Chapter 6 #2
The biggest and most pleasant surprise was his adopted son.
At almost ten, William had thrived in the protective and loving environment of Longbourn.
No longer was there a fear of men and his innate goodness had quickly come to the fore.
William had displayed obsequies and sycophantic tendencies when he had first become part of the Bennet family, but love and acceptance had made sure that those traits were forever banished from his character.
He had caught up to and surpassed children of his own age in education and loved to ride the cob that Bennet had presented him.
He named him Fire for the blaze on his head that looked like a flame.
Both William and John would ride out with Bennet to visit tenants at all three estates to meet with the respective stewards when they were not required in the school room.
Even though Tammy Bennet had been raised on an exceedingly small estate and had never had any formal training in being mistress of one, she took to her tasks as a duck takes to water.
With Mrs Hill as her extremely loyal housekeeper, they had more than tripled the number of servants after the family moved back into Longbourn.
The house ran like a well-oiled wheel and the mistress knew the name of every servant, never walking past one without some sort of salutation or a question about their family.
It was the same when they had lived at Netherfield for almost a year.
The couple that had been the housekeeper and butler had retired just before the move from Longbourn, so the Hills had accompanied the family to fill the roles.
A few months prior to moving back, Mrs Hill had introduced the mistress to her cousin, Mrs Agatha Nichols who had served as an under-housekeeper for almost five years while her husband, Peter, had acquired the skills to be a butler after rising from footman to under-butler in the same household.
Tammy interviewed the Nicholses and hired them the same day.
The couple worked with the Hills until the family departed Netherfield Park and were now firmly ensconced as the senior staff for that estate.
The next day, Bennet was in his study in the process of reviewing applications to lease Netherfield with Frank Phillips.
After some careful checking, he decided to accept Mr Oscar Bingley and his family.
After some years of working with Norman and James in London, Bennet used their very efficient investigators to vet any potential lessees for either of his two additional estates.
The comprehensive report had revealed that Mr Bingley and his wife had three children, two daughters and son.
One of the negatives that was brought forth was that the wife, Martha and her two daughters, Louisa the oldest child and Caroline the youngest, were avid social climbers and thought themselves far above their roots in trade.
The middle child was a son, Charles. He was an amiable boy who it was reported seemed to shy away from confrontation and could be somewhat capricious.
The oldest had started at Miss Pettigrew’s Seminary for Young Ladies a year before and she would complete one more year before she went into the finishing school programme.
From the report, it seemed that the oldest Bingley had received a rude awakening when the daughters of the Ton she tried to ingratiate herself with completely rejected her because of her father still being active in trade.
This information led to the father being cajoled by his wife and daughters to distance himself from the day-to-day running of his enterprise and look for an estate to lease far from Yorkshire.
Mr Bingley did not have the capital he needed to purchase anything but a small estate and that was unacceptable to his wife and daughters.
Bingley Carriage Works would be run by Mr Bingley’s younger brother, Paul, who was happy to do so as he would receive thirty percent of the profits for his new role.
What the mother and daughters did not realise was that by having to pay his brother part of his share of the profits, Oscar’s income was reduced from five thousand per annum to three thousand five hundred pounds, thus reducing the ability to save for what they most coveted.
It also meant that the planned twenty-thousand-pound dowry he had planned for each of his daughters would be capped at twelve thousand five hundred pounds each.
The investigator noted that the father had wisely not mentioned these facts to his wife.
The conclusion was that while there were some social issues, the father was as honest as the day was long and could afford the lease cost easily. He was not daunted by paying the first year in advance and was willing to sign a three-year agreement with an option to renew.
With his brother-in-law’s concurrence that Bingley was a good candidate, a letter was sent by Mr Phillips to Mr Bingley with a lease agreement that would come into force as soon as it was signed, and the first year’s lease amount was transferred to Bennet’s bank account.
The lease was specific in that the Bingleys would have no say in the hiring and firing of servants at the estate; only their personal servants would be under their purview.
In addition, the lease only covered the house, the park, and the home farm.
Within a week, the signed lease was returned to Mr Phillips’s office and the funds were confirmed in the relevant account in the Bank of England.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Little Lady Elizabeth Fitzwilliam could not contain her exuberance.
Her Darcy family had arrived the day before her seventh birthday and try as she may, they had all been tight lipped about the present that her parents had hidden away.
Yes, it had been in one of the parlours but that had been firmly locked, and now whatever it was had been moved to the music room and the two gentle giants, well to her at least, Biggs and Johns, were posted at the door.
No matter how much she begged or cajoled, they would not allow her to pass, resulting in many pouts and dramatic huffs from the young miss.
At last, it was time for her cake, chocolate of course, and Cook had outdone herself.
It was only two tiers, but it was the largest cake that she had ever seen!
It had seven, no eight candles on top. “Why are there eight candles, Mama?” Lizzy enquired, “I am seven, not eight!” She was not overjoyed at their getting her age wrong.
“Yes, darling daughter,” Elaine said indulgently, “I decided to start a new tradition that I heard is done by the Irish; the eighth candle is for next year, to give you nothing but good luck until your next birthday.”
Liking the explanation and understanding that no one had mixed up her age, Lizzy’s smile spread to one of her widest which lit up the whole room as baby Alex added his approval in the form of some unintelligible baby talk.
The one-year-old was watching his cousin with his big, deep blue eyes as she stood on a chair and blew out all eight candles unassisted to cries of “Happy Birthday” from the family.
