Page 20 of The Mercy of Chance

M r Bennet received him from his accustomed chair by the fire, one hand resting upon his walking stick with elegant resignation.

“You are most welcome, Mr Darcy.

Your journey was tolerable?”

“Entirely so, sir.”

Darcy accepted the proffered seat, his gaze drawn briefly to Miss Elizabeth at the estate desk, her quill moving with practised grace across the ledger before her.

Miss Bennet sat nearby, her own records arranged with characteristic tidiness.

“I believe you know the essentials of our situation from my note,”

the old gentleman continued.

“It seems our estimable Mr Collins has taken it upon himself to question my capacity for the running of Longbourn.”

“As we feared.”

“Perhaps you might enlighten us,”

Elizabeth spoke from her desk, her voice deliberately neutral, “as to any possible legal grounds for such a challenge?”

Darcy turned to meet her gaze directly.

“The law offers several avenues.

Most probably, he would petition for oversight, citing concerns over the preservation of the entail’s interests, claiming mishandling.”

“Mishandling?”

Elizabeth’s quill paused over her ledger.

“Longbourn’s value has only increased.”

Darcy’s brows lifted.

“The courts,”

he replied, choosing his words with particular care, “often favour more… conventional approaches to estate management.”

“Conventional?”

The arch of her eyebrow spoke volumes.

“You mean, perhaps, masculine?”

“Lizzy,”

Jane murmured, a gentle reproach.

Darcy suppressed a grin.

The sunlight illuminating Miss Elizabeth created a halo of gleaming curls about her face, nearly distracting him.

But her words, although lightly spoken, struck with unnerving precision.

It was not the first time she had laid bare an uncomfortable truth beneath polite wit.

He brought himself up short and chose his next words with precision, turning to direct his words to Mr Bennet.

“I mean that the law can be conservative in its views.

We must prepare to defend your methods not simply on their results, but on their adherence to established principles.”

“Our methods are established principles, Mr Darcy.”

Elizabeth rose and retrieved a volume from the shelf.

“Coke’s treatise on land law, which I believe you know well.

We have followed every recommendation regarding tenant leases and land improvements.”

Of course he knew it.

He had studied it under the finest tutors, and yet here she stood, citing it with as much fluency as any barrister.

Darcy was caught between admiration for her preparation and frustration at her defensive tone.

“Miss Elizabeth, I do not question your methods.

But the courts-”

“Will need evidence, I assume?”

She lifted a neat stack of ledgers from the desk between them.

“Ten years of quarterly accounts.

Crop yields.

Tenant records.

Improvement costs and returns.

All properly witnessed and recorded.” She pushed the ledgers toward him.

He lifted the cover of the top volume and saw endless neat rows of figures, with marks indicating their having been double checked by another hand.

He had expected competent housekeeping, but this was the work of a serious estate manager.

Yet that lift of her chin, the challenge in her eyes - suggested she anticipated criticism.

“Most impressive,”

he said.

“This will be extremely helpful in building our defence.”

Elizabeth’s brow lifted in silent query.

“The estate’s defence, that is,”

he amended swiftly.

“Although I hope you will permit me to offer what assistance lies within my power.”

Mr Bennet cast a speculative glance toward Mr Darcy.

“We would be grateful for your counsel, sir.

Although as you see, my granddaughters have not been idle these past years.”

“No indeed,”

Darcy acknowledged, with genuine respect.

“They have not.”

“Perhaps,”

Elizabeth said, pointing to the most recent ledger, “we might begin with what seem to be Collins’s specific claims? His letter mentioned ‘irregular management practices.’”

“Indeed.”

Darcy leant forward with interest.

“He may challenge your adoption of the Norfolk four-course rotation.

Although the system has proved successful on many estates, some still view it as dangerously experimental.”

Elizabeth turned her ledger toward him.

“We followed Mr Coke’s methods precisely—wheat, turnips, barley, and clover.

Our yields have increased significantly, most notably since we began using drill seeding rather than broadcasting.

That hardly experimental- it was refined by Jethro Tull in 1701.”

Darcy nodded, studying the neat columns.

“Collins might still argue that such changes to established methods put the entailed property at risk.”

Jane spoke up quietly from her corner.

“We maintained the old three-field system on one parcel whilst testing the new methods.

The comparison figures are quite clear.”

“The law requires diligent stewardship of entailed land, does it not? Surely that must include implementing proven improvements?”

Elizabeth looked to the shelf housing volumes on Law, including the renowned Blackstone’s Commentaries.

“‘Waste is a spoil and destruction of the estate, either in houses, woods, or lands; by demolishing not the temporary profits only,’” she recited.

“A fair point,”

Darcy said.

“Although the courts often interpret ‘diligent stewardship’ conservatively.

They look for evidence that changes preserve the essential character and value of the estate.”

“‘Quo warranto?’ Then our drainage improvements should help our case,”

Elizabeth noted.

