The Challenge of Entail

by Jann Rowland

  “It was my plan to return to London soon, regardless,” added Fitzwilliam. “I would be pleased to join Darcy and add my voice to his.”

  “You have my thanks, gentlemen,” said Mr. Bennet. “If your father will not join Lady Catherine in supporting Mr. Collins, I doubt there is anything she can do.”

  “It is not only altruism that motivates us, Mr. Bennet,” said Darcy. “Lady Catherine’s imprudent support raises the possibility of damaging our family’s good name, for this cause could lead to her ridicule.”

  “My father’s name might be connected to it too,” said Fitzwilliam. “The lady is not above invoking his name without his consent.”

  “It may also be that Mr. Collins is misleading Lady Catherine. If that is true, it is imperative to set her straight.”

  “Then I thank you, gentlemen,” said Mr. Bennet, seeming easier than he had before. “If there is a way to dispense with this business in a way that does not result in a court battle, I am eager for it to be done.”

  “Leave it with us, Mr. Bennet,” said Darcy, offering his hand, which Mr. Bennet grasped.

  The visit which proceeded thereafter was the most disjointed Darcy had ever experienced at that house. The Bennets had always been excellent hosts, whether for dinner or just a morning visit. That morning, however, the conversation was forced, and the atmosphere was tense. After they had stayed for a few more moments, Darcy motioned to Bingley that it was time to leave, and Bingley, though uncomprehending and wishing for more time in Miss Bennet’s company, agreed and rose. Preparing for departure the following day was paramount, but Darcy did not wish to leave without speaking with Miss Elizabeth once again.

  Arranging it was not difficult, as their leave-taking was chaotic, but Miss Elizabeth surprised him by speaking before he could address her.

  “You are a good man, Mr. Darcy. I know you need not involve yourself in this mess, but I am thankful you shall, nonetheless.”

  “It is nothing, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Darcy, though he felt warmth flood him at this sure sign of her regard. “There are many reasons for my actions beyond wishing to be of use to you and your family.”

  “I think you devalue your contribution and goodness, sir,” said she, placing her hand on his arm.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, struggling to find the words in his heart, “I am not an eloquent man and often struggle to know what to say, specifically to vibrant young ladies.”

  “It does not seem to have been a problem these past weeks,” said Miss Elizabeth.

  Darcy could not help but grin. “If it has not, then it is the first such experience of my life. I shall only be away for a few days, for I think there is little that can induce me to stay away. What I wished to ask is whether you think there is a possibility for something more between us.”

  The way in which Miss Elizabeth blushed and ducked her head charmed Darcy, for it was so unlike the self-possessed young woman he had come to know. But then she raised her gaze back to his, her confidence returning, and said: “I have no doubt of it, sir.”

  “Excellent,” said Darcy. He reached out and squeezed her hand once, bowing over it and kissing it. “Until I return, then.”

  They made their farewells, and the Netherfield party boarded Darcy’s carriage for the return to Bingley’s leased estate. From the grins to which they subjected him, Darcy thought his short interlude with Miss Elizabeth had not been missed by any of them. Most of his companions were content to do nothing more than grin. There was, of course, one who could not hold her tongue.

  “So, shall I arrange for the packing of our effects?” asked Miss Bingley in an all too cheerful tone. “Since there is nothing left for us here, I have a great longing to be back in town again.”

  “I shall depart for a few days,” replied Darcy, “but you have my assurance I will return when my business has been completed. If you wish to quit Netherfield, that is your choice—I shall either stay in the inn or find an estate of my own to lease in the area.”

  “There is no need for that,” said Bingley, glaring at his sister. “I have no intention of leaving Hertfordshire.” Bingley turned to Darcy and frowned, saying: “Might I assume that whatever is causing the Bennets’ distress is of a serious nature?”

  “It is not that serious at all!” said Fitzwilliam in his irrepressible manner. “But as the matter is one that concerns my family, Darcy and I must resolve it in an expeditious manner.”

