The Last to Know

by Rebecca Hartford

  The Last to Know

  A Darcy and Elizabeth Pride and Prejudice Variation

  Rebecca Hartford

  Copyright © 2019 by Rebecca Hartford

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Ten Years Earlier

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Ten Years Earlier

  Elizabeth Bennet had noticed the barrow before, but she had not given it a much thought. It was only now, on the third day, that it struck her as odd.

  ‘It is strange. Jane, do you not think?’

  They had come to Southend with their aunt and uncle, who had recently married and who had offered to take the girls away and allow their mother to rest after the recent outbreak of influenza that had swept through Longbourn House and the nearby village of Meryton. The girls had been pleasantly surprised to find the house their uncle had taken was mere minutes from the beach. Added to that was the presence of a vast number of children similar in age to themselves and the pleasure was complete. The past two days had been spent on the beach, collecting shells and daring each other to enter the frigid waters.

  Jane’s brow furrowed in a way that her sister could instantly interpret.

  ‘The barrow! Do you not see it? It was there yesterday and the day before that, but not last night when our uncle took us down here to walk in the moonlight.’

  Jane’s expression was blank. ‘I did not notice.’

  ‘It is odd,’ Elizabeth concluded, as her mind raced with possible explanations—none of them good. ‘Did you not hear our aunt and uncle whispering that some of the other children are from very wealthy families? Perhaps a bad man has come to…’

  She was prevented from fully outlining her suspicions by a sudden burst of laughter from her elder sister. ‘Oh, Lizzy! Your imagination grows more and more outrageous by the day! It is a barrow. Perhaps someone has come to gather sand.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Lizzy echoed, turning around once again to look at it as Jane ran off to check on their sister Mary. She frowned as she took it in. If someone had come to gather sand—and she could not think why anyone would do such a thing—then would they not be beside their barrow gathering sand?

  Before she knew it, she was moving closer, driven by an insatiable urge to discover what was in it. Her skin crawled as she came closer and the theories in her mind became even more scandalous.

  She nearly leapt from her skin when she got closer and saw what was inside. There was a head in the barrow, just about poking out over a nest of blankets that was no doubt intended to hide the villainous man from sight!

  She was just about to scream for the others when she realised something that gave her pause and threw her theories into uncertainty. The barrow’s occupant was not a menacing man, but a boy close to her own age. She frowned.

  ‘What are you doing here? You were here yesterday too, were you not? And the day before. What fun is there in hiding in a barrow while the rest of us play?’

  His face fell. It was only then that she noticed his pallor and the misshapen bumps under the blanket.

  ‘I am sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I did not realise…’

  ‘My legs are crippled,’ he gasped in a wheezing voice. ‘But do not worry—I was born like this. It is not your fault.’

  She stared at him for a moment and then she could not stop herself from laughing—she had not expected that response. When she looked at him again, she found he was grinning back at her. It was a genuine smile, altogether unexpected from such a sickly face.

  ‘Why do you stay so far from the group? You ought to come closer. We can show you the shells if you like. And the sea creatures—some of them are rather frightening, though I am not afraid of them.’

  The boy shook his head. It seemed like even that slight movement was enough to sap his energy. It was a few moments before he spoke again. ‘No. It is best that I stay here. Even this is more than I might have hoped for. Papa ordered the nurse to keep me in my room at all times. It is only my brother’s persistence that has allowed me to take in the fresh air and I am grateful for it. Papa would be angry if he knew I had disobeyed him.’

  She frowned. ‘Surely your father noticed you leaving the house in this barrow.’

  ’No. You see, he is not here. He was called back to the estate. In truth, we do not see him very often. And that suits me rather well.’

  She laughed again, charmed by the boy’s dry wit. ‘Well then, he will not know you are out here, will he? You have already disobeyed him so you may as well join in the fun instead of lingering over here all alone.’

  Before the boy could argue, she had grabbed the handles of the barrow and hoisted it around. It was a light thing and the boy could not have weighed much. Still, it took some effort to turn it because of the drifts of dry sand underneath.

  Before she could even start to push him towards the group, there was a low cry of outrage and she heard the hollow thud of footsteps hurrying across the sand. She looked up and found Archie, one of the other boys, racing towards her with a horrified look on his face.

  ‘Whatever do you think you are doing?’

  She glanced down at the boy in the barrow. ‘Moving…’ she realised she had not asked his name. ‘Moving this boy closer to us. I cannot think why his brother would have left him so far away from all the fun.’

  Archie frowned. ‘I am his brother.’ He shook his head and looked down at the other boy. ‘What has she said to you? Was she being cruel, Philip?’

  ‘Archie, you must not…’

  ‘How can you tell me to stay away, Philip? Do you not recall what happened in the park before we left town?’

