Page 13 of The Bennet Heir

Chapter Twelve

S everal moments passed in which neither spoke. Suddenly, Elizabeth remembered her earlier resolve.

“Mr. Darcy, can you tell me about your sister?” she asked, surprising him. “It was obvious, when you spoke of her the other day, that something about her troubled you.”

Darcy stared at her incredulously. “How could you possibly have known that?” he asked.

She smiled softly. “I was not certain. However, when you mentioned her name, there was something in your face that made me think you were…I do not know, unsettled, perhaps concerned…about her. You mentioned her struggling to make friends, so I wondered if it was more than simply worrying for her. Is she shy?”

Darcy shook his head. “She is naturally shy, as I am reticent. But circumstances have made her even more withdrawn and less willing to trust. It pains me to see my sister change from a somewhat na?ve girl into a jaded young lady. I want to protect her, yet I also want her to understand the risks that can threaten a well-dowered lady in society.”

“What happened to her?” Elizabeth asked quietly, hoping to have this conversation quickly, aware that, had her brother realised that the two of them had been left alone, he would send a chaperone in to find them.

Darcy also was aware that their tête-à-tête could soon come to an end, and he stepped closer so he could speak quietly. “I cannot speak of it here, not in great detail, but suffice it to say a former friend has taught her that not everyone can be trusted. A rogue can play on her feelings and pretend to love her, but may have an ulterior motive. In this case, the man in question sought to obtain her dowry, which is significant, but also sought to revenge himself on me. He claimed he was owed something that he once forfeited, and he thought to gain funds, and likely more, by absconding with my then fifteen-year-old sister. Fortunately, I arrived before he could do any lasting harm, for while she is broken-hearted, I believe she will eventually be able to recover. I was sent away from Pemberley for a time because my great-aunt thought she could help my sister more if I were not hovering over her. However, I would like to bring her to Hertfordshire when I can, for I truly believe she would enjoy meeting you and your sisters..”

While the subject was clearly painful, Elizabeth smiled at the characterisation of him as hovering. Though she did not know him well, she could easily imagine him trying to do all he could to ease his sister’s troubles. “Thank you for telling me the broad strokes. I am certain there is more to it than you have shared, and when we have a greater assurance of privacy, I hope that you will find it possible to confide the details. However, I would understand if you did not feel comfortable and would not press you if you prefer to keep it a secret.”

Darcy looked down at Elizabeth and felt his heart lighten at her offer. “I think perhaps you could help, and should we find an opportunity to speak where we could be certain not to be overheard, I would like to confide in you. Your experiences, both as a young woman and as an elder sister, might provide the necessary perspective that I lack. Georgiana is more than ten years my junior, and, well, a female, and I find that I am often uncertain in dealing with her. My cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam, shares guardianship with me, but neither of us is married. His mother, Lady Matlock, is of some use, but neither she nor my great-aunt, who lives nearby, had a daughter. I sometimes think they are just as uncertain about how to deal with a young girl on the cusp of womanhood.”

Elizabeth nodded and began to turn towards the door when Darcy’s voice, soft and hesitant, stopped her. “Miss Elizabeth… a—a moment, if you please?” he murmured.

She turned back, her expression curious. “Yes, Mr. Darcy?”

His hand rose almost involuntarily, brushing her cheek in a touch so gentle it seemed he feared she might disappear. As soon as he realised what he had done, he pulled it away, but the warmth of the touch lingered on his hand. When he finally spoke, his words came haltingly. “Do you… would it be possible for you to write to me? I know it is outside the bounds of propriety, but I—” He hesitated, his brow furrowing. “I would like the chance to continue getting to know you while I am away. Your brother could post the letters on your behalf, and… and you would not even need to sign your name. We could—” He paused, searching her eyes as though seeking permission. “We could enter into a sort of courtship in this way. Perhaps…” His voice softened further, almost trembling. “Perhaps you might like to write to my sister as well?”

“I would be delighted to write to both of you, sir, provided my brother approves. However, if this were to become known, people may think we were already engaged. It would tie your hands, and should we decide later that we do not suit…” Elizabeth let the words linger.

Darcy was quick to answer her. “Should it become known, I would of course do the honourable thing and propose. I…I do not think it necessarily a bad thing for people to believe we are engaged. While I am not completely certain, since we have known each other for a short time, I do not believe I would be at all disappointed to win you as my bride.”

