assist in putting around her neck. As Mary turned her back, she felt the weight of the cross bounce gently against her chest followed by the coolness of the delicate silver chain.
“In or out?” asked Miss Darcy.
“Out,” breathed Mary, deciding that whatever Edward’s mystery would be, it would not be a fearsome one. Even though only Papa and she knew it, the ebony cross identified her as his.
The Longbourn party was close to arriving on time, pulling up to the front portico of Lucas Lodge just after Lizzy, Darcy, Bingley, and Jane had disembarked. Georgiana squealed with delight and rushed to her brother to embrace him first and then followed up by hugging Lizzy. Her enthusiastic outburst moderated to a degree as she greeted Charles and Jane with a curtsey and kiss.
“She saw us just four days ago,” complained Fitzwilliam, “and here she is acting as if we have just been dropped from the moon.”
“Oh posh, Will,” corrected Lizzy, “she is young, loves you beyond all words and has obviously missed you. Be thankful that she is so comfortable with us to be able to show her emotions. Imagine what she would be like if she scowled at everyone and avoided their society.”
“You are never going to let me forget my behavior at the Assembly, are you?” Mr. Darcy regally queried.
“Not likely since me reminding you is the best way I can think of to keep you in line, my dear,” his beloved wife smiled. Darcy bowed his head in his acknowledgement of her superior intelligence.
Mr. and Mrs. Bennet led the way into Lucas Lodge to be greeted by Sir William and Lady Lucas. Upon entering the drawing room, Longbourn and Netherfield discovered that the Rochets—all three of them—had arrived earlier. Monsieur and Madame Rochet were elegantly dressed in the latest style. The Lieutenant wore his best dress blue uniform, with white turnback cuffs and lapels; the brass buttons glimmered in the room’s candlelight. Around his waist was strapped an elegant sword and scabbard. He greeted everyone and took a special moment to speak with Mary and Georgiana.
“I am pleased, ladies, to be able to let you see that I can be cleaned up and made presentable to polite company. Mr. Higgins spent most of the afternoon brushing my coat and polishing the bright work,” young Rochet stated.
“I must admit, you do make an impressive statement, Lieutenant Rochet,” Mary averred.
“Will or William, please, Miss Mary. We have known each other since we were in leading strings. I doubt if anyone will object to friends calling each other by their Christian names. You, too, Miss Georgiana, if your brother would not object,” Rochet said.
“I think I will stay with Lieutenant for the time being, Lieutenant. I am very sensitive to propriety right now,” Georgiana smiled thinly.
The door to the drawing room opened, and in stepped Maria. Her gown of sapphire blue with an over-gown of blue gauze studded with dozens of small crystals stopped all in the middle of their conversations. Her near-black hair, simply coifed atop her head was threaded with blue ribbon likewise studded with crystals. To say that Miss Lucas glittered would have been an understatement. What was not was Lieutenant Rochet’s reaction.
He virtually ignored any further conversation with Mary and Georgiana. With a quick “Pardon me,” he made a beeline to Maria. Stopping, he swept an impressive bow and made a leg that accentuated his well-formed thigh. Coming up, he nearly tripped himself when his sword became tangled between his legs. Miss Lucas stifled a giggle behind her gloved hand.
“My apologies, Miss Lucas. I am unused to a sword of this length. My father loaned me his for this special occasion. May I say that you look particularly beautiful this evening? I must remind myself that you are just a grown-up version of that coltish girl I knew when I went to sea in ‘05,” the Lieutenant said.
Maria looked back at him and said with warmth, “Oh, Mr. Rochet, thank you for your kind compliment. My parents and I are so happy to be able to celebrate your safe return with all our friends from the neighborhood.
“You did mention your father’s sword. It seems quite impressive. Can you tell me more?”
Lieutenant Rochet looked toward his father with a silent question. An almost imperceptible shake of the head gave him his answer.
“It is a family heirloom. I think it is somewhat similar to Captain Aubrey’s hundred-guinea sword that had been voted him by the Patriotic Fund. T’is a dress sword, and I would hesitate to take it into battle. I prefer a good seaman’s cutlass for close work,” Rochet responded.
At Maria’s slight gasp, Rochet colored.
“I have a feeling I am going to be apologizing to you continually, Miss Lucas. Please forgive my direct language. Mr. Higgins would remind me that this is one reason we do not allow ladies to travel with us on Surprise,” the Lieutenant added.
Maria gently laid her hand on his arm and said in a lowered voice, “I assure you that since I, like you, have been raised in the country, descriptive language does not give me vapors like Mama or Mrs. Bennet.” She nodded quickly toward the older ladies.
