Mary Bennet and the Substitute Vicar

by Carrie Mollenkopf

  Mary had only nodded. If alone meant alongside Kitty and a full complement of servants, than they were hardly unchaperoned. However, Mary was not about to give local gossips more fuel for the Bennet fire. As it was, Lydia had done enough to be spoken of for years. Remembering her youngest sister, Mary broke the silence that had peacefully reigned since they began their stroll.

  “Atlas, there is something I must tell you… I nearly forgot, but it unfortunately may bring unpleasantness once again our way.”

  “As long as it is not another murder, it cannot be so bad.”

  “It’s not… but it may be… and it involves Lydia.”

  Atlas groaned aloud at the sound of the youngest Bennet sister’s name. Lydia Bennet Wickham, so recently a widow, had been the cause of much concern. The young woman’s opium addiction had nearly resulted in her death. And now, only six months since Atlas had pronounced her recovered, she had once again taken up her frivolous ways.

  “What has she done now?”

  Mary did not want to admit to having such a selfish relation, but she would not hide anything from Atlas.

  “I fear she has run off again. This time with Lt. Bullen.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I found a letter saying as much, addressed to Kitty. It did not say to where, or if a marriage had taken place.”

  Atlas was not sure how to respond in a way that did not seem harsh. While he loved Mary dearly, her sister was quite difficult to bear. There was not a moment in Lydia’s presence that he did not have the desire to tell the girl to shut up. Lt. Bullen had remained in Meryton to secure the shipment of militia equipment to the new camp in Northampshire. It was only a matter of time before the work would be complete and he must join the regiment again. His absence was expected, but not taking Lydia along with him.

  “Albert Bullen seemed like a sound fellow. If he had wanted to marry her, he simply could have stated his intentions. It does appear a bit strange for them to run off. He would have to get permission from his superior in the Army in order to marry. A minor thing at his rank, but still protocol.”

  “I hope that is the case, but I don’t have a good feeling about the whole thing… they must have left the day of Reverend Morton’s murder. Sir Philip said that anyone who had recently arrived or disappeared would be under suspicion.”

  “Surely not a member of the militia… or your sister.”

  “In the past I would have agreed, but Wickham was also in the militia and he was of the worst sort possible.”

  “I should think he was the exception, rather than the norm.”

  “Lydia is always short of money… and not above stealing if she believes some sort of entitlement. The last time Lydia ran off, she took all of my sister’s pocket money. It was only about twenty pounds, but that is not the point.”

  Atlas sighed, he hated for Mary to worry about things which she could not control. However, a solution was readily available.

  “I need to send the rest of the medical records to Colonel Silverton in Northampshire. If shall inquire if he has seen either of them.”

  “That would make my mind rest easier.”

  “Good. Then let us focus on happier things… such as our wedding in three weeks’ time.”

  Mary smiled and allowed Atlas to kiss her. At least now there would be a wedding… and a proper minister to perform the rite.

  ~Twelve~

  Rented lodgings near Bristol….

  Lydia Bennet Wickham was pleased with her most recent actions. However, they did not turn out completely as she would have liked. There was still not a ring on her finger, but that would soon be rectified, and all to the better. Instead of another small ceremony with only the required witnesses present, she would have a full celebration. This time there would be a military honor guard and fancy refreshments. It was indeed fortunate that she had packed her new dress for the occasion. There would be time later to replace the items she had left behind in her haste to leave. Her mouth turned downward into a very unattractive pout when she recalled how that mean Reverend Morton had refused to perform the wedding. He had been such an old stick in the mud. Did he not realize that this was not the Dark Ages when banns must be read? Surely an exception could have been made. Mr. Darcy had seen to all of that when she married Mr. Wickham. At least now she had plenty of money… not like before. Soon, very soon, she would be Mrs. Albert Bullen.

  It had been late in the afternoon when Lydia and Albert Bullen had arrived at the Meryton vicarage. Insisting upon leaving his horse tethered in a grove of trees, they had finished their journey on foot to avoid discovery. Although the walk had made grass stains on her dress, Lydia had giggled at the prospect of eloping once again. My, her parents would be surprised, but that was her way. Only it had not gone as hoped. While the old man had initially welcomed them inside, he had flatly refused to perform a wedding.

