Chapter 17
Mr. Victor Phillips was sitting at his desk writing out notes for a contract when an express rider was shown in. He accepted the missive, offering the man a few coins to refresh himself at the inn nearby. Once he was alone, he tore into the parchment with haste.
Ivy Well, Staffordshire
Dear Uncle Phillips,
William has explained my settlement to me and rather than wait and hope, I have decided to take our future into my own hands. With the birth
of my daughter, it has opened my eyes to the precarious situation which my husband has left us in, and I am determined to do what I can to safeguard Ellie’s inheritance.
My wish is for you to enact the clause in my settlements allowing me to collect renumeration for each time he brings shame and embarrassment to me.
I am certain my aunt has kept you informed of each instance, but I have included the ones which have found their way here.
I have finally reached the limit of my patience, so do your worst!
Your loving niece,
Jane
“Finally!” he exclaimed, calling for his clerk.
“Timothy, I need you to write out this purchase contract for the Goulding account. I shall be traveling to town on another account and will likely be gone for a fortnight. You may write to me at my brother Gardiner’s home on Gracechurch Street if anything urgent comes up. ”
“Yes, Sir!” the young man cried, pleased to be trusted with such important tasks.
Within two hours, which ought to have been only one but his wife had insisted on accompanying him, they had boarded their small carriage and made for London.
The greatest advantage of Mrs. Phillips accompanying him, was that she was not in Meryton spreading about the gossip of his niece’s unfortunate marriage.
“Who would have thought that dear Jane’s would have been the marriage which brought shame to them all,” Mrs. Phillips exclaimed for the hundredth time.
“When Lydia ran off with that handsome rascal, Fanny and I were sure that she had ruined them, but he married her and all was well but now poor, poor Jane; and Mr. Bingley was such a kind, entertaining gentleman too.” She sighed gustily.
Mr. Phillips replied with a grunt, his usual response to his wife’s gossipy chatter. In truth, he rarely listened with more than half an ear for she never stopped speaking. If he had not become immune to her ramblings, the three hours of travel would have been interminable.
It was just after luncheon when they arrived, so he left his wife to entertain their sister-in-law and nieces and nephews, and took the carriage directly to the bank.
He was so pleased that he had had the forethought to have Bingley sign several blank bank drafts to be included with the settlement so that he did not have to file a complaint to access the funds.
It took only a short time for him to withdraw ￡30,000 for the currently published insults and he took the funds to a separate bank where he opened a new account in Jane’s name only, with both himself and Mr. Gardiner listed as managers to better protect her.
A sen’night later, and three more withdrawals, and the bank manager informed him that there was only ￡300 left in the account.
Mr. Phillips magnanimously left it for Bingley and he, and the newly arrived Mr. Yates, traveled to Darcy’s firm of barristers in order to give over all of their records to allow them to file the petition with the Court of Chancery on Jane’s behalf.
Luckily Easter Term had just begun and with the mention of the Earl of Statham and the Darcy barristers, they were given a date a fortnight later.
Mr. Yates immediately sat down in his room at Darcy House and wrote Jane a missive explaining the timeline and his optimistic outlook of the proceedings as they had been assigned Lord Eldon, the Lord High Chancellor, to oversee the petition.
He was a contemporary of his father, he explained, and was well known to him personally.
∞∞∞
Jane was so grateful that Mr. Yates wrote to her every other day, whether he had news or not.
After the debacle with her husband, even a note explaining that nothing much had happened was a comfort to her nerves.
She was torn between hoping that Bingley came to court to defend himself or praying that he would not appear and that the petition would be granted swiftly.
Another surprise, as Bingley had spoken with Darcy about his investments on several occasions, Mr. Gardiner informed his niece that Bingley had never actually given him the funds which he had wanted to invest with him.
Jane was so tired of hearing of her husband’s lack of resolve!
She wrote back, authorizing her uncles to release ￡40,000 to invest, as was recommended, with the rest, after reimbursing Darcy, to be left in the funds.
She and Mary had begun the construction of the servant’s nursery and, upon Darcy’s recommendation, a small village of cottages for retiring or married servants while they waited, not wishing to remain idle themselves and with the added bonus of keeping the men they had hired for planting busy until they were ready to begin.
Many, if not most, employers refused to allow their servants to marry, so the fact that Jane was happy to provide space and accommodations for families was pleasing to all, and her reputation, at least among the lower levels of society, was already sterling as her servants sang her praises.
Darcy and Elizabeth were still at Ivy Well, as Elizabeth was determined to support her sister until they knew one way or the other. Secretly, should the petition fail, Elizabeth was determined to carry off her sister and niece to Pemberley and Ivy Well could go to ruin.
Darcy was more hopeful and he assisted Jane in interviewing ten prospective farmers to fill the five empty farms. They would not be able to sign leases with them until they heard back from Mr. Yates, but with the interviews completed, Jane would be able to immediately offer her chosen families the homes before it was too late to plant.
One of the men was the son of a former tenant and was hopeful of returning to the same plot.
Jane had done more listening than questioning, allowing Darcy to take the lead and the man, a Mr. Lewis, was very knowledgeable and willing to try new developments in farming techniques, so, with Darcy’s encouragement, Jane had written his name on the certain list. Two of the others were men from Cheadle with little to no experience farming, who Darcy discouraged her from pursuing as she, being newer herself, would not be knowledgeable enough to train them appropriately and it would put too much of an additional weight on Yates’ shoulders.
