Chapter 26
Sitting in his study the day after his engagement and the soirée at Lucas Lodge, Bennet found that he was too joy-filled to concentrate on any work. His thoughts were three miles to the west of his estate as he wondered what Lulu was doing and whether she was missing him as much as he was her.
He was snapped out of his reverie when Hill entered with the salver, an epistle on it. “This express just arrived, Master.” Hill bowed and as he did, he proffered the salver.
“Thank you, Hill,” Bennet responded as he removed the missive from the surface of the salver.
The butler bowed again, exited the study, and pulled the door closed behind him.
Bennet frowned when he saw the direction and name of the sender.
He had never heard of Mr A Keating, Esquire, a solicitor in Truro, Cornwall.
He knew that the Morrises lived near that town, but he could not fathom why they would have a solicitor write to him.
There was only one way to know what the genesis of the letter was.
He broke the solicitor’s seal and opened the thick letter.
Inside was a second one which was in Morris’s hand. It too, was sealed and on the outside was written: ‘Read this first.’ Bennet broke that seal and opened the slightly faded paper. He began to read.
14 March 1810
Holly Run
Near Truro
Cornwall
Bennet:
My beloved wife succumbed to a broken heart some four months past. Even though we loved one another, she never recovered from the loss of Melissa and our darling grandchildren.
That is not the reason for this epistle; it is because of what I discovered after she was called home to God that necessitates my writing to you again. Her passing made it much more urgent that I discover who a certain distant cousin is.
Let me digress. In my will, I will stipulate that Holly Run is to be sold and the money used to make more smallpox vaccines and to educate people on the need to have it administered to them.
I mention this because there is no entail of any kind on Holly Run, so I am free to dispose of it as I see fit.
Unlike Longbourn, the entail on Netherfield Park is not limited to the male line, but it may only be inherited by one who has Morris blood in their veins, regardless of how diluted the blood.
Now we return to the true reason for this letter, which, if you are reading this, it means that I have gone to my final reward and have been reunited with my wife, daughter, and grandchildren.
Before I forget my purpose again, I commissioned an exhaustive search, and a fortnight past, my distant cousin was discovered, alive and well.
That distant cousin, Bennet, is you. I can hear you saying something to the effect that it cannot be, so I will explain.
Before she married, your grandmother was my grandmother’s much younger sister.
There was some sort of break between her and the rest of the family, which led to your mother, the late Elizabeth Rose, not knowing her Morris family, which is why you and I were both unaware of our familial connection, no matter how distant.
The investigators traced the line to your mother’s family using family bibles and parish birth and death records. It is completely certain that you are my missing cousin.
Yes, Bennet, that means that when I go to my final reward, Netherfield Park will be yours. It pleases me that your family need never worry about losing their home because you may name one of your daughters as your heir.
You are a good and honourable man (possibly too honourable as you married that disgusting woman who compromised you), so it gives me pleasure to know that you are my distant cousin, and you will be the master of Netherfield Park one day.
My hope is that day is not too far distant as I miss my Henrietta, Mellisa, and my grandchildren so very much.
With familial regards,
Morris
So shocked was Bennet that for several moments, he did not move.
Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined there was any family connection between the Bennets and the Morrises, no matter how distant.
He deferred thinking of the fact he was, according to Morris’s letter, the new owner of Netherfield Park.
He was sad that it came at the expense of Morris’s life, but knowing how much Morris loved his wife and daughter, Bennet was sure the man was at peace in their heavenly arms once again.
Rather, he unfolded the sheet from the solicitor.
12 October 1811
Keating Law Office
Truro
Cornwall
Mr Bennet:
It is my sad duty to inform you that your cousin, Mr James Morris, went to his final reward a sennight past.
Per his will, his local estate will be sold and funds in the accounts associated with it will go to fund smallpox vaccine production and education.
His other property, Netherfield Park and the account attached to it, which at the writing of this missive contained ?12,648 and some pence, are legally yours.
