Chapter Seventy-Eight
Mr. Bennet and Mr. Philips traveled to Mr. Stanley’s office at ten in the morning. The three men shook hands warmly. “Mr. Darcy is doubtless paying you well,” Mr. Bennet said, humorously. “But I would not rest easy if I did not add my own gratitude.”
Mr. Stanley reddened. “I am glad I could help see justice done. I understand that the entail has done a good deal of harm to your family.”
“It has, indeed, and if we are successful today, it will be a day to celebrate for the rest of my life,” Mr. Bennet said, sincerely. “Will we not need a barrister to appear before the judge?”
“Not in this case, no. We are not taking legal action against anyone, merely clearing up a question of title,” Mr. Stanley explained.
“Our hearing will be conducted by Judge Jarndyce, which is very good for us; he is quite strict when it comes to inheritance. May I see the documents you have brought?”
Mr. Bennet laid them out, one by one, and Mr. Stanley nodded over each of them. “Very good; this establishes your own legitimacy. Now we go to question that of Mr. Collins. Give me a moment, please.”
Mr. Stanley left the room and returned with an old gentleman who leaned heavily on a cane. “This is Mr. Jeffries; he was the rector of Atherton until his retirement some ten years ago.”
Mr. Bennet thanked Mr. Jeffries for being willing to come forward on this matter, and the man simply said, “It is my duty to do what is right.”
It was a short walk to Lincoln Inn’s Old Hall, where the hearing would be held, but Mr. Stanley hailed a hackney for Mr. Jeffries, not wanting the older gentleman to have to walk.
The Hall was a very large room, with a raised dais where the judge would doubtless sit, and two large tables just in front of it.
Behind the tables were several rows of pews, as if it were a church.
The building was made of grey stone, and the ceiling was a series of arches; there were a number of stained glass windows on the east side.
All in all, it was quite inspiring and doubtless designed to impress anyone who entered with the might and majesty of British law.
Mr. Bennet saw Mr. Collins standing under one of the stained glass windows, accompanied by a regal-looking older lady. Mr. Collins turned when he saw Mr. Bennet and threw him a quick hate-filled glance. Mr. Bennet merely smiled at him.
The judge entered the room, followed by a short, round man who was evidently a clerk, as he was carrying a good many papers, and sat himself to the side at a desk equipped with ink and quills.
Everyone rose, respectfully. The judge was an older gentleman, though not as old as Mr. Jeffries, and quite a bit heavier.
He wore black robes and a very fine white wig.
He bade them all sit at the tables, and started by addressing Mr. Stanley.
“Mr. Stanley, you have brought this matter before the court. Please state your argument, but succinctly, sir, succinctly.”
“Yes, Your Honour,” Mr. Stanley said, respectfully.
“The Longbourn estate, currently owned by Mr. Thomas Bennet, was entailed to heirs male for three generations, beginning with his grandfather’s heir.
Mr. Bennet here is the second generation, and had he a son, that son would have been the third generation.
But he has produced no male heir, and it has been long believed that Mr. William Collins was the heir presumptive. ”
He paused to take a long breath. “An investigation into Mr. Collins’ background revealed uncertainty about his parentage, specifically, that his own father, Mr. George Collins, was not in fact an heir of the body to Joshua Collins.”
“Please explain the relationships, Mr. Stanley,” the judge said, looking puzzled.
“Certainly, Your Honour. The entail was created by Arthur Bennet; he had two sons; the elder was Henry Bennet, and the younger was Joshua Bennet. Joshua Bennet married a lady named Janet Collins, who lived in Atherstone, near Birmingham. To oblige his in-laws, Joshua Bennet changed his name to Collins. We allege that Joshua had no son of his body, and adopted a baby, whom he named George. George is the father of Mr. William Collins, who stands before you today.”
“I see,” the judge said, soberly. “This is a serious situation, Mr. Stanley. And what proofs have you of this adoption?”
“Your Honour, may I present to you Mr. Jeffries, who served as the parson of Atherstone during the time that the adoption took place.”
The judge turned to look at Mr. Collins. “Mr. Collins, do you recognise Mr. Jeffries?”
Trembling, Mr. Collins rose and said, “I do, Your Honour. He was our rector.”
The judge nodded, and then said, “Mr. Jeffries, what do you know of this matter?”
