31 • Universal Truths

Jane peeked into the dining room, where their unexpected guest was speaking to her cousin. “Who is that?”

Her brother leant against the wall of the parlour across the hall, or as much as his anxious fidgeting allowed. “Lady Anne.”

“Lady?” Jane repeated the same moment Kitty appeared, “Another one?”

Charles placed his hand on Jane’s waist to signify he too would have a look. “Oh, Anne. She’s a far better surprise than her mother.”

Jane’s brow furrowed, but only briefly as she turned shocked eyes to James. “Lady Catherine’s daughter?”

Their mother appeared, then. “What on earth are we hissing about? I will not be left out!”

They all deferred to James to provide the information. He sighed, “William’s cousin, Anne, is here.”

Mrs. Bennet’s mind took a different route to the person’s significance. “The cousin he’s supposedly betrothed to? Why—if she is to be the second attack of that horrible woman—”

“I don’t think she’s here for that,” Charles chuckled. “Anne is sweet in every way her mother is not.”

Their heads turned toward the sound of Mary curtailing the soft murmurings at the table. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but breakfast is almost ready. Is there anything you like in your tea besides sugar, milk, or lemon?”

There was a pause, and they heard Anne reply, “I haven’t had lemon in ages. Thank you.”

A gasp escaped Mrs. Bennet before her children and fiancé startled at her shooing, “We are Bennets! And Bingley. We will not cower twice at a de Bourgh! Thank heaven Mary is the obtuse one of us. Set the table!”

William’s head perked up at the rush of footsteps in the corridor, and gave an apologetic smile to Anne. “They’ve had a trying last few hours, but they are kind people.”

She nodded sympathetically, “James has always been most considerate to me…and I can’t think of when I last saw you without a jacket on. You seem very at home here.”

Their gazes lifted at Mr. Bennet’s arrival to the dining room. The grey eyes stuck on Anne, while nothing short of a fatherly chortle escaped him. “My house has a swinging door, it seems. And who might you be?”

He sat at his customary place while Anne replied, “I’m sorry for the intrusion. My name is Anne de Bourgh. My…mother has been to see you.”

“Yes, and we were given assurances that she had departed,” he replied, but not unkindly.

His eyes flicked to William, but it was Anne who responded, “I’ve come without her knowing. I’m sure I will have quite a lot to hear when I return home.”

Mr. Bennet’s brows and whole demeanour lifted. “My house full of rebellious youth? I don’t know what I ever did to attract such company, but I far prefer it where I can see it. More amusement for me, and more protection for my offspring. Is the cake finished?”

Mrs. Bennet arrived with a bouquet of wildflowers, which she proceeded to arrange at the table. “You’ll have to settle for lunch, dear. Lady Anne, I hope you do not take insult to my inquiry, but your complexion seems paler than prestige warrants. Are you quite all right eating with us?”

“I do not wish to inconvenience you,” Anne began, but William intercepted, “You won’t be.”

Emboldened, she continued, “I have been prescribed a meat-central diet, so I hope you won’t take offense to my avoiding other dishes.”

“Now you’ll have to forgive me for being forward,” said Mr. Bennet. “Do you suffer from diabetes mellitus?”

Anne’s jaw hung open for a moment. “I—Yes. But it is not well known. How do you know of it?”

“It’s more common than you might think,” he soothed. “I knew someone as a young man who was prescribed a similar diet, but alas, he did not have the money for your physicians.”

Anne nodded with a soft, “Oh…” and then, “I’m sorry you lost him.”

He offered a soft smile and shook his head. “We all come and go. This simply means more cake for me. Any one of my children will help your mobility if you want it, and any room is yours, should you require more indecorous relief.”

She blushed but could not help but giggle, “Thank you, Mr. Bennet. You’re most generous.”

“Ah, here’s the bacon now,” he chimed, and stood to take dishes from Hill and James. William stood, however with practiced choreography, the Bennets arrived with the trays, sat, and seamlessly began eating. William sank back into his seat with James’ hand on his arm.

“Oh my goodness!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. Her husband peered at her from across the table, a ladle of beans paused over his plate. “Do your lord and ladyship say grace?”

Before they could answer, Mr. Bennet declared, “They’re more than welcome to thank whoever needs thanking. I’ll have my bacon and tea with extra blasphemy, thank you.”

