by Don Jacobson
“As is tradition, we could ‘appropriate’ some of the Admiral’s belongings. These two decanters came along with one case each of a rather remarkable brandy known as cognac from the House of Remy and a Duoro Ruby Port that was bottled in ‘82. Mr. Williams decanted some of each for this evening.
“Sir William suggested that, as we are past the Twelfth Night and since the traditional celebration was cancelled because of the fire, we might consider the cognac and port to be an appropriate gift for the gentlemen. I agree. So, it is with my gratitude at your honoring me this evening at the home of a family, forgive me Sir William for being so direct, with which I hope to become more closely associated, that I present each of you with a bottle of each of these fine liquors.”
At this announcement, the room broke into “Hear-Heres” and “Oh. My, this is too much.”
Lieutenant Rochet raised a hand to quell the crowd. “Thank you. And, as for the box…this is the Admiral’s humidor. My gift to you, Sir William. Inside are some of Cuba’s best cigars. Please enjoy!”
The men gladly partook of the cigars and fine drink.
Rochet settled back into his seat at Sir William’s right. The older gentleman turned to him with a questioning look. Rochet replied in an undertone, “Sir William, as a naval man, I am often required to act quickly. Although I have only been home for a day, I would like to have a private conference with you when that is convenient.”
“Why do we not enjoy our drinks and cigars in my study, young man. Recall that I was once a merchant and likewise had to strike while the iron was hot. We have no idea when you will be called back to Portsmouth, right?” Sir William asked.
Upon young Rochet’s agreement, they made their excuses and closeted themselves in Sir William’s workroom.
When the others rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, they entered a world full of excited chatter. It seemed that Lieutenant Rochet’s gifts were not limited to drink and tobacco. He had likewise appropriated several bolts of the finest Lyonnais silk—a fabric that had virtually disappeared in 1792 when the Revolution decimated the city’s population as well as the silk industry. Apparently, Napoleon and his favorites enjoyed considerable access to the remaining stocks of the rare textile. That the material had been destined for the Admiral’s concubine’s boudoir in Martinique mattered not to the women of Hertfordshire.
Mr. Bennet retreated to a corner when he realized that even his most serious daughter was behaving like a schoolgirl. An overheated Mary was not to be borne on top of Mrs. Bennet’s usual exclamations. Madame Rochet sat quietly by herself, silk spread across her lap, with a wistful look on her face as she ran her hands back and forth, caressing the fabric.
Shortly, with their absence well noted by the other guests, Sir William and the lieutenant returned to the drawing room. The old Mayor went to his daughter and bent down to whisper in her ear. She quickly looked to the door to see Rochet standing there. Maria stood and, taking her father’s arm, walked toward her future.
In the carriage on the way back to Longbourn, Mrs. Bennet could not control her excitement and burbled happily seemingly oblivious that the other three occupants were immersed deeply I their own musings.
“My heavens! What an evening! How wonderful that the Lieutenant has asked Maria to marry him! And she has accepted. But, it will be a long betrothal, as they must wait on the Tyrant before marrying. Yet, she is quite young. I would not doubt if another year or two of seasoning would be of benefit to her.
“Of course, Lady Lucas will have to teach the girl how to manage an estate! I am sure that once the war is over, the Navy will put young Rochet ashore on half-pay. With that career at an end, he will be in a good position to improve his status by purchasing an estate.
“According to Lady Lucas, the Lieutenant has already gained a considerable fortune in prize money which he has invested in the Three Percents through Coutts. If he is successful in his own command, he will become even wealthier. My-my-my.
“And how generous of him. We will be quite busy for the next several months putting all that beautiful silk to good use. Oh, if only my Lydia were here. She would know the perfect styles that would feature the silk best.”
Mr. Bennet sat quietly in his corner of the coach, his precious bottles carefully balanced atop his legs. Mary and Georgiana sat side-by-side, each holding her counsel.
