by Suzan Lauder
“I am told I will not survive another winter. My father purchased a house in Hamilton when they were first available, and that is where we shall live.” He smiled at his wife, and she smiled back. “I am hopeful that the warm climate and sea air will bring about some improvement, though I am told it is not likely as the damage has already been done.” Bennet’s voice became weaker during his speech, and he succumbed to a coughing fit at the end. Mrs. Bennet assisted him with a concerned look on her face.
“I wish you well on your recovery. I hope you are able to be active once again.”
“Thank you for your concern, Miles. I must say that over the last year after the burns were healed, I have learned to entertain myself at leisure by extensive reading. I enjoy literature and poetry, and I have recently discovered the pleasures of pamphlets on new inventions. I immerse myself in books, mostly histories and treatises on science and discovery.” He wheezed again but seemed to breathe easier.
“We have that in common, as I too am fascinated by new techniques in farming and inventions with chemicals and machines. I have started a correspondence with several inventors. In fact, one is the Scot who seems to have improved upon the steam engine.”
“Ah, yes, replacing labour with fire! Fanny, can you believe that? Fire used not for warmth, but to replace a man or a horse at labour?” Bennet turned to her with a mirthful smile.
“No, sir, it seems a fool’s dream,” Mrs. Bennet whispered, lifting her lashes to him for only a second. It seemed to me that she was afraid of almost everyone other than her husband. Again I was struck by her beauty.
“Ha!” Bennet cried at his wife’s response.
“I have convinced a gentleman of my acquaintance that he should try using the new steam engines for removing water from one of his mines,” I said.
“Well, done, Miles,” he replied. “You are far more industrious than I. My reading is solely for my own amusement. Where is this mine?”
“In Derbyshire near a place called Pemberley.”
***
We met in the drawing room nearly every afternoon unless Bennet’s health was poorly. Mrs. Bennet seemed to become less circumspect in my presence; however, she mostly sat apart from us, attending to her work while her husband and I talked.
Bennet and I had been friends for more than a month, enjoying discussions on all manner of topics until he became ill more often and we met less frequently. When he was well enough for company, the Bennets would arrive early and await me in the drawing room. But one day I arrived ahead of them.
Bennet said they were late due to Mrs. Bennet’s illness, and I inferred from their comments that she might be with child. I thought to offer to visit them in their chambers to save a trip to the drawing room each afternoon, but decided against it as their smaller quarters included only a bedchamber. I resolved to find another solution to relieve Mrs. Bennet from feeling obligated to attend our daily meetings. At our next visit, I made a suggestion.
“Mrs. Bennet, it occurred to me that perhaps you would like a reprieve from the dreary conversation of gentlemen farmers. If it pleases you, madam, on the morrow, I would collect my friend from his quarters and accompany him to the drawing room, as I enjoy his company. It would leave you free to other entertainment or society of your choosing. Or, if you would like a unique diversion, may I offer you a visit to a very sweet little girl and her baby sister?”
Her eyes widened, and I could see her pleasure in the thought. She turned to her husband, and they exchanged a look. He replied, “That would be splendid.”
“There we have it. Tomorrow, I shall meet you at your cabin and assist you both to the parlour and then ensure Mrs. Bennet arrives safely to the diversion she has chosen before continuing our delightful debates.”
The next day went as planned, and Mrs. Bennet was feeling well enough to spend time with my daughters: a toddler of nearly two years and a baby of six months. I accompanied my friend to the parlour and was surprised at how he started the conversation.
“Miles, you have probably been sensible to the rapid deterioration of my lungs. On many days, I am not strong enough to walk, and there are frequent occurrences when I am unable to breathe. I am afraid that I will leave Fanny sooner than I had expected. I would like your patience whilst I tell you a story. I feel that our friendship is such that I can trust you with this confidence.”
“You have my word as a gentleman that I will not reveal any more than you give me leave to disclose,” I assured him.
