Mary Bennet and the Substitute Vicar Read online

  Mary Bennet and the Substitute Vicar

  Book Four in the Mary of Longbourn Series

  Carrie Mollenkopf

  Other titles by Carrie Mollenkopf

  The Sequels

  The Redemption of Caroline Bingley

  The Vocation of Mary Bennet

  The Soulmate of Kitty Bennet

  The Stubborn Pride of Lydia Bennet

  The Supernatural

  The Transformation of Georgiana Darcy

  Mary of Longbourn Series

  Mary Bennet and the Longbourn Heiress

  Mary Bennet and the Longbourn Tutor

  Mary Bennet and the Return of the Soldier

  Mary Bennet and the Substitute Vicar

  Prologue

  Longbourn House, Early Autumn, 1819

  Mary Bennet fingered the delicate lace that edged the cream colored silk dress with a touch of wistfulness. Such a dress as this was never meant for the likes of her, but here it was, awaiting a final fitting. It was truly difficult to believe that her wedding day was just six weeks away. It was so soon, yet so far as one delay after another had seemed to push the day into an uncertainty. It was equally hard to believe that she had been so fortunate as to find a true match. Atlas Sutton was beyond what Mary could ever have hoped. And to think she had once been tearful over that dour Mr. Collins for choosing her sister Elizabeth for her beauty and wit over Mary’s more practical sense. Thankfully, that was long past, nearly two years since and Mary had much to consider as she reflected upon the peculiar events which had led to her present state of happiness.

  Atlas Sutton was not what society considered handsome, especially when compared with Mary’s esteemed brother-in-law Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Nor was he overflowing with charm, as was her eldest sister Jane’s husband, Charles Bingley. In reality, Mary had greatly disliked the new doctor that had arrived in Meryton to take over the practice of old Dr. Crowley. However, over time, circumstances had repeatedly thrown them together, resulting in a deep friendship that had later developed into something far more. Now, Mary could hardly imagine her life without Atlas. Closing her eyes, she could envision his face, a smirk of humor crossing his features. Always one to forget his hat, Atlas’s hair was an unfashionable shade of deep auburn. Mary chuckled at the memory of when she referred to him as “carrots” well within his hearing. Atlas had also been free with his appraisal of her person. Mary frowned momentarily as she recalled being mistaken for a housemaid. Not that she found anything wrong with honest work, on the contrary, Mary reveled in the idea of having a purpose and not spending one’s days in idle pursuits.

  It was this exact ideology that had first led to the most unusual relationship between herself and Dr. Atlas Sutton. Having had a lifelong passion for learning, Mary had done her best to educate herself with the books housed inside her father’s library. Unfortunately, that was rather limited to dry tomes on history and politics. Mary’s true love was for science and medicine. When much needed repairs to Longbourn had resulted in the discovery of a long dead ancestor, it was working… and learning… alongside Atlas that Mary had found contentment. Who knew then that the gruesome discovery would set in place a series of events that had changed not only Mary’s life, but that of her entire family? It was a bit much to take in as Mary counted off the changes in her world, both good and… well… also quite terrible. It seemed that for every happiness she obtained, death had preceded.

  The nearly mummified remains found in the cellar had resulted in the dissolution of the entailment to Longbourn. No longer need the Bennet women fear being turned out of their home should Mr. Bennet unexpectedly die. Longbourn was Mary’s now, free and clear. Even her parents would be moving after her marriage to the newly constructed dower house on a small property adjacent to the estate. While the unfortunate corpse of Lucy Bennet had been tragic, it had taken place such a long time ago that Mary had not harbored any significant feelings about it. However, the same could not be entirely said for those who followed.

  Mary had hoped to utilize a bit of her dead relative’s inheritance to rectify the deficit in her education, but it had only brought tragedy. While she had not been directly responsible for her tutor’s death, Mary still blamed her selfish pride for wanting more than the ability to embroider and play the pianoforte. In the end, practicality and scientific inquiry had won out as the man responsible was apprehended and Atlas offered to take the post of Mary’s teacher in return for her assistance in Meryton’s surgery. It had been a most equitable solution, and one in which Mary relished. It was only the latest death that still gave her pause.