Mary laid her head against the carriage’s side window and reflected on how happy she was for her friend. Maria’s life was coming together just as Maria had dreamed. And, Miss Bennet also remarked to herself about the difference between how she had felt about Miss Lucas in the past and the warmth and gladness she experienced for Maria now.
Once Lydia had departed Meryton for Brighton, Maria had changed. She would never be serious and studious like Mary, but neither did she disdain learning as Lydia had done. Mary now could appreciate the joy and, if it could be said, innocence with which Maria approached her existence. Miss Lucas devoured life. She threw her arms open and swept up both the bad and the good. In fact, in many ways, Maria reminded Mary of a combination of Lizzy and Kitty.
Mary thought for a moment and understood that she had forgiven herself for her terrible treatment of the young woman in the past. She had reached out to Maria and had listened to her. She had looked for and found the valuable kernel inside of Miss Lucas, and through her friendship, allowed that seed to germinate. In the process, Miss Bennet had cleansed a stain from her own soul while making a friend for life.
Chapter XXX
Selected Letters: Winter 1812 to Winter 1815
February 23, 1812
Cambridge, Massachusetts
Dear Mary,
As I traveled across the wintery Atlantic, the power of the pewter grey waves always left me breathless at the majesty of God’s creation. Our ship, even though there were nearly 200 souls aboard, was as a puny cockleshell on that great water. It was as David wrote:
Some went down to the sea in ships, doing business on the great waters; they saw the deeds of the Lord, his wondrous works in the deep. For he commanded and raised the stormy wind, which lifted up the waves of the sea.[xxxix]
Now I am arrived in Boston. The city bustles with a vital energy as ships fill the docks, merchants take and make their shipments, and people come and go. There are a multitude of political meetings, long a tradition in this most rebellious of our old colonies; some complaining about the impressment of American sailors, others arguing for peace as war would disrupt commerce, the lifeblood of New England.
The talk of war disturbs me, Mary. It may cut our lines of communication. If so, I will try to get letters to Quebec City in British Canada to then send on to you. Your responses to me will be likewise difficult, but we will prevail.
….
I am currently living in rooms in Cambridge. Your father’s friend, Bishop Hobart, has been quite helpful in placing me at Harvard College. I am anticipating completing my classwork within the next two years, perhaps three. Then I will return home to take orders and secure a living so that we can be together.
…
My funds are adequate for the moment. However, I do believe that I will have to undertake some suitable work to keep body and soul together.
…
If I have a broader concern it is that the current fever being whipped up by the War Hawk faction in the United States Congress—all young men seeking to make their mark as their fathers had done so during the earlier War—will result in a new rupture between mother and child. The Jonathans think that Britain is far too occupied with Napoleon to pay attention. I fear that they will discover their mistake too late.
March 20, 1812[xl]
Longbourn Estate, Hertfordshire
Dear Edward,
Thank God you have arrived safely. Winter passages are so dangerous. I received your letter only yesterday.
That you have already immersed yourself in the acade
mic stream at Harvard College is testament to your readiness to accomplish your goals. I am glad that Papa was able to offer you support and references to ease your transition. I hope that you will discover employment that is intellectually challenging.
As you know me to be direct, I will be so with you now—at least as much as I can at this great distance. I recently met with Papa to discuss certain important pieces of furniture at Longbourn. I understand that the Bennet family has a distinct interest in ensuring that heirlooms are preserved. Papa has tasked me to be the responsible party in his stead. He could not tell me everything about the items but alluded that others may know more. I look forward to discovering everything.
…
I must tell you that the supreme factor in any relationship is trust. We must trust each other implicitly and be unafraid to tell the other everything in the security of that trust that love will accept all. There is no tale of yours too awesome to extinguish that which I hold in my heart for you.
…
My friend Miss Maria Lucas has recently become engaged to a local man, Naval Lieutenant Rochet, whose parents fled France when he was an infant. Talk has it that they are actually a Comte and Comtesse, but until Napoleon meets his fate, they must remain hidden.
