Page 68 of The Shades of Pemberley
Darcy alerted Lord Matlock the day they changed their schedule, for his lordship appeared at Darcy’s house that day with a matter of business. Darcy explained what they had decided, and his lordship agreed it was prudent and then moved to the business that had drawn him hither.
“I have received word from my solicitor that pertains to you.”
“Oh?” asked Darcy.
“They should have communicated this to us in the aftermath of my nephew’s passing.” The earl nodded. “I have spoken to them of my displeasure. Mortimer is an excellent man of the law and does not suffer lapses—he takes it personally when matters do not proceed as they ought.”
“I do not use Mortimer,” observed Darcy. “As it deals with my cousin, might I assume it has to do with Pemberley?”
“It does, and specifically, it deals with the entail. When your ancestor set up the entail, it was to continue for five generations. You are the fifth to inherit the estate.”
That bit of news surprised Darcy, for it was a significant alteration. “Then the entail is ended.”
“It is,” agreed Lord Matlock. “My nephew’s will left Pemberley to Georgiana in the unlikely event that all potential heirs predeceased him; as you know, there were two more who were in line to inherit after you.”
Darcy nodded, though he did not know the men in question.
They were even more distant members of the Darcy family, one who lived in Cheshire on a small estate, while the other was a solicitor in London, following in the footsteps of several progenitors descended from the youngest son of the man who had instituted the entail.
There were more distant relations bearing the name Darcy, but their connections to the family predated the entail.
“My will also leaves the property to Georgiana in the event it becomes necessary.”
“That will change when you have a son or daughter of your own. The difference is that Georgiana is your heir now rather than a conditional heir should no others remain under the terms of the entail.”
“Thank you for bringing this to me, Lord Matlock,” said Darcy. “It changes matters altogether.”
“It does.” Lord Matlock eyed him for a moment, then offered in a tone that was only half jesting: “It would be best if you hastened to sire an heir to secure the future of the estate. Had Jameson married earlier, as my wife had pushed him for years, he might have had a son to inherit when he fell from that horse.”
“Trust me, Lord Matlock,” grinned Darcy, “I shall not stint at all in meeting my responsibility. Fortunately, my wife is of hardy stock—her mother birthed five children, after all.”
Lord Matlock barked a laugh. “Yes, that is fortunate, indeed. Give Mrs. Darcy my regards.”
LORD MATLOCK’S SOLICITOR was not the only official communication Darcy received, for the very next day, Darcy received a letter from his solicitor.
Jennings was a man who did not boast the highest members of society as clients, but he was an excellent man of the law, and one Darcy had not considered leaving when he had inherited Pemberley.
The subject of his communication was not Darcy’s venerable estate, but a matter about which he had inquired not long before his wedding in Hertfordshire.
When Darcy perused the missive and understood the contents, he left his study in search of his father-in-law.
As Elizabeth was with the girls in the sitting-room, a sour-faced Mrs. Younge in attendance, Darcy knew where to find Mr. Bennet.
When he entered the library, Bennet looked up and greeted him from the small desk in a corner that he had made into his personal space.
“Darcy! Have you tired of the ladies’ company already, such that you seek me out for more sensible conversation?”
“How do you think my wife would greet the news that you do not consider her sensible?”
Bennet laughed. “I cannot but suppose she would subject me to the rough side of her tongue. Lizzy is sensible, as you know, but while I enjoy the girls’ company, a little often goes a long way, for they speak of things that make my eyes cross.”
“Such are the tastes of young adolescent girls,” agreed Darcy.
Then, turning serious, he said: “I have received a letter from my solicitor.”
Understanding what this meant, Bennet laid his book on the table after marking his page with a small sheet of paper. “Might I assume he writes about the entail on Longbourn?”
“He does. Though it is unfortunate, you will not have the boon of an entail ending with you, for Longbourn’s entail requires another two inheritors before it expires.”