  “Concerns your family?” demanded Caroline. “I cannot imagine how the Bennets of Hertfordshire would be of any interest whatsoever to the great family of Matlock.”

  “And yet it is,” said Darcy, his tone short as he did not wish to trade words with the objectionable woman.

  “Do you require my help?”

  “Thank you, Bingley, but in this instance, I believe it is not required. You had best remain here and keep an eye on the situation—as I say, I shall return before long.”

  “Excellent,” replied Bingley. “In that case, I wish you luck.”

  The rest of the journey passed in merciful silence, for even Miss Bingley did not speak. Her offense Darcy did not give a moment’s thought, for her habit of speaking out of turn and trying to direct them, Darcy found difficult to bear. Of more importance was the coming confrontation with his aunt. Darcy did not relish the prospect, though he knew it was necessary. There was no telling what damage Lady Catherine might do to the family name with nary a thought, and thoughtlessness was one of the hallmarks of her character.

  Chapter XXII

  It may be deemed impetuous, but the following morning Elizabeth felt compelled to witness for herself the gentlemen’s departure from Netherfield. Thoughts of Mr. Wickham and how he might be lurking nearby vanished in the face of Elizabeth’s desires, and therefore she dressed early and made her way from the house, feeling the freedom of a long walk calling her again after a long cessation of such activities.

  The paths of Longbourn were well known to Elizabeth, and she knew that if she followed a small track which skirted Meryton and wound generally east, she would emerge through the forest at a point higher than the manor house, and from whence she could see to the entrance itself. Accustomed to walking as she was, Elizabeth lengthened her stride, her pace eating the distance as if it was nothing more than a stroll in a nearby park. Soon she reached her destination, taking in the view with the eagerness of a small child.

  There was, indeed, activity around the entrance at Netherfield, for a large coach had been drawn up to the door, around which was a bustle of activity. Before her eager eyes she saw men running this way and that, leading horses to their place in front of the conveyance, or women carrying baskets, likely the gentlemen’s luncheon to be consumed during their journey. Elizabeth could even discern the tall forms of Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam as they exited the estate, stood for some moments speaking to another man who Elizabeth assumed was Mr. Bingley. Then the gentlemen entered the coach, and it departed in a cloud of dust, making its way down the long road which led to Meryton, soon disappearing in the trees. Elizabeth could not help but feel bereft.

  Not one made for melancholy thoughts, Elizabeth turned away from the scene, deep in her reflections as the path led her around the edge of her father’s estate to the north. It was a cool day, though at this time of year most days held the chill presaging the oncoming winter months. The trees were now bare of their summer mantles, and the wind, as it blew softly, kissing her cheeks like a lover’s caress, stirred the blanket of leaves, sending them careening across the path, or swirling up in a funnel, only to drift back down to the ground when the wind found somewhere else to play.

  As she walked, Elizabeth’s mind fixed on the events of the past few weeks, in particular, dwelling on the gentleman who had been at the center of her thoughts since his coming. The request he had made of her still possessed the power to thrill Elizabeth, to send her soaring through the clouds with the wind. Though Elizabeth had never been
in love, she was certain she was already in a fair way of being in love with Mr. Darcy. It was beyond doubt he was the best gentleman she had ever known.

  A sudden flight of birds, winging their way into the sky, startled Elizabeth and brought her swift march to a halt. The flock wheeled and cried, circling the place in the trees from where they had arisen, then turned and winged toward the east and Netherfield, leaving Elizabeth alone again in the quiet woods. A glance at the grove revealed nothing—it seemed they had been startled by some animal, perhaps a fox. Thus unconcerned, Elizabeth began to walk again.

  It was only a few moments later when two things happened at once. As she was walking, she heard a loud snap, as if a branch in the underbrush had been stepped on. Turning, Elizabeth looked back the way she had come, while at the same time hearing someone hailing her from the opposite direction. Once again, she turned and noted the approach of one of Longbourn’s tenants.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” said the man with a bow. “I did not think I would see you this morning. Tis a little cold for walking about the estate.”

  “Come now, Mr. Campbell,” said Elizabeth. “You know me better than that.”