  George Wickham, to be honest, had been no one’s favorite person, least of all Mary’s. She had dreaded the return of the Militia to Meryton as it had resulted in Mr. Wickham and Mary’s youngest sister Lydia, living at Longbourn. Mary had never understood Lydia. At only fifteen, Lydia had run off with George Wickham, resulting in a hasty marriage and near scandal large enough to ruin the Bennets forever. To be truthful, Wickham’s death had been an accident… a most fortuitous accident, and no one missed him, not even Lydia. If he had not died, the Bennets would have been the brunt of yet another scandal from the hands of George Wickham. As luck would have it, his death had freed them all from his insufferable presence forever. Now, when Mary thought of how his bones had crunched under the wheels of her carriage it only sparked anger. Instead of scandal, the family had been thrown into a false pretense of mourning, one that would force the delay of her wedding for six months.

  Mary let the hem of her dress fall back into place where it was pinned to the dressmaker’s form. It was wasteful of her to spend time reminiscing when there was so much to be done. Besides, she had heard… and ignored, her mother’s high pitched screeching of her name for the past minute. If she did not heed the elder woman’s call, the servants would suffer the wrath of whatever whim had beset Mrs. Bennet for the moment. Mary was not the only one looking forward to the upcoming nuptials, as it would rid Longbourn of Mrs. Bennet.

  ~One~

  “Oh there you are Mary! I have been calling for ages, why must you make your poor old mother fret so?” gasped Mrs. Bennet from her comfortable repose upon the overstuffed embroidered chaise that sat in the center of the small parlor. A cup of tea was balanced precariously on the elder woman’s ample abdomen, sloshing its contents into the saucer as it fought for space alongside a biscuit laden plate.

  “What is it mother? You were shouting as if the house were on fire?” Mary replied with a snort as she poured her own cup and wondered how Kitty and Lydia had managed to escape their mother’s attentions.

  “Oh the most exciting piece of news. I must simply share it with someone, but your sisters have managed to be elsewhere just when I need them, so you will have to do.”

  Mary rolled her eyes. It was not a new discovery to hear that Mrs. Bennet preferred her younger daughters to Mary, but the candid bluntness of the acknowledgement still piqued her slightly.

  As it was mid-afternoon, Mary had long finished her hours at the surgery and had left Atlas to make his rounds alone. With a promise to return to Longbourn for dinner, she had shyly accepted a quick kiss as he had deposited her earlier to attend the mounting wedding arrangements that required her attention.

  “I thought Kitty was assisting you?” he asked with a touch of worry. Atlas had seen how tired Mary had been in recent weeks and did not want her to overtax herself.

  “She was. But with Lydia now in half-mourning, she has been accompanying her on daily calls.”

  “Half-mourning? Isn’t it a bit early for that?”

  “Indeed, but you know Lydia.”

  Atlas had only nodded, preferring t
o keep his own counsel when it came to Mary’s youngest sibling. Lydia Bennet Wickham was a handful of troubles. He watched as is intended bride adjusted her black banded lavender skirt and mounted the steps to Longbourn. At least Mary was one for propriety, sometimes too much so. George Wickham was not worth the trouble, but he had been family to the Bennets. However, Atlas was not about to complain. Their wedding was looming close and he did not want to do anything to cause a delay. As it was, waiting the minimum of six months was bad enough. Chucking the reins, his curricle rolled forward as he left Mary to her own devices.

  Now, some hours later, Mary awaited her mother’s announcement with a touch of irritation. Whatever news Mama had could not possibly be of any interest to her. Taking a sip of her tea to fortify her for what was bound to be at least an hour’s worth of idle gossip, Mary calmly waited for her mother to tell her news.

