Chapter 4
Four
ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDLY
Old Mr Goulding, a former magistrate and her father’s oldest friend, was Neddy’s official guardian.
He was not what one might call a deeply involved guardian, unfortunately; in Elizabeth’s opinion, he was growing old and forgetful.
At least, he joined her in despising Uncle Philips, who, along with her absent uncle Gardiner, held the position of trustee.
His scorn for Mr Philips meant he had taken her side in the Bennet family dispute over Neddy, and supported her living away from Longbourn, in Fox Hollow.
For now, with his defence, she was still thought respectable.
But how long before the views of Mr Philips’s most ardent supporters, Sir William and Lady Lucas, prevailed?
Mr Goulding would not live forever. Should Mr Philips ever win an official guardianship, Neddy’s future darkened dramatically.
Her brother must be kept alive, of course—Mr Philips’s future at Longbourn depended upon it.
It did not mean the child’s life must be a good one.
Neddy was only three years old! There were plenty of other children who did not speak well at three! But it was not solely his lack of language, and she knew it.
Neddy was…different. Sometimes, he comprehended things even beyond his age, but in other ways he was frustratingly unreachable.
His usual temperament was sweet, loving, mischievous, and happy.
He was also very strong-willed, and more and more often of late, if anyone stood between him and what he wanted, he was uncontrollable.
There seemed nothing that could stop him when in one of his rages—certainly not the beatings Mr Philips had administered, the last one of which had led to her removal, with Neddy, to Fox Hollow.
The problem was, Neddy never, ever surrendered until the last of his strength was expended.
Except he had, had he not? To Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, who had used all his considerable strength not in violence, but only to subdue Neddy’s ferocity. He had used a firmness devoid of outrage, managing to reach the child in a way that she could not seem to do.
She knew from Mr Harris, Longbourn’s bailiff—who heard everything there was to hear—that the Philipses vastly overspent; nothing was saved for her or Jane or Mary beyond the small inheritance they had from Mrs Bennet’s father.
Longbourn ought to belong to Neddy himself—but oh, how could they protect it, when they could not even protect him when beneath its roof?
If only her uncle Gardiner had not gone to America after his wife died in childbirth with their first child!
They had not heard from him in three years, not since shortly before her father died, and they feared the worst. As a fellow trustee, he could have stopped Mr and Mrs Philips, not to mention keeping Mama from being so easily persuaded by them.
Heavens, Mr Philips would never have even tried his devilry, had Uncle Gardiner been looking after Neddy’s fortune!
Determinedly, she shook off her anxiety.
It was possible, if Jane married well, that she and Neddy would be allowed to reside with them.
Might even Mr Bingley be Neddy’s saviour?
It was too early to judge. It was not safe to assume he might.
No, Elizabeth must attend the upcoming assembly and see for herself whether there were any possibilities.
A-husband-hunting, she would go. I will be as coldblooded as Begonia Philips when it comes to this, she swore to herself.
Darcy returned to his horse, pocketed the brown bottle and muslin strips, and walked Gallant to Longbourn, as per the enigmatic woman’s instruction.
She had spoken confidently of bringing his horse there, as if it had been her right to do so.
Not that he wanted to meet, even by happenstance, Mr Henry Philips, Longbourn’s master.
The man was one of the worst of those climbing-ivy sorts of fellows, over-dressed, over-perfumed, overbearing.
How was his mystery woman related? In all of Bingley’s ramblings regarding the inhabitants of Longbourn, he had only mentioned one other Bennet sister, a younger one—Miss Mary, was it?
However, a married sister living elsewhere might not have come up in conversation.
He was also certain the lady in green had not been at the one assembly he had been persuaded to attend, even though he had been in such an ugly mood, he had allowed very few introductions.
The weave of her cloak was a fine one, but he had not missed its shabby state; nor was the home in which she lived large. It appeared to be a typical hunting box, neither grand nor spacious—although of course he had not examined its furnishings.
At a party held at Sir William Lucas’s abode, he had been introduced to Mr and Mrs Philips; the husband—a balding, stick-thin man with a paunch at his middle and long tufts of hair stuck haphazardly to his scalp—he had immediately despised as an ingratiating parasite.
The wife had giggled loudly with Mrs Bennet the entire evening, and he somehow could not imagine either woman as a maternal sort who would put themselves out to care for an overactive toddler.
Was that why his lady in green had the child?
Or had she out-and-out lied about the boy’s parentage? Perhaps, even the child belonged to herself and Philips? He shuddered at the very idea, admonishing himself for the wildness of the notion. His imagination was running riot. But why should she be caring for a brother? Who was her husband?
It was a mystery, and he hated mysteries.
It was only that, a mere curiosity, a distraction from his worries and a diverting puzzle.
He determined he would find answers to his questions, to pierce the enigma of a boy who spoke mostly in babbles and his lovely sister.
After all, he had not anything better to do.