Maria has invited me to accompany her when she visits her older sister Mrs. Collins in Kent during Easter. We are, in fact, leaving tomorrow to arrive by Saturday. Mr. Collins, our cousin, is the parson at Hunsford which is a living attached to a great estate, Rosings. He will inherit Longbourn when Papa passes on.
There is another family connection with Kent as well. The Mistress of the estate, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is my sister Elizabeth’s aunt through her marriage to Mr. Darcy. According to Lizzy, Lady Catherine has a fearsome temper and is quite used to having her way in everything. She has also refused to accept that Lizzy is Mrs. Darcy instead of her daughter Anne. I think we will find “meek Mary” in attendance if she is ever invited to attend Lady Catherine at Rosings.
…
Your ebony cross gives me the strength to move through life with you across the ocean. I must close now as I am posting this letter with one of Mr. Bingley’s packets travelling to New York. My Papa asked me to bid you a Good Morning!
Your loving,
Mary
April 7, 1812
Rosings Hall, Kent
Dear Edward,
No further letters have been forwarded to me from home, but I had to write to you and relate the goings-on here in Kent.
I fear you have become entangled with a habitual troublemaker. At least that is the opinion of the much-vaunted Lady Catherine de Bourgh and, therefore, spoken truth to my cousin William Collins. I fear that I have confirmed every notion that her Ladyship has believed and cherished about the Bennets of Longbourn.
I have been evicted from the Hunsford Parsonage.
The difficulties began shortly after Maria and I arrived at her sister’s home. Thankfully Holy Saturday is the only day in the Church Calendar where repose is acceptable, Mr. Collins had already made his call to the Great House. We were able to settle into our cozy rooms under the eaves. When we sat to dinner, most of the conversation was about Maria’s engagement. But, Mr. Collins was careful to include a few snipes at our family, most notably Lizzy. I believe he still is stung by her rejection of his suit last year before she and Mr. Darcy had reconciled. However, aside from that, domestic harmony reigned.
The clouds of strife gathered after Easter services. Charlotte, Maria, and I all were seated in the rector’s pew when the Rosings party sallied through the doors. Lady Catherine regally led the way to her pew followed by Colonel Fitzwilliam who had the arm of Miss Anne de Bourgh. The two younger adults moved together as one.
Miss Anne has been seen as sickly. I have often wondered at the veracity of that claim. Lizzy told me after she had returned from her visit last year that she suspected that Miss de Bourgh was playacting to deflect her mother’s criticisms. I cannot but agree! In the end, just as Papa runs to the library to escape Mama, Miss Anne feigns illness to avoid her mother’s machinations.
The Easter tidings were delivered as only my cousin could. Please forgive my opinion, but if William Collins had been moderating the proceedings when the Tomb was found empty, we would still be waiting for the Messiah. Even the good Colonel, obviously adept at remaining wakeful in the darkest hours before a dawn attack, started nodding off. Only Lady Catherine remained sensible, mouthing every word of the sermon.
The Hunsford contingent had been invited to Rosings for the Easter feast. All was well until the ladies—Lady C, Miss Anne, Charlotte, Maria, and I—separated from the gentlemen and went to the parlor. I was seated next to Anne who was bundled under three shawls. Then she spoke to me. Here is the gist of our conversation:
“Miss Bennet,” Miss Anne began quietly, “I must ask you how your sister, Mrs. Darcy, fares in Derbyshire. It has been nearly four months since the wedding, has it not?”
“Just short of that, Miss de Bourgh. Lizzy writes that the cold weather has been quite an adjustment, but says she is happily settling into married life.”
“Oh, I do wish them well. My mother went on for years about how I was to marry my cousin. I do love Fitzwilliam, but only as a relative, not as a husband.”
At this point, Lady Catherine interrupted us to bring the focus of the conversation back to her. I was dispatched to play the pianoforte. Anne was left alone. But, this was only the beginning of my complicity in the adventures of Miss Anne de Bourgh.