He proceeded to tell me how Mrs. Bennet had lost her mother as a child and became the ward of the elder Bennets, cousins of her father, Mr. Gardiner. Gardiner remarried and had two children by his second wife, who had no wish to mother the girl. Bennet was an only child—his birth had rendered his mother barren—and his parents were overjoyed to welcome the little girl into their home and treated her as their own. Young Bennet, 11 years her senior, was at Cambridge when she joined his family. After university and his grand tour, he returned to help his father manage the estate. As he had admitted, he was fonder of books and would have been better suited to stay at school. However, he enjoyed the company of the young Miss Gardiner, and they became as close as brother and sister.
The previous year, there had been a terrible fire at their home and Bennet was badly hurt rescuing Miss Gardiner. His parents were not able to escape and perished in the inferno. Bennet had such injuries that he was not expected to live beyond a few days, but his young cousin nursed him as he recovered from painful burns and injured lungs.
Bennet was advised to move immediately to a warm climate to continue his recovery. The estate was in debt and, due to Bennet’s inability to manage it during his illness, fell into disrepair. He decided to sell most of the unentailed land holdings in order to repay the debts incurred by his father, and added the resulting profits to Miss Gardiner’s fortune. He convinced the girl to come out into society when she was barely 17 years of age so that, once she married, he would be assured she was protected and he could move to the house his father had purchased in Bermuda.
He arranged for a ball in March for her introduction to society. He had great hopes for her match as she was a handsome woman (as I had seen for myself) with a lively personality (this I had not seen). Although her father was a solicitor, Bennet hoped that her connection to his family would help her attract a gentleman. Several of their acquaintance were good prospects.
However, at her coming out ball, she was “seduced” by a peer. Mortified about the potential for exposure of her disgrace, Miss Gardiner begged Bennet to keep the attack a secret. His health left him powerless to exact vengeance on the man. When they found she was with child, Bennet married her quickly to preserve her reputation and the honour of his family. They left for Bermuda at the next sailing, hoping the length of the trip and distance from England would disguise the child’s conception prior to their marriage. Their union was one of convenience, and their relationship remained as brother and sister.
It took Bennet a long time to tell the story as he frequently broke into wet coughing fits. By the end, his voice was just a whisper, but he continued to speak. “Miles, I fear I will not be long for this earth. I know it might be a great burden, but I would be grateful if you could care for Fanny’s interests when I pass. You are a good man, and both Fanny and I trust you. She will not be destitute; she will inherit all I have. She should be able to make a good marriage, but until then, I want to know that she and the child will not be friendless.”
I could not speak for a long time. It was not the unusual request that bothered me; I had grown fond of the girl in spite of her shyness. In fact, I was quite physically attracted to her. But it was the attack on Mrs. Bennet’s virtue that angered and silenced me. It brought up horrid memories of how broken my own wife had looked before she was mercifully taken to heaven. Also, the date of the attack on Mrs. Bennet was close to the one that had taken my wife.
It was unthinkable that both Bennet and I could have our wives
imposed upon so cruelly. I was truly pained. Then a worse possibility dawned on me—this may be no coincidence. A gentleman’s home, a gentleman’s ball, this libertine, this scoundrel was fearless enough to attempt to violate a woman so boldly when he knew that she was protected!
I turned cold and could barely breathe but managed to ask, “Do you know the man who violated her?” My voice came out nearly as raspy and quiet as Bennet’s.
“Yes, and he was the worst kind of man. She was not the only one he defiled. We heard of others—shop girls and servants—not just in Gloucestershire but other counties as well.”
He noticed my growing concern and tried to placate me. “Do not worry yourself, my friend. He can do no more damage. He attacked a peer’s wife, and her husband called him out. The bastard is in hell now.” He spat out the last sentence in his whisper of a voice.
I was sweating, panting, pacing. I could not think. He could see that my agitation had only grown worse as he revealed the villain’s demise. I could not disguise my impatience to know more.
“Bennet, his name,” I managed to choke out.
