Chapter Eight
“It is the grossest falsehood!” Elizabeth declared. John had called her and Aunt Olivia to join him in his study. Francis stood to the side of the room.
“Like most gossip,” Aunt Olivia said evenly, “there is some grain of truth to it.”
Elizabeth blinked rapidly. “But you and Uncle Phillip have long advocated against the practice. You do not even keep sugar at Weymouth House. It is why you are on such good terms with Mr. Wedgwood.”
Aunt Olivia glanced at John and sighed. She placed a gentle hand on Elizabeth’s knee. “You uncle inherited a sugar plantation when his father died, dear. It was the most profitable investment he had.”
Elizabeth was speechless.
“Because you know Phillip’s active holdings very well now,” John reminded her, “you are aware they do not include that property.”
She closed her eyes to regain her composure, then opened them. “Will you tell me the story?”
It was John who cleared his throat to speak.
“Phillip was not yet married to your aunt when he inherited his father’s fortune.
” He leaned back against his desk. “He struggled with the notion that his own family’s respectability had rested upon such a venture, but also struggled with what was best to be done. ”
“Did he sell it?” Elizabeth asked flatly.
“It was not so easy a thing,” John said, contemplating something on the far wall over her shoulder.
“He could sell the plantation, but he would still be profiting from the sale of human beings and transferring their care to strangers.
Their situation was bad enough; he did not wish to make it worse.
Were he to keep the plantation to ensure they were treated well, he would be the owner of human beings.
Neither was acceptable to him.“ He smiled, his expression nostalgic.
“He decided to travel to the West Indies to evaluate the situation for himself.”
Elizabeth glanced at her aunt. It was rather shocking to know Uncle Phillip had been to the West Indies and never spoken of it. Abroad, he had said. Hardly the same thing.
“He was comfortable, but not yet a wealthy man,” Aunt Olivia said quietly.
“This was before we courted, but we were already friends of a sort. I asked whether he was certain he wished to travel so far himself and at such risk when he might have a trustworthy local agent report back.” Her eyes were glossy, but no tears fell.
“He said that in such a case he could trust no one so well as himself.”
John smiled. “I clearly recall my father telling me the story. Father was puffed up about it, and of course, I was wild to meet Phillip, who was only just returned. I thought him quite the hero.”
“Will not someone tell me what happened?“ Elizabeth asked with a huff.
Olivia shook her head, her gaze somewhere far away. “Your uncle was horrified when he saw the conditions in which they were living. Against all advice and all self-interest, he freed every slave, nearly seventy of them, many of them children.”
John picked up the thread of the tale. “According to my father, Phillip had the head of each household decide whether they wished to remain or leave. For those who wished to stay, he partitioned off the land he owned and made a gift of it, so they would have a place to live and fields to work. For those who preferred to leave, he arranged their travel. I do not know where all they went.”
Olivia added, “Phillip mentioned that many stayed. Though he tried to persuade them it might be dangerous, he would not force them to leave. Some took passage to the East Indies, and one family came back to England with him.” She smiled tiredly.
“There were two sons, I believe, who became farriers and did very well.”
“I would wager,” Francis said from side of the room where he was now slouched against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, “that his actions labeled him an eccentric at the very least.”
John nodded. “My older brother was like many in the ton. He thought Phillip mad to cut up his fortune in such a way. But my father was extraordinarily proud of him. Phillip had already shown a good deal of promise in his investments, so in the last years of his life, my father hired your uncle to invest for him, offering Phillip a healthy percentage of any earnings until he could get back on his feet.” He shared a look with her aunt that Elizabeth did not understand.
“When he returned to England, he was a different man than I had known.” Aunt Olivia’s gaze was turned away from them all, briefly lost in her memories.
After a moment, she added, “He stopped going to his club because he was often ridiculed there, but never did it shake his conviction that he had done what was right. He was determined to build a new fortune, one he felt was honorable, and simply set about it. Never once did he complain about beginning over again.” She paused.
