As the wedding drew near, this was Elizabeth Bennet’s last stretch of time at home. She was savoring her freedom before marriage, while also looking forward to married life. Imagining how she’d get to slowly explore every corner of Pemberley in the future, she wished the wedding would hurry up and arrive.
Bang—A loud crash sounded from her sisters’ room next door, breaking her daydream.
“Mary, what are you doing?” Faster to react than Elizabeth was her already-married sister, Lydia.
Now that Lydia no longer had to carry the shame of her elopement, she’d come home with her husband in tow. Sure, her two future brothers-in-law were both wealthy, but neither of them could match her husband in looks! That bookworm Mary must have been thinking about exactly that, which was why she was angry enough to throw things.
“Oh, poor Mary! George knows plenty of fine officers, let him introduce you to a husband, so you won’t sit at home brooding yourself into despair.”
“As if I’d want that! I hope your Wickham keeps liking you forever!” When it came to good looks, could Lydia’s husband really compare to that man at the Richman house?
That man had clearly been something special, better-looking than Lydia’s husband Wickham, and carrying himself with more presence than even Lizzy’s fiancé Mr. Darcy. If Mr. Darcy came across as cold to others, then that gentleman’s single glance had been enough to make people not dare step any closer.
If she hadn’t been so startled at the time, she’d definitely have gone over to introduce herself!
Now, all the good fortune had gone and been snatched up by Richman!
“George will always like me, of course. Mary, you’re just jealous of me!” Lydia had always been the most doted-on in the family, and there was no way she’d tolerate that bookworm Mary cursing her happiness! She’d get their mother to settle this, Mary simply couldn’t bear to see her doing well, hmph!
“Mother—”
Mrs. Bennet was at that moment entertaining her own sister, Mrs. Phillips. From her, she’d learned the truth of Mr. and Mrs. Richman’s disappearance, and also that the daughter left behind, Miss Richman, now had a remarkable man at her side.
“Really, that impressive? More striking than my own sons-in-law?!” Her sons-in-law had looks, one was an officer, one made 5,000 pounds a year, and the other made a full 10,000!
“You know Baring’s Bank in London, don’t you, the sort of place only the wealthy can even set foot in. Guess how we got in?” Mrs. Phillips had already been astonished enough the moment she saw the man as she stepped down from the carriage. And then, once inside Baring’s Bank, she’d found out just how impressive the man beside Miss Richman really was.
He hadn’t even had to say a word himself, his steward had simply had a quiet word, and the whole party had been shown straight into a private reception room. Even the manager who came out afterward apparently only ever attended to VIP clients.
“If you’d seen him yourself, you’d understand how I feel.” Mrs. Phillips waved a hand, unable to find the words for it anyway.
“Mother—” Before Mrs. Bennet could even picture such a man, her little angel Lydia came running down the stairs and threw herself straight into her arms!
“Oh, Mother’s Lydia, what’s wrong now?” Sixteen-year-old Lydia was still just a child, surely her sisters had upset her again. Mrs. Bennet looked toward the door, ready to see who had made her Lydia cry.
“Mother, Mary is jealous of me. Not only is she jealous of me, she’s jealous of Jane and Lizzy too, she’s jealous that all of us found good husbands!” Before the person in question even appeared, Lydia was already tattling. “Just now she threw something right in front of me, nearly hit me too!”
“Mary, Mary, come here—” Hearing her youngest daughter’s words, Mrs. Bennet couldn’t help raising her voice to call her. Mary herself wasn’t pretty, and after ball after ball at Netherfield last year, she’d never once managed to make herself memorable to anyone!
No, actually, someone had noticed her. Someone had noticed her clumsiness and her stubbornness!
“Mother, don’t shout at me—” Mary, summoned by the shouting, appeared at the door and simply stood there, not moving. “They’re your daughters too, why do you only ever listen to Lydia? All I wanted was to find a husband, what’s wrong with that?!”
“Only now it’s too late, the man I fancied is about to become someone else’s husband.”
“Wait, who did you fancy?” Mrs. Bennet only heard the part she wanted to hear. Since when did Mary have someone she liked? Letting go of Lydia in her arms, she hurried to the door.
“My dear Mary, tell Mother, who did you fancy? When did this happen?” Was her fourth son-in-law finally settled too?
Hearing her mother’s gentle tone, Mary Bennet could no longer hold back her tears. It was too late, that gentleman was going to marry Richman. The resident vicar had said so himself, the two of them had even booked the small church already.
Seeing her cry so bitterly, Lydia set aside her own irritation and, along with the sisters who’d come over, helped press for who this person actually was.
“The man beside Miss Richman?!” Mrs. Phillips, who hadn’t yet left, was rather surprised Mary had fallen for him. Then again, thinking it over, it wasn’t so strange after all.
Not that she meant to look down on her own sister’s daughter, but if it had been Jane or Lizzy instead, there might have been some real chance of success. With Mary, though, hmph, how could a man like that possibly look twice at her?
Miss Richman, walking beside that gentleman, had been impossible to overlook. Mrs. Phillips had seen with her own eyes how the man reached out to help Miss Richman down from the carriage, and afterward, the two of them had walked side by side straight into Baring’s Bank.
The whole time, Miss Richman had shown no trace of embarrassment about the man beside her. She’d walked as she normally would, as if the whole scene were nothing at all, even though the man beside her had dazzled everyone.
Just like the day before, when Miss Richman’s carriage had been surrounded by a crowd in Meryton. She hadn’t panicked in the slightest, once she’d understood the situation, she’d promptly offered a solution. And today, she’d led the group to Baring’s Bank, resolving everyone’s doubts and easing everyone’s anxieties in one go.
