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As he excused his way through the line, the villagers made way for him with many a “Morning, Mr Gardiner, sir!”

Apprised of his visitor’s approach by these salutations, Mr Elliot met Mr Gardiner at the rectory door and suggested they walk to the vestry—the housekeeper and Mrs Fairbanks were keeping vigil by the bier.

“Well, Mr Elliot,” started Mr Gardiner as soon as they were out of earshot of the parishioners. “I imagine you are anxious for your future now that Mr Delaney has passed.”

“Yes, Mr Gardiner. That is one of the things I wish to talk about,” said the curate, drawing the church keys from his pocket to unlock the vestry door.

After entering the frigid space, the curate closed the door and they drew up stools.

“It had always been my intention to find a curacy in a city where I might supplement my income with tuition fees, once Mr Delaney passed. But the events of the last week have made me question that determination. I must admit I am much attached to Longbourn.”

“Yes, a curacy is hardly a sinecure,” replied Mr Gardiner. “Might I enquire how much Mr Delaney paid you?”

“Fifty pounds per year.”

Mr Gardiner whistled. “That seems incredibly generous! I would guess the living to be only worth two to three hundred pounds per year!”

“You are correct. Mr Delaney knew I sent money home to my mother and was extraordinarily generous. With the exception of the money he spent on his books, he lived very humbly.”

“I am very sorry, Mr Elliot. Your services would obviously be valued here, filling in for Mr Collins until he occupies the estate, but I doubt I can convince him to be so generous.”

“I understand. I spoke with him briefly after Mr Bennet’s funeral. He currently holds two livings associated with the Rosings estate in Kent, with a curate assisting him. His description of that arrangement gave me little hope of any sort of comfortable living here at Longbourn once Mr Delaney passed.”

Mr Gardiner reluctantly nodded in agreement.

“Yet, I am reluctant to move on quickly...” said the clergyman, looking up at a small stained-glass window set high in the vestry wall as if for inspiration.

He turned back to Mr Gardiner, seemingly considering his words. “Mr Gardiner, the most extraordinary set of events has happened this week... You realise that Mr Delaney collapsed after Mr Bennet’s funeral...”

“Yes,” affirmed Mr Gardiner. “Mary did tell me.”

“It was almost as if he suddenly lost the will to live. After he had been in bed for several days, refusing to take anything but water, he gave me a ring and asked me to post a letter. I discovered that Mr Delaney is related to the Marquess of Wolver. Then, who should arrive two days ago, but the Marquess himself.”

“Well, that is extraordinary,” said Mr Gardiner, raising his brows. Mary had said nothing of this. “I had no idea Mr Delaney had noble relations.”

“Mr Gardiner, Mr Delaney was the uncle of the 11th Marquess. He should, in fact, have been the tenth Marquess, but for his resolution to enter the church.”

“Why on earth would he do that?” asked Mr Gardiner incredulously.

“I believe he suffered a disappointment in love. Mr Gardiner, Mr Delaney was always extraordinarily kind to me. I merely thought it his way, but he told me before he died that he viewed me as the son he had never had. The Marquess revealed that his uncle left me a bequest; that I will have to wait for probate, but that it will be enough for me to live as a gentleman.”

“Well, I congratulate you, Mr Elliot. I gather then that you might be willing to stay on as curate while you are waiting for probate to be granted?”

“Yes, Mr Gardiner,” said Mr Elliot. “Forgive me for being wordy but I have not yet got to the real reason for my wish to stay here. I... oh dear, how do I?... Mr Gardiner I would like permission to court your niece, Mary. ...I mean, Miss Mary Bennet!”

Mr Gardiner was completely wrong-footed by this unexpected application. He had ascribed Mary’s trips to the rectory to her generally pious behaviour.

He frowned. “Have you discussed this with Mary?”

“No! I... Things were not in a state where I could begin to do so until...”

“Have you any idea what your expectations might be?”

“No. The Marquess said there would likely be objections, but that he would honour his uncle’s wishes; that he would let me know once things were settled. But I have this...”

Here he drew a chain from his vestments. Pulling it over his head, he presented to Mr Gardiner the most expensive-looking diamond ring that gentleman had ever laid eyes on.

“I would like Mary to have this, as a plight of my troth.”