  “Oh no, miss. I am a man of integrity and there must be proprieties to be followed. Besides, as you are not yet twenty-one, your father must give consent.”

  “But I am a widow. Surely that matters for something.”

  “Not according to the law. Now go home and come back with Mr. Bennet. Then we can prepare the announcement of the banns and have you married properly in three weeks’ time. Perhaps you and Mary would consider a double ceremony? I recall that of Jane and Elizabeth being quite a festive occasion.”

  A spark of anger threatened to turn into a full tantrum at the mention of sharing anything with Mary. Lydia hated how the entire world seemed to have suddenly begun to revolve around her mousy older sister. Why she was even called the mistress of Longbourn. Stamping her foot, Lydia had turned and run out of the vicarage, leaving Albert Bullen alone with the minister.

  Soon joining her outside, where she had begun to cry, Albert Bullen attempted to placate his prospective bride.

  “Lydia… you go back to the horse. I shall try to reason with him again. Perhaps we can come to some sort of gentleman’s arrangement. Leave it to me.”

  “But… but… you heard him…I need papa’s permission.”

  “Not if I convince him that our need is rather pressing. But I would save you the embarrassment of such a conversation.”

  Lydia nodded and wiped her eyes. It would not be the first time she lied about being with child in order to have her way. Doing as she was bid, Lydia waited by the horse until Bertie returned. He was so unlike Wickham… this man knew how to get what he wanted.

  Now, as she reached under the bed of the rented accommodations, Lydia drew forth the large oaken box. Tracing the carved raised cross, she laughed aloud at the memory. Perhaps the old man was not so bad, after all, he had given the box to her and dear Bertie as a parting gift. Although, it did seem rather strange that the vicar did not present it to her himself. Instead, he had hidden away in his church. Perhaps he had been truly sorry for having to refuse to marry them? At any rate, they were financially secure for a long time. There had been over a thousand pounds inside, enough for a wedding and everything. If only he would hurry back. It was hours since Bertie had left for the wharves.

  “I must attend to some business for the final transport. They are expecting me to give a full account of the supplies and equipment. It could be some time. Why don’t you order a hot bath and some dinner? I want my girl looking pretty for when I return.”

  Lydia smiled at the suggestion of the evening’s activities to be had, although it had seemed a strange route that they had taken. She has so hoped to stop in Brighton, but instead they had headed east to Bristol. Shrugging, Lydia did not really care how long it took to get to Northampshire. It simply meant more time alone with Bertie. Wickham had never paid her this much attention, and a long bath sounded lovely. Indeed, that would be what she would do, but first, a letter home to mama was in order. Mrs. Bennet would no doubt be frantic with worry.

  *****

  Albert Bullen, now divested of his regimental uniform, appeared more the gentleman than solider as he shook
the hand of the man who had just purchased the supplies that were supposed to be bound for the militia in Northampshire. Pocketing the thick packet of bills, he made his way down the wet cobbled streets to complete the last transaction necessary before returning to collect Lydia. It would be such a surprise, but then, she loved surprises… nearly as much as he loved her. And love her he did, ever since George Wickham introduced his young bride, Bertie Bullen had wanted her. It had been so easy to fool Wickham. Always a man in need of money, using Wickham to transport and sell opium turned all suspicion away from himself. It had been all too convenient when the stupid man had stepped in front of an oncoming carriage. The accident had cleared the path for Bullen to have Lydia.

  His only regret was the old vicar. He had not meant to hurt him, but when the priest had refused to marry them on moral as well as legal grounds, he had lost his temper. Bullen could still hear the vicar’s last words ringing in his ears when he had followed the old man inside the church to plead with him to reconsider. However, a different person presented with Lydia absent.

  “I shall not be a party to such an immoral union. I have seen the way you lust after that young woman…and she you…even if her father were to consent, I will not perform the ceremony,” said the priest with a firm shake of his head.