Elizabeth smiled at him. “You are very kind, sir, but you do not know me well enough to make that determination. I can be quite contrary, I will have you know. After knowing me better, you may find that I am barely tolerable.” This was accompanied by such an arch look that Darcy could not restrain his laugh.

“I believe I could tolerate you quite well, Miss Elizabeth. I am willing to risk the possible damage to my reputation should our correspondence be discovered,” Darcy replied gallantly.

Taking advantage of their privacy, Darcy gently took Elizabeth’s hand in his own, his touch warm and deliberate. He squeezed it lightly, his thumb brushing against her skin as though he sought both reassurance and connection. Slowly, he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the back.

Neither of them wore gloves, and the sensation of bare skin meeting bare skin sent a jolt through them both. Elizabeth’s breath hitched, her cheeks colouring as she felt the warmth of his lips against her hand, the gesture intimate and one she had never experienced before. For a moment, neither spoke, the charged silence filled only by the rustling of leaves outside the window.

Darcy held her gaze, his voice low and tinged with uncertainty. “Elizabeth, perhaps I am too bold, but I could not let the moment pass without expressing my esteem for you. You have… captivated me, and I find myself wishing to know you better with every passing day. I will go to attend to my business in London but will soon depart for Pemberley. It is my wish that I might be invited to return to Longbourn briefly as I travel north, and once the Bingleys’ depart from the area, it may be possible for me to return.”

Elizabeth was still attempting to regain her composure after feeling his lips upon her skin, and her cheeks were still flaming when her brother returned. Clearly surprised at finding the two of them still there, he looked at both of them carefully, his brow arched, before finally speaking.

“I had not expected to find you two still here,” Bennet said, his tone sharp. “I can only hope Mr. Darcy has managed to clear up any misunderstandings caused by that fool’s ridiculous words.” His voice transformed until it was almost a growl at the mention of his cousin.

Shaking his head, he continued. “He was still protesting his removal, even as the grooms nearly lifted him onto the seat of the wagon. The man could not even manage to climb onto the bench himself! It took three men to assist him, and the entire time, he would not stop complaining—whining about his ‘unfair treatment’ and declaring that, upon my eventual death, he would see my wife and sisters cast into the hedgerows when he inherited. The audacity of the man!” Bennet ran a hand through his hair in exasperation.

“I will need to speak with Mr. Philips, and perhaps Gardiner as well, to determine what can be done to ensure that the fool understands he is no longer in line to inherit anything. The very idea of his threats infuriates me, and I will not have my family subjected to his delusions,” he sighed.

Darcy raised a brow, his tone calm but edged with disdain. “ ‘Sophoi andres legousi dioti echousi ti eipein; mōroi de dioti chrē autous legein ,’ (Wise men speak because they have something to say; fools because they have to say something),” he remarked, the Ancient Greek rolling smoothly off his tongue.

Elizabeth blinked in surprise, then laughed—a soft, melodic sound that broke the tension in the room. “Plato,” she said, her green eyes sparkling with mirth. “How very apt.”

Both Darcy and Bennet turned to look at Elizabeth in surprise. “I was not aware that our father tutored you in languages,” Bennet said after a moment.

“Papa began teaching me a little, but it was Grandmama who continued my lessons. We read portions of The Iliad and The Odyssey , heavily censored due to my age, but also portions of The Republic ,” Elizabeth remarked airily. “On one of our visits with you in London, Jon, I heard you and Papa speaking about one of those texts and upon our return home, I insisted that he show me. He had been convinced it would prove too difficult for me, but I took to it just as I had French and Italian, so he encouraged Grandmama to teach me more.”

“How does our grandmother know Greek?” Bennet asked, still surprised.

“Grandpapa,” Elizabeth answered simply, a cheeky grin on her face. “She heard him debating with someone in the language and then insisted he teach her, just as I did Papa. He did so at first to placate her, but soon, it became something they did together. Grandmama was Papa’s first tutor in the language as well.”