The other four spots would end up being filled by young men, three sons of Pemberley’s tenants, who planned to marry and begin their own homes, and Master Jacob Williams, young Sally Ward’s soon-to-be-husband.
Jane was very pleased with the decisions and was in even more anticipation of the court’s decision.
The fortnight of waiting seemed to drag on and on. A clerk from the court apprised Mr. Yates that the notice had been delivered to Mr. Bingley and was signed for, so they now need only wait for the appointed time.
∞∞∞
Bingley walked through the foyer of his London home, mind occupied by the woman he had left upstairs.
He would never admit it aloud, but he had begun to regret his marriage as surely Lady Arabella would be free from her ancient husband soon.
He sighed as a heavy knock sounded from the entry door.
He paused, waiting to see who had arrived, overhearing his footman argue with a man on the other side who insisted on delivering a missive directly into his hands.
“I am here, move aside David,” he declared, pulling the door wide. “I am Mr. Charles Bingley, what do you need?”
“I am to deliver this letter and have you sign that you received it,” the man declared.
“Well, hand it over then,” he grinned, accepting his ledger and pencil to sign and then taking the letter.
“Would you like me to put it in your study so that you can break your fast,” the footman asked, strangely insistent.
“That is fine,” Bingley agreed, handing it to the man without another thought and continuing on his way.
“Good morning, Caroline!” he called, entering the breakfast room and saw his sister sifting through the pile of mail. “What news?”
“You have several bills from our shopping, I suppose,” she waved at a largish stack of letters. “The season must be winding down, there are much fewer invitations today.”
Bingley piled his plate high and dropped into his seat. He pulled the stack closer and took a bite of eggs before breaking the seal on the letter from his sister’s modiste. Eggs spewed in every direction as he cried out in surprise, earning a screech from his sister.
“Charles!”
“What on earth!” he cried, not acknowledging her glare. “My bank draft was returned! How on earth could that possibly be?”
He quickly tore into the other missives, each containing a denied bank draft. “No, no, no!”
“What has happened?” Caroline demanded petulantly, ripping the papers from his hand to read them herself. “They are just some tradesmen, what does it matter if they have not been paid? They can wait until you have time to care like the rest of the ton.”
Bingley did not mention that he always paid his bills promptly as he well remembered his father’s complaints of unpaid receipts. “They are not unpaid; I did pay them! The payments were denied!”
“What does that mean?”
“It means my bank did not release the funds!” he jumped from the table and yelled for his carriage to be brought round. “I shall go to Coutts and see what has happened.”
“Coutts? There was a letter here from them,” Caroline replied, digging through her own stack, “I thought it was Lady Coats and her name had been misspelled.”
She handed him the letter and he quickly read through the single sheet. “They have closed my account!” he bellowed, completely flummoxed. “My account has been emptied! Completely emptied!”
“What!” Caroline’s voice reached unheard of levels of shrillness.
“Jane’s uncle enacted the terms of our wedding settlement! Every article in the papers has cost me ￡5000! She mentioned none of this in her letters! Surely she is unaware of his actions! How dare he?”
“WHAT!”
“The settlements!” Bingley repeated, ripping at his hair in frustration. “I agreed to pay restitution if I ever brought public embarrassment to Jane with my mistress.”
“WHY? Why would you sign that!”
“I never imagined that I would have a mistress!” he snapped back. “You need to write to Jane immediately and inform her of her uncle’s perfidy!”
Caroline’s mouth twisted, “Perhaps you should write, she is your wife after all.”
“But she asked to only write through your correspondence,” Bingley whined, not wanting to read it if she was truly angry at him. “And she wrote that she was pleased I was enjoying myself.”
“Oh, very well,” she snapped. “What about my shopping this week? I had planned to have the final fitting on several new dresses and Arabella as well!”
“You will need to put them off,” Bingley winced at her screech. “I do not know what to tell you, Caroline, there are no funds! No funds at all!”
“Fine! I shall pay for it with my own funds, but you must replace them!” she demanded.
“You said you were out of funds only yesterday.” Bingley gave her a look.
“I found the purse I thought I had lost,” she lied, easy as breathing. “It should be just enough, but you will need to straighten things out by quarter day or the servants will leave!”
The level of their voices had carried through the entire house, alerting those servants that all was not well in Caroline Bingley’s household. Within the hour, the whispers had spread through the Ton like wildfire as they laughed at the fall of the jumped-up tradesman’s children.
Published by the London Gazette
CB and Miss CB are persona non grata amongst the shops on Bond Street and further.
It was all over Town that the entirety of the Bingley fortune, left to CB by his tradesman father, has been spent or lost. Rumors swirl that it was not only CB who has lost his fortune, but Miss CB’s dowry as well.
It is no wonder that she has given up on marrying; without the extra bait of a healthy dowry, who would willingly step into that trap?
Unfortunately for Caroline, that tidbit was given to her by a supposed friend in the middle of the tables at the most popular haberdashery on Bond Street and the shoppers were exposed to a vitriol laced explosion of epic proportions which incidentally made the papers the next day.
∞∞∞