“Ernest Grant, Marquess of Malcolm.”
I closed my eyes and covered my face with my hand while I tried to control my emotions. Then I leaned forward, placed my hands flat on the table and looked my friend in the eye.
“That lady was my wife. She did not recover from the cruelties Malcolm inflicted upon her. I am the one he duelled. I am Miles Lydon, Earl of Shelton, and I am fleeing charges for the murder of Lord Malcolm.”
Chapter 9:
An agreement that would change his life.
June 1792
When he recovered from the revelation that Lord Malcolm had attacked both Fanny and Lady Shelton, and that I had killed the blackguard in a duel, Bennet thanked me profusely for disposing of him.
“But why do you flee, my Lord? Murder charges are almost never prosecuted when a villain loses a duel, even though duels are illegal.”
“Malcolm was well connected and outranked me. Although he was well known as a debaucher of the worst kind, his father, the Duke of Ellisbury, was incensed that his heir had died. Due to his connections and position in the House of Lords, the duke easily could have me charged with murder and for participating in a duel.
“I was warned that I should flee by my best friend, George Darcy, who had intelligence on the matter. I could not leave my girls, so I paid dearly for last-minute passage to Bermuda under the name of Mr. John Miles. The only luck on my side was that my valet’s wife, Mrs. Jones, had recently birthed their first child stillborn, and they agreed to accompany me. I know not what I would do without a wet nurse for the baby.”
Bennet’s eyes changed to that of tenderness, and I turned to see what had caught his attention. A smiling Mrs. Bennet was approaching with my daughters and their nurse. When the elder child recognised me and called out, “Papa!” Mrs. Bennet released her hand, and Jane ran to me, laughing.
“Bennet, these are my daughters. This is Lady Jane Lydon—we call her Jenny—and Lady Elizabeth Lydon, called Baby Beth.” I snatched up the toddler into my arms, and she giggled and wrapped her wee arms about my neck.
“You are a happy sight, Mrs. Bennet!” Bennet greeted his glowing wife, whose smile disappeared when she heard him whisper and cough.
“Mr. Bennet, your voice; you must rest!” she scolded, looking very concerned.
“Yes, yes, in due time. But first, tell me, how went your diversion?” He grinned.
“Oh, very well! Mr. Miles’s daughters are such lovely babies, and Mrs. Jones gave me some herbs for making tea for when I fall ill.”
She turned to me. “Mr. Miles, I thank you for allowing me such a pleasant afternoon.” As she spoke, little Jenny turned to look at her, and Mrs. Bennet’s blue eyes sparkled. It reminded me that she was so very young and so very beautiful.
“It was my pleasure, Mrs. Bennet,” I answered.
“Miles, your children have bewitched my wife,” Bennet croaked. “She seems to be livelier today.”
“I thank you for the compliment.”
“Mr. Bennet, you have overexerted yourself; we must get you back to your chambers,” Mrs. Bennet quietly admonished then went off to find his man.
***
Thomas Bennet could not sleep. He was mulling over the revelations of the afternoon.
He knew he would die very soon. He could feel it—his lungs were no longer working. His biggest worry was what would happen to Fanny and the baby; she was so young and fragile. Lord Shelton had not replied to his request to care for Fanny; the direction the discussion had taken made the men forget about it. And even though the duel was of some concern to Bennet, he felt confident that Shelton was a good man.
Bennet was fairly certain Shelton would agree to watch over his family after his death as his plan made the protection of Fanny mutually advantageous. If Shelton and Bennet were to change identities, it would allow the earl to avoid murder charges, give Fanny and her child security, and provide Shelton’s girls with a mother. It would be a marriage of convenience, not unlike his own. Bennet’s most important reason for the plan was to restore Fanny’s happiness. He saw how Fanny recaptured some of the liveliness she had before the attack when she was with the children. They would restore her spirits, and Lord Shelton would ensure her comfort and safety. Bennet also felt that he could be at peace knowing she was protected in a strange country without him by her side.
