Page 37

T he day that Thomas Bennet departed his former home, he felt lighter of spirit than he had since that day when he had been informed he was the master of Longbourn.

He had not communicated with anyone at Cambridge in the years since he had left his post there, but he hoped McKellen was still teaching philosophy as he had when he and Bennet had been friends .

He was well aware he had lied to himself at the time that he just did not like being with women, not that his clear preference was for men, and not just as friends.

When he had been ripped away from Cambridge, his whole world had tilted on its axis.

He was finally willing to admit to himself that he had been in a snit since that day until the moment he had learnt he was to return to his beloved university.

It was hard to look at the fact that he had been in a temper tantrum which had lasted for around eighteen years.

He was finally willing to own, if only to himself, that it had been grossly unfair to take his disappointment out on the estate and its dependants.

From the time Lizzy was born, he had treated them with the same disinterest he would a stranger, and yet she and her sisters were his flesh and blood.

The loss of the life he had desired was not his daughters’ fault, but he had taken it out on them and allowed the horrendous woman—one he should have never married—to throw his daughters from the house while her daughter, who had no connection to him, remained in his home.

Once he had married her, he should have tried to guide Fanny, who was, after all not gently born. He stopped himself, realising that with what his late wife attempted to do to their eldest daughter, she had been beyond redemption, but he should have tried.

Thinking of the woman brought to mind where she had been interred.

He had not wanted her in his family’s section of the cemetery behind the Longbourn Village Church, and neither the Gardiners nor the Phillipses had agreed to allow her to rest near their parents.

She had been buried in consecrated ground, but in a section in Meryton designated for those without any family in the area.

He became somewhat maudlin as he considered that he would not join his late parents and older brother in the section reserved for Bennets.

He wondered if they would be the last Bennets interred there.

He had not cared enough to think that it could be those in the Collins line who would be laid to rest in the sacred ground where his ancestors rested.

Now, with the realisation of his many faults which had been on display at Longbourn, he did care, but he had lost the right to ask.

Not only that, but he would have no contact with his daughters, all four of the exceptional girls. None more gifted than Lizzy. He would not—could not—speak of her amazing abilities at Cambridge, as that would lead to uncomfortable questions.

At some point, once he was in his—the duke’s—house, he would write letters of apology to his daughters. They would be posted to the Duke so as not to abrogate the contract he signed. He would have to tread lightly because a misstep would see him on a ship for New Holland.

It was too late for his daughters to see it, but he would endeavour to be a better man.

His final thoughts before he succumbed to the motion of the carriage and slept were of Miss Millar. He had not treated her well, and then, because it was amusing, she went against her mother, misjudging her and her motivations. Bennet wondered if she was in Ireland yet.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Jane Millar had travelled to Liverpool via the post. The Duke had sent a footman with her. His main reason was to make sure she arrived at her destination and did not attempt to abscond. Secondarily, he would see that she did not come to harm.

The nights in inns on the way had been a terribly humbling experience for Jane.

She had not had a room like regular guests.

Rather, she had slept with the female servants.

She endured this mode of accommodation for four nights, as she reached her destination on the fifth day, a journey of more than two hundred miles.

After another night sleeping with other maids at an inn near the docks in Liverpool, she and the footman had boarded the ship which would carry them to Dublin.

From there they would ride post until they reached the Duke’s estate, Greenfield.

She had hoped for better on the ship, but there too she was with the servants.

Jane chastised herself for unrealistic expectations, something which had led to most of her self-inflicted hardship.

Jane had already realised that the education her late mother gave her had been a recipe for ruin.

As low as she had been brought already, when Lizzy—Miss Bennet—became the duchess, and if she and her husband visited their estate in Ireland, she, who used to think her beauty automatically made her superior to the Bennet sisters, would be a maid in her half- sister’s house.

She could only imagine the mortification it would cost her if that ever came to pass.

Visions of emptying her half-sister’s chamber pot swam in her head.

It would be bad enough being in service without being seen by a member of her family.

All she could pray was that while she was in service at the estate, the Duke and Duchess would not visit.

At last, she understood that regardless of what her mother had told her, it had been her own bad and ill-advised decisions which had brought her low.

She knew what her task was with regards to herself, and that was to improve her character. However, in reality this time, she knew not to attempt to fool others and that she needed to make far better choices in her life. It would not be easy, but she had no choice. She had to succeed.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

As he waited with his nephew for the Fitzwilliam and Darcy coaches to come to a halt, Hertfordshire reflected on how sorry he was that Colbath and his family would not be able to come to Falconwood for his wedding.

He had hoped his friend would stand up with him, which he would have, but Morag was having a devil of a time with a late and unexpected increasing, so there would be no MacIntyres travelling south for the foreseeable future.

Matlock alighted and then handed his wife out of the conveyance; he next assisted Anna Darcy out—she had ridden with her aunt and uncle from the final rest stop.

As Hilldale was spending some time with the Russells since the engagement between him and Lady Marie, and Captain Fitzwilliam was with his regiment of the Royal Dragoons who were in the Kingdom of Portugal, the Duke had not expected to see either Fitzwilliam son.

He was surprised when Lady Anne and Darcy approached and that William Darcy was absent. He looked at his friends questioningly.

“William was not in a mood for company,” Lady Anne said. She was not happy with her son, but this was not the time or place to discuss it.

“Young Barrington,” Matlock boomed as they all made their way into the house, “I see from the announcement in the papers you have become engaged to your future duchess. When will we meet this paragon?

Ladies Elaine and Anne, as well as the latter’s husband, looked at Anthony waiting for the reply. Anna, who was a little shy, was also interested, but she would not look directly at Mr Barrington. She looked down and clasped her hands in front of her.

“There will be a dinner on Friday when my parents and sisters arrive. It will be attended by Charlotte and her family,” Anthony replied, “but I dare say you will meet both fiancées by the morrow

“Of what do you speak?” Darcy queried.

“It is not my news to share,” Anthony replied cryptically. He looked at his uncle, causing all of the arriving guests’ eyes to lock onto the Duke, even the youngest Darcy’s.

“I suggest you go up and wash and change from the road, then we can meet in the main drawing room for tea.” Hertfordshire nodded to his housekeeper. “Mrs Nichols will show you all to your suites. When you are ready, Anthony and I will be in that drawing room.” He cocked his head to a nearby door.

As none of the Fitzwilliam or Darcy parents ever thought the Duke would marry again, and they were sure his nephew was referring to him, they hurried through their toilets and changed, arriving in the drawing room in under a half hour.

“Where is Miss Darcy?” Hertfordshire enquired.

“Anna will rest, and afterwards she will have lessons with her governess. She will join us for dinner,” Lady Anne replied. “Now, Your Grace , enough obfuscation; our curiosity is ignited. Are we to assume based on what your nephew alluded to that you too are engaged to be married?”

“Indeed, that is the case,” Hertfordshire replied. Referring to his betrothed, even without mentioning her name, caused him to grin with pleasure.

“Well?” Lady Elaine demanded. “Surely you will not allow us to guess who the lady is, where you met her, and other pertinent information, will you? Until this day, I, like the rest of us, never thought I would see the day you married again.”

“She is the most wonderful creature who sees me, not my wealth or title. She is an extremely intelligent and well-read lady you would ever expect to meet, and like my nephew’s fiancée, she is close to this estate. Her guardian owns an estate not two miles from here,” Hertfordshire shared.

“Guardian? Does that mean her age is below that of majority?” Darcy assumed.