Kitty’s stifled giggles were only matched by James’ snort and Jane’s failing to suppress her smile. Mrs. Bennet blushed all the way to her chest. “Be more considerate of our guests!”

James intercepted, “Let’s be considerate that most of us were up all night. The Lord has already done his blessing by giving us lemons, which were requested. Here they are,” he said, his arm crossing before William to place the dish close to Anne.

“Thank you,” she uttered wistfully, dropping a slice in her cup while William poured. “It’s been so long since I was allowed anything overly acidic or basic.”

Jane asked, “How long are you with us, Lady Anne?”

“Oh…I’m afraid I hadn’t truly through that far along.”

Charles exclaimed, “Well you’re more than welcome to stay at Netherfield and use its carriage. Meryton has a street full of quaint shops.”

Mary voiced as she cut her toast, “I intend to visit the music store.”

“Music?” Anne turned to her.

Mary’s head lifted as if she had not expected to be heard. “I’ve grown tired of my music sheets. The shopkeeper collects booklets for me, those that are too worn out to sell.”

Kitty piped, “I need a new bone needle! My other one snapped this morning.”

“May I go with you?” Anne asked.

Kitty faltered, “We usually walk—but it’s not that far! Or, um…”

Her father supplied, “Charles, would you be so generous as to take a horse into town?”

The man perked up. “I don’t mind at all.” He leaned toward Jane, “We ought to tell your aunt and uncle our news, right?”

She blinked at him, clearly having forgotten she had become engaged just the previous evening. Then her cheeks flushed as pink as Kitty’s ribbons. “Yes! Of course.”

“Oh my god!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed all over again. “We have a wedding to plan!”

“There you go, the Lord is graced,” Mr. Bennet said. “Pass the butter, Mary.”

And with that, chatter and laughter moved more freely around the table. That is, until Hill dropped a letter at Mr. Bennet’s elbow. His sigh was small, but enough to garner the looks of his family as he opened and scanned its contents. When a chuckle followed, it was beyond Mrs. Bennet’s capabilities to remain incurious. “Whoever is the letter from?”

“Mr. Collins, of course.”

“Of course?”

However instead of replying, Mr. Bennet finished reading, lifted his gaze to meet hers, and shook his head. “He merely speaks of his current state of affairs, what he calls ‘Charlotte’s situation,’ and their intention to travel in our direction in the near future.”

James frowned. “Charlotte’s situation—oh hell.”

His shoulder blades touched his chair while his father otherwise smirked. William murmured with a slight shrug, “Congratulations.”

“Congratulations?” Kitty repeated.

Jane explained, “Charlotte’s pregnant.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed merrily, and then less jovially, “Oh.”

Their father chuckled to himself while Mrs. Bennet commented, “Whatever Mr. Collins’s idiosyncrasies, let us remember that Charlotte is the child’s mother. There is hope for a great deal of sense to be taught to them.”

“Hoping, indeed,” James murmured.

Across from him Jane smiled. “Do think lightly, Lizzy, for you’re nigh to becoming a godfather.”

For one wide-eyed moment, James absorbed that, until he shook his head. “I doubt her ladyship will abide by me being godfather to one in her proximity. You, however, might be godmother.”

She gave this some mild contemplation while James looked down at his hand, which William was in the process of grasping. James’ thumb stroked a knuckle while they finished eating.

Afterward, there was a great deal of movement in the house as the ladies readied for their journey to Meryton. “Are you coming?” Jane inquired when James met her in their room.

“I think if I don’t sleep soon, my body will take it whether or not I concede it.”

Jane turned to him as if to say something, but seemed to think differently and hugged him instead. “I think things are all right, now.”

With his exhalation, he sagged some against her. “Better than anticipated.”

James felt her hand on his hair. “It will still be better when you wake. I love you.”

Her words settled like a leaf on a pond, and its ripples reddened his nose as he sniffled. He nodded against her neck.

Jane pulled away with a little laugh. “Do you want anything from town?”

He shrugged and swallowed. “Whatever herbs you come across.”

She promised to return with anything new she found, and left while James recovered himself and removed his shoes and outer pieces—

“May I join you?” He rotated to see William in the doorway, peering around the room. “That is, if you think Jane won’t mind?”