Darcy laughed softly, drawing the attention of both Bennets. Instead of appearing shocked or dismayed by the revelations of the last few moments, he stepped forward and took Elizabeth’s hand in his once more. “Miss Elizabeth, this only confirms my belief that you are far from ‘merely tolerable.’ What I now question is whether I can prove myself equal to you—and, perhaps, even challenge you.” He raised her hand to his lips again, the kiss gentler than the first, yet Elizabeth still felt the now-familiar jolt at his touch.

Turning to Bennet, Darcy’s expression grew serious. “Bennet, I wish to court your sister though I fear I cannot do so in the conventional way, at least for the time being. Since I must leave on Monday, I ask your permission to correspond with Miss Elizabeth. My letters could be addressed to you, and you would, of course, be welcome to read their contents. How you choose to facilitate Miss Elizabeth’s replies is entirely up to you.

“If our exchange were to become known, I would not hesitate to marry your sister to protect her honour. However, I would never wish for her hand to be forced. My hope is that our letters will allow us to better understand one another, so that any decision we make is born of mutual regard.”

With a quick look at his sister, whose cheeks were still flushed and whose eyes were starry and bright, Bennet nodded his agreement. “We will speak more about this matter before you depart. However, I find I must address this question of my cousin immediately. Go, both of you, to the drawing room. Charlotte will likely have questions since I am certain the Hills will have informed her of his arrival. I will be along once I have penned this letter to Gardiner.”

William Collins had expected a far warmer reception at the estate he believed should rightfully have been his. His entire life, he had been raised on stories of his distant cousin’s family and how they had “stolen” Longbourn from its true heirs. The tale began with John Bennet, their great-great-great-grandfather, who had two sons, Edward and James, only two years apart in age. Both were trained to manage the estate, working alongside their father to secure its success, with the understanding that Edward, as the elder, would inherit.

To their mother’s delight, both sons married in the same year, and soon each of their wives were expecting. Edward’s wife gave birth first to a daughter, while James’s wife delivered a son, Henry. Over the next decade, Edward’s family grew with the arrival of three more daughters, while James took it for granted that his son would one day inherit Longbourn. Henry was included in the estate’s operations, working alongside his father, uncle, and grandfather. Even Edward seemed to accept that his nephew would eventually become the master.

Tragedy struck when twelve-year-old Henry unknowingly brought smallpox home after a visit with his mother’s family. The disease claimed several lives, including the Bennet patriarch, his wife, Edward’s wife, and his youngest daughter. Edward inherited the estate as expected, but his relationship with James quickly soured. Edward no longer sought his brother’s counsel, and Henry was excluded from estate matters.

As the second son, James had trained in the law though never practised while his father lived. However, Edward soon pressured him to support his own family, and James was forced to move to Meryton, establishing himself as a solicitor. His reduced circumstances did not trouble him until Edward remarried and had a son. Edward proudly declared the boy, Charles, the “future master of Longbourn,” a declaration James saw as a betrayal of his late father’s expectations.

The relationship between the brothers turned cold. Charles, the long-awaited heir, was doted upon by his parents and sisters, growing up indulged and reckless. Henry, who had been taught by his father to resent his cousin, occasionally encouraged this recklessness, hoping misfortune would return the estate to their branch of the family. When Edward learned of these incidents, he took decisive action. He gave Charles greater responsibility at the estate, limiting his free time, and contacted a solicitor in St. Albans to secure the estate to his line with an entail.

The entail was designed to bar James’s family from ever inheriting Longbourn, but a critical error went unnoticed: a clause allowed for inheritance by another male descendant of John Bennet should Edward’s line fail to produce a son within four generations. For a century, the error remained irrelevant.

When Henry’s son, Simon, came of age, he resented his cousins so deeply that he took his wife’s surname upon marriage, securing a modest living on his father-in-law’s farm. The bitterness passed through generations as Simon’s descendants endured harsh conditions far removed from the life they believed was stolen from them. Patrick Collins, Simon’s son, inherited his father’s resentment but lacked the education to rise above his circumstances. His wife, deceived by his charm, endured years of cruelty until the entail was formally broken, dashing any lingering hope of reclaiming Longbourn. On that night, she fled, taking refuge with her parents before vanishing entirely.

Patrick’s son, William Collins, was just ten when his mother disappeared. Lacking her quiet kindness, William grew bitter under his father’s harsh rule. A local rector, seeing potential or perhaps simply seeking to remove him from his environment, sponsored William’s education for the ministry. Patrick, eager for his son to bring prestige to the family, allowed it, although he died before seeing William complete his studies.