Mr. Jeffries stood up and said, “Your Honour, I have here the baptism record of a baby born to Alice Pettison. The father was unknown, so the baby was baptised as George Pettison. The same baby was baptised again, some six weeks later, as George Collins.”
“Hmph. Let me see the baptism records.”
Mr. Jeffries tucked the book under his arm and used his cane to make his way slowly up to the judge’s seat. “I have the pages marked, Your Honour – here, and here.” Mr. Jeffries pointed out the entries.
“You are certain that it was the same baby?” The judge asked.
“Absolutely certain; his birth mother had asked me to find a family to adopt her child. She had no means of supporting the boy, and hoped to give him a better life. I knew that Mrs. Collins had been unable to carry a baby to term, and so visited the Collinses to tell them of Alice Pettison’s child.
They were eager for the adoption to take place. ”
“And then the baptism record of Mr. William Collins, who stands before us?’
“Right here, Your Honour; his parents are George and Mary Collins.”
“Those are your parents’ names, Mr. Collins?” the judge asked.
“Yes – yes. George and Mary,” Mr. Collins stammered. “Your Honour, I do not understand what is happening here. I am the legitimate son of George Collins!”
“No one doubts your legitimacy, Mr. Collins,” the judge said, kindly. “Mr. Stanley, may I see the entail document?”
Mr. Stanley rose, walked to the judge’s seat, and handed it to him.
The judge read it, slowly and carefully; the courtroom was absolutely still as he did so. Then he looked up and said, “I see; so the entail is very correctly limited to heirs of the body.”
“Yes, Your Honour,” Mr. Stanley said.
“Very well. Mr. Collins, it appears that the entail was broken when Joshua Collins failed to produce a male heir of his body. An adopted child is not an heir of the body. Mr. Jeffries, to the best of your knowledge, were there any children born to Joshua Collins? Daughters, perhaps?”
Mr. Jeffries shook his head. “No, Your Honour. As I said, it was understood that his wife could not carry a child to term.”
“I understand,” the judge said. “And Mr. Bennet’s legitimacy?”
Mr. Stanley stepped forward again to show the judge the baptism records of Mr. Thomas Bennet and his father, Mr. Henry Bennet.
The judge nodded. “Then there can be no doubt.” He turned to the clerk and said, “Let the record show that Mr. Thomas Bennet is the owner of the Longbourn estate, fee simple absolute.”
Mr. Collins shook his head and called out, “No, no. My father would have told me if he was adopted! This cannot be right! It is a trick! A trick to deprive me of my inheritance!”
The older woman stepped forward. “Your Honour, I am Lady Catherine de Bourgh; Mr. Collins is the rector of my parish. I do not think he truly comprehends what has happened here. I will take him away and try to explain it.”
“Thank you, Lady Catherine,” the judge said. “I am sorry, Mr. Collins, but the law is clear.” He rose, and everyone rose with him. Then he exited the room, followed by the clerk.
Mr. Bennet turned slowly to Mr. Stanley. “That is it? It is over?”
“It is, indeed. Congratulations, Mr. Bennet!”
Mr. Bennet was in a daze; it was truly over! Longbourn was his! He could scarce take it in.
He looked over at Mr. Collins, who was being led out of the room by the woman who had turned out to be Lady Catherine de Bourgh, the patroness.
Mr. Collins was still insisting that his father would have told him, and there must be some mistake.
Mr. Bennet did not envy Lady Catherine trying to explain the situation to him.
And he almost – almost! – felt sorry for Mr. Collins.
Mr. Bennet spoke; his voice was hoarse with emotion. “I cannot thank you enough, Mr. Stanley. And you, Mr. Jeffries. Will you celebrate with me?”
Mr. Stanley smiled widely. “The nearest pub is just around the corner.”
The victory was toasted again and again; Mr. Bennet bought a round of drinks for everyone in the pub. Then Mr. Stanley pulled a cheque from his briefcase and gave it to Mr. Jeffries. “This is a gift of gratitude from Mr. Darcy. It is to be used for whatever you or the church might need.”
Mr. Jeffries’ eyes widened upon seeing the cheque. He stammered, “There is no need, truly –“
But Mr. Stanley stopped him. “Mr. Darcy thinks there is every need, and I agree with him.”