Lizzy wanted to move to the music room to receive her gifts, her childish impatience on display.
She was told that they would all move to the family room once the cake had been cut and enjoyed.
She had never eaten her cake so very fast before.
She realised when she had shoved the last bite of the decadent cake in her mouth that hurrying had achieved naught as she had to wait for everyone else to finish as well.
At last, the last cake fork was put down, and with a nod from her mother the party moved toward the music room.
Biggs and Johns had the doors wide open and were grinning indulgently at their petite charge.
On entering the music room, she saw a pile of gifts on a strangely shaped table that was somewhat lower than the rest of the tables in the room and was covered with a white satin tablecloth.
She unwrapped each present that she was handed.
There were books, games, jewellery, and music.
When she had unwrapped the final gift, her family was amused to see the questioning look on her countenance.
Why had her parents kept a parlour locked for this?
It was then her father took pity on his beloved daughter.
“Lizzy, my sweetling,” he said lovingly, “please uncover the table your presents were on.” She could not imagine why her Papa wanted her to do so, but nevertheless she obeyed.
As the tablecloth fell to the floor revealing what was beneath, Lizzy stood in a state that was exceedingly rare for her—she was speechless.
She walked around her specially designed and built pianoforte three times before she spoke. “Oh Mama and Papa, thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said as she launched herself into her father’s waiting arms.
“I take it that you like your pianoforte,” her mother said as her daughter transferred her small body into her mother’s arms.
“Like it!” Lizzy responded joyfully. “No Mama, I do not like it, I LOVE IT!” Elizabeth climbed out of her mother’s lap and took a seat at the bench that, like the instrument, was the perfect height and size for her.
“I can reach the pedals!” she exclaimed excitedly.
“And the keys are the perfect size for my hands! Thank you, Mama and Papa, I cannot thank you enough.”
“Seeing your joy is all of the thanks that I need, sweetling,” Reggie cleared his throat, his voice thick with emotion.
“The same holds true for me, my Lizzy,” her mother said. “However, you must thank your Aunt Anne. Her help was instrumental given that she knows Mr Broadwood quite well.”
Lizzy stood up, threw her arms around her aunt’s neck, and planted a huge, wet kiss on her cheek. Luckily, Anne had passed Alex to her husband in anticipation. Lizzy saw her cousin looking at her new instrument longingly.
“Gigi, you may use it anytime that you want to,” Lizzy said as she took her cousin’s hand, causing the four-year-old to beam with pleasure. Soon the beam changed to unadulterated joy.
“That is very kind of you, Lizzy,” Uncle George intervened, “but like Georgie will be able to use this one when she is at Snowhaven…you will be able to use its twin at Pemberley!”
As the two sister-like cousins grasped what George Darcy had just said both let out little-girl squeals.
Without much prompting, Lizzy sat down at her gift and played and sang flawlessly from memory.
Not only was her playing far advanced beyond her years, but her voice was also developing into the sweetest sounding contralto that any of them had heard.
There were already a cadre of masters employed to teach his daughter, who was able to comprehend things that were usually only taught at university.
Now her father realised that he would need to add a singing master.
He would write to John Broadwood forthwith and ask him to make another baby grand, as they were calling it, to have it delivered to Matlock House on Grosvenor Square.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Thirteen-year-old George Wickham was not a happy young man.
His hatred and jealousy of the privileged Darcy, Fitzwilliam, and de Bourgh children had grown exponentially, especially toward Lady Elizabeth.
Now Lady Anne had added a new brat to the family, further diluting any inheritance that he might get from his natural father.
He remembered his summons to see Mr Darcy in his study with much displeasure.
It had been in March of that year and George had gone to his meeting with thinly veiled excitement, telling himself that Mr Darcy was sorry, would restore him as his godson, and acknowledge that he was, in fact, his father.
Young Wickham was shown into the master’s study, and when he saw his adoptive father waiting for him along with Mr Darcy, he began to feel some trepidation.
In the time since he had been in the study, he had learnt more manipulation techniques and had honed his skills of charm.
“I am not happy at what I have been hearing, George,” Mr Darcy opened the conversation, destroying his delusion about the purpose of the meeting.
“I always thought that you had a certain level of intelligence.
How is it after myself, your father, and Lord Matlock all told you that I am not your natural father, that you are still spreading that falsehood?
“Not only that, but at this tender age you have tried to use my name to get credit in Kympton, as you were not able to in Lambton? It is inconceivable to me that one merchant believed your lies and allowed you to run up seven pounds in debts. I received the bill yesterday!” Mr Darcy held up the offending piece of paper.
“Do you have the money to cover your debt?”
“Ahm, errr, I…” the young man blustered.
“Do not bother trying to find a lie to extricate yourself, I know you do not have the funds. Here are your choices. I either call the magistrate and have you arrested for theft, or I will pay the bill,” momentarily young Wickham thought that things were about to turn around until the master added, “and you will muck out the stalls seven days a week for three months. It should be longer, but I will keep it to three months.”
A dejected and angry young Wickham accepted his task, his mind now turned to thinking of a way to get out of it.
“If you miss a day other than for illness confirmed by your father and the doctor, or do not pull your weight, this agreement will be over and to the magistrate you will go,” Mr Darcy stated, leaving no misinterpretation of his words.
As Wickham remembered the whipping he had received on arriving home with his father and the fact that the man had not stood up for him, he added Jim Wickham’s names to the ever-growing list of those who had wronged him and would get their comeuppance from him one day.