Page 4 of Darcy’s Redemption (Holidays with Darcy and Elizabeth)
Chapter Four
EASTER SUNDAY
S unday morning dawned bright and fair. The family rose early, as was their habit, but Mr. Collins left for the church almost immediately, far earlier than usual, eager to prepare the space for the bishop’s visit. He also wished to practise his revised sermon to ensure that he left out none of Lady Catherine’s essential points
Elizabeth and the others from the parsonage also arrived at the church earlier than most of its parishioners. The bishop offered Charlotte his arm for the walk, but she declined, allowing Elizabeth to take it instead. Charlotte accompanied her sister, and the four walked by twos, with Charlotte and Maria taking the lead.
“Tell me, Miss Bennet,” the bishop asked as they strolled, “what do you think of your cousin’s sermons?”
Elizabeth turned to him, wondering exactly what sort of answer he sought. She hesitated, then replied carefully, “Sir, I would prefer not to speak ill of any family member, regardless of how distantly related. Charlotte is my dear friend. Mr. Collins is... unique, an appropriate term, I suppose. I have encountered worse. His style of speaking is somewhat...” She paused, searching for the right word. “Loquacious.”
The bishop chuckled. “An apt description, given what I have heard.”
Elizabeth continued, “He has improved somewhat under my friend’s guidance, but he still relies heavily on his patroness for her opinions. Some might argue he is too reliant on her and not reliant enough on the Word of God.”
The bishop nodded. “I have heard similar remarks, though not as kindly stated. It is interesting you mention his patroness, for much has been said about her influence. I agree that your friend seems to have a good effect on him. With encouragement, he may learn to be less dependent on others.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I imagine it troubled him greatly to cut any part of his sermon to make room for yours. He adheres strictly to a forty-minute length because Lady Catherine deems it ideal.”
The bishop raised a brow. “It is troubling that a minister should so slavishly adhere to an arbitrary rule. He will be quite surprised when my sermon lasts only five minutes rather than the twenty he assumed. However, if he is as you say, I doubt he managed to cut his sermon fully in half.”
As they walked, he continued, “While it is not quite a violation of ecclesiastical law, something must be done about his dependence on his patroness’s dictates. We prefer our ministers to be their own men, not so heavily influenced by external pressures. Lady Catherine, after all, is not even a peer in her own right—her title is merely a courtesy from her father, and her standing persists only because her brother is an earl. I wonder if speaking to her would have any effect or whether addressing her brother might prove more effective.”
Elizabeth nodded, unsure whether a response was necessary, and continued towards the church with the bishop. Charlotte and Maria had arrived a few minutes earlier, as she and the bishop had slowed their pace during the final stretch, absorbed in conversation.
Upon reaching the church, Charlotte guided Elizabeth to her seat before escorting the bishop to his place. She then turned to speak with her husband, who stood at the door, greeting parishioners as they arrived.
Elizabeth watched as the congregation entered with quiet reverence, as was fitting for Easter Sunday. Many women wore new gowns and bonnets, while those who could not afford entirely new garments had at least something freshly altered or refurbished.
The tradition of wearing new clothing for Easter had always intrigued Elizabeth, and she enjoyed observing the different fashions members of her own community chose for the occasion. Now, in a new setting, she noted the same custom and smiled at the sight of young women preening as they proudly displayed their finery. She suspected that many of these garments would make another appearance in a few short weeks for May Day, especially since Easter fell in mid-April this year.
Five minutes before the sermon, Lady Catherine arrived with Anne and her companion. Anne leaned heavily on the latter for support. Elizabeth recalled Mr. Wickham’s words about Anne’s supposed engagement to Darcy and grew frustrated at yet another lie that man had told her. Resolving to put him out of her mind, she turned her attention back towards the new arrivals.
Behind the ladies walked Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth’s gaze lingered on Colonel Fitzwilliam for only a moment before moving to Darcy. She remembered her first impression of him at the Meryton assembly—undeniably handsome, yet rendered less so by what she had perceived as his arrogance after his slight of her person. But yesterday’s events had caused her to look at him anew. Today, his firm-set jaw and aggravated expression piqued her curiosity. She wondered what had troubled him already this morning.
