Chapter Text
It was raining the day of the committal. A cold unrelenting drizzle.
Mr. Bingley stood hatless by the graveside, looking at the sodden mound of dirt piled next to the rectangular hole of the burial plot. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Darcy flanking him on either side. Mr. Hurst looked up at the sky, feeling the gravity of the occasion, as the minister spoke extemporaneously. Mr. Darcy stared at Elizabeth, who felt the weight of his masculine gaze.
Previously
The others were eating breakfast when Elizabeth came into the room.
My sister is no more, she announced in a broken voice.
Everyone stared at her in complete shock.
Would someone be so good as to notify… and she broke down into sobs.
Mrs. Hurst quickly got up and hugged her.
I will ride for Longbourne at once, Mr. Darcy volunteered, and left the room.
***
Someone is racing here at breakneck speed. He’s not wearing a hat, Kitty notes as she looks out the window. Everyone looks.
I do believe it is Mr. Darcy, Mary announces.
Mr. Bennett, Mr. Bennett. Come quickly, his wife shrieks.
***
Mr. Bennett's shoulders slump and his head bows at hearing the news. His wife and two youngest daughters descend into hysterics.
Darcy sees tears in Mary’s eyes.
We are much obliged to you, Mr. Darcy, she manages to say, when it becomes obvious that her father is still in shock.
Indeed, Mr. Bennett murmurs absently.
Mr. Darcy bows and takes his leave without saying another word.
His departure spurs Mr. Bennett into action. Ready the carriage. I must engage the undertaker and inform the minister.
I shall go with you, father. Mary volunteers.
He shakes his head no, and kisses her forehead.
I want you to remember Jane as you last saw her.
***
The midwife and her assistant arrived at Netherfield, sent by the undertaker to prepare the body.
Would you pick out something for her to wear, miss? The sturdy young woman asked Elizabeth - who quickly decided on the riding habit that Jane wore the day of her visit.
You may wish to wait outside as we work, the older woman stated.
Elizabeth refused with a firm shake of her head, and looked on as the women proceeded to wash her sister’s body and then put on the riding habit.
Do you wish to do her hair, miss? The assistant asked.
Elizabeth nodded and the tears started flowing once more as she combed and teased up her sister’s blonde hair for the last time.
She looks serene, the assistant pronounced.
The midwives left the room, and soon after, the minister and Mr. Bennett came in.
***
Afterwards, the minister left the room, and returned with the waiting undertaker and his helpers, who carried the empty pine casket up the stairs.
The men carefully laid Jane inside the coffin, father and daughter looking on, and the undertaker arranged her head on the pillow.
Close and seal it, Mr. Bennett ordered.
The minister made a gesture of consecration, and it was done.
***
By the time the carriage arrived back at Longbourne, the news had spread throughout the neighborhood, and Charlotte Lucas was there waiting to embrace and comfort her dear friend.
Shortly thereafter, a steady stream of neighbor ladies brought food, and visited with Charlotte and Mary who received them.
It was in the late afternoon when Mr. Collins arrived.
***
What has happened? He asks immediately upon disembarking.
Is it your father, Miss Bennett? He asks Charlotte.
The family is in mourning, sir. Charlotte states the obvious. My dear friend Jane Bennett has gone to be with the Lord. Her sister Mary is informing Mr. Bennett now of your arrival.
***
Send him away, Mary. I didn’t care for his father, and I’m sure I won’t care for him either.
Yes, father.
***
Mr. Collins, sir. My father sends his apologies. We are not able to host you at this time. My parents wish to remain in seclusion with their grief.
I understand, Miss Bennett. When is the funeral?
My father does not want a funeral service, sir – just a committal. Our local curate will say a few words at the graveside tomorrow.
No funeral, Mr. Collins repeats - shocked.
***
Elizabeth comes down after unsuccessfully trying to take a nap, and sits between Mary and Charlotte and holds their hands.
This is our cousin, Mr. Collins. Mary announces. He is the minister of Hunsford parish.
Darcy and Bingley are shown into the parlor just then, by a servant who, in her grief, forgets to announce the gentlemen.
Mary bursts into tears when she sees Mr. Bingley, as he stands awkwardly, hat in hand, and Darcy watches as Elizabeth consoles her.
We are come to inquire as to the time of the funeral, Mr. Darcy says.
There will be a committal tomorrow at noon in the church cemetery. The minister will speak some words at the graveside. There will be no funeral service in the church, Charlotte informs them.
Miss Elizabeth, I loved your sister. Bingley proclaims.
She gives him a tear filled smile and nods. Jane was very modest and reserved, but as her sister and confidante, I can assure you sir that she preferred you above all others, and would have welcomed your proposal with great joy and gratitude.
I don’t understand why she was taken from me – Bingley cries and breaks down into the husky sobs of a broken man.
Darcy puts a consoling hand on his shoulder.
That is a question that will be answered at the final judgment, Mr Collins expounds solemnly. For now, we are not to question why. It is the right of the Gardener to pluck any flower He wishes - for His own good pleasure.
Mr. Darcy gives Charlotte a puzzled look.
Mr. Collins is the minister of Hunsford parish, and a cousin of the Bennetts, Charlotte explains quickly.
But why sweet Jane? Elizabeth interrupts. She never had an unkind word for anyone. Why not that madman Napolean?
Miss Bennett, we live by promises - not by explanations. Mr. Collins answers gravely. We are to turn those promises into prayers so that they may be turned into performances. That is what it means to walk by faith, and not by sight.
Elizabeth puts her head down.
Your words are correct, Mr. Collins, but uninhabitable at present, Charlotte reproaches him gently. Comfort is needed, not theology.
Mr. Collins opens his mouth to respond, when he is cut off by Mr. Darcy.
Miss Bennett, I have long admired you. Darcy blurts out. I could not leave here without having told you that.
This admission temporarily shocks Bingley out of his grief, and he looks over at his friend with his mouth open.
Charlotte and Mary exchange a glance, while Elizabeth stares at Darcy.
You admire me? She announces with bewilderment.
Miss Elizabeth, I have come to feel for you a passionate regard.
This is highly irregular, sir. Mr. Collins protests, and not the occasion to declare yourself thus.
(Silence)
Your words are correct, sir, but uninhabitable, Darcy recounts, not taking his eyes off Elizabeth.
I will see you at the committal tomorrow, Miss Bennett. Until then, Darcy announces and leaves with a curt bow. Bingley follows suit.
Who were those men? Mr. Collins asks.
Mr. Bingley, of Netherfield Hall, and his close friend, Mr. Darcy, of Pemberley. Charlotte answers.
He gasps. Mr. Darcy - why that is the nephew of my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Burg - he says in a hoarse whisper, and stares in shock at Elizabeth.
Sir, perhaps you would consent to stay at Lucas Lodge? Charlotte volunteers. I may speak for my parents in that we would be pleased to host a man of God such as yourself for the duration of your stay.