  ‘Of course I recall it! I…’ He trailed off and turned to Elizabeth, who was still gripping the handles of the barrow and trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible in the presence of such a heated conversation. ‘He is my brother. My younger brother. I have tried to reason with him many times, but he still sees it as his duty to protect me. He thinks that you must have come to mock and tease me.’

  Lizzy gasped and looked at Archie to see if it was true. ‘Why would you think such a thing? I noticed the barrow and came to see what was inside. I was simply trying to bring Philip closer so that he might enjoy the seaside as much as we are.’

  Archie sighed. It struck her that he had a very serious face for a boy who was her own age or younger. He had the pained look that her father sometimes got if it was an especially bad harvest on their estate and the tenants were struggling with their rents. ‘You do not understand.’

  She stood her ground. ‘It seems a sad way to spend one’s time, all alone as the rest of us play.’

  ‘Better than to have to listen to the cruel words of others.’

  ‘Is it?’ she asked, shaking her head. ‘It cannot be nice to sit so far away and listen to the other children laugh and play.’

  ‘Life is not nice.’ Archi
e folded his arms across his chest as if that was the final word on the matter.

  She looked at Philip, who seemed similarly resigned.

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake,’ she cried, pushing the barrow forward before either of them could stop her. ‘No-one shall tease you here. You have my word on that.’

  ‘How is a little girl going to stop them?’ Archie asked, stepping into the path of the barrow.

  ‘Like this,’ she said, not slowing her pace in the slightest, though her arms ached now from pushing the barrow across the sand. Archie squealed and leapt out of the way just in time. Philip’s face lit up with joy. She turned back to Archie, who lay in the sand staring at her as if she was mad. ‘I may be a little girl, but I will not allow my friends to be bullied by anyone and nor should you.’

  Chapter One

  ‘A lawyer has come to see us from London.’

  Politeness prevented Elizabeth Bennet from wondering why her father was telling her this. It was hardly news—she and her sisters had seen the carriage approach and her father often received such guests. They had paid the well-dressed man little heed and had gone about the business of deciding which sashes they ought to wear to the next assembly in Meryton.

  ‘Indeed,’ she said when her father continued to watch her in silence. ‘Well, I very much hope he has not bored you in the same way as many of his colleagues have done in the past.’

  ‘My dear,’ Mr. Bennet exclaimed. ‘I do not tell you this so that you can commiserate with my misfortune.’

  ‘Why then?’ She had only come down to the drawing-room to fetch her sewing kit and she was anxious to return upstairs before Kitty or Lydia saw fit to take her new sash. She had only just purchased it that week, but she would not put it past them—especially Lydia.

  ‘Did you not hear me? I said he has come to see us. Well, that is not quite right. He wished to see me in order to seek my permission to speak to you directly.’

  Elizabeth gasped in surprise. ‘Why in the world would he wish to speak to me?’ Realisation dawned on her. ‘Ah, you are joking.’

  She frowned. It was the only reasonable explanation, but even as she said it she knew it was not true. For one thing, the man was still present in her father’s library—and it was not like him to leave a guest alone for any length of time, no matter how dull.

  ‘Lizzy!’ her father muttered. ‘I assure you it is not a joke. I can only thank my good fortune for finding you in here alone without your sisters’ curiosity to contend with.’

  ‘Papa, I must admit I am worried. That does not make sense. I cannot think of a single reason why a lawyer would visit me from London. Or from anywhere, for that matter.’

  He stared deep into her eyes and she saw such a mixture of emotions in his that she did not know what to think. ‘Lizzy, you must listen to me. I told the man that I would fetch you and leave it to him to tell you the news, but I find myself worrying it would be too shocking a thing to hear from a stranger.’

  She looked up at her father, aghast. She had seen the man from the window. He was dressed in fine clothes and he might have been described as having a pleasant countenance, but that was beside the point! He must have been her father’s age at least. Yet it seemed to her that her father could only mean one thing—the man had sought her out to ask for her hand and her father had agreed. She could not remember ever meeting him and she had not spent much time in London, but it was the only conclusion she could draw.

  She felt the colour leave her face and it felt clammy when she reached up to touch her cheek. ‘Papa, I can only assume he has come to ask for my hand and for some reason you have seen fit to agree. I must beg you to reconsider. I do not know this man and I have no intention of marrying him, no matter who he is. Perhaps I may change my opinion when I have passed some time in his company, but for now I must…’

  To her great surprise, her father threw his head back and roared with laughter.

  Her irritation must have come across in her countenance, for Thomas Bennet straightened his features and patted her on the cheek. ‘Oh Lizzy! He has not come here to ask for your hand. No! Oh my word, the very idea that I would agree to such a thing without discussing it with you first… Why, the look on your face was murderous! No, my darling girl. He has come to inform you of a rather shocking turn of events. It seems you have inherited a fortune.’

