Page 22 of Some Natural Importance (Pride, Prejudice and Romance #3)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“You are aware of the particulars of Mr Bennet’s letter?”

Darcy tore his attention away from the window and looked at his solicitor. “Of course.”

“The transfer of the deed to your name is easily done,” Wynch said slowly. “The future owner of Longbourn need have no knowledge that Mr Bennet had other holdings; it is Bennet’s land, free and clear, to sell.”

“And the monies from the sale may be held until such time as they are needed?”

“In escrow? Yes, sir. However, as to those particulars...” Wynch sat back, steepling his fingers and staring at his client.

“What particulars?” Darcy said impatiently. “This is a simple transaction, far easier to complete than what we have done in Kent.”

“Yes, however, there is a caveat.” Wynch’s finger tapped the edge of his desk.

“Mr Bennet’s letter contains what I surmise is merely his wish, but as it is attached to his directive for the sale of the land to you, and the holding of such monies in escrow until his death, his wishes may have legal bearing. ”

“His wishes? Beyond the sale of the acreage?”

Wynch slid the letter across the desk. “I take it you did not read his entire letter.”

Darcy’s eyes fell to the page and swept over the familiar first lines about the sale before they landed on a final paragraph, written small and squeezed above the signature of Thomas Bennet.

And thus I have determined the only way to save Longbourn and ensure the security of my Wife and daughters is to sell Copperdale to a man I can trust. A man I can trust not only with my land and estate but with my family.

The man to whom I sell the land and whatsoever lies under its rocks and soil is the man who will marry my daughter. The only daughter who is his equal.

Darcy paled and looked up at the solicitor. “What...is this some sort of jest? This is not binding to the agreement.” The older man continued to look at him, concern writ large across his features. “Wynch?”

“It is a peculiar sort of wording, but whether it exacts a condition of the sale or a promise from you is not clear. May I ask, sir, whether there is a connexion between you and Mr Bennet’s daughter?”

“Daughters. There are five.” Darcy closed his eyes briefly, seeing a pair of fine piercing eyes in his mind and wondering when Bennet had determined he must have his way and added those lines.

His indignation rose at the thought of being used for such a purpose and he nearly spat the rest of his reply.

“There is no connexion, no understanding of any kind between myself and any of the Miss Bennets.”

“He appears to mean one daughter, specifically.”

“It matters little, as there will be no wedding.” How dare he? He seeks to rely on my sense of duty, my wealth and station, and force an attachment?

Wynch’s voice, already a low rumble, deepened as he leaned forward and stared at Darcy over his spectacles.

“Ever? I do not mean to alarm you, sir, but the wording here ‘ The man to whom I sell the land and whatever lies under its rocks and soil is the man who will marry my daughter,’ implies a promise and thus a contingency to the transaction.”

“Are you saying that in order for me to do this favour for Bennet and purchase his unentailed property, which I do solely to protect the future of his family, I must also wed his daughter?”

“Apparently only the one who is your equal, sir.”

“Wynch!”

“I believe you may purchase the land without a wedding.”

Darcy let out a breath in relief.

“However, you are establishing a trust, in effect, to hold the monies for six women to whom you are entirely unconnected. It is an odd sort of favour, for one of your station and reputation, sir.”

Wynch had been the family’s solicitor since before Darcy was born, and Darcy was not apt to question his legal wisdom or berate his opinion.

“Your claim to the land, and the Bennet ladies’ claim to the proceeds from the sale, could be ruled invalid in court if you are not in fact wed to this particular daughter.”

“Is this a ruse, some sort of entrapment?”

“I do not know this Mr Bennet, but you have spoken well of him. His own letters convey that he is an honest man, if not one who plans for the future. It appears he may now feel those failures keenly. If he is as ill as you say, mayhap it is only the desperate grasp of a dying man for the happiness of a favourite daughter.”

From a suggestion that Elizabeth and I would make a good match to a demand we become one?

Darcy could admit he had been idling the thought in his mind; he was not a man who contemplated the charms of any particular lady, but there was much—much too much—about Elizabeth Bennet that provoked him. But marriage?

“You are certain you wish to help this family despite the risks?”

Darcy nodded. “I shall sign the papers as soon as you have them ready.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

Darcy was oblivious to the pouring rain and the spreading puddles on the pavement as he stalked to his carriage. He threw himself inside, pulled off his beaver and tossed it on the seat, and sat, his thoughts muddled, when suddenly the door opened and a wet but familiar figure leaned inside.

