Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Mr Jones’s prediction proved correct. On Elizabeth’s last visit with her godfather, he could only faintly squeeze her hand. Only a few days later, he was gone.
It had not even been a week since Mr Goulding was laid to rest when Mr Philips appeared at Longbourn to deliver some news.
Mr Bennet met his brother-in-law at the door, and they disappeared into the study. Within minutes, Elizabeth was summoned to join them.
“Papa? Uncle? You wish to speak to me?” she asked, stepping just inside the door.
“Aye, child. Your uncle wishes to speak to us both.”
“I will not stay long, only to inform you that both of your presence is requested for the reading of our friend Mr Goulding’s will.”
“Me?” Elizabeth exclaimed, just as her father said with equal astonishment, “Lizzy?”
“Yes. Goulding has named both of you in his will.”
“Ah. Some small bequest. That is kind of him. I suppose he has made any number of them to his friends and neighbours,” remarked Mr Bennet. “And Lizzy was his godchild of course.”
Mr Philips smiled. “You could say that, yes. I will expect to see you both Monday morning at my offices, at the nine o’clock hour.” He rose to take his leave. At his niece’s offer of refreshments, he demurred. “I have several more stops to make today. I will see you then.”
Mr Bennet saw her uncle to the door, and returned to his study, retaking his seat. “Well, well. Old Goulding has remembered us. I hope he has bequeathed me that first edition of Newton’s Principia that I have long coveted.”
“Papa,” Elizabeth scolded lightly. She smiled at the memory of Mr Goulding. “How kind he was. Always thinking of others, never pitying himself, after all the misfortune he had in his life. And no family to call his own. I hope he has found peace.”
Mr Bennet nodded. “He was a good man. I regret that I did not visit him more over the last few years.”
“There were others who lost touch with him completely. I do not think he held any resentment towards anyone.”
Upon his late return to his townhouse, Darcy went directly to his study intending to complete the correspondence he had begun earlier in the day.
Instead, he stood by the window, watching the last of the summer twilight fade, the stars appearing one by one, losing all sense of time.
His mind turned to his afternoon spent with Georgiana, and his correspondence was forgot.
His visit to his sister’s establishment had gone well. He had stayed much longer than he had planned and had spontaneously taken an informal supper with Georgiana and Mrs Annesley, a relaxed and unexpected pleasure.
Georgiana was her usual quiet self. Though still reticent, she had been obviously happy to see him.
Her broken heart had healed at last and she was the wiser for it, but her confidence had been shattered.
She did not trust her own discernment of others.
He understood that. His trust in his own judgment had recently been shaken severely.
As darkness settled over the city, Darcy’s thoughts flew as they always did to Elizabeth.
How had he flattered himself enough to assume that Elizabeth was flirting with him?
How conceited was he to assume that he was every lady’s dream, her dream, and that she would readily agree to marry him?
Ever since he entered society, his experience had been that he was every lady’s dream, and the dream match of every lady’s parents and connexions as well.
It had not even occurred to him that a lady’s feelings would be any deterrent to accepting his offer.
Thus, he had not given any thought to what Elizabeth’s feelings were towards him.
No, the lady’s feelings had never been considered in his desire to make her his wife.
Guided by his parents’ ideas of what constituted a successful marriage, Darcy had never expected to fall in love.
Love was a sensation he had believed only mythical, only found in novels.
Though it was not uncommon for those in the first circles to imagine themselves in love, it was never to be a consideration in the brokering of a suitable alliance.
Marry for connexions and fortune; any foolishness about love was generally lust in disguise.
But he had fallen in love, and it was like nothing he could have ever imagined.
It was the clearest, purest emotion he had ever felt; deep, overpowering, exhilarating, intoxicating.
Terrifying. Despite his dreadful proposal and their furious quarrel, despite his angry mortification and eviscerated heart, he still loved her.
He just did not know what to do about it.
This, he supposed, was the just reward for his conceit.
These self-recriminations were doing him no good, yet when he was not occupied with work, the scene at the Hunsford parsonage repeated itself endlessly in his mind.
Elizabeth had been hurt and angry and absolutely correct to refuse him.
He should never have reiterated her family’s deficiencies to her.
She was already excruciatingly aware. There had been an expression of real pain on her lovely face as he had mercilessly enumerated them, the same expression of pain he had seen as her family’s antics had mortified her at Bingley’s ball. Yet she loved them with all her heart.
Darcy wondered where she was and what she was doing at that moment.
At Longbourn? Sitting by the fire, sewing?
Reading? Playing chess with her father? He was not familiar with the house, so could not picture where she sat of an evening.
Or where she slept. Unfortunately, that did not keep his overactive imagination from conjuring up images of her in bed. His bed.
Darcy startled as the clock chimed midnight; he had been standing at the window for hours.
He knew he would never be able to sleep; his ungovernable thoughts would prevent it.
With a deep sigh, he removed his coat and sat down at his desk in his shirtsleeves.
Perhaps he would have a go at those letters after all.
The following Monday, almost two dozen people gathered in Mr Philips’s office. The law office was panelled with dark wood, heavy drapes, and thick carpet, which served to make the rooms quiet and stately, removed from the din of carriages, wagons, and voices on the street outside.
It was indeed as Mr Bennet had predicted with various little legacies to many of the deceased’s acquaintance in the area.
Mr Goulding had made generous bequests of pensions for his servants and money to Mr Jones for his many years of care.