  “Aye, I suppose I do!” replied he with an amused smile. “The missus mentioned your visit the other day—we appreciate the basket you brought to us. We had a good harvest this year, but we are still grateful for the assistance.”

  “It is no bother, Mr. Campbell,” replied Elizabeth. “I hope your daughters enjoyed the apple butter.”

  Once again Mr. Campbell guffawed. “Indeed, they did. But you already know that.”

  “Of course,” replied Elizabeth. “I know of no one in the district who does not enjoy Longbourn’s apple butter.”

  The tenant shook his head. “Well, I thank you all the same. Please take care as you make your way home.”

  Then the man tipped his hat and strode off, Elizabeth watching him go. The thought of the sound which had caught her attention before his arrival crossed her mind, and Elizabeth looked back to the woods. There was nothing other than the sound of the wind, which had picked up a little, whistling through the bare branches.

  Shrugging, Elizabeth turned her steps back to Longbourn, eager to reach the warmth of her home. The rest of her walk passed without incident, and by the time she joined her family at the breakfast table, she had quite forgotten the matter altogether.

  Travel was something the cousins did not enjoy, though Fitzwilliam, due to his years in the army, was inured to the discomfort. Darcy had made the journey many times himself, for Pemberley was three days from London, necessitating hours cramped in a carriage, which always seemed small, no matter how large or well-appointed it was. When the façade of Rosings Park rose in the distance, Darcy found himself almost grateful, though he knew the visit would not be pleasant.

  “You know Lady Catherine will not be easy to convince,” said Fitzwilliam, his eyes fixed on the distant building, showing he too had been alerted to their imminent arrival.

  “When is she?” asked Darcy. “I have never met a woman so convinced of her own infallibility, particularly about matters of which she is ill-informed or lacks knowledge altogether.”

  Fitzwilliam snorted. “Come now, Darcy. Do you think, for example, that a lack of any skill or training in any way lessens her knowledge of music? Why, she has told us many times how she would be a true proficient if she had only learned.”

  Shaking his head, Darcy decided against responding—his cousin needed no encouragement.

  “Do you think you will escape mention of Anne? She will take our visit as a compliment to her daughter.”

  “Yes, I know it very well. It is my intention to procure her agreement to drop her support of Mr. Collins and leave as soon as possible. If she pushes me to it, I will remind her I will not offer for her daughter.”

  “Then ‘lay on, MacDuff,’” said Fitzwilliam, though mercifully he did not speak on the subject again.

  As the carriage approached the manor, a tall figure dressed all in black came into view by the side of the road. The man was tall and portly, had a distinct bald patch on his head, and wore the collar of a cleric, little though it did him any distinction. When the carriage passed him by, he made an obeisance, for that was the only word for his low bow—his knuckles might have dragged on the gravel beneath his feat, had he allowed them to fall from his side.

  “And that I suppose is Mr. Bennet’s cousin.” Fitzwilliam chortled, adding: “I had wondered if they were not exaggerating, but I see now they have downplayed his silliness if anything!”

  “It seems to be so,” murmured Darcy. “Given his groveling, I suspect we could put the fear of God into him and induce him to desist without even applying to Lady Catherine.”

  “Now he has brought it to her attention, it would not work.”

  “That is true,” replied Darcy. “But perhaps, should the opportunity present itself, I shall do so regardless.”

  “Take pity on the dullard, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam. “He cannot help it if he does not possess the wits God gave a goose.”

  Darcy shot his cousin a grin but did not reply, for the carriage had turned onto the drive before Rosings. When the carriage stopped, Darcy allowed his cousin to step down before following him, noting a stable boy was approaching them along with the cadaverous butler. The horses had been changed in London, meaning they were still good for a time. Thus, Darcy addressed the driver, instructing him to feed them a few oats sparingly, but to leave them in their traces. That completed, Darcy turned toward the butler.

  “Mr. Darcy,” said the man in a gravelly voice. “We have had no word of your coming. Shall I have the housekeeper prepare rooms for you and the colonel?”

