Chapter Eleven #2
Richard grinned. His words of having no fortune had set the mother against him as a future son-in-law. That was fine, for now. If things progressed with Miss Bennet, he would tell her he was quite well off and they would have nothing to worry about.
Within the hour, he cantered down the drive of Longbourn, fully aware that one set of crystalline blue eyes followed his progress from her bedroom window.
The day was clear and the traffic light and he arrived in London in under four hours.
He attended the War Office and searched for one of his best aides.
“Craigsmuir, I have a task and need it completed by the end of the day or early tomorrow,” he said as soon as the man had saluted properly.
“Yes, sir.”
“I want you to look into naval Captain James Bennet who died in ’98.
I want all pertinent information about his career, family, and finances.
” He saw the flicker of interest in the young man’s eyes.
“No, he is not a traitor, but I need to know that his family has been properly taken care of. That is all.”
He dismissed the soldier and returned to his office to see what his next assignment was.
He always enjoyed his work, his career, knowing that what he did was important for the cause of King and Country, yet since meeting the ethereal Miss Bennet, he had a sudden longing to settle down.
To finally put down roots and make a home.
***
The next day the stately grandfather clock had barely chimed the hour of four when Darcy welcomed Richard into his study.
Soon they were ensconced in his library, enjoying a good brandy.
Elizabeth was out on some errand. Where?
Darcy did not know as he had not engaged his wife in conversation since the disaster following their tour of the house.
“I had an interesting time in Meryton. Did you know Mr. Bennet is one of the local magistrates, and as such, came to sign Wickham’s arrest warrant?”
“Did he know who you were?”
“Not at the time and even when he did, he still invited me to dine and stay the night so I would not have to put up in the local inn.”
“He must have had a reason.”
“Other than being a gentleman?” Richard waved his hand in dismissal. “Let us not get sidetracked, there are interesting things I observed and discovered.”
“About Wickham?”
“No, you dolt. About your wife’s family.”
“What was there to discover? The inferiority of her connections? Their total want of propriety, so frequently portrayed by the mother and three younger sisters, and occasionally even by the father?”
“I no longer wonder why no one there liked you.” Richard leaned closer. “Stay quiet and listen.”
When Darcy looked like he was about to interrupt again, he said, “That is an order.”
Darcy clamped his lips tight.
“First, Wickham was not at the ball; nor in Hertfordshire. Your wife did not conspire with him in any way, shape, or form. You owe her an apology and I suggest your valet places extra padding in the knees of your trousers.”
“Whatever for?”
Darcy felt as though a pit had settled in his stomach.
“You will be begging her mercy by the time I have finished telling all I know.”
“Dare I ask you to continue?”
“Oh yes, You absolutely must.”
“You are too happy about all this. It does not bode well for me.”
“It does not.” Richard grinned and the pit in Darcy’s stomach grew two sizes larger. “As I enjoyed a very expensive brandy in Mr. Bennet’s library, I noticed several things besides the quality of his liquor.”
“Such as?”
“He had many books. Rare books, new books, and a large family Bible.”
“I am sure you were suitably impressed.”
“Frankly, I was. His library may not be as large as yours, but I would bet you two shillings he has more rare books than you.”
“I highly doubt that,” scoffed Darcy.
“This is still not what I found so interesting. I am sure when you huffed and puffed your way through the house, you took no notice of the expensive paintings, well-made furniture, and priceless little artifacts scattered about. For an impoverished family with an entailed estate, they live fairly high on the instep. The dinner Mrs. Bennet provided would rival some of the great houses here in town.”
“I will not deny that Mrs. Bennet is a good hostess. It is her vulgar manners I detest.”
“No doubt and the little baggage that is her youngest daughter makes them all seem worse than they are.”
“I see you met Miss Lydia. Crazy about officers and the such. She chased one of them around the room with a sword, at Bingley’s ball! Can you imagine?”
“From her? Yes. Now, let me finish my story. Are you aware that your wife is not even the daughter of Mr. Bennet?” Darcy’s eyes widened in surprise. “She is his niece. Her father was Mr. Bennet’s younger brother.”
“How did you find all this out?”
“Before leaving for Meryton, I stopped by here to have breakfast with Georgiana. Imagine my surprise when I discovered Mrs. Darcy at the breakfast table and not on her way to Pemberley as planned. We had an interesting conversation and she let slip that she was Bennet’s niece.
We will speak later about the bruise on her cheek.
But enough of that, I wish to tell you about my time at Longbourn. ”
“For someone used to barking out orders, you are taking an inordinate amount of time to relay the facts,” grumbled Darcy.