  “I had just gone to Meryton for a bit of shopping, just as I regularly do, when Mrs. Anderville the postmistress beckoned to me through the window of the store. She was so frantic that I thought something terrible must have happened. You know that I fret so about Lizzie being so far away, especially since she had her lying in. I supposed that something must have befallen her darling baby before I could make the journey to Pemberley. But as I am needed here, it must wait.”

  Mary was tempted to leave the room at this revelation. It was bad enough that she knew her mother favored her sisters, but to use Mary’s wedding as an excuse not to see her new grandchild was beyond irritating. Besides, Mrs. Bennet knew full well from Lizzie’s recent letter that the Darcy’s planned to come to Longbourn for the wedding. Biting the acid retort that lay on her tongue, Mary quietly sipped her tea again as her mother continued.

  “I was most relieved to hear that it was not any sort of troubles from Pemberley, but you could imagine my surprise when she told me who had recently returned to Meryton. I am sure you could not possibly guess who?”

  Mrs. Bennet paused for effect as if she actually expected Mary to suggest an answer.

  “I cannot imagine, I am sure.”

  “Of course not! It was Mr. Collins and Charlotte! They have come to stay at Lucas Lodge indefinitely!”

  Mary was indeed taken aback. What could have happened to prompt the return of the former heir to Longbourn? When her father had gone to court to prove the falseness of his ancestor’s will, it had not been a pleasant encounter with Mr. Collins. Normally a very reserved and meek man, Reverend William Collins had made quite a spectacle of protest when the judge ruled in favor of Mr. Bennet. Mary dreaded meeting him ever since. Now, as temporary, if not permanent neighbors, it would be impossible to avoid him altogether. Sighing, Mary wished otherwise. She had always liked Charlotte, finding a similarity in their situations.

  “I see that you are as surprised as I. Mrs. Anderville went on to tell that they have been here nearly a fortnight, but in relative seclusion. Of course I had to see for myself, so I called upon Lady Lucas that same morning.”

  “And? What did you discover?”

  Taking Mary’s inquisition as encouragement, Mrs. Bennet rose and took the chair nearest her daughter, as if a confidant.

  “Oh you know how Lady Lucas is… all pretense and show, but I know better. She has been my best friend for nearly thirty years now. I know when she is hiding something. Besides, it is long overdue that she had her bit of scandal.”

  “Oh Mama really!”

  “Well, it is not as if we have not had more than our share.”

  Mary had to agree they had, but remained silent.

  “Apparently, Lady Catherine de Bourgh has found objection with Mr. Collins over some such trivial thing and has sacked him in favor of a much younger minister. Lady Lucas believes that the old lady has plans to marry her daughter off to the new vicar.”

  Mary found that a bit hard to believe. The last time she had encountered the esteemed Lady Catherine it had not been the most pleasant of circumstance. Poor Lizzie had borne the brunt of the woman’s insults and insinuations about the character and connections of the Bennet family. It was hardly likely that a person of her status would be willing to marry her only child to a poor vicar. Unless… unless the vicar had higher connections than Lady Catherine? Unwilling to indulge her mother further, Mary decided to change the subject.

  “Well Mama, I suppose it will all come out eventually. Have you made any decisions as to the décor of the new house?”

  Immediately pleased, Mrs. Bennet was all too eager to turn the conversation towards spending money… money that was not actually hers.

  “Oh indeed! I do hope it is finished by your wedding. It is only right that your father and I give up this house. It is far too large for us now. I should like to spend my time between the grand houses of my married daughters now that they have children of their own. It really was a perfect arrangement, now if only Kitty would convince that charming Sir Franklin to marry her, my life would be complete.”

  “I am sure he shall… in good time.”

  Mary did not doubt that Franklin Amesbury would marry Kitty. He had hinted as much to Atlas, but that did not solve the problem of Lydia. Now ensconced at Longbourn, Lydia treated her former home and its servants as if she were a guest at a luxury London hotel. Mary would have to figure out a solution before she and Atlas were wed. However, such plans would have to wait as she and Mrs. Bennet were interrupted by the return of Kitty herself, with Atlas following behind.