He had bestowed in-kind gifts to many friends.
Sir William Lucas was the happy recipient of a tiger skin rug that Mr Goulding had brought back from India many years ago.
Elizabeth was very glad he had not bequeathed it to her father. She had always disliked it extremely.
He left various objets d’art, porcelain pieces, silver pieces, crystal glasses, et cetera to the wives of his friends.
He left a carved tea chest, a painting, and a length of antique Brussels lace to Mrs Bennet.
To Mr Bennet, he left the particular book that he had admired, along with a trunkful of others, and the old cribbage board they had used in their games for so many years.
The meeting was winding down, and some of the beneficiaries had already departed with their gifts.
A few stayed to hear of the disposition of Mr Goulding’s estate and investments which would be the last announcement.
Elizabeth was curious as to why she had been asked to attend.
The other ladies who had been remembered in the will had not attended; their husbands or friends brought them the items in question.
Why had she specifically been invited? Were there more items from the manor house to distribute?
Perhaps he had left her some of his books.
Or perhaps he had written a letter to her?
The thought of that brightened her spirits.
He had always given her a listening ear and thoughtful advice, much needed after she had given up on receiving wise counsel from her parents.
She had shared her most secret feelings and ideas with him on many occasions.
He was the only person other than Jane whom she had trusted with the events of her visit to Kent, and the only person she had allowed to read Mr Darcy’s letter.
She hoped he had written her a letter, so she would have some final words from her wise counsellor.
Deep in thought, she was not attending to her uncle Philips when it came down to the final moments of the gathering.
“Elizabeth,” said her uncle sharply, and she startled into attention. He peered over his spectacles at her for a moment and then continued.
I, William Horace Stanton Goulding, being of sound mind, do place the remainder of my estate, the manor house and lands thereof, including investments worth 14,000 pounds, into the care of Miss Elizabeth Bennet…
Before he could complete the sentence, there was a muted shriek from outside the door and a collective gasp from the people remaining in the room. All faces turned to her for a moment before, as one, they rose from their chairs and all but ran out the door.
Mr Philips pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered an oath under his breath. “Damnation! My wife has the hearing of a bat! Now there will be gossip, and it will be incorrect and exaggerated. But we must continue.” He began to read the passage again.
I, William Horace Standish Goulding, being of sound mind, do place the remainder of my estate, the manor house and lands thereof, including investments worth 14,000 pounds, into the care of Miss Elizabeth Bennet so she may, with the assistance of Mr Philips, use them to facilitate the creation of a charitable organisation for the benefit of the people of Meryton and its surrounds, including all persons living in the parishes of St Aethelred’s and St John’s.
Elizabeth was frozen, her jaw slack, staring at her uncle, feeling as if the air had been suddenly forced from her lungs. She could not speak for several moments but finally stammered, “No, it…that cannot…that cannot be true. Uncle, there is some mistake. That makes no sense. Why would he…why me?”
Mr Philips smiled. “You will not be doing this work alone, dear niece. Mr Goulding requested that I, as well as your father, help and advise you. It should be fairly straightforward. You will need to do some research on how charitable societies function and what type of organising structure they use. That will most likely take the form of sending letters of enquiry to various charitable societies, which may prove useful examples. I will assist in matters of the law.”
Her father looked as shocked as she was. “Philips, that cannot be true. It is ridiculous! He cannot have been of sound mind! Goulding cannot have left this responsibility to a mere girl! Is this some sort of joke? If so, it is a poor one.”
Mr Philips shook his head. “Goulding spoke to me of this at length over the years. He was very concerned about the declining fortunes of our little community. You must have heard him speak of it, Bennet.”
“Aye, that I did. We often reminisced about how many more families lived in and around Meryton when we were young, how many playfellows we had that grew up and removed from the town, before the mill, the tannery, and others closed.”
Philips nodded. “Since there were no heirs, he wished to do more for the people of Meryton and its surrounds. Over the years, he has made some gifts to help young people to stay if they did not want to leave but were forced to look for work elsewhere; gifts of money to start businesses or improve their lands or shops.”
“Uncle, why would Mr Goulding believe I can do this? I have a basic understanding of how estates are run, and I have helped Mama work with our tenants, but I have never supervised farmers or employees. I have never handled quarterly rents or servants’ wages,” cried Elizabeth.
“You will not be expected to manage Haye-Park. Do not forget that Mr Goulding employs an excellent steward. Mr Hargrove has managed Haye-Park very well as Goulding’s health declined.
Your task is to create Mr Goulding’s vision of a charitable organisation that will strengthen our community.
” Mr Philips moved to sit with his brother and niece.
“Mr Goulding was adamant about it. He saw something in you, Lizzy. He recognised your intelligence and your thoughtfulness and care for your neighbours. He will reward you for your work upon the completion of your task. Read further.”
He handed her the will.
One parcel of my land is to be excluded from ownership by the charity.
The dower house, surrounded by one-and-twenty acres including the gardens, I leave to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
It will be readied and kept ready until she takes possession.
I leave this to Elizabeth in recognition of the work she will do in carrying out my wishes.
“The dower house!” exclaimed Elizabeth. She knew where it was but had never seen the inside of it.
He rose and drew a sealed letter from a desk drawer and handed it to Elizabeth. “He wrote a letter to you explaining his choice, my dear. Read it and think about it. Discuss it with your father. I will also help you wherever I can.”