“Never once.” She smiled at Elizabeth. “And then we danced.”
“Why did he never say anything?” Elizabeth asked, lifting her eyes to her aunt’s. “He ought to have been celebrated for what he did.”
He did not like to discuss it,“ Olivia said. She moved forward to perch on the edge of her chair. “He was profoundly troubled by whatever it was he saw when he arrived and always worried he had not done enough.”
“Well,” Tavistock said wryly, “I shall be only too pleased to go tell this story at the club.”
John nodded. “It will make the rounds of Parliament as well.” He held out his hand to Elizabeth, and after a moment, she took it. “Perhaps you have some friends to visit, my dear?”
“I do.” She took a breath. “Mr. Darcy’s aunt, Lady Matlock, might be of help. I could write Georgiana.”
John frowned but nodded.
Encouraged, Elizabeth pushed ahead. “Did Mr. Darcy send you the note warning you about the rumor, John?” Elizabeth asked directly. “I seem to recall Aunt Olivia telling me he had.”
John pursed his lips. “He did.”
“May I ask him to visit?” She knew it was a challenge, but she wished to offer him a chance to relent. She was disappointed.
“Not yet, Lizzy,” he said, shaking his head. “There are still matters between us that must be put to rest. Please try to understand.”
Elizabeth swallowed the response that sprang to her lips. What good would it do? “Very well,” she said.
Darcy read through the draft of the marriage articles and sighed.
As long as Elizabeth remained Bedford’s guest, he could not so much as send a note around.
He presumed the same was true for her. If Mrs. Russell was in better health, he might at least have a message about his betrothed from her aunt, but given the circumstances, he was not expecting one.
Richard entered the study without a word and strolled to the decanter. After pouring himself a glass of port, he took a chair and sat, crossing his legs and staring at Darcy.
“Are you finished moping over that contract?” Richard asked.
“No, not quite,” Darcy replied sourly. “Have you learned anything about Wickham?”
It had been nearly a week since their arrival in London, and they were no closer to locating the source of the letters, the shot, the thefts, the rumors.
Seducing the maid, stealing items while the master was away, speaking venomous words into willing ears—these were all in keeping with what he knew of Wickham’s character.
Darcy was growing increasingly irritated waiting for the scoundrel to resurface—and there was no doubt he would.
Richard had not been banned from the duke’s residence, so Darcy had suggested that he discreetly pose some questions to the staff.
His cousin had been more than happy to take up the employment.
He had already questioned everyone on Darcy’s staff, but they had discovered precious little.
Mrs. White had Bingley’s direction locked in her desk—she had been asked to keep his whereabouts quiet, as Darcy jealously guarded his privacy.
Susan had related that her “friend” had asked more than once about Mr. Darcy’s whereabouts, but she had not known them.
Darcy believed her—once caught, the girl had freely confessed to stealing, and had shown them several other books that had been removed first—books Mrs. White did not have on her list. They were all valuable and would not immediately be missed. Wickham had grown bolder since.
But Wickham was also clever. Darcy was certain he had sold each item nearly as soon as he had it in hand, perhaps had a buyer even before it was purloined.
They would not catch him with stolen goods on his person.
Darcy had several agents searching the pawn shops in the hopes of reclaiming at least some of the items.
Darcy would not press charges against Susan, who supported her mother and a younger sister.
Mrs. White had, of course, dismissed her, but he had made sure her mother’s rent was paid through the next quarter-day to give the girl a chance to find some other employment.
Richard had scoffed at that, telling him he was too soft.
But Darcy knew how persuasive Wickham could be.
The loss of her position without a reference was punishment enough.
“As a matter of fact,” Richard replied calmly, “I do have news.”
Darcy’s attention shot back to his cousin. “What is it?”
Richard’s lips curled lazily into a smile. “His Grace will have nothing to charge you with now,” he said, satisfaction ringing in his words. “The man has been at Bedford’s staff, too.”