Page 37 of Elizabeth is not a Bennet

Study

Mr. Adair’s House

Kelso

Three Days Later

Duncan Adair dipped pen into ink and bent over the paper on his desk again.

My dear Amelia,

I beg you to stay in Edinburgh another week at least to assist Patricia; our poor daughter must be exhausted with three children sick, and the nursemaid as well. Besides, you know how much you enjoy coddling our grandchildren, and it has been a full eight months since they visited us here in Kelso. Please pay attention to how they have grown, and the new things they are doing, and tell me all about them. Relay to Paul that I am most impressed that he is reading so well.

I will miss you greatly, of course, but Mrs. Hutson takes very good care of me, and I will neither starve nor run out of clean shirts .

With much love,

Your beloved Duncan

Adair read the letter over again and, satisfied that it was legible, folded it, waxed it, and set it aside to be posted. He missed his wife, but was exceedingly thankful that she was for the time being staying in the Edinburgh house of his son-in-law Alan, and daughter Patricia, who were currently afflicted with a chicken pox epidemic in the house. Doubtless Amelia was kept very busy succoring daughter and grandchildren, but far better that than for his dear wife to be in the midst of this business with the Stowes. Amelia was a kindly woman, and would be distraught to learn that Moira Stowe had attempted to have her own stepdaughter murdered.

For that matter, Mrs. Stowe’s machinations still bewildered and horrified him, and a tiny part of him wondered whether it all might be some sort of trick on the part of the Darcys. Rationally, though, he knew that Mr. Darcy and his wife were honest and true, and Moira Stowe was not. He had saved some of her letters for business reasons, and in reading them again, had detected manipulation and deceit in some of the phrasing .

He glanced at the clock on the mantle and saw the hands pointing to an hour after noon. He was hungry and…

There was a loud knock at the front door, and he carefully tidied away his letter, locked his desk, and hurried out of the door and into the front hall. His butler opened the door and Moira Stowe stepped in with a young man at her heels, one with red hair like his mother and a nose like his half-sister’s. It must be Harold Stowe, though Adair had not seen him in more than a decade.

“Mrs. Stowe, Mr. Stowe,” he said, stepping forward with a fixed smile. “It is so good to see you. Welcome!”

Mrs. Stowe was, he observed, while five years older than he had last seen her, still exceptionally handsome. Her green pelisse set off her red curls to advantage, and her head was protected by a daring hat with three short peacock feathers as adornment.

Her son was much less impressive, though his attire was also well made and expensive. Adair could see the resemblance between young Stowe and his half-sister, Mrs. Darcy, but Harold was rather heavy, and at the moment, wore an expression of truculent annoyance.

“It is absurd that we must be here, when I could be…,” the boy snapped, only to subside as his mother focused a glare on him .

“It is absolutely necessary that we be here, Son,” she said calmly, and turned a charming smile on Adair. “I know it is has been some years since last we met, Adair, and you probably do not even recognize my son. Harold, Mr. Duncan Adair. Adair, my son, Harold Stowe.”

The two men bowed and Adair said, “I am thankful that both of you have come so that we can sort out this difficult situation. Mr. Bennet…”

“Mr. Bennet is a liar and a cheat!” Harold snapped, his pale face flushing before Adair’s eyes. “I did not even realize that I had a half-sister, but she died decades ago! It is absolutely absurd and … wrong … and evil for this man to try to take what is mine! I want him locked up for fraud!”

“Calm yourself, Harold,” Mrs. Stowe said sternly, and then smiled enchantingly at her host. “It has been rather a difficult morning as the rain made the roads muddy, and we are both tired. Would you be so kind as to have your housekeeper show us to our rooms? Then, after we have changed and refreshed ourselves, we can discuss this matter at length.”

“Of course,” Adair agreed with outward calm, but inward confusion. Harold Stowe spoke with authority about his half-sister and seemed certain that she was, in fact, dead. Perhaps he had been tricked by Mr. Bennet and the Darcys? But no, that was impossible, not with the documents he had read .

He was thankful it would all be sorted out soon; it was a most distressing situation, and he looked forward to returning to a calmer life.

/

Private Parlor

The Frog and the Toad Inn

Rain pattered hard against the windows, forming a pleasing background sound to the activities going on in the cozy, fire-lit parlor. Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet sat nearest the fire, both bent intently over a backgammon board. Over at the table nearer the window, a many-branched candlestick had been set and lit, and Darcy and Wickham sat adjacent to one another, separated by a veritable sea of paper and parchment. They occasionally consulted together in low voices, their erstwhile enmity set aside for the time being. Figures marched across lists in front of them, sums and subtractions, as they calculated the costs of restoring Ravenswood.

It was a good day to be inside, and everyone was feeling relaxed and a little sleepy. A benevolent sun had smiled on them since their arrival until today. Clouds had gathered, darkened, threatened, and at last opened to let down a deluge of rain. The fine days had been welcome; there had been at least one carriage passing up and down the road to Ravenswood every day – Darcy and Wickham and even Bennet and Adair traveling out to assess, and see to repairs, and aid the tenants.

Already, Ravenswood was looking better. As soon as the funds were made available to do so, and supplies purchased, the tenants had leapt at their chance to repair their homes. Mrs. Cummons had wept into her apron with joy when the workmen arrived to replace the leaking windows, and Mr. Cummons had wrung Darcy’s hand fervently. Mr. Bartlet was more restrained in his approval, but his eyes shone with satisfaction as he observed the repairs to the tenants’ roofs and walls, and he had brought his wife to meet the new master. He had displayed no tendencies of loyalty to Moira Stowe and indeed had seemed pleased with the change in management.

Elizabeth had stayed in Kelso, spending her days strolling the streets or reading books by the fire. The work at Ravenswood was laborious and kicked up a great deal of dust, and no one wished to risk Elizabeth’s health. Kelso was, thankfully, a picturesque and charming town, and she had enjoyed herself very much. Her husband had walked with her as often as he could, and when he was unavailable, her uncle had. The two most strapping footmen invariably walked a few paces behind them, as unobtrusive as men of their height could be. For a woman accustomed to striding along alone and at a pace she set, it felt rather restrictive, but Elizabeth well knew that they had good cause to be concerned for her safety. She remained optimistic, however, that Mrs. Stowe would soon be summarily dealt with.

A light tap at the door announced a maid, carrying a silver salver on which lay a sealed letter, which she presented to Darcy with a slight curtsey. He took it and dismissed her and waited until the door had shut behind her to break open the seal and scan the few lines of neat writing. He looked up and around at the eager faces watching him.

“Mrs. Moira Stowe and her son Harold have arrived in Kelso,” he said with grim satisfaction.

Elizabeth straightened up.

“When will we call on them?” she demanded.

“Adair has invited us to come to his house at six o’clock this evening,” Darcy said.

“Excellent. I hope this will be the end of it,” Bennet declared.

“As do I,” Elizabeth said fervently.