7. Heirs Male General #2
“Removed is a strong word, Lizzy. There is a legal process called common recovery, by which the current tenant, your father, and the heir in remainder, in this case Mr. Darcy, may cooperate to bar the entail and resettle the estate on new terms. But the word cooperate is doing rather a great deal of work in that sentence. Mr. Darcy cannot be removed without his own consent. The law protects the heir as much as the holder.”
The heir, as if a man like Darcy would need protection. Unbidden, however, was the image of him sitting in the draughty steward’s cottage when he had the comforts of Pemberley at his disposal.
“Mr. Collins would have clung to Longbourn with both hands, but Mr. Darcy? He does not need it, and he would sooner eat his cravat than become a Bennet. We offend his sensibilities. He is only here to rescue us from ourselves, out of pride, not affection. The last thing he wants is to be saddled with five unaccomplished cousins and a reputation for inheriting other people’s messes. ”
“Lizzy…” Uncle Philips shook his head. “I can see the wheels turning in that mind of yours, and I fear you shall be disappointed. Mr. Darcy has already consulted me on the details of the Bennet entail, and he seems quite taken by the charms of Longbourn, as well as its residents. We have had a parade of masters pass through town, hired to benefit your family. This is not the action of a man who intends to sign away his inheritance.”
“But… he could if he wished, isn’t that true?”
“Yes, the entail can be changed with the agreement of your father, the current holder.”
“Then that is the answer.” Elizabeth sat up, her spine as straight as any governess could wish. “Mr. Darcy and Papa need only amend the entail to admit females, and Jane shall inherit.”
“Yes, although there is a vastly easier solution that does not involve solicitors and family trees,” her uncle said as the door opened.
“Lizzy! I did not know you were here!” Her Aunt Philips swept into the sitting room bearing a tea tray and three slices of lemon cake.
“Whatever are you doing holed up with your uncle over dusty old documents? You must tell me about your dinner guests and all of the masters attending to you and your sisters.”
“Mrs. Philips, I was just finishing with Lizzy’s inquiries,” Uncle Philips said, accepting a cup of tea. “As Mr. Collins, God bless his soul, had died before inheriting Longbourn…”
“Yes, yes, a tragedy for poor Charlotte,” Aunt Philips murmured.
“Can you imagine? Rather than ride to Hunsford in the carriage Sir William rented, he rode on ahead to inform his patroness of his marriage. So dedicated was he to receive Lady Catherine’s blessing, that he died before the wedding night, before the marriage could produce another heir. ”
“Poor Charlotte,” Elizabeth said, and meant it.
Uncle Philips cleared his throat. “Exactly, but what a stroke of luck for our nieces, because the new heir, Mr. Darcy, will require a wife in short order to secure both the Pemberley and the Longbourn entails, and the easiest solution to settling all five of our nieces is for one of them to marry Mr. Darcy.”
“Oh!!! Lizzy, is that why you are here? To work out the settlement?” Aunt Philips’s face brightened into an alarming shade of pink. “I must call on your mother to get all the details. Why did she not send a note? This is too gleeful, although let us hope Mr. Darcy does not meet an untimely fate.”
“Aunt!” Elizabeth set down her teacup with enough force to rattle the tray. “Mr. Darcy’s interests in Longbourn are solely connected to his arrogance and pride. He would not deign to take any of us uncultured rustics that he is so busily attempting to civilize as—”
“But Lizzy, I disagree. Were he not interested in elevating one of the Bennet daughters to be mistress of Pemberley, he would not have obtained the crew of masters and governesses. I suspect he has his eye on Jane. I have always told Fanny that our Jane could do better than Bingley, and here we are. Providence has provided another suitor—the current holder of Pemberley and heir of Longbourn. How poetic.”
“Positively Shakespearean,” Elizabeth muttered. “Well, I thank you, Aunt. The cake was lovely, and Uncle, I am grateful for your time. I should return to Longbourn, and I will convey your regards to my mother.”
“But Elizabeth, you barely touched your cake, and you have not told me about Mr. Darcy or his cousin, that dashing redcoat—a colonel, imagine that, and a son of an earl. I suppose with Jane matched with Mr. Darcy, it would only be fitting for you, dear Lizzy, to be settled with the second son.”
“Aunt, there are no engagements to announce.” She kissed her aunt’s cheek, retrieved her bonnet and pelisse, and left the entail document where it lay.
Uncle Philips caught her eye as she passed his desk. “Lizzy, the law is what it is. But a clever woman finds ways to work within its limits.”
“That is exactly what I had in mind,” she said, her mind already churning. If Mr. Darcy could be otherwise compelled to leave his interest in Longbourn, offered something he could not refuse, she would discover it.
No ancestor with a cramped quill and a fondness for the word ‘male’ would dictate her future. Not if Elizabeth Bennet had anything to say about it.