Master of Netherfield

by Martin Hunnicutt

  “Yes, Papa,” Elizabeth agreed.

  Darcy and Georgiana escorted the Bennets from the house and before they reached the door, Elizabeth’s hand reached up to touch Mr. Darcy’s sleeve. He stopped and turned to the young woman, “Yes, Miss Elizabeth?”

  “I am sorry to hear of your father’s state sir.”

  He smiled, grateful for sincerity in her voice.

  Then she handed him a small book. “I brought this book of poetry for your journey. Travelling on horseback you must pack light; as it will fit into your coat pocket, I hope it will afford you some distraction.”

  He recognized the book – the same one from the forest from several years before with the mended page inside.

  “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I shall enjoy the verse by candlelight on my journey.”

  Mr. Bennet cleared his throat. “Lizzy, let us be gone. I shall have to tell your Mamma of our plans and set my steward to his duties.”

  As their carriage pulled away, Elizabeth turned back to watch the brother and sister wait at the steps for a long minute before turning back inside Netherfield.

  “Lizzy.”

  “Yes Papa.”

  “Mr. Darcy is to be a great man, very rich and very powerful. When his father passes, young William will be one of the richest men in all Britain. I believe he will have four seats in the House to dispose of as he chooses.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “He shall be very lonely again then sir.”

  Mr. Bennet sighed and took his daughter’s hand. “It will not be long after coming into his inheritance that numerous lords and other rich men will show up at his door with their daughters. I believe Mr. Darcy will marry a rich woman, perhaps even one with a title, as his wife.”

  He squeezed her hand gently. “Do not give your whole heart to him – I fear it will be broken.”

  Elizabeth did not reply but she did lay her head on her father’s shoulder.

  **++**

  Chapter 17

  George Darcy’s Legacy

  Word spread quickly in Lambton and Kympton of the illness of the Master of Pemberley. The tenants went about their tasks with their usual industriousness – farmers could not pause to worry or mourn with crops in the fields. The vicar in Lambton spent extra minutes in his prayers for Mr. Darcy and his family in addition to the prayers he offered for Kympton. That parish was in disarray with the parson barely tolerated in the streets.

  ‘And that misfortune lies at Mr. George Darcy’s feet as well,’ the vicar realized. The archbishop of York intervened at the request of the bishop as well as the vicars in Lambton, Derby and Nottingham – the scandal reached that far – to remove George Wickham from the pulpit in Kympton. The man was a scoundrel who tarnished the entire church.

  More than one tongue wagged that week wondering how soon the master would pass away and the fallen woman with her natural child in residence in the great house would be sent packing. Mr. Darcy’s mistress put herself forward greatly and offended a great many neighbours but few houses dared to bar entry by George Darcy and his kept woman. The man controlled much of the wealth thereabout and all of the political power. There were four pocket boroughs in his control and the various members of Parliament in the area remained in company with their patron. The lords and other landowners cared little for Mr. Darcy’s indiscretions; they bore the company of his mistress though their wives refused to come to tea. The prime minister had even taken dinner at Darcy House in London with the woman in company though not at the head of the table.

  “Will the young master arrive in time? Will that woman make off with the riches of Pemberley?” asked many townsfolk in whispers to their neighbours.

  “How many wagons will she fill with furniture when she departs?” asked the servants of the great house.

  And the farmers asked with worry in their voices, “What of her child? Will Mr. Darcy disinherit his son for his bastard?”

  No one expected the young master to arrive in Derbyshire before Monday and so when he rode through Lambton on Saturday afternoon with only his valet as company, few people noticed. In the park the riders passed the carriage carrying the doctor returning to check on Mr. Darcy and thus William arrived at his father’s door before six of the clock on Saturday afternoon.

  He banged on the door for a full two minutes before mounting his horse once again and riding around to the stables where he found stable boys. Leaving the horses in their hands, he threw a saddlebag over his shoulder and entered Pemberley through the kitchens.

  “Master Fitzwilliam!” greeted the cook who recognized the young man and his valet.

  “Where is my father?” he asked Mrs. Reynolds when the housekeeper came out of her office, greatly surprised to have the young man home this quickly.

  “He is in the green room sir,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “If you will follow me, I shall take you there. Would you care to...”

  “No. I shall see my father first,” William said.

  He glanced at his valet and said, “Harris, refresh yourself. We shall dine in my rooms tonight and see about clothing tomorrow.”

  “I shall have a bath prepared for you before supper, sir,” Harris insisted.

  Nodding once, William followed the housekeeper. Once they were on the stairs with none of the servants about, he asked, “Tell me how he fares.”

  “It is only a matter of time, Master William. I believe he waits to see you once again before letting himself go.”

  William slowed his steps slightly. “My sister will arrive Monday. I hope my father remains long enough to bid her farewell.”

  At the top of the stairs, William was met by a woman richly dressed in the latest London styles.

  “Mrs. Reynolds,” the woman asked. “Who is this ruffian you have admitted to Pemberley?”

  Realizing this must be his father’s mistress; the young man stepped forward and announced himself, “I am Fitzwilliam Darcy come to see my father. Who are you to be so free in the halls of my father?”

  The woman blushed but replied, “I am a good friend of your father’s, Mrs. Murray.”

  “I understood you to have a house in Lambton, Mrs. Murray,” William said as he came to the top of the stairs.

