Caroline agreed, of course, but persisted with her query to him, asking if he thought Mr Bentley a suitable husband for their daughter.
Fitzwilliam regarded her with a quizzical expression. “Suitable? I don't really know, my dear, and that is the problem, is it not? He seems a well-spoken, well-presented, and intelligent young man, with excellent manners— rare enough in this day—but what does that tell us about him, except he has had the good fortune to receive an expensive education and has been brought up in genteel circles?
“Before I agree to let him marry my daughter, I should like to know a good deal more. Who was his father? Does anyone know? I have heard some talk of him having been a ship's captain; is this true?”
Caroline had no information on the subject and Fitzwilliam continued, “And what are his prospects? What is the source of his income? What does he mean to do? I cannot believe he lives as well as he does on his earnings as a lawyer; a junior solicitor in London cannot afford such fine clothes and a town house in Belgravia. How does he propose to keep himself and Isabella in some degree of comfort? Most of all, I wish to know how much he owes to Mr Henderson, his stepfather.
“Despite the general approbation he has received around the district, which I think you will agree, my dear, is chiefly on account of his wealth and the beauty of his two daughters, I am not entirely sure that I trust Mr Henderson.”
Caroline gasped, astonished at this remark.
“Not trust him? Why, Fitzy, on what evidence do you say this?” she asked when she had got her breath back.
Her husband smiled. “None, at the moment, my love, but I intend to find out if there is any. I have asked your father's advice and I shall speak to Darcy too; it would have been far quicker and simpler to have asked Anthony Tate; he is much better equipped to discover such things, but seeing that Rebecca has become intimate with the family, it will not be appropriate to draw him in. I cannot help feeling that Mr Henderson is not who he would like us to think he is.”
Caroline was most disturbed by this turn of events. What did he mean, she demanded to be told, had he heard anything that had made him suspect…? But Fitzwilliam put a finger to her lips.
“No, my dearest, it is much better that I keep my suspicions to myself until we know the facts. It will not do to have you worried sick with anxiety about something which may turn out to be nothing at all. Please do not speak of this to anyone, not Isabella or your mother and most of all not Becky Tate. Trust me and your father. It is for the best, Caroline, believe me, and t'will soon be done.”
Caroline had not been so discomposed, nor felt so thoroughly deflated, in years. She had started the evening feeling exhilarated in anticipation of giving her husband some good news, yet now it had all collapsed around her. She could hardly hold back the tears, but Fitzwilliam, understanding her disappointment, reassured her not only of his love for her and Isabella, which was his reason for doing what he intended to do, but also of the rightness of his quest.
“It is not because I have any objection to Mr Bentley, my dear, he seems a perfectly decent fellow; but it would be dereliction of my duty as her father were I to let our daughter marry into a family of whom we know so little without discovering the truth about their antecedents, the source of their wealth, and the nature of their business. Once I have ascertained these facts, and found them to be unexceptional, Mr Bentley is quite welcome to marry Isabella, if she will have him, of course.”
“Then you are not set against him?” she asked with some trepidation.
“Certainly not, he seems a nice enough young man; but, my dear, there really is no need for any haste on our part, whilst I have had no approach from him regarding his interest in our daughter.”
At this point, Caroline did try to say that Becky Tate was strongly of the opinion that a proposal would be forthcoming as soon as Mr Bentley had arranged some of his business affairs in town, but Fitzwilliam was ahead of her and Rebecca Tate on the subject.
He had already received some information that cast doubt upon the story that Philip Bentley had serious matters of business to settle in London. He proceeded to tell Caroline what he knew.
“Caroline, I do not believe Becky is very well informed on that score; her husband informed me very early in our acquaintance with the Henderson family that Mrs Henderson had been left penniless when her first husband, Bentley, died. Bentley and Henderson were business associates, and Henderson, having first employed Mrs Bentley as a governess to his daughters, later married her and had entirely supported her son, who had been judged even then to be a bright lad. He was sent to live with a titled family in the south of England and educated at his stepfather's expense. I believe the generous allowance that Henderson gives him is all the income he has, save for the small retainer he is paid for his work with a firm of London solicitors. As you can see, he cannot have much business to arrange in London.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam's expression was unusually grave as he continued.
“However, that's as may be; for the rest, we shall wait and see. If, as you have said, Isabella has told you nothing, it probably means he has not proposed to her and intends to write to me first. So, there is no need for you to be anxious at all. Meanwhile, I shall proceed with some discreet enquiries. I am confident that your papa will have contacts in Portsmouth and London who will provide us with the facts about Mr Henderson's business and why, if it was so profitable, he gave it all up so suddenly and returned to England.”
And with that, Caroline had to be content.
As the weeks passed with no word from Mr Bentley, Caroline wondered at Isabella's composure. If she loved him and was aware that he cared for her, how could she be so calm, so seemingly unaffected by his silence? It was almost as though she had no capacity for deep feeling, and that Caroline knew was untrue. When Edward died, Isabella's grief had been overwhelming. Losing a brother to whom she had been very close had been a shattering blow, but, in the end, she was strong and had borne not only her own but her parents' sorrow as well.