  Chapter Two

  Elizabeth had been prepared to argue the point with her father. Now she stared at him in disbelief, dimly aware that her knees were in danger of buckling. She groped behind her for something to hold on to. Finding nothing, she stumbled backwards a few steps and collapsed down onto the sofa.

  ‘A fortune,’ she gasped. ‘Now I realise you must be joking with me. It is not like you to be so cruel!’

  ‘It is no joke.’ His sympathy was evident. ‘This is why I thought it best to forewarn you.’

  ‘Forewarn me? Do you mean to tell me you believe him? It cannot be true.’

  ‘It is, my dear,’ he said evenly. ‘It was a surprise to me at first but he showed me a letter which removed all doubt from my mind.’

  She looked around. Her mind raced with questions and she did not know which one to ask first. She did not know any relatives who might have left her a fortune, and even if they had been secretly wealthy, why would they have singled her out from amongst her sisters?

  ‘It is a shock, I know.’

  She nodded slowly, still struggling to voice her feelings.

  ‘We must go to the library now. We have kept him waiting long enough. I realise it is confusing, but he shall soon explain it to you.’

  She took his arm and allowed him to guide her towards the door. She frowned as he opened it and stood aside to let her pass.

  ‘A fortune, you said. What should I take that to mean?’ That was the only explanation she could think of: the bequest itself must be a trifling amount and her father was too polite to declare it so. She waited for him to laugh and shake his head; to tell her he had been waiting for her to realise the truth.

  He did not laugh. ‘Twenty thousand and a house in London is certainly a fortune—would you not agree?’

  Elizabeth did not react for a moment. How could she, when her father had just mentioned a figure so outrageous that she had never even considered it a possibility? Certainly she might have hoped to marry a wealthy young man, but this was different. He was saying this wealth was hers and hers alone. She felt her legs weaken again.

  Her father caught her just in time. She had not fainted, but all the same she could not have walked unaided. He helped her out the door and along the hall towards the library.

  When the introductions were made, she took her seat in front of the desk.

  ‘Miss Elizabeth, it is my pleasure to inform you that you have inherited a sizeable fortune.’

  ‘Pray tell me how this has come to pass,’ she murmured. ‘When I am the second of five sisters and cannot think of a relation who would favour me above all of them. Let alone a wealthy one.’

  He smiled uncomfortably. ‘Yes, of course. Yes. Well, you see it is not a relation at all.’

  ‘Who then?’

  ‘I must say, the first question I am usually asked is how much.’

  She stared at him, too impatient to know the truth to think of any response. Young ladies like her did not simply inherit fortunes they had no prior knowledge of.

  ‘The late Earl of Essex,’ he said, lowering his voice to one of whispered reverence.

  She frowned, looking from the lawyer to her father. ‘But I did not know the Earl of Essex, or any other earl. If I had met him in passing I doubt that would be reason for him to leave me his estate.’

  ‘Oh, it is not the estate, you understand. You have been left his mother’s fortune and the London house she left him. The title and family estate are entailed on the closest male relation in his father’s line.’

  ‘But I do not know him and I cannot see why he would leave this to me. Surely there is some mistake.’<
br />
  ‘There is no mistake. You are Miss Elizabeth Bennet, resident of Longbourn House and daughter of Mr. Thomas Bennet.’

  She looked at her father, whose face was ashen. ‘Yes, that is me. But I do not know any earl. Please tell him, father.’ Part of her suspected it was foolish to protest when such a large sum was on the line, but she knew there was no sense in lying when she would only be found out later.

  ‘She does not know any earl,’ her father said flatly. ‘And I must confess I was not acquainted with the Earl of Essex either, though I hear he is rather a strict fellow who did not leave his estate often.’

  ‘Ah,’ the other man said, eyes lighting up. ‘That was the seventh Earl. It is his son, the eighth Earl who has remembered your daughter in his will.’

  ‘It does not matter if he was the seventh or the eighth or the eightieth Earl—I did not know him and there must have been a mistake.’

  ‘There has been no mistake. Perhaps you recall the Honourable Archibald St. Thomas?’

  She shook her head. ‘That name is not familiar to me.’

  He cleared his throat and dipped his head. ‘If I may speak frankly?’

  ‘Of course,’ Mr. Bennet muttered. ‘That is perhaps the only way of getting to the bottom of this.’

  ‘The Earl was a difficult young man. He has never spoken a kind word of anyone, besides the crippled brother who predeceased both the Earl and their father. He did not exactly talk at length about you, but there was certainly a softness in his tone when he mentioned your name that makes me certain he not only knew you but was fond of you.’