Darcy had informed both his wife and his father-in-law about the new information on Pemberley when Lord Matlock had informed him. That, of course, led to a few choice comments from Longbourn’s master and earned him a reprimand from his daughter.
“Trust me, Darcy, I am well aware of it. Lizzy’s reproofs are still ringing in my ears.”
“Then you will be pleased to know that Jennings believes the entail on Longbourn is not unassailable.”
Bennet offered a slow nod. A man of significant intelligence, Darcy knew Bennet had suspected this from the moment Fitzwilliam spoke of it.
“Does he give a reason?” asked Bennet.
“He does, and they are no less than we have heard before. There is no point in going over the legalities of fee tail or strict settlement, for I believe we both understand the important points of those concepts. Unless I am mistaken, you have not entered an agreement of strict settlement with Mr. Collins?”
Bennet snorted his utter disdain. “Not only did his behavior toward Elizabeth disgust me, but I have no doubt he would bankrupt the estate within a sixmonth of inheriting.” Bennet paused and regarded him with interest. “Have you heard anything of the investigation into Mr. Collins?”
“Nothing of late. Lord Matlock informed his contacts in the church, and Mr. Collins’s bishop is investigating, but that is all.”
“While perhaps I should repent of my desire to see him brought low,” commented Mr. Bennet, “I cannot. Punishment for the way he acted seems only just.”
“With that, I cannot disagree. His offenses and threats to Elizabeth are enough for me to call him out—should he lose his ordination over his behavior, it will be nothing but deserved.”
“His actions warrant it,” agreed Bennet. “I must assume the bishop’s representative will approach us for our testimony at some point.”
“I anticipate that day with great relish.”
Father and son-in-law exchanged a ruthless, pitiless smirk and then turned back to the subject at hand.
“If your solicitor is correct, Mr. Collins will have no recourse.”
“And losing his parish, should it happen, will render it impossible for him to challenge it,” said Darcy.
“What of the expense of ending the entail? Jennings’s fees must not be insubstantial.”
“In this instance, I doubt they will be onerous. Regardless, I would ask you not to consider them for another moment, for I will support you.”
“Providing a home for my widow such that you do not need to endure her in your home,” jested Bennet.
Darcy shrugged. “Pemberley has a dower house in which she could live. I can tolerate your wife well enough, Bennet; she is at least partially responsible for the excellent woman I now call my wife.”
With a laugh, Bennet clapped Darcy on the shoulder. “That, I suppose, she is. Maggie is a good sort of woman, and I am prodigiously fond of her. Had you not presented yourself as an eligible suitor providing for her future, I shudder to think of how her nerves might have affected our marriage.”
“You would not have left her unprotected had you passed early,” said Darcy.
“No, but she never could have lived in the style she enjoys now. The girls will all have something of an inheritance, though providing them vast fortunes is beyond my means.” Darcy nodded, considering his father-in-law’s situation.
Bennet was not the most diligent man, but he was not dilatory either.
Mrs. Bennet’s fortune was to be divided between the girls, but not until after her passing.
Bennet, he knew, had taken some thought to provide for his daughters with Gardiner’s guidance, but given the dowry Elizabeth had brought to the marriage, he was correct that it was not substantial.
Darcy had always known that Elizabeth’s marriage to him would raise the Bennets’ consequence, the other ladies benefitting from his position in society and the possibility of connecting potential suitors to them despite their relative lack of dowry. That could also be a curse, of course.
“For Mary, I have no concerns, for I do not suppose pretty words meant to flatter will deceive her. We must take care of Kitty and Lydia, for I do not suppose they are so discerning.”
“With that, I cannot disagree,” said Bennet.
“Kitty, I will note, has improved by her association with Georgiana. Lydia is not deficient, and we have tried to curb her exuberance, but you are correct, we must remain watchful. She is the most likely to give her affections to an unworthy man and accept assurances in a moment of infatuation.”
