Page 18 of The Bennet Heir
Chapter Seventeen
A s Bennet travelled the road to St. Albans, his mind was occupied with the tasks awaiting him. Darcy had sent a draft of the marriage settlement for his review, and Bennet needed to ensure that provisions were made for Elizabeth’s dowry, as well as for the gift left to her in their Grandfather Nelson’s will.
On his twenty-first birthday, Bennet gained control of his legacy of fifty thousand pounds from his maternal grandfather. He knew that Elizabeth also received an inheritance, because their mother had been expecting her second child when Grandfather Nelson fell ill. Though he never had the chance to meet his granddaughter, he had amended his will during the pregnancy to include the unborn child. Had Elizabeth not survived, the inheritance would have passed to her brother.
However, Bennet did not know what Elizabeth stood to inherit. He assumed it was a similar sum which would be added to her mother’s portion and what he had saved on her behalf. Whatever her grandfather had left her would be added, giving her quite a respectable sum for a country miss.
Elizabeth had never been made aware of the exact figures. She knew she had her mother’s portion and that her brother had added to it, but Jon had never disclosed the full amount. During their father’s lifetime, this secrecy had been necessary to prevent any accidental mention of it to their stepmother. Later, when Elizabeth re-entered society after mourning Mr. Bennet, she had deliberately chosen to remain uninformed.
“It makes little difference to me what my portion is, Jon,” Elizabeth had said. “If a man wishes to marry me, I would rather he do so for who I am, not for what I have. It is not as though I would go about speaking of it to all and sundry. When the time comes for me to wed, I trust you to include my portion in the marriage articles, and I will discuss the matter with my husband then if it is necessary.”
Bennet had merely smiled, shaking his head in quiet amusement. He had met women in town who spoke openly of their portions, believing it to be their greatest asset in securing a husband. For some, it was their only attraction.
These thoughts were interrupted by his carriage coming to an abrupt halt and the sound of several men shouting. Much to his dismay, he heard one voice call out, louder than any of the others, “Stand and deliver.”
“A highwayman in Hertfordshire?” Bennet muttered to himself. “In broad daylight? It is fortunate that I have little of value, but still, I am astonished.”
His musings were once again brought to an end by a sudden noise. This time, it was the sound of his door being wrenched open.
“Out,” came the sharp command.
While his coachman was armed, there was obviously a reason he had not utilised his weapon. Bennet’s shock at being so accosted had delayed his own reaction, and he had not had time to retrieve the gun hidden underneath the seat across from him. He prayed it remained undiscovered by these men, for he did not wish to give them additional weapons if he could prevent it.
He stepped down and saw seven masked men surrounding the carriage, four still on horseback holding rifles or pistols while three were on the ground, also armed. That must be why the coachman did not fire, he thought idly.
“What can I do for you gentlemen?” he asked with a bravado he hoped they would not see through.
“You can come with us,” the apparent leader of the men responded. “Turn around.”
Bennet complied with the command though he struggled to understand the reasoning behind these men’s actions. Rough hands wrenched his arms together in front of him, binding them tightly before he was shoved to the ground and his ankles secured. A gag was then fastened around his mouth. Another man dismounted, and moments later, Bennet was unceremoniously thrown back into the coach. His head struck the floor sharply as he landed, sending a jolt of pain through his skull.
His footman had already been restrained, hands and feet bound, and from outside, Bennet heard the unmistakable sounds of his coachman being dragged down from the box—no doubt receiving the same treatment.
For several minutes, little else reached his ears beyond a few hushed whispers. One of the voices sounded vaguely familiar though he could not place it with certainty. Then, without warning, the carriage lurched forward.
He was being kidnapped; that much was clear. Yet for what purpose? He could not begin to guess. A small measure of relief settled over him as he realised the assailants had avoided shooting his servants. Perhaps, with luck, that meant they intended to treat him with equal restraint.
As the carriage rumbled along to its unknown destination, Bennet turned over the possibilities in his mind. Who could have orchestrated his abduction, and for what purpose? His first suspicion fell upon his cousin—the man he had expelled from Longbourn more than a se’nnight ago—but still, he could not understand to what end? Besides, the man was a clergyman; surely he would not resort to kidnapping.
Longbourn was prosperous, but its true worth was not widely known. Under his father’s management, the estate had been believed to generate an income of two thousand per annum. However, Bennet had used part of his grandfather’s legacy to purchase additional land, and another tract had been gifted to him outright. As a result, Longbourn’s revenue had doubled to four thousand in recent years.
Similarly, the size of his sisters’ dowries was not common knowledge. Elizabeth had the largest portion, but even Mary and Kitty each had five thousand pounds, a sum Bennet continued to supplement whenever possible.
When he married Charlotte, he had settled ten thousand pounds upon her, investing the funds with his uncle in London. The returns exceeded the four per cent guaranteed by the funds though the interest had been reinvested and had grown substantially in the two years of their marriage.
Charlotte felt a growing unease when she entered her room to dress for dinner and her husband had not yet returned. The journey to St. Albans should have taken little more than an hour in each direction. Though the roads might still be muddy in places, delaying his travel, he had been certain his business would not require so much time.