The woman herself answered from downstairs, “She doesn’t!”

A ragged laugh escaped James, which William shared. James felt his face grow warm. The man looked good in a smile. “Take your boots off.”

“Of course,” he complied, leaving them just outside in the hall. His waistcoat and cravat were folded and placed on top of the dresser the same moment a rumbling chirp announced Alyss’s jumping onto the bed.

“There’s the chaperone,” James teased.

“Where is Darcy?”

“Probably asleep in Kitty’s room or bothering my father in his study.”

William sat on the bed and let Alyss smell his fingers. “She’s not shy.”

James landed less gracefully on the bed, rocking the cat. He scooped her onto his chest to allow William room to recline. Rolling onto his side, he stroked Alyss’s fur and said, “Thank you for accepting Anne. She feels no more engaged to me than I to her. She feels responsible. This is the first time she’s traveled against her mother’s wishes.”

James felt pinned in place by the statement. “I…I’m too tired.”

William nodded, and stood from the bed. As James’ eyes closed, he saw darkness eclipse the room as the curtains were drawn. He felt William’s weight return to the mattress, and smelled the rush of air he brought with him. It was comfort fringed with excitement, but James bathed in the former as the last thing he felt were William’s lips on his hair.

* * * * * * *

“Mama, please, Jamie’s asleep,” Jane hushed.

“Well don’t let him sleep all day! No one’s better for your flower arrangements, and now is the opportune time to see to what blooms you want.”

“He needn’t visit the floriculture nurseries today.”

“Perhaps not, but soon!”

James roused enough to be conscious of his sisters returning to the house, and of someone’s slow, swaying breaths behind him. It seemed enough validation to slip back into sleep.

* * * * * * *

James awoke feeling quite out of place and lost in time. It could have been the next day, for all he knew, except his arm had found its place over William’s abdomen, and the man himself still slept beside him.

Scrubbing a hand over his face and rolling onto his feet, James peeked outside to find the garden aglow in the transition between afternoon and evening.

He found the cake on the counter in the kitchen. The top was iced with buttercream and blueberry preserves; the whole of it sliced and garnished with candied lemon rinds. It was a lovely sapphire sentinel to observe Mr. Bennet drawing his son from the kitchen for a walk along the grounds. “I sent Hill home for the day. Eat this for now.”

James accepted the end of a baguette that had been hollowed out for left over bacon, eggs, and a drizzling of honey. “Does William still sleep?”

His mouth full, James only nodded. Mr. Bennet continued, “He’s acclimated remarkably well. Do you think any part of him is being tolerant of us?”

He was patient for his son to chew and swallow. “I think he has found one of the only places where he doesn’t have to live by a title. That and a mixture of observing our habits so he does not offend.”

His father answered only with a hummed acknowledgement, and then passed a letter to him. James recognized it as the one from this morning. “What do you make of this?”

James hoped to find in the letter either Charlotte’s handwriting or her choice in diction, however the pages were, without a doubt, from Mr. Collins. After the required greetings, he read:

A number of insights were brought about last night, due to the incredulous joining of Miss Caroline Bingley at the Rosings card table. What a marvelous surprise! We, of course, all met the Bingleys at their ball last year, so I have no need to explain her person or accomplished manners.

She shared with us in agitated confidence that her brother was traveling in your direction with her ladyship’s nephew, with the precise intention of matrimony. Mrs. Collins and myself must offer congratulations, for having Miss Bennet so sought after. And having thus offered you the sincere salutations on this happy event, let me now add a short hint on the subject of another, of which we have been advertised by the same authority.

It seems that her ladyship’s nephew, I speak of Lord Fitzwilliam Darcy, of course, has found someone in Hertfordshire whom he seeks with likewise intent. If a young lady springs to mind, then let my warning be tossed away, however given Mr. Bingley and his lordship’s attentiveness to your family, I was under the suspicion that one of your daughters had captured such a fancy!

Rest assured, if this is the case, the young gentleman is blessed in every particular way, with everything the heart of a mortal can most desire—splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive patronage. Yet in spite of these temptations, let me possibly warn my dear cousins of what evils that may be incurred by a precipitate closure with this gentleman’s proposals, of which they will be inclined to take immediate advantage.