To that end, I have already sent the proof of transfer of ownership to the Court of Chancery.
You should receive the new deed within a fortnight of my epistle.
If you notify me of the bank you use, I will have the funds deposited into your account.
Sincerely,
A Keating, Esq
The letter from the solicitor made everything more real. He would write back and have the money deposited with Gardiner and Associates to be added to his investment account.
With the letter written, Bennet went to change into riding clothes.
As there would be no secrets between them, he wanted to inform Lulu right away.
It did not hurt that his daughters were visiting Netherfield Park so that he would be able to relate the news to them as well after he told his affianced.
His determination to keep Longbourn from Collins was not diminished by this wholly unexpected windfall. He could not in good conscience unleash that halfwit on those dependent upon Longbourn.
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When Bennet told Lulu about his owning Netherfield Park, she had been sad it was his because someone had left the mortal world, but she was pleased for her husband-to-be because he deserved all the good which came to him.
“That just means that if we have a second son, we will have an estate for him, or if we only have one son, or none, the estate will go to one of your daughters,” she stated.
The engaged couple were seated in the study, with the door wide open. They were sitting on the settee, and were, most unwillingly, maintaining a distance between them for propriety’s sake.
“That is true,” Bennet agreed. “However, if we have no sons, I will find a way to remove Collins from the line of succession, even if I have to initiate a simple recovery.”
“What is that, and why have you not done it already?” Louisa queried.
“It is a way to end the entail and make me the owner instead of a lifetime tenant. I have not attempted it up to now because it is thought of as an ungentlemanlike action. Some even consider it dishonourable,” Bennet explained.
“If there is no other choice, then that is what I will have to do; others and their opinions be damned. I cannot, I will not allow that simpleton dominion over Longbourn and her people.”
“If that is what you have to do, you know that you will have my unreserved support, do you not, Thomas?”
“I do, Lulu. Let us hope He blesses us with sons so this will become moot. Come, I would like to inform my daughters before my good fortune becomes common knowledge.”
“Thomas, you never knew you were connected to the Morrises by blood?”
“Not even a little. My late mother never mentioned them, and I suspect that, based on what the late Mr Morris wrote, her mother never shared the information with Mother because of the break in the family.”
Bennet stood, extended his hand to Lulu, and helped her stand. They repaired to the drawing room. Bennet decided to relate the news to all who were present, not just his daughters. He and Lulu took a seat on the sofa before Bennet related the tidings he had learnt that day.
There were congratulations, tempered by the fact that Bennet’s good fortune was the result of the death of Mr Morris.
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Even though Collins had tried to explain to the coachman driving the post coach from London what an honour it would be for him to drive onto Rosings Park’s land, the peasant had scoffed at him, and he had been forced to alight at the White Knight Inn in Hunsford.
The problem was that it left him a four-mile walk to the parsonage all the while dragging his trunk behind him because he had no more coin left in his pockets.
Collins approached some parishioners to allow them the privilege of conveying him and his trunk back to the parsonage.
For some reason, each and every one refused his entreaties.
When he threatened to make sure Lady Catherine would ring a peal over their heads for disrespecting her parson, Collins was flabbergasted that, rather than compliance, he was met with derisive laughter.
He could not wait until he reported their disrespect to him, and by extension the great Lady Catherine, to the beneficent lady herself. He was certain his patroness would punish those involved, and he would watch with glee.
Given the very slow pace he was able to manage while pulling his trunk behind him, and the frequent rest breaks, it took him close to three hours before Collins arrived the parsonage. In fact, dusk had already fallen by the time the profusely sweating parson reached his front door.
Rather than a large, comforting meal, he had to satisfy his hunger with bread and cheese, as he had not written ahead to inform his servants of the changes to his travel plans.
That night when Collins eventually crept into his bed, he was cheered by the thought of how Lady Catherine would set everything to rights on the morrow.
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