Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
“Mr. Thomas Bennet.” The butler, solemn and serious, announced his presence, his voice echoing faintly off gilded walls and polished marble.
Thomas stepped forward, acutely conscious of his plain coat and country tailoring amid such opulence.
Across the richly decorated room, in a plush armchair, sat a figure of whom Thomas had only seen cartoonish likenesses in the newspaper—grotesque caricatures exaggerated for satire.
The reality was more sobering. He was more corpulent in person, the evidence of a life of excess obvious to any who beheld him: heavy-lidded eyes, florid complexion, and a languid air that suggested indulgence rather than authority, though authority clung to him all the same.
Thomas executed a perfect royal bow, thankful his father’s enforced training had not been long forgotten. It had seemed tedious at the time; now it might save him from disgrace.
“Mr. Thomas Bennet. I can see a likeness to your sister in your features.” The prince’s voice was casual, appraising, as though he were examining a portrait rather than a man.
The thought that Rebecca had regularly been around the heir to the throne still felt surreal. That his quiet, perceptive sister—who had once read novels beside him under the old oak at Longbourn—had moved in such circles seemed almost implausible.
“Your Highness.” He kept his gaze lowered. “I came as quickly as I could.”
“Yes, yes, that was expected. Sit.” He pointed at a chair near his.
A servant bustled in with a tray laden with food and beverages—cold meats, delicate pastries, a crystal decanter of amber liquid. She placed it between the two chairs and promptly began serving the two men with practiced deference.
Thomas waited patiently for the prince to speak. It was not his place to initiate the conversation, and silence, he had learned, could be as instructive as speech. The minutes stretched, the prince sipping leisurely, clearly enjoying the imbalance.
After several interminable minutes, the prince finally addressed him. “I spoke with Lady Catherine de Bourgh yesterday. She was in London calling upon her brother, the earl of Matlock.”
The harpy, or so his sister called her sister-in-law.
“I am afraid I have not seen Lady Catherine in some time.” And he hoped never to see her again.
The woman was a menace. She had terrorized Rebecca constantly, or so his sister’s letters said—criticizing her manners, her household, her very breathing.
“Yes, well, as aunt to your niece, I wished to ascertain if she had any interest in raising the girl.”
Thomas’s blood ran cold. “I am her nearest male relation.” As such, he ought to have first claim; the law, imperfect as it was, generally favored him.
“Yes, but her situation in life is far above your own.” The prince waved a dismissive hand.
“Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh’s social status is more in line with her cousin, Anne de Bourgh, than with yourself.
Your niece’s fortune is not at all modest. She owns an estate, and her dowry is her father’s fortune, also bequeathed by his maternal grandparents.
When she is of age, she could easily marry the heir to an earldom.
Fortunately for your niece, Lady Catherine has no interest in raising her.
I, on the other hand, have a vested interest in her future, since her father was such a close friend. ”
Something glinted in the prince’s eye that told Thomas there was more to the story—calculation, perhaps even amusement. He needed to tread carefully. “Be that as it may, I wish to take guardianship of my niece. I can offer her more than material comforts.”
The prince snorted. “Yes—love and true family bonds. I investigated your situation, Bennet. An entailed estate and four daughters. One might think you wish to bring Elizabeth into your household to ease your own burdens.”
It was all Bennet could do not to explode.
Heat flared behind his eyes, but he mastered himself with effort.
“Some people do not look at matters in such terms. I loved my sister, but the decisions our parents made on her behalf kept us separated for the better part of the last decade. Raising her daughter in a home filled with love and companionship is the least I can do after I failed to protect her.”
“Protect her? From what, pray tell?” The prince’s expression was impassive, and he raised his eyebrow, daring him to continue.
Thomas drew in a deep breath. “Not every woman wishes only for a marriage of convenience, Your Highness.” He would say no more on the subject. To do so would invite ruin.
The prince was silent for a few moments, watching him with renewed interest. “As it so happens,” he said next, “I am well aware of your sister’s feelings.
Nathan—Mr. de Bourgh—did not care. It was a marriage made to improve your family’s standing, and to satisfy my friend’s desires. She was not miserable.”