“We followed the methods Mr Elkington published in his report to the Board of Agriculture.

The reduced water-logging has improved both our grain fields and pasturage.”

Darcy’s eyebrows rose just perceptibly.

“You have studied Elkington’s work on drainage?”

Darcy could not suppress the grudging admiration that stirred within him.

Her command of both law and land rivalled that of any steward he had ever employed.

If he were honest, it rivalled his own.

“One tries to be informed,”

Elizabeth replied with a small smile.

“Some of his technical drawings required a great deal of study.

We are far from replicating the Duke of Bedford’s bog draining efforts.

However, the results justify the effort.

As you know, our lower fields no longer flood in winter.”

“Most impressive,”

Darcy said, his tone warming with professional respect.

“Have you documented the increase in usable acreage?”

“In detail.”

Elizabeth retrieved another ledger.

“Along with the improved hay yields from the drained meadows.

We have also experimented with Mr Bakewell’s methods of selective breeding in our sheep flock, although on a modest scale.”

“An estate managed with such attention to modern improvements should be defensible,”

Darcy said thoughtfully.

“But we must present these innovations to satisfy legal concerns.”

Mr Bennet shifted in his chair.

“There is another matter, Mr Darcy, perhaps more pressing than our agricultural improvements.”

“Indeed, sir?”

“Mr Collins suggests,”

the old gentleman said with deliberate care, “that I am no longer capable of sound understanding in estate matters.

He speaks of protecting the inheritance through the Court of Chancery.”

Elizabeth’s hands stilled on her ledger, although her voice remained even.

“He expressed particular concern about Grandfather’s soundness of mind this morning.”

“Ah.”

Darcy’s expression grew grave.

“He means to challenge your authority over the estate as a person of unsound mind.”

“Can such a petition succeed?”

Jane asked.

“Not without substantial proof,”

Darcy replied.

“The court requires clear evidence that a gentleman is non compos mentis.

Age alone is not sufficient cause.”

Elizabeth glanced at her grandfather with nonchalance.

“What evidence would the court require?”

“They look for proof that a gentleman can no longer govern himself or his affairs,”

Darcy explained.

“Whether he knows his family and property, whether he understands the value of money and land.

Most particularly, whether he can make rational decisions about his estate.”

“There is no basis to question that! What possible proof could he put forward,”

Elizabeth said.

“The court might require an examination by a physician or even conduct a direct inquiry by interviewing Mr Bennet.”

“Mr Jones has attended Grandfather these thirty years,”

Elizabeth noted.

“A long-standing physician’s testimony would carry great weight with the court,”

Darcy said.

“That is very much in your favour.” Darcy paused.

“Collins has not arranged for another medical opinion?”

“He attempted to bring in someone he claimed was his own physician yesterday,”

Mr Bennet said drily.

“I declined to receive him.”

“Quite right,”

Darcy approved.

“Any such examination should be conducted by your regular physician or, if necessary, an independent doctor appointed by the court.”

Elizabeth drew a paper from her desk.

“We have maintained records of all major estate decisions, with grandfather’s reasoning noted and witnessed.

Would such documentation be useful?”

Your records would serve well in court,”

Darcy said slowly, “should Mr Collins proceed with his threats to bring this before Chancery.

Although…” He paused, as though considering whether to continue.

“Please, Mr Darcy,”

Elizabeth prompted.

“We would be grateful for your candid opinion.” She met his gaze evenly, without artifice.

It was that clarity—so at odds with every calculating social exchange he endured in London—that stirred something dangerously close to affection.

“To pursue such a case, Mr Collins would need to file a formal bill of complaint.

The court would require substantial documentation, sworn testimony, examination of witnesses.”

He laid the papers precisely on the desk.

“And of course, there are the costs to consider.”

“The costs?”

Jane enquired.

“The initial costs alone,”

Darcy continued, his tone intentionally neutral, “would require several years’ income from a modest living.”

Elizabeth looked up, stopping her quill thoughtfully.

“Yet Mr Collins speaks with great confidence of pursuing the matter.

He mentioned support from his patroness – Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

‘A lady of consequence’, as he reminded us several times this morning.”

“Ah.”

Darcy’s tone remained neutral, although something flickered in his expression.

“Did Mr Collins not say she was your aunt, sir?”

Elizabeth asked.

“She is,”

Darcy replied with reserve.

“Although perhaps Mr Collins overestimates the enthusiasm she might have for Chancery proceedings.

They can prove… unexpectedly costly.”

Elizabeth’s quick mind caught the implications.

“So, he may find himself in an awkward position.

Having initiated proceedings based on expected support from your aunt…”

“Only to find that support limited to moral encouragement,”

Darcy finished.

“It would not be the first time such miscalculation has occurred in these matters.”

As the afternoon light began to fade, Mr Bennet gestured for Darcy to remain after the ladies had withdrawn to prepare to dress for dinner.