Caroline recalled, with gratitude and love, how often Isabella, though not much more than a child, had rescued her from embarrassment, when in the midst of a domestic task or a visit from friends, she had begun to weep and fled the room.
Perhaps, she thought, they had some understanding of which Isabella did not wish to speak until Mr Bentley had approached her father.
Remembering her own love affair with Fitzwilliam, Caroline knew there were times when it was enough to know one was loved; there was no need for words.
However, unbeknownst to her mother, Isabella had spoken to Emily of Mr Bentley, confiding some of her hitherto secret thoughts and feelings. Having revealed her enjoyment of his company and her appreciation of his kindness and good nature, she had said, in reply to the question, “Do you love him, Isabella?”
“I think I could love him, but I must know more about him. Marriage is a matter of such depth and intimacy, I could not contemplate it with any man unless I knew his character well and understood it truly.”
“Do you not know Mr Bentley well enough?” Emily had asked and Isabella had replied, “I believe I do, he is both kind and amiable; but I feel I do not understand him as well as I would wish to if I were to say I would marry him. I think that would need more time.”
Emily had smiled and agreed that it probably would.
When Fitzwilliam visited Pemberley alone, having sent a message ahead to announce his intention, neither Darcy nor Elizabeth supposed it to be a private matter of great seriousness.
England was battening down the hatches against the impact of a severe economic recession that was imminent and, in view of the spate of bankruptcies and closures of enterprises around the country, Darcy assumed Fitzwilliam was there to talk business. He had admitted to some anxiety on the subject on a previous occasion, when they had met with Mr Gardiner, and Darcy supposed this visit would be taken up with similar discussions.
But Mr Darcy was mistaken.
In
deed, business was furthest from his cousin's thoughts as he sat down with Darcy, whom he had always turned to for advice when faced with difficult decisions. This time, the decision was a formidable and heart-wrenching one.
He had in his case several papers which he placed face down upon the table, save for one, a letter from Mr Philip Bentley, asking in the most polite and modest terms, for Isabella's hand in marriage.
Fitzwilliam passed the letter across the table to Darcy and sat back while he read it. Darcy was understandably awkward at having to read what was clearly a very private communication, but Fitzwilliam insisted.
Having read it, Mr Darcy returned the letter, realising that his cousin would not have produced it for his perusal unless he had some problem with it or its writer.
“What do you think of it, Darcy?” he asked and Darcy shrugged his shoulders as he said, “Well, it's a good letter, as such letters go, but that is not what you want to know, is it, Fitzwilliam?”
Fitzwilliam looked most uneasy. “Darcy, this is exceedingly difficult for me; I need your advice. I have known for some time, from my own observation and things Caroline has said, that Mr Bentley has a particular partiality for Isabella. When Caroline recently revealed that Becky Tate believed I should expect an approach from him very soon, I decided to make some discreet enquiries about the young man and his background, in particular, his stepfather Mr Henderson.”
Mr Darcy nodded, appreciating the need for such action; as he had already pointed out to his wife, it was essential that such enquiries be made before a proposal was accepted.
He remarked to Fitzwilliam that Elizabeth and he had been exceptionally fortunate, in that they knew the Gardiners and Richard intimately before Richard and Cassandra discovered they were in love.
Fitzwilliam confessed that he'd long had reservations about Mr Henderson.
“He is too loud and coarse for my liking, Darcy, and to be quite honest, I did not trust the man. Mr Gardiner, at my request, made some enquiries in Derby and London and also in Southampton and Portsmouth, where he does business, and Darcy, I have been truly shocked, indeed astounded, by what he has uncovered.”
Darcy leaned forward, as Fitzwilliam dropped his voice as though embarrassed by the words he was about to utter.
“I hardly know where to begin. There have always been rumours about Henderson's character; he is inordinately fond of the drink and horse racing and, we now learn, of women too. While he behaves himself in company, Mr Gardiner's informants are aware of two or three establishments of ill repute, which he visits whenever he is in Derby, where he goes often on the pretext of attending the races. There are tales also of him staying overnight at inns in the ports, carousing and gambling all night long with men of dubious reputation.
“Poor Mrs Henderson, it seems she is either unaware, which is difficult to believe, or has continued to ignore his actions in return for the material security he has given her and her son. They are both totally dependent upon his bounty and there, Darcy, lies my problem. Mr Bentley, who was entirely educated at Henderson's expense, has no estate and no income apart from the very generous allowance his stepfather allows him, unless you count the very small retainer he earns from the practise of law.”
Mr Darcy was amazed by these revelations. He had had his own reservations about Henderson, based mainly upon his dislike of the man's brash and boastful ways, but had no idea things were this bad.
“And what of young Bentley's character?' he asked.