“Patience man, I am getting there. After dinner and a lovely time in the presence of Miss Jane Bennet – oh, by the by – Bingley was a fool to have left her behind.” When Darcy opened his mouth to decry Bingley’s decision, he said, “Tut, tut, no interrupting. After we had retired for the evening, and I was sure all were asleep, I took myself down to Mr. Bennet’s cozy study, and settled in to see who was faithfully recorded in that family Bible I spotted earlier. ”
He speared Darcy with a hard look.
“Did you know there has been a Bennet at Longbourn since King Henry sat on the throne? They have been landed gentry for almost as long as your family. In that regard, you and your wife are equals. I found the entry for Mrs. Darcy’s father, James Bennet.
He married Isabella de Cortez in 1788 and your wife was born in May of ’91.
Her mother died in ‘95 and her father in ‘98.”
“What does this have to do with anything? It changes nothing that she is the niece and not the daughter.”
“You are so impatient. I am getting to that.” Richard leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs, crossing one ankle over the other.
“While at Mr. Bennet’s desk, I spied his ledger.
Seeing as I had already delved into the family tree, I decided to check his finances.
” Richard straightened. “I heard you say their estate only brings in about two thousand pounds per annum.” Darcy nodded in affirmation.
“That sum is far, far below what it brings in. Longbourn turns a profit of over four thousand a year.”
“What? How is that possible?”
“Mr. Bennet is very clever. He dares not put all the money back into the estate because of the entail. His wife and daughters will not profit from any of their hard work. However, he has found a workaround. Mrs. Bennet and her four daughters each have a tidy sum of money to spend each month as they like. A little over a thousand pounds is put back into the estate for its requirements, and the rest is gifted to one Elizabeth Bennet.”
At Darcy’s look of outright surprise, Richard chuckled softly.
“With a little searching, I found another ledger which carefully tracked all of the money gifted to the former Miss Bennet. In turn, his niece takes these remaining funds and purchases artwork, furniture – rare books – etcetera, and the rest is redirected into lucrative investments, all held in trust in the names of her aunt and female cousins. When Mr. Bennet finally joins his Maker, nothing of value remains in the house as it belongs to Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, née Bennet. Mr. Bennet’s name is not listed as the owner of anything other than the land and the stone and mortar of the manor. ”
“That is why he wanted the clause ensuring anything she brought to the marriage or obtained afterward remains hers and hers alone.”
“Yes, as I said, very clever of them.”
“But Elizabeth still has nothing to show from all this.”
“Worried your wife was not taken care of financially by her family? Does sitting atop the moral high ground of your pride make you feel a tad chilled?”
He glared at Richard.
“I had time to assess my initial behavior and anger. As such, I made an appointment with my solicitors to make changes to the marriage settlement and Elizabeth will receive what Mrs. Darcy rightly deserves. I pick up the amended documents the day after tomorrow and leave for Longbourn immediately following to attain Mr. Bennet’s signature. ”
“That is all well and good, cousin, however, your wife does not need your money.”
“What? You just said she does not receive a penny from her uncle.”
“I followed a hunch and had one of my aides search our military records for a James Bennet who died in ’98. At the time of his death, he was Admiral Bennet, a decorated war hero who died at sea. He left his only daughter an estate in Hertfordshire and over eighty thousand pounds in the bank.”
“Where…” Darcy felt all the air escape his lungs. Elizabeth was an heiress. A landowner. “Where in Hertfordshire?”
Upon witnessing the sly smile that stretched across Richard’s face, he knew the answer before he spoke the words.
Netherfield Park. Of course.
***
After Richard left his study, Darcy went over everything that had occurred in the past month and shook his head.
It seemed a lifetime ago he’d held Elizabeth in his arms while she struggled to free his button from that infernal scrap of lace.
Even in his anger, he had relished the feel of her womanly form in his arms. She was a delightful package and now that he knew she’d never dallied with Wickham, they could safely consummate their marriage and move forward.
But how to approach her knowing she held such justified anger toward him?
Was it truly within his right, as a gentleman, to demand she allow him to her bed?
He could force her to comply and beget an heir without her goodwill and he wouldn’t be the first husband to accomplish what was required.
Many a night at his gentleman’s club he’d listened to men grouse about their frigid wives and then laugh among themselves by saying the wife did not have to be good in bed, she just had to be there.
Warmth and affection were sought elsewhere.
He never truly understood that sentiment until faced with the reality of his cold union with a wife who held him in contempt. He also never imagined he’d entertain the idea of stepping outside the bonds of marriage for physical pleasure.
He was no saint and knew the joys of a willing woman beneath his body.
For his peace of mind, he may be forced to take another discreet paramour to sate the passionate side of his character, but not yet.
His hopes and dreams remained centered on Elizabeth.
The spark of love, temporarily squashed with everything that happened, lay dormant like an ember in his heart.
One hint of hope from the direction of his wife, and it would flame brightly once again.