The older gentleman waited until the door had firmly closed before speaking.

“There is an additional matter of some delicacy, Mr Darcy, which I would discuss with you privately.”

He shifted in his chair, his expression uncommonly serious.

“You are aware, I believe, of the three farms adjoining the eastern boundary of Longbourn?”

“I recall them, sir.

The Fairfax properties, if I am not mistaken?”

“Just so.

These past five years, we have quietly acquired them through various means.

The last was purchased only this past Michaelmas.”

Mr Bennet’s eyes held a shrewd gleam.

“They are not entailed, you understand.

Nor is the old Lodge upon the northernmost property, which we have been gradually restoring.

Nor the bulk of the pasture lands formerly of the Matthews’s Dunbar Court property.”

Understanding dawned in Darcy’s expression.

“A most prudent arrangement, sir.”

“The Lodge is modest, but sound.

Five bedrooms, adequate offices, and thirty acres of good land in the home farm.

Altogether, it should prove sufficient to provide an income of four hundred pounds per annum, when competently managed.”

Mr Bennet’s fingers drummed lightly on his walking stick.

“My Elizabeth has overseen the improvements herself.

The roof is new, the chimneys repointed, the kitchen garden restored.

It wants only furnishing to be quite habitable.”

“And these properties stand completely separate from the entail?”

“They do.

The deeds are held in trust for my granddaughters.”

A faint smile touched the old gentleman’s lips.

“I may be a fool in many things, Mr Darcy, but I am not so great a fool as to leave my girls without provision.

Should the worst occur, they will have both home and a modest independence.

Should Lady Matthews continue to spend beyond her means, and the Viscount’s luck at the tables continue as it has, I understand the family may retrench and take rooms in Bath.

I hope, in time, to be situated to make an offer for their home farm and residence should that occur.”

Darcy sat in thoughtful silence for a moment.

The quiet clarity of Mr Bennet’s intentions stirred something deep within him—not just admiration, but a sharp and unexpected sense of responsibility.

“You have managed the matter with remarkable discretion, sir.”

“Necessity often breeds cunning—even in old men.”

Mr Bennet’s expression grew serious once more.

“I tell you this in confidence, Mr Darcy, as I believe you to be a man of honour.

Should anything… untoward occur in this business with Collins, I would ask that you see my arrangements are fully executed.

My attorney, Phillips, has copies of all the records.

He will execute my will, but I would have my ladies protected by more than one gentleman.”

“You have my word, sir,”

Darcy replied gravely.

He felt the weight of that promise settle not as a burden, but as a privilege.

“Such measures will, I hope, prove unnecessary.”

“As do I, as do I.”

Mr Bennet lifted his glass in a small salute.

“But one sleeps better, does one not, knowing one’s duty has been discharged.”

After the others had withdrawn, Elizabeth returned to the study, organising the papers they had reviewed.

Mr Darcy had lingered to discuss one final point about the estate records, and now stood by the window, his tall figure silhouetted against the late afternoon light.

“Miss Elizabeth,”

he said, turning from his contemplation of the grounds.

“I hope you will not scruple to send word if you require any further assistance with these legal matters.”

“You are very kind, sir.”

Elizabeth busied herself with securing the ribbons on a bundle of documents, avoiding his direct gaze.

His manner throughout had been everything proper and helpful yet reserved.

“Not at all.

Your management of Longbourn is…”

He paused, seeming to choose his words with care.

“Most impressive.”

Elizabeth felt the familiar mixture of pride and irritation at such qualified praise.

As though it were remarkable that a woman might understand estate matters.

Yet there had been moments during their discussion when he had addressed her as a true equal, forgetting himself enough to debate matters with real animation.

“You are quite… thorough in your knowledge,”

she ventured, curious to see if he would take offence at the implicit comparison between their abilities.

“One tries to stay informed,”

he replied, gentle warmth softening his formal tone.

“Your results here may persuade me to reconsider some of my own practices at P-” He stopped abruptly, then continued more formally.

“But I must not detain you further.”

With a formal bow, he took his leave, and Elizabeth stared at the empty doorway, troubled by an unfamiliar sensation of regret.

His genuine interest in their work, his thoughtful attention to their situation, his obvious intelligence - all combined to create a most inconvenient wish that he might… but no.

A man of his consequence no doubt viewed a gentleman’s daughter turned estate manager as an oddity at best.

Her fingers traced the edge of the account book absently.

Most likely, he placed her somewhere between a blue-stocking and a social inferior - knowledgeable enough to discuss business with, but hardly a suitable…

She shook herself.

Such thoughts were both improper and impractical.

They had far more pressing concerns than her foolish musings about Mr Darcy’s opinion of her.

With determined efficiency, she returned to her task of organising the papers, resolutely ignoring the lingering warmth his rare half-smile had kindled.