Chapter 18
The day finally arrived and Mr. Yates was up early, going over each and every point of their case.
The barristers were trained for such things, but due to his relationship with Lord Eldon, he expected to answer many of the questions.
He thanked the Lord once again for his father’s connections, people were stuck for years waiting for an appointment, not to mention spending thousands on barrister fees.
He accepted the assistance of a footman to tie his cravat in a more stylish pattern than he usually wore and settled a tight-fitting blue coat, borrowed from Darcy’s closet, over his broad shoulders.
He had had his hair cut ‘a la Brutus’ earlier in the week, so he felt he had done all he could to elevate his look.
Nothing would hide his muscular physique and tanned skin, but the less attention brought to his chosen profession the better.
A final buff of his mirror-shined hessians and he was ready.
Rather than ride his horse, he took Darcy’s sleek town carriage and traveled into West Minster where the Court of Chancery was located at the Lincoln’s Inn Old Hall on Chancery Lane.
He stepped out and adjusted his beaver, before marching into the building to meet the barristers.
They were waiting in the antechamber for the case to be called and greeted him with anticipation.
They were called within half an hour and Mr. Yates, looking very much like a man-about-town, led the group of men into the courtroom. Bingley had not appeared.
“Ah! Young Yates!” Lord Eldon cried, coming around his desk to shake his hand with enthusiasm. “How is Statham? Is he still in town?”
“No, he had tired of the season and retreated to Statham Court in March. He sends his regards however, and a reminder that you still owe him ten pounds.”
The man laughed uproariously and pounded him on the back. “Good old Statham. Come, let us sit and look over this petition. If we are quick, perhaps we can grab a drink at Whites.”
“Certainly,” he smiled and joined the barristers behind their table.
“Now, I cannot say that I am pleased by this attempt to deprive a man of his heritage and birthright, no matter the contract he was stupid enough to sign. Many a first born would be passed over if stupidity precluded inheritance,” he guffawed.
“I can only agree,” Yates chuckled. “Tygee would certainly have been. But this case is somewhat more involved, you see, Mr. Bingley, who you must have noted did not appear, is the scion of an honorable tradesman from Scarborough. He married up, a gentlewoman from Hertfordshire, the sister of the new Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, but whether he does not care, or does not wish to be a gentleman of property, he has abandoned both his wife and child, and the estate of Ivy Well for the delights of Town and his mistress. He has not replied to a single missive since he left in January.”
“Charles Bingley, why does that name sound familiar,” he pondered for a moment, shaking his head. “I do not believe I know him.”
“Likely not, he is not truly part of the Ton, riding on the coat tails of his friends. But he has made his name notorious in the papers recently.”
“Ah! Lady Arabella Thomson, as was. I knew I had heard the name. Not good Ton, that. One ought not parade their mistress about as they have done, irritates the ladies which makes life uncomfortable for the rest of us. I see now why Statham and Darcy are backing the wife.”
Mr. Yates nodded, keeping his opinions to himself.
“Well, what of this Mrs. Bingley, how will she manage such a responsibility? She is not one of those hurly-burly women who are too educated is she?”
“Not at all,” Mr. Yates assured him. “She is naturally intelligent, but no blue-stocking. Her largest reason for even filing the complaint was to safeguard her child’s inheritance as it had become obvious that her husband cared not a whit about either of them.
The estate was also only recently purchased, and Bingley has refused to reply to innumerable letters from his steward requesting guidance, or at least permission, to act in the best interest of the estate.
Only five of the ten farms on the estate are tenanted and other than fixing the worst of the disrepair and neglect, much of which Fitzwilliam Darcy has paid for, he has allowed nothing.
And between Darcy and myself, we have pledged to assist Mrs. Bingley as needed. ”
His worries calmed, as he had the aristocracy’s usual prejudices against the lower classes attempting to rise above their station, he nodded, pleased.
“His not answering the summons shows a shocking lack of good judgment and respect for this court. I do not need to hear any more. I find that the contract is valid and executable and declare that the ownership of the estate, Ivy Well in Staffordshire, will be transferred to Mrs. Jane Bingley, to be held in trust for her eldest son, or if none appears, her daughter,” he paused.