“My sister has always masked her true emotions.” He knew he was playing with fire, contradicting the future monarch. To his surprise, the prince laughed.
“Oh, I do like you, Mr. Bennet. You are not afraid to speak your mind. It is very rare that I encounter one bold enough to challenge me. It is a good thing I am of a pleasant turn of mind today. Now, let us come to the real matter for which I called you here.” He took a sip of the amber liquid from his glass.
“My wife, Princess Caroline, has expressed a desire to take guardianship of Miss de Bourgh, and raise her in her household. I am inclined to grant her wish.”
This was not at all what Bennet expected, and he gaped. “The…the Princess of Wales wants to raise my niece?”
“Surely you knew your sister had formed a friendship with my wife.” The prince frowned. “They were fond of each other, and reports say your niece was a frequent caller with her mother.”
“But—” The prince held up a hand, silencing Thomas.
“Miss de Bourgh has never met you. At this time of great loss, she should be with people she knows. My wife is lonely. She does not go to court, nor do we keep the same house. Princess Charlotte is being raised here—away from her mother.” His mouth twisted faintly.
“Though I am disinclined to show my unwanted bride any mercy, I have decided this course of action will suit everyone involved. Your wife will not be required to raise another child—one not her own, mind you—and the Princess of Wales will have constant companionship. I am prepared to reward you handsomely.”
“There is not a reward in the world that will compensate for losing my niece!” His temper was frayed, and Thomas fought to regain control, fists clenched at his sides.
The prince frowned. “Let me be rightly understood. This is not a request. This is a negotiation. I have prepared papers detailing what is to be done for the Bennets of Longbourn in exchange for your agreement without argument. I have connections enough that I could remove Elizabeth de Bourgh from your care without any compensation. If you are agreeable, we can conclude this amicably, with no trouble to yourself.” The prince picked up a sheaf of papers and handed them to Bennet.
They sat in silence while Bennet perused the legal documents, his heart sinking with every line.
The Crown would have guardianship of one Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh until she was married or turned five-and-twenty.
She would be subject to the Crown’s decisions regarding her education and presentation.
Permission for her marriage would be required from the Prince of Wales.
In exchange, the Bennet ladies of Longbourn would each have dowries of five thousand pounds—sums so generous they bordered on indecent.
“Are the terms to your liking?” the prince asked lightly. “With proper investments, your eldest could have a respectable dowry by the time she turns eighteen. What say you?”
“You wish to pay me to relinquish guardianship of my niece?” Thomas still could not quite comprehend it.
“Come now, is it so difficult to understand?”
“What benefit is this to you, sire?” He knew his boldness could spell disaster, but the prince smiled wryly.
“You are quite intelligent—I like that in a man. By taking guardianship of an already well-connected lady, in the future I might have a say in who she marries, thus forging useful alliances. And it will please Princess Caroline, keeping her occupied and unable to prevail upon me.” He chortled and took another drink.
Thomas thought for a moment, the room spinning slightly. “If I may suggest some amendments, sire,” he hedged.
“Go on.”
“I wish to see my niece. Would it be possible to write a condition that she spends four months out of the year at Longbourn? There is no one better to teach her about her mother and her maternal family. And she will know her cousins.”
The prince nodded. “That is acceptable. Anything else?”
“I wish for joint decisions about who she marries. Rebecca did not choose her husband. I wish for Elizabeth to have that freedom.”
The prince laughed. “I am afraid I cannot concede on that matter. The best I can do is allow you to voice your opinion and promise I will not marry your niece to a man old enough to be her father.”
It would have to be enough. “I feel as though I am selling my family and my soul,” he whispered.
“Nonsense, Bennet. It is not as though you could defy me. You are simply making the best of a hard situation.”
Thomas sighed. “May I see my niece before I go?”
“As a matter of fact, I had the brat brought here this morning.” He rang a bell, and a nursemaid bustled in with a child in tow.
She was a perfect miniature of her mother, except for her eyes. Those were de Bourgh eyes. Elizabeth was dressed entirely in black. Even the bow in her hair was black, the severity of mourning stark upon such a young frame.
“Miss de Bourgh, this is your Uncle Bennet.” The prince sounded dismissive and impatient.