  How dare he insult his dear sweet Lydia? Unfortunately, his deeds had made him a wanted man. Eventually things like this were found out. They needed to leave England and the sooner the better. Contemplating his next move, Albert Bullen stopped in to a somewhat disreputable looking establishment for a cup of ale. He needed to think. After accepting his frothy glass, Bullen felt a strong hand clamp his shoulder. Fearing he had been found out, he nearly dropped his drink as the urge to flee filled him.

  “Bertie Bullen? I cannot believe my own eyes!”

  Turning to face the familiar voice, Bullen relaxed at the sight of his childhood friend, Andrew Smitherby.

  “Andy? I have not seen you in years, not since you ran off to the sea.”

  “It’s Captain Smitherby now… of the schooner Arabella. I see that the army is no longer to your tastes,” the man corrected.

  “Indeed, I have separated. I intend to marry soon and set up some sort of business far from the dreary grey skies of England.”

  “Imagine that! My ship is leaving in two days’ time for the West Indies as well. Have you already booked passage somewhere?”

  “I was on my way to inquire.”

  “You and your bride must be my special guests. I shall take it as a personal affront if you do otherwise.”

  Bullen nodded and shook his friend’s hand in agreement. I seemed that fate was definitely on his side. No one would ever find them.

  ~Thirteen~

  One week later…

  The much anticipated arrival of Reverend Stephen Kendrick had coincided with a flurry of social invitations to welcome the new vicar. After allowing for some days to get settled, Mr. Kendrick was forced to begin an endless round of dinners and teas in order that he may become acquainted with the local population. This very evening, his presence was expected at Longbourn for dinner. As the young mistress of Longbourn was to be married in just three weeks’ time, it was a most necessary visit so final details might be arranged.

  As it was a bit early, the family, in addition to Dr. Atlas Sutton and Sir Franklin Amesbury, fiancés to Mary and Kitty Bennet respectively, sat awaiting their guest in the north facing parlor. It had been an unusually cold and damp day, requiring the heat from a now blazing fire to warm the room. The only notable absence was the youngest Bennet, Lydia. It had been nearly ten days since Mary had found her sister’s short note, informing the family of her departure. Having expected an emotional breakdown by Mrs. Bennet over the actions of her youngest child, Mary was puzzled by the unusually calm nature displayed by her mother.

  “Mama? How are you feeling?” Mary inquired politely.

  “Me? Why quite well… why should I be otherwise?” the older woman responded with a dismissing wave of her hand.

  “Have you heard from Lydia?” Kitty inquired cautiously. She too had worried about hysterics from her mother. The memory of the last time Lydia had run off was still etched in her mind.

  “Oh? Did I not mention? I received a letter just yesterday. In my preoccupation with Jane’s babies and Mary’s wedding, I must have forgot. I don’t need to remind you that there are five of you.”

  Wide eyed, Mary looked at Kitty in question. This was a strange bit of behavior for a woman who had clearly favored her youngest child for as long as they could remember.

  “Was it welcome news?”

  “Of course! How could it be otherwise? She is to be married to that Mr. Bullen…and there was something about sailing to America or some such place. I really cannot recall where at the moment.”

  Oblivious to the state of shock her words had caused the rest of the company, Mrs. Bennet changed the subject to the late blooming roses found in the shrubbery, just as their guest was announced.

  Resolving to discuss Lydia’s actions further at another time, Mary tried to focus her attentions on the newcomer. Having not had the opportunity to meet Reverend Stephen Kendrick upon his arrival, she was slightly taken aback by his appearance. Having expected a rather serious young man, his clothing matched that of a conservative representative of the church. His coat bore no adornment, not even buttons. Mary almost supposed a Puritanical essence to his attire. However, it was not the mode of dress that was so alarming, it was his physical appearance. Aware that his age was supposed to be near thirty, the sparse stringy hair that was scraped across his balding pate suggested one much older. This, when accompanied by a deathly pale pallor and red rimmed grey eyes, the overall effect was unnerving. Mary felt as if she were greeting a walking corpse. In the past, Mary Bennet had not paid heed to personal appearance beyond simple function and cleanliness, but that had changed when she had met Atlas. Now, she could see how impressions of an unfavorable nature could be had based upon one’s physical presence. Offering her hand, she was affronted by his refusal as he walked past her as if she were invisible, and addressed her father directly.