  “Look who I found walking down the road. The poor orphan practically begged for a ride and a bit to eat. I could hardly turn down a stray Kitty,” Atlas teased his soon to be sister-in-law.

  Kitty Bennet playfully hit Atlas on the arm before excusing herself to dress for dinner. Having just come from Lucas Lodge herself, she promised to give a full account of her visit but not before freshening up. Sir Franklin Amesbury was also coming to dine at Longbourn. A very pleased Mrs. Bennet winked at Mary as she too rose and left the room. If luck were hers, all of her girls would be married by next year.

  Now alone, Mary accepted Atlas’ embrace. Some eight inches smaller in stature, Mary’s head came just under his chin and Atlas placed a gentle kiss on the crown of her head. He had taken up residence in one of Longbourn’s guest rooms until the wedding. With chaperonage provided, it was a practical solution as Mary made daily trips to Meryton where they worked side by side in the surgery.

  “How’s my girl?”

  “Tired, but my dress is all but done and the menu is set for the dinner after the ceremony. All that is left is to meet with Reverend Morton to discuss the decoration of the church and the terms of the vows.”

  “I shall leave that up to you. He is aware that I have no objections to a more modern ceremony.”

  “I should think not! But it was amusing to see his face when you told him to omit the promise to obey from the vows.”

  “Indeed. I fear I offended his traditional sensibilities. Perhaps I should have suggested that obedience be included in my part?”

  “You are rotten!”

  “Agreed, but ready to do your bidding… my lady.” Atlas concluded with a mock bow.

  “In that case… my bidding is to eat! I am starving.”

  “By your command,” he agreed and offered his escort to the dining room.

  ~Two~

  Mary and Atlas arrived in the dining room to find Mr. Bennet already seated and in deep conversation with Sir Franklin Amesbury. As not only Kitty’s particular person of romantic interest, Sir Franklin was also a police investigator, most recently assigned to the problem of opium smuggling within the military. It had been his undercover inquiry that had led to the arrest of George Wickham. Interrupted by the arrival of Mary and Atlas, they immediately ceased their obviously private matter and greeted the couple.

  “I had no idea that you were already here,” Mary stated with an unvoiced query as to the reason.

  “Ah... yes. I had a personal matter to discuss with your father,” Sir Franklin offered in way of ap
ology.

  “I hope we did not disturb you?”

  “No not at all, I found his advice to be most helpful. But there is something else a bit more pressing that I have waited to discuss until the rest of your family is present, as it affects all of the Bennets.”

  Mary noticed that the inspector’s tone had become more serious. She had hoped that their conversation had been only about Kitty.

  “Shall we wait for Mama and Kitty? They went above to change. I believe Lydia is also expected home at any moment as well. Perhaps after dinner would be best.”

  Before Sir Franklin could answer, the door to the dining room swung open to admit a breathless Lydia Wickham, accompanied by one Lt. Albert Bullen. Lydia was clinging to the red-coated soldier’s arm as if some unseen force were about to wrench her away. Her state of dress was also much in question for one who was supposed to be in mourning. Most of the Bennets had modestly observed Mr. Wickham’s death with polite decorum as befitting family, however unwarranted. Even Jane and Charles Bingley continued to wear shades of purple and grey, but after only a month in widow’s weeds Lydia had declared herself recovered. Lt Bullen, once also a victim of Wickham’s schemes, had stayed behind to complete the transport of regimental equipment to their new location. No one seemed to notice that he had remained far longer than was necessary. Once seen as a figure of consolation for a grieving widow, he now hardly left Lydia’s side resulting in renewed waves of gossip.

  “I am too young to go about in such dreary clothes. Besides, how will I manage to get another husband dressed in such a way,” she had announced precisely four weeks to the day of the funeral.

  Presently wearing a silk gown of vivid stripes in pink and green, Lydia looked more the tart than respectable widow. Mary sighed and raised an eyebrow at her father in a futile effort to solicit assistance, but was met with a short shake of denial. It would be of no use. Lydia had chosen to forget all the unfortunate events of the past and revert to her typical childlike ways.