An urgent knocking at the front door shattered the quiet, sending a chill down Charlotte’s spine. A terrible premonition gripped her—something was wrong. Stepping into the hallway, she nearly collided with Elizabeth, who was wrapped in her dressing gown.
“Return to your room and dress quickly—whatever you can put on at once,” Charlotte instructed, her voice tight with worry. “I will meet you downstairs.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned to do the same, her heart pounding. Whoever had arrived was in a hurry, and she feared the news they brought would confirm the dread already settling in her chest.
Not five minutes later, Elizabeth and Charlotte were sitting side by side in the drawing room, their hands entwined as they anxiously awaited the news. Mr. Goulding had been returning from Shenley when he came across the Bennet coachman and footman. Both had their wrists tied together although they had managed to loosen the ties on their feet enough to stand, and they had begun walking along the road to Meryton.
“What happened?” Elizabeth asked.
Mr. Goulding cleared his throat, not wanting to speak so directly to women, but having little choice. “Your father ought to be here soon, Mrs. Bennet. I sent one of my men to fetch him, but I wanted to get your men back to you first. Mightn’t I wait until he arrives?”
“Whatever for?” Charlotte said sharply. “Clearly, something has happened, and my father being here will not change the facts of the matter. Simply tell us what you have learned, or else why did you bother coming here at all?” Her normally calm demeanour was frayed, and the waiting to be told was making matters worse.
Elizabeth squeezed her hands. “Please, Mr. Goulding. You know Charlotte and I are rational creatures, unlike my stepmother who would have already been in hysterics. It is worse to delay.”
Looking between the two women, Mr. Goulding grudgingly complied. “Fine,” he grumbled, and then he recounted what he had learned from the servants—that apparently highwaymen had taken Bennet along with his coach.
“The men said very little, only demanded that Bennet step down from the carriage. Once he was out, they tied him up before tossing him back in and leaving the area in a hurry,” Mr. Goulding said, satisfied when neither lady fainted or went into hysterics at his recital.
“What should we do?” Charlotte asked.
“Your father is the magistrate and will be able to open an investigation,” Goulding said. “After my man spoke to your father, he was going to go to Colonel Forster to request the assistance of the militia. I am uncertain how much we can do tonight, but we will have them begin searching in earnest in the morning.”
Elizabeth’s hands clenched into fists in her lap, but she forced herself to remain calm. Panic would serve no purpose.
“We cannot simply sit here and do nothing,” she said firmly. “Is there any indication of where they might have taken him?”
Mr. Goulding shook his head. “The coach tracks disappeared once they reached the main road. The mud has made it difficult to follow any trail.”
Charlotte pressed a hand to her stomach, her face pale but composed. “My father will do everything in his power to find him,” she assured them. “If Colonel Forster agrees to assist, the militia will widen the search.”
Elizabeth nodded though frustration simmered beneath her composed exterior. “We must send word to Mr. Darcy immediately. He has resources and connections that may help. I am certain he will come from London to assist in the search.”
Mr. Goulding hesitated. “I suppose it could not hurt though I am not sure how quickly he could act.”
“Nevertheless, he must be informed,” Elizabeth insisted. “I will write to him at once.”
Charlotte touched her arm. “We shall all do what we can, but you must try to rest tonight and not stay up all night fretting. We will both need our wits about us in the morning.”
Elizabeth swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Yes, but it is more important that you sleep,” she murmured, doubting that sleep would come easily to either her or Charlotte. She took a steadying breath. “We must also tell Mary and Kitty what has happened, and someone must inform Grandmama. After I write my letter, I will send one of Mr. Darcy’s footmen to London and ask the other to accompany me to the dower cottage. I will stay with Grandmama tonight.” Though her voice was steady, the pallor of her complexion betrayed her distress.
Nodding her agreement with the plan, Charlotte walked Mr. Goulding to the door and went upstairs to speak to Mary and Kitty. Dinner would be a quiet affair that night, for it was too late for them to do anything, and they would need to rely on the men in the neighbourhood and the militiamen to conduct the search. She hoped her husband would be well and that he would soon be returned to them. Like so many others, she wondered who possibly could have taken him and for what purpose.
Mary and Kitty had been aghast at learning about their brother’s disappearance, and, like Elizabeth, had wished to know what they could do to help. Mrs. Smith encouraged them to pray for his safety and that he would be found quickly, before telling Charlotte she would keep the girls occupied in their rooms that evening. The Hills had already arranged for the evening meal to be served in the schoolroom for them, and Charlotte encouraged her sister to eat before she left for the dower house to tell their grandmother what had happened.
When Sir William arrived, he spoke briefly to Charlotte before sending her to her room. Colonel Forster arrived shortly after, and together the two men made a plan to search the surrounding areas, using the tenants from Longbourn and Netherfield, the members of the militia, and anyone from Meryton or Longbourn village who could be spared. The militia officers would assist in coordinating the search, and they would report their findings regularly to both the colonel and Sir William.
Neither man anticipated sleeping very much that night, nor did any of those in residence at Longbourn. It was a very long night for all of the Bennets, including Jonathan Bennet himself.