Rochet visibly relaxed and leaned a little closer to Miss Lucas.
“Then as a country girl I imagine you would fit in perfectly aboard Surprise. The Captain wants the crew to have fresh vittles for as long as possible, so we always have on board one or two milk cows, many pigs, sheep, and even a whole coop of chickens. Other ships tease us as being a farm under canvas for smelling like a barnyard, although every ship stinks after a while. But they shut their traps after they’ve been standing blockade for two months and are reduced to ship’s bread and millers,” Will replied.
“Millers? What are millers?” Maria quizzed Rochet.
“Oh Lord. I pull my foot out of my mouth only to insert the other one,” the young man grumbled. “Millers is what we call the rats we catch on the ship. Makes them easier to eat, I guess. Usually we feed ‘em to the midshipmen’s mess since those boys are nothing but walking stomachs!”[xxxviii]
With eyes widening in astonishment, Maria could no longer contain herself. A huge snort bubbled up from inside of her. Poor Rochet stood, rooted to the floor, utterly mortified, reddening until he was crimson from cravat to hairline. Once she regulated her laughter, Maria set him at ease.
“Oh Will. If only you could see the look on your face. You have not shocked me. And, your sense of embarrassment is based on customs established by those who have never lived as you. These past few minutes have revealed more to me about naval life than any notice in the Times. Really, do not abuse yourself.”
Then she lightly walked Rochet across the room to where the Darcys and Bingleys stood.
After introductions, Maria “innocently” approached Darcy, “Mr. Rochet has been telling me of his life on board one of His Majesty’s Ships. Do you think we could survive having both your cousin the Colonel and Lieutenant Rochet in the same drawing room?”
Darcy, by now well-experienced with being teased, could see that young Rochet was in for a wild ride if matters progressed with Miss Lucas in the way she seemed to want them to proceed. He decided to play along.
Scanning a pensive look, he replied thoughtfully.
“I believe the best course of action would be to place a cordon sanitaire down the middle of the room and organize the guests like teams in charades. Split ‘em up. After ten minutes with one, the sides would switch to the other. Land to sea, sea to land. We would stand the best chance of not becoming overwhelmed with too much of either,” Darcy opined, but ended with a smile so that the younger man knew his leg was being pulled.
Maria grinned in her little victory. She had engaged Mr. Darcy in her scheme and, rather than being proud and distant, the Master of Pemberley had dropped all pretense and was just Lizzy’s husband. When she glanced over at her Will—yes her—she caught the flickers of a smile behind the mask of maturity he was trying t
o hold. That smile. Those eyes. The hair. The legs. I will know more about his chest and shoulders when we dance.
Mr. Williams, Lucas Lodge’s butler, opened the drawing room doors and nodded to Lady Lucas. Upon her notice, the guests assembled to walk into dinner. The Lieutenant immediately offered his arm to Miss Lucas. Mr. Bennet escorted his wife and daughter and the other married couples paired up. Lady Lucas had likewise arranged the seating, odd number or not, in a manner that led to everybody’s enjoyment.
After dinner, the cloth was removed, and the ladies withdrew. Sir William suggested passing the port and cigars when young Rochet spoke up.
“If I may, Sir William, and at the risk of being improper, I would like to present a gift thanking you for your fine welcome. That present may be something you and your guests would enjoy while we relax here.”
Sir William had a fairly good idea what the offering might be since Rochet had asked if he would be amenable to a variance from tradition. Relaxing back in his chair at the head of the table, the knight genially smiled and indulgently waved his hand in acceptance of Rochet’s proposition.
The Lieutenant stood and walked over to the door to the butler’s pantry upon which he knocked. Mr. Higgins and Mr. Williams entered the room, one carrying a tray with two decanters, the other a dark, highly polished walnut box. These were laid on the table with the liquor on Sir William’s right and the box on his left. The two servants withdrew.
Then Rochet said, “Sir William, thank you. Gentlemen. Last spring when the Surprise was in the Indies chasing the French fleet, we engaged their flagship. Now, you may think me boastful, but, given the nature of naval combat, the fact that I am standing here is proof that we prevailed. Mr. Higgins himself captured the French Admiral in his cabins and prevented him from destroying vital documents. He may disagree and argue that I was the one who took the Admiral’s sword.
“That is Bos’un Higgins’ way of deferring to officers whom are, he asserts, gentlemen. We can debate that at another time.” The assembled men all laughed.