As they both understood the situation, Darcy did not think he needed to belabor the point. “When you gain control of Longbourn’s future, what will you do with it?”
Bennet paused and considered the question.
“The best course is to leave it with Jane, I suppose. If the girls were all yet unmarried, I would consider Elizabeth, as she is the most capable of dealing with estate concerns.” Bennet grinned.
“Your friend also appears capable, though he is inexperienced. If nothing else, I suspect he will do better than Collins would.”
“Bingley will not change his name to preserve yours,” observed Darcy.
A laugh was Bennet’s response. “Nor would I require it of him. I have had many years to become accustomed to the notion of my family losing control over Longbourn. If one of my daughters inherits, I shall be content even though they will not bear my name.”
“Then perhaps you should not be so hasty,” replied Darcy, considering Bennet’s words. “Bingley will not assume your name, but one of your other daughters might find a man willing to do so.”
“That is possible,” agreed Bennet. “I shall consider it; there still should be plenty of time to decide. When the estate is mine to do with as I please, I shall update my will, though I may change it later.”
“Yes, that would be for the best,” agreed Darcy.
Later in their chambers together, Darcy discussed the matter with Elizabeth, explaining the conversation between them. As Elizabeth had been the target of Mr. Collins’s schemes through Lady Catherine, the notion of him losing his inheritance was not at all onerous to her.
“Good. I hope to never lay eyes on Mr. Collins, and I should like nothing better than for him to lose his ordination.”
“Vengeance?” teased Darcy.
Elizabeth only looked heavenward. “Justice and a healthy dose of assurance that such a man as he should not be the spiritual guide for anyone, let alone an entire parish.”
“I cannot agree with you more. Before long, I expect some emissary from Mr. Collins’s bishop will wish to speak to us.”
“And I shall not hesitate to tell them all.”
Pleased with his fiery, determined wife, Darcy drew her close. “What do you think about the possibility of your family name surviving at Longbourn?”
“It is a strange concept, to be certain,” said Elizabeth as Darcy nibbled at her ear. “I have grown to become an adult knowing that the Bennet family would leave Longbourn when my father no longer remained with us.”
“But it is welcome,” said Darcy, trailing kisses down her cheek to her chin and then up the other cheek.
When Elizabeth spoke, her tone was breathless. “Of course, it is welcome. I love Longbourn, William, for I know more about its nooks and crannies than even my father. Should our legal maneuver succeed, and the estate remain my family’s possession, it will bring me much joy.”
She pulled away and looked him in the eyes, a hint of mischief coming over her. “It will also provide my mother with a home for the rest of her life.”
Darcy laughed and returned to his ministration.
“Your father made that exact point, Elizabeth. I shall tell you what I told him: enduring your mother is no hardship. If nothing else, Pemberley has a dower house, and failing that, Netherfield itself might be an option she would appreciate. With our home now in the north, my mother might like to have your mother’s company. ”
“Yes, I suppose she might at that,” agreed Elizabeth. “You have heard nothing yet from Lord Matlock about Mrs. Younge?”
“Nothing since he brought word of the entail on Pemberley,” said Darcy.
Taking his attention up a notch, Darcy leaned in and kissed her full on the lips, dragging her attention away from such musty subjects as entails and her mother’s future support.
As was her wont, Elizabeth gave as good as she got, her returning affections swelling his heart with love.
But she was not yet done, for she withdrew again and fixed him with a playful smile.
“For shame, Mr. Darcy. Do you propose we engage in such behavior in the light of day, where our innocent sisters might wonder what we have gotten up to?”
“I care little for their speculations,” growled Darcy, swinging her into his arms and making for the bed. “As for the light of day, that does not give me a moment’s concern. If I can see you, I am better positioned to love you as you deserve.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but Darcy silenced her with a torrid kiss.
Thereafter, words became superfluous. What the members of their family might have thought on the subject they never learned, though they received several glances from her father that appeared quite knowing.
The girls appeared oblivious, and that was likely for the best.