She observed him for several moments, unnoticed, until at last he looked up and caught her staring. His expression, unreadable at first, shifted instantly into a smile—one brighter than she had ever seen from him.
Once again, she wondered at the cause. Surely, it could not be her affecting him so. Despite their near embrace the day before, there was no way he could be interested in a country-bred woman of such little consequence—not when he was so wealthy, his estate so vast, and his uncle an earl. And yet, she could not entirely suppress the slight thrill his smile sent through her.
Oh, foolish girl, she chided herself. You must not let a mere smile affect you so. You barely even like the man—you have only just learned to tolerate his presence. She almost laughed at her own wit at using his own words in this instance. And you certainly cannot think yourself interested in him now. You know as well as anyone that he will never offer for someone like you.
Determined to banish such thoughts, she dropped her gaze and did not lift it again until she heard Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam greeting her and her friends from the aisle beside them.
“Good morning, Mrs. Collins. Miss Bennet. Miss Lucas,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “How are you this fine Easter morning?”
“We are quite well,” Charlotte replied.
“Christ is risen,” Darcy said, echoing the traditional greeting for the day, nearly staring at Elizabeth as he spoke.
“He is risen indeed,” Elizabeth murmured, speaking for the first time, unable to look away from Darcy.
“My aunt intends to invite you all to join us for tea later,” the Colonel added, interrupting the lingering looks passing between Elizabeth and Darcy.
“Oh,” Charlotte said. “We would be happy to accept. However, you should know that we have an additional visitor. The Bishop of Rochester arrived last night during dinner. In fact, he will share this morning’s sermon with my husband. He mentioned that he had a few words to say to the congregation and felt that God had led him here because someone specifically needed to hear them.”
Darcy turned to her, his expression shifting. “The Bishop of Rochester, you say? Alasdair Baines? Is he a Scottish gentleman?”
“Yes. Are you familiar with him?” Elizabeth asked, surprised at the tone of his questions.
A low, quiet chuckle escaped Darcy. “He is my godfather,” he replied genially. “I look forward to hearing what he has to say. I also hope he will accompany you to my aunt’s house for tea this afternoon. It has been some time since I have seen him, and I would very much like to greet him. Please let him know, in case I do not have the opportunity to speak with him sooner.”
Before Charlotte could respond, Lady Catherine’s sharp voice rang out.
“Fitzwilliam! Richard! Stop standing in the aisle and take your seats. You are delaying the service!”
Exchanging a grimace, both men moved to do as they were bid.
Mr. Collins stood up a few minutes later and opened the service, leading the congregation in a few hymns before beginning his sermon. He spoke at length on the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, inexplicably tying that to the greatness of his patroness.
My brethren, on this most holy of days, we reflect upon the resurrection of our Lord, who, in His infinite mercy, triumphed over death and granted us the promise of eternal salvation. Indeed, it is through divine grace that we are offered redemption, just as it is through the benevolence of certain esteemed individuals that we receive guidance in our earthly lives.
Consider, if you will, the many virtues displayed by the honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Her wisdom and generosity, though of course not to be compared with the Almighty’s, offer a shining example of how those in positions of influence might lead others upon the righteous path. Like a shepherd tending her flock, she provides us all with wise counsel and gracious support, much as our Lord showed compassion to His disciples and followers. It is through her unwavering sense of duty and propriety that we are reminded of the divine order that governs both Heaven and Earth.
Let us then strive to be ever humble, ever grateful, and ever obedient to those whom providence has placed above us, knowing that by such submission, we follow the great example of our Saviour, who, though He was above all, took on the form of a servant for our sake. And may we rejoice today, not only in the glorious triumph of our Lord over the grave, but also in the wisdom of those who guide us in our daily lives—wisdom that, in the case of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is most thankfully bestowed upon us.
Elizabeth, seated in the second pew, was grateful that only the bishop could see her face during the sermon. From the looks he exchanged with her—and, apparently, with his godson seated in the pew in front of her and to her right—it was clear he was unimpressed by the comparison and struggled to maintain a neutral expression. Having only met him the night before, she had quickly deduced that he found humour in many things. While this ought not to have been amusing, its sheer absurdity left no choice but to silently laugh at the folly of it.