“Miss Elizabeth Ursula Bingley,” Mr. Yates provided.
“— Miss Elizabeth Ursula Bingley. So decided by the court on this, the day of our Lord, 14 April, 1812. You will receive documentation within a sen’night.”
“Thank you, your Lordship.” Mr. Yates smiled and shook his hand once more. “Now, how about that drink?”
Published in the London Gazette with a little help from an interested reader who sent them the court findings:
The saga of CB has taken a surprising turn.
This publication has discovered the recent findings of the Court of Chancery, a petition of JB, wife of CB, who through the interest and care of her protectors on the occasion of her marriage, added clauses to protect not just her dignity, but her future as well.
The estate recently purchased by CB in Staffordshire is now owned by his wife, along with his fortune as he had signed a contract allowing both should he shirk his duties or embarrass his wife publicly.
It seems to this writer, that more young ladies with interested fathers ought to have similar settlements in place to protect them.
It is obvious that JB is no abandoned wife but a proud gentlewoman who has taken her future into her own hands.
Mr. Yates sent an express immediately upon his arrival at Darcy House, pleased to be able to relieve the worries of his new employer.
He had dined with Lord Eldon at Whites, as planned, and then returned to happily remove the tight-fitting coat.
One more week, and he would be able to return to Ivy Well and enact all their plans.
He blew a sigh of relief as the rider left and stretched his arms above his head; time to get to work!
∞∞∞
Jane opened the express from Mr. Yates and nearly cheered with delight.
She hurried through the house to find her sisters and Darcy.
They were of course in the library, where Mary was reading aloud while Kitty, Georgiana, and Elizabeth played with the babies on the rug and Darcy was at a desk, looking over his correspondence.
“Mr. Yates has written!” Jane cried as she came through the double doors. “We were successful! Mr. Yates should return within a sen’night with the new deeds! We shall be able to begin the spring planting now!”
Her sisters all squealed and enveloped her in congratulatory hugs, all speaking and laughing at once.
“That is excellent news, Jane,” Darcy declared, scooping up little Tommy who was making his displeasure at his abandonment known.
He could not help the pang of regret that his former friend had lost his estate, though really, with laws as they were, Jane would be practically forced to allow him to live with her.
“William, would you mind accompanying me to Cheadle to purchase the seed order and to see it delivered to the current tenants?” Jane asked, already moving forward in her mind.
“Of course,” he immediately agreed, handing off his son to one of the nursery maids. “Would you ladies care to join us in some shopping?”
Everyone agreed, and the library was soon empty as they hurried to their rooms to change into carriage dresses and more durable footwear.
Darcy assisted the ladies into the carriage before climbing in beside his wife.
Plans were made to empty the haberdashery of every ribbon as they traveled and after Darcy had assisted them to step out, he and several footmen made their way to the feed shop to retrieve their order in the wagon that had followed them.
Jane led the way into the shop and Kitty squealed in delight, bringing a wide smile to Mr. Knighton’s face, the shopkeeper.
“Good day, Mr. Knighton,” Jane greeted the man.
“My sisters are visiting and I told them they could not leave the area until they had seen the wonder that is your haberdashery.”
“I thank you for the compliment, Ma’am,” he replied, puffing out his chest. “Such a bevy of lovely ladies is sure to find something to enhance here!”
“It is wonderous!” Kitty exclaimed. “I cannot imagine that London would have a better selection! Certainly, Meryton is nothing to this!”
The man beamed and offered to show her his best pinks, to match her dress and she skipped off with Georgiana in tow. Elizabeth’s eyes twinkled with mischief and she, Jane, and Mary followed more slowly, lingering over whatever caught their eye.
“You are determined to win their hearts I see,” she teased Jane, who bumped her with her shoulder.
“I must have someone to speak with as none of my genteel neighbors will do so,” Jane replied, putting her nose in the air and making them laugh, though Elizabeth still squeezed her hand in empathy.