  "Mr. Bennet, I presume?” he said with a short bow as the rest of the room attempted to recover from the blunt rudeness of his behavior.

  “I am. However, my daughter Mary is mistress here. Mrs. Bennet and I are temporary residents until her wedding. I suggest you address any courtesies of the house to her.” Mr. Bennet replied to Mr. Kendrick’s acute embarrassment.

  “I…I…er… my apologies. This is highly irregular in my experience,” he stammered and gazed about the room for the person that must be Mary Bennet. Seeing two young ladies, he stood in awkward silence until Mary spoke.

  “Welcome to Longbourn Mr. Kendrick. Shall we go through to dinner before it is spoiled?” Mary offered with an amused smile. Receiving his nod, she took Atlas’ arm and led the small procession to dine, leaving the vicar stammering. Mary Bennet would see to it that the strange little scarecrow of a man soon knew who was in charge. She would smother him in kindness of the firmest sort.

  *****

  Dinner passed with only pleasantries as Mary tried to answer the new minister’s inquiries as to the details of the upcoming wedding until the discussion turned towards the exchange of vows.

  “Mr. Collins tells me that you have a most unusual request.”

  “Oh? I did not realize that we were doing anything out of the norm? Is it not the fashion for couples to design their own vows in addition to the traditional church rites?”

  “Er yes… I suppose it has become a common practice in recent years, but I was led to believe that you were a devout woman.”

  Mary stiffened at the suggestion that she was otherwise and narrowed her eyes in irritation. What sort of nonsense had Mr. Collins been telling this newcomer? However, before she could reply, Atlas interjected with a smile as he placed a reassuring hand upon hers beneath the table.

  “Mr. Kendrick, I believe you m
ust be referring to the absence of the promise to “Obey”.

  The thin man reddened slightly as he choked on his soup, requiring Kitty, who sat on his left, to pound him soundly upon his bony back.

  “Well… yes,” he replied with a rasp as he attempted to regain his composure.

  “I cannot imagine such a foolish notion… not to mention archaic. My intended has a most sound mind of her own that requires no direction from me. Nor, is she a servant to be ordered about. In most cases, it is generally best that a man follows the demands of his wife.”

  Mrs. Bennet smiled broadly at this declaration as Mr. Bennet agreed. “Indeed sir, it has been my experience that the ladies, while seldom demand it, are best obeyed when the occasion arises. Perhaps one day, when you have married for yourself, you will be of a similar opinion.”

  “I… I had not considered… I mean, that is to say…” the vicar sputtered before intercession by Mrs. Bennet.

  “Of course we accept your apologies, in due time it will not be necessary as we will have become dear friends. Now, if that is all settled, I believe dessert is in order. Mrs. Kincaid, our cook, has prepared a delightful fruit compote for the occasion.”

  ~Fourteen~

  As soon as was polite, the Reverend Stephen Kendrick said his good night’s and refusing the offer of a carriage, made his way back to Meryton. The night was cold and a brisk wind had begun to blow, forcing the frail man to turn up his collar against the chill. However, it was a refreshing change to be free of the Bennet family. They were just as Mr. Collins had warned, progressive thinkers, the entire lot. Those women were far too independent for his liking, and the men happily complacent in their status as nothing more than consort. It was highly irregular, and he did not care for it one bit. Muttering, Mr. Kendrick chastised himself for his own lack of diligence. He should have known something was strange when the letter of offer had come from Mary herself. Somehow, he had imagined Mary Bennet to be an aging dowager, not a girl ten years his junior. How could her own father refer to such a child as “Mistress of Longbourn”? What was wrong with that man? If he were going to make Meryton a permanent situation, changes would need to be made. Stamping his feet against the bitter cold, Stephen Kendrick sorely hoped that Mrs. Collins had built up the fire in his room. Now that was a woman who knew her place. So accommodating and reserved, one hardly knew she was even there save for mealtimes and the spotless appearance of the vicarage. The Vicarage… that in itself was another issue. When the posting was offered, Kendrick had assumed that he would be in sole possession of the cottage. Instead, he found himself relegated to the tiny box room at the head of the stair. It was hardly private and barely accommodated his possessions. Just how long were the Collinses to remain?