“Did you think you could slip into town and avoid detection by your family?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam climbed into the carriage and thudded into the seat opposite Darcy. He glanced curiously at the wet hat lying beside him.

“I had hoped, yes. I am in town briefly to attend to business matters before returning to Netherfield.”

His cousin gave him a scornful look. “Netherfield? Bingley’s leased estate, where you are whiling away your time?”

Darcy nodded.

“And now, in town for business with your solicitor?”

“Estates are businesses, and meeting with my solicitor to draw up papers is a price I pay for the joys of owning a few of them.”

His cousin’s severe look dissolved as he barked a laugh. “As you so gently remind me, you have your own estates, there are house parties elsewhere, there is sport and fun in town, and your family is here. Your sister is here.”

“My sister is well without my presence. She, and all my family, tell me so.”

“Do you miss her?”

Sensible to the gentler tone in his cousin’s voice, Darcy nodded. “Of course. But I do what is best for her, or at least according to her wishes.”

“Hmm. Where are we off to?”

“As said earlier, I am in town on business.”

Richard tapped on the roof of the carriage. It began to move before Darcy could speak. “So, a stop or two and then we can go to the club. And there is no escape. You will dine with the family.”

Darcy could not refuse. It was his duty, and he did wish to see Georgiana. He hoped she wished to see him as well. This had already been a confounding day, and he had no idea what lay ahead.

“Tomorrow.”

Elizabeth set down her pen, idly wondering how to respond to her letters.

Her mother’s note, appended to Mary’s letter, raised worry over Mr Bennet.

He had become even more reclusive since Elizabeth’s departure; she had hoped Mr Darcy would lure him out of his book room, but instead he had come to London, leaving her father fully at ends.

His letter contained only a few lines reminding her that her conversation was missing at home, and he was not more eloquent on the subject of her absence than he was on the loss of Mr Darcy’s wit and intelligence.

“Mr Darcy.”

Startled at the strange providence and whatever role her thoughts had played in conjuring their object, Elizabeth put down the pen and covered her letters.

“And Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

Elizabeth and Jane arose as the two men were ushered into the drawing room. Mr Darcy stood next to a man of equal height but lesser looks. Alice, Rose, and John looked up from their paper cut-outs.

“Mr Darcy, we were not expecting you,” Elizabeth began. “My uncle is at his warehouses, but I?— ”

“Colonel?” John jumped up excitedly. “Where is your sword and your medals?”

Jane moved quickly to her little cousin. “John, please wait to be introduced.”

“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, may I introduce my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

“A pleasure to meet you ladies, all of you,” the Colonel replied, smiling down at Alice and Rose before looking at the small boy. “And you, sir?”

“My cousin, John, and his sisters, Alice and Rose.” Jane beamed at the girls, who each managed a deep curtsey. Their younger brother began to follow suit, before recalling his manners and thrusting out his small hand to both men.

Elizabeth could not help but smile as the two very distinguished men solemnly shook the young boy’s hand.

“Pardon our intrusion,” Darcy said abruptly. “I realised last evening I had neglected to return a book to your uncle from your father.” He held a thick parcel in his gloved hand.

“I shall be sure my uncle receives the book,” she replied, stepping close enough to take the package from him. He paused, his brows furrowed, before placing it in her custody.

“Please, come and sit by the fire. It is dreadful weather and you must be in need of tea or coffee,” Jane said. Elizabeth thought her sister’s curiosity was equal to her own in wondering why Mr Darcy had replaced one friend with another on a visit to Gracechurch Street.

“Mr Bingley has gone off to Chelmsford and sends his greetings,” Mr Darcy said in a formal tone. “My cousin arrived on my doorstep as I was leaving, and as we have family matters to discuss, chose to join me on my call.”

The colonel chuckled. “Bingley is forever chasing after something, and I am glad to replace him on this visit.”

Elizabeth felt Jane stiffen beside her.

“Bingley is traveling to Chelmsford collecting on a wager,” Mr Darcy said quickly. “A horse. ”

“A worthy endeavour,” the colonel observed. “My elusive cousin has not been much in town these past months, and I chose not to let him out of my sight once I had spotted him.”

“Did you use your spyglass?”

John’s question elicited a loud guffaw from the colonel. Even Mr Darcy smiled.