Fitzwilliam replied, “There is nothing against his character that has been uncovered, nor does he appear to be linked in any way to his stepfather's unsavoury conduct, but I am sorry to say, he is not unscathed. The story has a way to go yet and it gets worse.”
Darcy raised his eyebrows, wondering how much worse it could get.
Fitzwilliam continued, “Mr Gardiner's contacts in Portsmouth and Southampton have produced further proof that Henderson was far from being just a respectable businessman who had made good in the colonies. He had let it be known that he was a sugar trader in the Caribbean colonies and the southern states of the American Union; but it is now apparent that, in fact, he was a slave trader too, or at the very least an agent for one, contracting to procure black slaves from Africa for the cotton, cane, and fruit plantations in the southern states.”
“Good God!” exclaimed Darcy, as Fitzwilliam went on.
“These unfortunate men and women were being abducted and shipped in chains to America or the islands of the West Indies to be sold like cattle. Darcy, it is beyond belief, but that is said to be the chief source of Henderson's fortune.”
Darcy shook his head, incredulous. All through the debates on the abolition of slavery, he had heard much about the dreadful fate of the slaves and the greed and brutality of the slave traders, whose ships had carried the human cargo, but never had he expected to encounter one here in Derbyshire! It was barely credible, yet the information had come from a reliable source.
“This is truly shocking, Fitzwilliam. Are you convinced it is true?” he asked, and his cousin replied, “It gets worse, Darcy, because Mr Gardiner has learned also that Mr Bentley's father was a ship's captain who worked in partnership with Henderson and others of his ilk, running guns and transporting slaves across the Atlantic and returning with cargoes of cotton to England for several years. Even after laws were passed in Britain outlawing the evil trade, he continued to defy them.
“It transpires that in the course of a particularly bad voyage, there was a mutiny and he was killed. His body was taken to Jamaica where Henderson arranged for it to be buried.
“Later, after his own wife died, he married Mrs Bentley, who was at the time employed as governess to his two daughters, and established them in a house in London. Quite clearly, he had no love for her; he returned alone to the Caribbean, where he had a Creole mistress and two more children while making many thousands of pounds. After the passage of the Abolition of Slavery act, probably realising it was too hazardous to continue his obnoxious trade, he is said to have sold his colonial properties and returned to England.”
Mr Darcy's countenance betrayed his astonishment and revulsion.
“It beggars belief, Fitzwilliam. I take it you and Mr Gardiner have evidence of the truth of all this material? Is it not even remotely possible that someone with a grudge against the man, a disgruntled employee perhaps, has concocted all this to discredit him?”
Fitzwilliam laughed. “You are much too charitable, Darcy,” he said. “In fact Mr Gardiner feared the same thing and had the information checked over, fearing he might have been duped, only to discover there was more, not less, evidence of Henderson's heinous conduct. He has met with men who sailed on his ships.”
At that point, Fitzwilliam turned over the papers that lay on the table between them to reveal dozens of letters and documents that told their own story. In particular, the diary of a ship's purser, contacted by Mr Gardiner in Southampton, which provided incontrovertible evidence, containing damning accounts of the voyages of the slave ships.
“I shall spare you the rest of the sordid story, Darcy—it is all in the same vein. The only conclusion I can draw is that Henderson is a blackguard, a criminal of the deepest dye, and while there is no evidence whatsoever of similar behaviour on the part of Mr Bentley, his total dependence upon his stepfather's tainted money must surely give one cause to reflect. Whether he knew of his activities, I cannot tell, but it is not relevant when considering his request for permission to marry my daughter.”
Elizabeth had come in while they were talking and could not help hearing the last few sentences of their conversation. As she stood there, her eyes wide with shock, Darcy urged her to be seated and together with Fitzwilliam related, in somewhat less graphic language than had been previously used, the gist of Mr Gardiner's information concerning Henderson.
She listened, appalled, but when it came to the revelation about the slave ships, Elizabeth unable to contain her disgust, exclaimed, “A slave tr
ader! Good God!”
“Exactly, it is hardly a pleasing prospect; Fitzwilliam fears that Isabella may, in ignorance of the facts, agree to marry Mr Bentley,” said her husband.
Elizabeth was adamant. “It is unthinkable, I cannot believe that Isabella, once aware of the truth, will wish to, and you would not consent, would you, Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
“Certainly not, but then I have no wish to break her heart either. If she is in love with young Bentley, as both Caroline and Rebecca believe her to be, how will she respond to my refusal? Is it not possible that she will hate me for thwarting her?”
Elizabeth had an idea.
“Not if she understands your reasons. Some means must be found to acquaint her with the truth, so she can make the right decision herself, rather than have you refuse permission. However deeply she loves Mr Bentley, and I have to say, I have seen no sign of any passionate attachment between them, I cannot believe Isabella, with her character and her tender heart, will knowingly attach herself to the family of a slave trader. It will be thoroughly abhorrent to her.”
My Cousin Caroline: The acclaimed Pride and Prejudice sequel series The Pemberley Chronicles Book 6 Page 22