The following morning as Charlotte, Maria, and I were attending to some sewing for the parish, Miss de Bourgh pulled up in her phaeton for a visit. Entering, she greeted us and then invited me to accompany her in her carriage to tour the grounds. By this time, Mr. Collins had been roused out of his study and, upon hearing of the invitation, nearly injured me in his hurry to escort me into Miss de Bourgh’s carriage. All the time he was abasing himself and muttering about “condescension.”
As we pulled away, Anne, as she insisted that we become “Mary and Anne” to one another, broached the real reason for her visit. She wanted me to be her cover story for a clandestine meeting—with Colonel Fitzwilliam!
I have known the Colonel, Darcy’s cousin and second son to the Earl of Matlock, for several months. He was of great assistance to me as my nerves recovered after the events of the Fire. His advice about soldiers’ traumatic disorders allowed me to come to terms with the nightmares I experienced.
When we were well out of sight of the Parsonage and into the game reserve, the Colonel joined us. Anne glowed as he dismounted from his magnificent stallion and handed her down from the carriage. Luckily, I had heeded Mr. Adams’—you may be surprised that I follow American politics—advice and pulled one of Mr. Wordsworth’s books from my reticule.[xli] As the two walked away, I strolled on the banks of the Wye above Tintern Abbey.
After an hour, they returned. Their happiness quelled any possible complaint I may have had about their lack of chaperonage. Anne and Richard were besotted with each other. I knew that look. I have seen it on both Jane’s and Lizzy’s faces when they beheld their beloveds. I hope you see it on mine.
These carriage rides were undertaken every day for the next fortnight. Charlotte and Maria were surprised by the closeness that had developed between Anne and me. Mr. Collins enthused about the honor I was experiencing being in the presence of Miss de Bourgh.
By the Friday of the second sen’night, the atmosphere had changed between Anne and the Colonel. Gone was the innocent bumblings of early love. Now there was a firm resolution. They revealed their plan to me. They were engaged and would wed using a special license—that very day! They needed to act quickly. We were off to neighboring Surrey!
Richard knew Lady Catherine would never allow him to marry Anne because then he would be in control of Rosings and would do the only logical thing with the old Mistress; put her on an extended vacation. The Colonel, ever the efficient
campaigner, had planned everything down to the last rose petal. He needed to steal a march to beard the lion.
A willing parson just over the shire line in Surrey and outside of the Rosings’ beneficence had agreed to do the deed. Anne asked me to stand up with her. Lieutenant Brooks, the Colonel’s aide, who was also from Surrey, would wait with him by the altar. Anne had secreted some suitable accessories for her wedding regalia under the phaeton’s bench. As for the wedding night…it would be a brief wedding afternoon in a coaching inn aside the road between Oxted and Hunsford. The couple would take an extended wedding trip once Lady Catherine’s status had been sorted.
You would be surprised to know that I was later deputed to mount a bit of disinformation to throw everybody off the scent until Anne and Richard returned to Rosings in the evening. Once the ceremony was completed (and it was well done as far as I was concerned by focusing on the spiritual nature of marriage), the Lieutenant and his sister joined me in their family’s carriage to return me to Hunsford Village. I walked home under the pretense that Anne had dropped me early to walk in Rosings’ forest before I returned to the Parsonage.
All went smoothly that April afternoon. While Richard and Anne celebrated their love at the inn, Mr. Collins, blinded by his sycophancy, simply waxed poetic about Anne’s condescension. Charlotte and Maria said nothing even if they may have smelled a rat.
The explosion came when my cousin went to Rosings the following morning to present his draft sermon to Lady Catherine for her consideration. It seemed that Lady Catherine was indisposed, and Anne and Richard received him. They explained that his world had changed. No longer was he Lady Catherine’s Parson, but rather Hunsford’s, and that status would only continue on the suffrage of Anne and the Colonel based upon their fondness for Mrs. Collins.