It occurred to Bennet that Shelton might resist pretending a marriage. He was still mourning his wife, and Bennet was certain theirs had been a marriage of affection. But due to their similarity in appearance, Shelton could pass as Bennet with all but the most intimate acquaintance. This would allow Shelton and Fanny to return to England if they desired. It would mean starting anew in another county, but at least they would be in their home country.
Bennet pondered the scheme. Were Fanny and Lord Shelton to agree, Shelton would remove to his chambers for the duration of the voyage, with the nurse caring for his wee babes. Fanny would visit to become better acquainted with the children. In the meantime, papers would be prepared that awarded custody of the two little girls to the Bennets and dealt with the dispatch of Lord Shelton’s estate should the truth be uncovered. When Bennet died, his body would become known as John Miles and interred at sea. At that time, Lord Shelton would take the identity of Bennet, feigning the cough and limp. Upon arriving in Bermuda, he would eventually ‘recover’ under the warm climate. It would later be disclosed that the deceased Mr. John Miles was none other than Miles Lydon, Earl of Shelton.
Bennet realized it would be necessary to enlist the assistance and secrecy of others. He knew he could trust his good friend, Captain Wood, and Shelton’s servants had demonstrated their trustworthiness by uprooting their lives for him; they were already accustomed to referring to him as Mr. Miles. Lastly, they would need to find a way to secure documents on the identity change in case the truth had to be revealed at a later time.
It just might work.
***
Shelton looked with wonderment at Bennet as the latter revealed his ideas. He never would have thought of such a solution to their problems; he was still focused on the revelations of the previous day and the raw feeling of pain that continued to fill his heart. But as Bennet related more of the details, Shelton became convinced that it would be in both their best interests to take the steps required to change their lives. He agreed to the plan without hesitance and became impatient to act upon it.
It was a complicated business to change the terms of his will to suit his planned ‘death,’ and he put a great deal of thought into it. Shelton knew that once he took on the persona of Thomas Bennet, he could never take back control of any aspect of his previous life. He had to use this opportunity to make certain all his responsibilities were handed off to others he trusted without the possibility of any threat of exposure.
Of utmost importance was to establish ‘Thomas Bennet’ as guardian of Jane
and Elizabeth. It would be expected that a family member take them in upon the news of Shelton’s death, but he could not bear for that to happen. He wanted to keep his daughters in his own care and not risk losing them. Therefore, he had to maintain secrecy, even from his closest friends and family, regarding the girls’ guardian.
It would mean cutting all ties, even those he had planned to keep via correspondence while in Bermuda. It would be painful to deny himself and his daughters those connections, but try as he might to come up with another solution, he kept coming back to the inevitable truth—their godparents and one remaining aunt could never be known to Jane and Elizabeth.
Shelton still worried that, even though he and Bennet had pondered all the possibilities, their plan could go awry. However, their conferences could only go on until Bennet’s illness made him too weak to be of further assistance.
As anticipated, the damage to Thomas Bennet’s lungs proved to be fatal. He developed a pneumonic chest and passed away a week prior to the ship’s arrival in Bermuda, but not before Shelton heard details of Bennet’s history, relations, properties, and holdings. The real Thomas Bennet’s body was interred at sea with Captain Wood officiating. Before berthing in Bermuda, the captain carried out his friend’s dying wish and officiated at the secret marriage of Fanny Bennet to Lord Shelton.
Following his miraculous recovery in Bermuda, the new Thomas Bennet thrived in the cedar export business and entered into other investments, including imports of machinery and manufactured items from England. He also wrote a pamphlet advocating abolition of the slave trade between the West Indies and the Americas. The Bennets immediately freed the African servants that the elder Mr. Bennet had purchased with the house. They paid and treated them well, and taught them to read and write in English. In turn, the Bennets were treated to oral histories of their servants’ homelands.
***
July 1794
Hamilton, Bermuda