It was more than a half hour later when Mr. Collins finally finished and invited the bishop to share a few wise words. The bishop did so, thanking Mr. Collins for his kindness in shortening his sermon to allow him a few words.
The few words he spoke held far more power than anything Mr. Collins had ever said. His slight Scottish brogue commanded the congregation’s attention, requiring careful listening, yet his words resonated with undeniable weight .
We are indeed called to follow Christ’s example, as Mr. Collins has noted. Paul tells us in Philippians that our Lord set aside the glory of His divinity and took on the form of a servant. He walked this earth with neither wealth nor land of His own, choosing instead to give of Himself for the sake of others.
Let us mind this well, for a man is not made honourable by his silver or his bloodline, but by his deeds. Too often, we mistake worldly standing for worth and grant respect where none is due, all for the sake of rank or coin. But the Almighty does not judge as man does. It is not fine birth or full coffers that make one worthy—it is the heart. Beware, my friends, of setting your eyes only on what the world esteems, lest ye fail to ken the true worth of the person before you.
Darcy winced as he heard this, knowing that he was guilty of this very thing. He saw his godfather look at him pointedly and knew this was intended, at least in part, for him. Later, when the bishop came to Rosings for tea, they would have to speak further about this matter. When contemplating thorny personal issues, such as Georgiana’s near ruin and his own desire to ignore perceived family dictates to marry a penniless country gentlewoman, Darcy had not sought any counsel other than his own. For a moment, he wondered if he had approached his godfather in the autumn, after the incident in Ramsgate or written to him while he was staying at Netherfield, would he have acted differently and perhaps not given Elizabeth a reason to dislike him in the first place.
One of the greatest lessons of our Lord, and of Easter itself, is that of forgiveness. We have been forgiven much—aye, more than we can reckon—yet how many of us still cling to old grievances we should have long since laid to rest?
Tell me, are any among us without fault? Can a single soul here claim they have ne’er stumbled, ne’er spoken in haste, ne’er harboured an unkind thought? And yet, we are quick to condemn our neighbours for their failings, though slow to offer them the grace we ourselves so often need.
Who among us has never misjudged another? Who has not mistaken reserve for arrogance, or silence for disdain? We are not called to look only at what is before our eyes, but to seek deeper, to strive for understanding, and to judge—not by appearances—but by truth.
Elizabeth, already on the verge of being overcome by the bishop’s earlier words, felt these words were somehow intended directly for her. She had mistaken Mr. Darcy’s character, and even now, despite his repeated requests for forgiveness, had been unwilling to give it. It appeared, given what she had learned of him in Kent, that she had allowed his words from the assembly to colour her every encounter with him, deliberately looking for any evidence that would justify her dislike of him. No matter what happened next, she needed to forgive him fully and to release any lingering resentment that she harboured.
As promised, the bishop did not speak long. But it was obvious to all that the short homily he delivered was far more enlightening to those who had heard it, and most left uplifted rather than oppressed, as Mr. Collins’ sermon had left them.
Two people in the service were likely the most affected. Elizabeth stood for the final hymn, her mouth moving as she repeated the familiar words, but her mind was not on them. Instead, she was thinking. Have I ever seen Mr. Darcy for who he truly is? Will I allow him to show me, that is, if he wishes ?
The other person affected was Darcy himself. Perhaps I have been entirely mistaken, he thought. My father and others have taught me to value my position and my wealth, but those are not the things that matter. I told Elizabeth that I thought she would be a good friend to my sister, but truly, she would be a good friend to me as well. She would be a good wife, if I can persuade her, but first, I must show her that I do not value material things as highly as I do a person’s character. I must show her the man I am, not the arrogant fool she met in Hertfordshire. Since the bishop is my godfather, I will persuade Aunt Catherine to invite him to remain a few days at Rosings. Then, I will seek his wise counsel instead of my own, and he will be able to help me know what I must do to win Elizabeth’s heart.