My motive for cautioning you, is as follows. We have reason to think that his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, does not look on the match with a friendly eye. Mrs. Collins and myself are quite certain we saw her phaeton riding upon the evening no sooner after we had returned home!

After this likelihood of marriage was mentioned to her ladyship, she immediately, with her usual condescension, expressed what she felt on the occasion: she would never give her consent to what she termed ‘so disgraceful a match.’ I thought it my duty to give the speediest intelligence of this to my cousins, and must extend the omens to the eldest Miss Bennet and her potential fiancé. With such tidings, they must not run hastily into marriages which have not been properly sanctioned.

James felt that finishing the letter was akin to finishing a great deal of running. Mr. Collins went on to add:

I am truly rejoiced that cousin Lydia’s sad business has been so well hushed up, and am only concerned that their living together before the marriage took place should be so generally known. I must not, however, neglect the duties of my station, or refrain from declaring my amazement, at hearing that you received the young couple into your house as soon as they were married. It was an encouragement of vice, and had I been the rector of Longbourn, I should very strenuously have opposed it. You ought to certainly forgive them as a Christian, but never admit them in your sight, or allow their names to be mentioned in your hearing—

James gave his father the letter back in crinkled disrepair. “I think he’s a dunce.”

“A dunce who has no idea why her ladyship traveled. Whatever her ladyship and Bingley’s sister’s faults, they at least have the tact to keep buffoons out of such business.”

“Far be it for him to ever understand why we won’t ask someone outside our parsonage for permission to marry, whatever her station. Is it Christian to meddle in others’ business?” James said, more than content to return to his food.

“Habits and history dictate absolutely. I am more surprised by his notion of Christian forgiveness.”

“Because it is less forgiving and more so hypocritical.”

Mr. Bennet agreed, “While I may not have accepted the Wickhams at the start, and still do so under strict caveats, when I read a letter of Collins’s, I cannot help indulging a spiteful nature, which inspires favouritism to Wickham.”

“It is easy to like people who carry themselves intelligently, even if their decisions are parasitic.”

“Quite so. But I find myself wondering how such a mind works. Who could he think William was here for? The man who never looks at any woman but to see a blemish.”

“Oh no,” James grumbled, before stuffing his mouth with the end of the baguette.

“What was it he said?” Mr. Bennet made a show of opening the letter. “The…’young man is blessed in every particular way?’”

Though his mouth was full, James vaguely uttered something like, “I’m not discussing this.”

His father chuckled. “Well it seems you and Jane have certainly snatched up two of English women’s most wanted.”

James gulped and rushed, “Have you any objections?”

“None at all. I have given him my consent already. He is the kind of man I should never dare refuse anything, especially after he came forward with apology and responsibility. I now give it to you, if you are resolved on having him. Liking someone can get one very far.”

“I do like him,” James said quietly. “I love him.”

Mr. Bennet peeked at him, before their steps slowed to a halt. “Will you allow me my own brief warning? I know your disposition. I know you could never be happy unless you truly esteemed your partner. It is not your devotion to each other that I question.

“It is a cruel world we have when our love puts us in the most danger, and it is an unequal place you are treading towards. I have taught you the greatest defense I could provide: the disregard of strangers’ opinions. Therefore, let me not have the grief of seeing you unable to respect your partner in life, for where love festers is where the poison will linger should this go awry. You could scarcely escape discredit and misery.”

His son’s eyes reddened against his words, his lips pressing together as if in injury. But James’ irises were greener today, and his voice did not waver. “I’m not afraid of his position, or of his betraying me. I’m afraid I’ll never live up to his kindness and goodness.”

Mr. Bennet took his son’s face within his hands, the pads of his thumbs tracing over his eyebrows as he looked into his son’s eyes and smiled before kissing between those brows. “I see the sun here. You have my blessing, then. I could not have parted with you, my Lizzy, to anyone less worthy.”

“I’m not dying,” his son sniffled, his weight sagging against his father’s strength.

Mr. Bennet chuckled and crooked his arm with James’s, their bodies gently swaying together as they passed through the golden grass and the glinting freckles of sunlight in the air. “It is a truth universally acknowledged that we all come and go, and during our time here we are serfs to that tyrant, love. Such a privilege, have we, to also carry the foolishness to obey, and the luck to love the same person who loves us.”