  “That will not be necessary. Is Lady Catherine within?”

  “The lady is in the drawing room, but Miss Anne has retired for the afternoon.”

  “Excellent,” said Fitzwilliam, shooting Darcy an expressive look. “Do not concern yourself for us, for we know the way.”

  The butler bowed, but Fitzwilliam was already bounding up the stairs, Darcy close on his heels. As always, Rosings was quiet, more akin to a mausoleum than the home of a wealthy and privileged English woman. Of the garish décor Darcy took no note—he knew Lady Catherine’s preferences and her desire to display her wealth to all who passed through the door. It was one of the many reasons he had no interest in marrying Anne—Darcy had no desire to allow Lady Catherine to make Pemberley into a copy of Rosings.

  The footman stationed at the side of the door opened it to Fitzwilliam’s signal, though he had likely been told the mistress was not to be disturbed. As her attention was about to be taken by their arrival, there would be no repercussions for the unfortunate man. Unless Lady Catherine was rendered angry by the coming discussion. This was a distinct possibility . . . .

  “Fitzwilliam!” said the lady, shock coloring her voice. “And Darcy!”

  While the greeting had been for them both, as soon as she caught sight of Darcy, Lady Catherine’s gaze remained on him, considering. It was always thus, and Darcy had often felt like the woman was a wolf, crouching in the long grass of a meadow, waiting to catch the unwary. Or, more particularly, Darcy himself.

  “Why did you not send me word of your coming? I have nothing prepared for your comfort.” Lady Catherine paused and then said in her usually haughty tone: “Of course, I always keep rooms at the ready, regardless, for my staff is instructed in all these details. Since you are here, you must stay for a fortnight. Anne is eager to see you too.”

  It took all of Darcy’s considerable willpower to refrain from rolling his eyes, and Fitzwilliam’s large grin did not help matters. Instead of replying, Darcy greeted his aunt, asking after her health before rejecting the offer of shelter.

  “A stay, even for the night, is impossible, Aunt, for I have other matters to attend to. Fitzwilliam, I believe, is expected back at his regiment before long.”

  “Tomorrow, actually,”
said Fitzwilliam. Darcy could not say if his cousin’s assertion was truthful, but if it was not, he could not blame him.

  “Oh, then I suppose you must go,” said Lady Catherine with a dismissive wave at Fitzwilliam. “But Darcy may stay. It is late autumn, and I know there is nothing calling you away at present.”

  “Again, I am not at liberty to stay at Rosings, Lady Catherine—not even for the night. A matter of great importance has brought us here, and we must depart once we discuss it with you.”

  Annoyance at his recalcitrance warred with curiosity on Lady Catherine’s visage. For a moment, Darcy thought annoyance would win the day, but then Lady Catherine huffed in irritation.

  “A matter of importance? I know of no such matter. Of what are you talking?”

  “Your parson,” said Darcy, sitting on a nearby sofa, allowing Fitzwilliam to take the other. “Mr. Collins has approached you with a concern regarding his cousin’s estate, I believe. Is this not so?”

  “How did you know about that?” demanded Lady Catherine. When Darcy said nothing, giving every indication of waiting for her to speak, Lady Catherine sniffed with annoyance. “Yes, he brought a matter to me, one of grave importance. His cousin, you see, has cheated him out of his inheritance, claims to have removed him in favor of his daughter! Can you imagine such a thing?”

  “It was an entail, Lady Catherine,” said Darcy, his eyes boring into her. “You are aware, are you not, that entails no longer have much force in the law? For Mr. Collins to be secure in his status as heir to Mr. Bennet’s estate, he would have needed Mr. Bennet to approach him—not the opposite!—and work out an agreement of strict settlement. An entailment by itself is not worth the paper on which it is printed.”

  “Then why was it implemented at all?” demanded Lady Catherine. “If that is so, why did Mr. Bennet not change the entail long ago?”

  “Many of these small neighborhoods are not always up to date on certain legalities, Lady Catherine,” said Fitzwilliam. “It matters not when the business was completed. It only matters it was done according to the law.”