When William received a letter from Mrs. Frances Bennet, he believed his fortunes had finally turned. Marrying his late cousin’s eldest daughter would not only grant him proximity to the estate but position him as the likely heir should anything befall Mr. Jonathan Bennet. As her husband, he would naturally control her inheritance.

However, upon arriving at Longbourn, William found neither the warm welcome he expected nor the promised opportunity. Mrs. Frances Bennet was not in residence as he expected, and Elizabeth’s guardian dismissed the match outright, claiming he would never approve it. Stunned, William realised that the future he had envisioned might be far harder to secure than he had hoped.

Despite being turned out of Longbourn, Collins still intended to discover what he could. Upon arriving at the inn, once he had been assured that Bennet had indeed paid for his room and meals that night, he asked the proprietor where he could find Mrs. Frances Bennet.

“She’s got a small house in the village, just to the right of the solicitor’s office. Watch out for yourself now, she’s got two daughters, and she’s liable to push one of ‘em on you if you’ve got even the least bit o’ money. The eldest, Jane, is a lovely thing, though her father died and left her nothin’. The youngest is just twelve, but a bigger flirt I’ve rarely encountered. Mrs. Bennet’ll have her hands full with that one, she will,” the innkeeper said.

After thanking the man, Collins made his way to the home of his late cousin’s widow. It was almost too late for a call, but Collins felt that his mission could not wait until the next day, and neither could he afford to stay at the inn for many nights. With only a widow and two daughters in residence at the Bennet home, he knew he could not stay there, however much he might wish it.

He was soon shown into a small sitting room where the matron sat alone. Upon hearing who had come to call, she had sent her daughters away so they could not hear the conversation.

“Have you come to tell me that my husband’s daughter has accepted your hand? I do hope my stepson will be reasonable about the terms of the engagement and will write a marriage settlement that will be favourable towards you. I am certain that, between her mother’s dowry and what her brother has settled on her, she ought to have a substantial dowry,” Mrs. Bennet gushed without letting her guest speak.

“I am not engaged, and the master of Longbourn was not expecting me. He sent me away and claimed that I was not welcome at the estate. Additionally, he informed me that you had no authority to promise Miss Bennet’s hand in marriage, for you are her stepmother and not her guardian, as your letter stated,” Collins said, his brow furrowed as he voiced his displeasure. It was fortunate for the lady that her guest was trying to act the gentleman he ought to be, for he had a much different idea for how to show his displeasure. If the lady ever came under his authority, perhaps as a guest in his home once he married Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he would demonstrate for her how little he liked those who lied to him.

Mrs. Bennet, not recognising any of these thoughts, attempted to placate him. “Oh, but there is still time for you to win Lizzy. Once that hateful Mr. Darcy leaves the area and he is no longer paying her any attention, she will be pleased to receive your addresses. Such a wealthy man as that could have no interest in my stepdaughter, but she would suit you very well indeed. You must simply remain in the area for a few days longer, for I have it on good authority that Mr. Darcy will leave on Monday.”

“You are correct that Mr. Darcy can have no thoughts in that direction, for he is as good as engaged to the daughter of my noble patroness. He claims it is not true, but Lady Catherine cannot be wrong in this matter, and she insists it is so,” Collins said, puffing his chest out. “But I cannot remain in the area, for Mr. Bennet will not allow me to stay at Longbourn, and I cannot afford to pay for a room at the inn for many days. Perhaps you could find a way to assist me in this.”

Mrs. Bennet thought for several moments, then recalled that Miss Caroline Bingley had not seemed pleased with Mr. Darcy paying attention to Elizabeth either. “Perhaps there is another who could host you. Allow me to pay a call tomorrow morning on…a friend who may prove to be our ally in this matter.”

“As long as you are not deceiving me in this as you did about your stepdaughter’s initial agreement,” Collins stated.

“If nothing else, we might find a way to force my stepson’s hand so he cannot deny you. But it is important that we wait until Mr. Darcy has gone away to London. I do not want to give him any opportunity to get in our way.”

Collins agreed, and the two fixed a time for him to visit the following afternoon. Mrs. Bennet also promised Collins a few coins, enough to pay for Saturday and Sunday night at the inn, should it prove necessary.