Hearing that Mary had only just met the man the day before, and even then only at the Richman house, Mrs. Phillips shook her head. The man was already about to be married, what good would it do to fancy him now? Even if he weren’t married, what good would fancying him do anyway?
Still, it was rather strange that Miss Richman and that gentleman’s wedding was being held at the little Longbourn church.
Strange or not, on the day of the wedding, the whole of Longbourn, even all of Meryton, turned out. Although no one had been invited, the little church was open, and while people couldn’t watch the actual wedding, there was certainly no harm in seeing the people involved.
Like Mrs. Phillips, everyone who’d gone to London couldn’t help but keep bringing up that mysterious gentleman once they got back. Hearing that this man was about to marry Longbourn’s Miss Richman, those who knew about it all wanted to come see for themselves whether he was really as impressive as people said.
As it turned out, before the wedding hour even arrived, the people rushing over caught sight of several exquisite luxury carriages first. Although none of the carriages bore a family crest, judging by the coachmen’s attire and the mounted riders guarding them, one could tell these visitors were no ordinary people.
This only made everyone more curious.
Fitzwilliam Darcy, guarding his fiancée, was also among the crowd. This year he’d rented Netherfield Park again, just so his fiancée could host gatherings here during this stretch of time before the wedding.
Longbourn was her home, but not everyone in Longbourn would be traveling to Derbyshire for the wedding. So these people would instead be invited to a ball at Netherfield, as an early celebration of sorts.
In a few more days, he’d head back to Derbyshire first to prepare, and Charles would then escort the Bennet family over later.
Only, no one had expected that the young lady they’d met just two days before would already be getting married. The Bennet household had even fallen into conflict over this sudden wedding.
“William, can you tell?” Elizabeth watched the carriages pass by, asking her fiancé.
“All I can tell is that this person is no small figure, and not just wealthy.” Perhaps power too, though he didn’t say that part out loud, only because he couldn’t be certain.
Darcy wasn’t only looking at the carriages, he was also watching the riders.
Ordinary wealthy families never put on a procession this grand, only the nobility indulged in something like this. Just look at the riders’ magnificent horses, every single one was sturdy enough to compete in a proper race!
In past years, he’d had the fortune of visiting Chatsworth, the Duke of Devonshire’s ancestral seat in Derbyshire. The horses kept in the duke’s stables were roughly on this level. But in sheer numbers, the procession passing by now had already surpassed anything he’d seen there.
Clearly, these couldn’t be Miss Richman’s guests. That meant these visitors could only be guests belonging to her prospective husband.
Unlike the bustle outside the church, the waiting room inside was quiet and undisturbed. Mary Richman sat inside in a daze, just moments ago, she had signed her own name on that marriage contract.
She was about to become Mrs. Ethys, on the eleventh day since meeting him. If that first encounter in London didn’t count, then they’d really only known each other for three days, and today was only the fourth!
Mary knew she was acting impulsively, but Mr. Ethys had told her about his family, his background, and had clearly stated his reasons for needing a wife. Both of their requirements had been written down in black and white in the marriage contract, the odds of her being deceived were very slim.
And even if, in the end, she really had been deceived, she could still ask for a divorce. That, too, had been added to the contract.
So there was nothing to worry about.
It was just that too much had happened these past few days, changing too fast, and she hadn’t quite adjusted yet. Thinking it over, Mary supposed her years so far had simply been too calm. Now that a bit of turbulence had shown up, it was easy to overthink things.
Having thought it through, she decided to keep moving forward. She was simply getting married, gaining a husband in name only. Nothing else would change.
In the future, she’d still live in Longbourn, still make her living off her own skills and her 200 acres of land.
That’s right, exactly like that.
“Mary, it’s Betsy, may I come in?” Betsy and Molly had both stepped out once their tasks were done, but now she needed to come in and share what she’d seen.
“Come in, Betsy.” Mary had had enough time alone by now, she was certain she wouldn’t back out, so she let her in.
But after hearing what Betsy had to say, Mary’s resolve began to waver once more.
Mr. Ethys hadn’t mentioned he’d be inviting guests today, what kind of guest arrived with an escort of eighteen riders? She’d never seen such a thing, never even heard of it.
“Go and fetch Mr. Ethys for me.” The wedding hadn’t started yet, there was still time to get this cleared up.
Betsy nodded and went out, and the moment she stepped through the door, she spotted Mr. Ethys approaching with two young ladies.
“Mr. Ethys—”
“I know, I was just about to explain.” Even Octavius didn’t expect that his two full sisters would actually be willing to come.
He’d settled the matter of marrying Miss Richman just the day before yesterday, and had arranged for the wedding to be held today right after returning from London. In the meantime, he’d also sent word back home about his upcoming marriage.
“These are my sisters, Amelia and Anne.” Seeing his soon-to-be bride, Octavius had no time to admire her beauty. The expression on Miss Richman’s face made it clear enough, she had plenty of questions, and he needed to answer them.
“Hello, I’m Mary, welcome.” Mary took in the pair of remarkably similar-looking sisters, but had no time to study them further, all she wanted was to speak with Mr. Ethys privately.
It was obvious to anyone with eyes that his sisters weren’t ordinary people. From their clothing to their bearing, from their expressions to their manner, everything about them spoke of a difference in station.
If the sisters were like this, then their brother, Mr. Ethys, could hardly be an ordinary man himself, certainly not simply someone who, as he claimed, had struck out on his own purely to defy his father for the sake of freedom.
There had to be a great deal left unsaid in all of this.
Mary couldn’t possibly walk into that church still carrying these doubts.