  “Mr. Darcy has invited me to be here in the house these many months with my son.”

  Darcy’s mouth twisted for a moment only before he replied. “As this house is dealing with illness, I am certain you and your son will be happier at your own home. A carriage will be called for your safe transport this afternoon.”

  “My maid cannot pack my things so quickly,” Mrs. Murray replied. “And Mr. Darcy has sent for his solicitors. I shall not leave this house before...”

  William stepped closer and spoke quietly. “Do not attempt to threaten me madam. You have one hour to leave this house with your dignity intact. Longer than a single hour and you will find yourself pushed from the front door with a walk of five miles to Lambton.”

  There was silence at the top of the stairs for a moment before William repeated, “One hour.”

  “Now see here...” the woman began to say.

  At just that moment, the physician came up the stairs with his bag of medicines and began talking to William. “Master William, I am glad you have come. There is not much time remaining and Mr. Darcy has asked for you several times. Allow me to take you to your father sir.”

  “Thank you,” William told the physician.

  He turned to Mrs. Reynolds and said, “If you will order a carriage and see to that Mrs. Murray is escorted to the door in one hour.”

  “But what of the solicitors?” asked Mrs. Murray.

  William turned around and said, “Madam, I am a gentleman. My father’s wishes will be fulfilled once he makes them known to me.”

  “My boy will not be...” Mrs. Murray insisted in a stern whisper as Mrs. Reynolds took the woman’s arm and urged her to follow Master William’s directions.

  “Forgive the unpleasant scene,” William said to the physician who simply shook his
head.

  “Illness in families creates problems, Master William. I am certain the lady is distressed – she stands to lose everything with the passing of your father.”

  “I understand sir. My father will make some settlement for her in his will and as I told her, I shall see my father’s wishes fulfilled.”

  In the green room, George Darcy was asleep when William entered but the movements in the room by the physician and Mr. Darcy’s valet were enough to rouse the master. He looked about and blinked, finding his son.

  “William! Is it Monday already?”

  “No Father, I have arrived on Saturday!”

  “That must be a good stable you keep in Hertfordshire,” the man replied. “I am pleased to find you here.”

  “Mrs. Reynolds sent word that you required my presence Father. I came with all speed.”

  “And your sister? When does she arrive?”

  “She comes in the company of trusted friends and will be here Monday if they travel tomorrow.”

  “Travelling on Sunday? Lady Catherine will have strong objections when she hears such news. Perhaps she will die with apoplexy?” the bed-ridden man sighed.

  “It doesn’t signify; I shall be gone before that glorious day,” George Darcy said plainly.

  He closed his eyes for a moment but then rallied and asked his valet, “Have the solicitors come?”

  “They wait in the library, sir.”

  “Bring them then; Fitzwilliam is here and we can be done with these matters before sunset.”

  “Mr. Darcy, I would not have you strain yourself,” the physician said.

  But his patient snorted and replied, “I have only a few hours left. What difference does some effort now make?”

  He looked up hopefully, “Might I have a thimble of brandy?’

  The physician nodded. “Perhaps even two thimbles, but only if you agree to try some broth as well.”

  “Only chicken broth,” George Darcy commanded. “Never could stand the taste of beef broth when I was a child.”

  “I spoke to Mrs. Reynolds earlier,” the physician assured his patient. “She sent a man to the poultry house with a hatchet before I could complete the request. I heard her tell the man to bring the cook the fattest hen.”

  William smiled imagining the scene in the kitchens while the physician poured a thimble of brandy and handed it to Mr. Darcy with the instruction, “Slowly sir! I insist you sip it!”

  “Very well,” agreed George Darcy as the door opened and his valet escorted the two attorneys, Mr. Campbell and Mr. Tolliver, into the room.

  “And who do we have as witnesses?” Mr. Campbell asked.

  “My valet and physician,” Mr. Darcy answered from his bed. “My son shall know all my wishes but he will not sign the will.”

  “Master William,” Mr. Campbell nodded his head in acknowledgement of the young man.

  “We have prepared the new will to your specifications, Mr. Darcy,” the second solicitor said as he offered the document to the man and a copy to his son to read.

  George waved the document away. “My heir will review the documents and approve them.”

  William and the two solicitors stepped to a table near a window with several candles adding to the natural light. Following the statements of identification at the beginning of the document, William found the primary settlements.

  **++**

  The total of my lands, businesses, stocks, properties, houses, furnishings, monies, rents, and kine are left to my son, Fitzwilliam Henry Edward Darcy with the conditions that he never marry either daughter of the Earl of Matlock or the daughter of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and that he honour the following bequests.

  **++**

  William’s face remained frozen as he read his father’s bequests.

  **++**

  I leave a purse of one thousand pounds for Mrs. Hammond. She carries a portion of my heart to this day and I thank her for two handsome boys. Upon my death, funding for the education of her sons passes solely to the income of the trust funds for the boys and they receive the principal of the trust upon graduation from university or the attainment of four and twenty years. These trusts are fully funded at ten thousand pounds each. If either boy should die before reaching that age, the funds revert to the Darcy estate.

  For Mrs. Grace Murray, currently residing in Lambton, I grant a life estate in the house known as Mayflower on the Darcy estate in Kent. The income from the estate will be delivered to Mrs. Murray on a quarterly basis for the remaining years of her life under the direction of my son Fitzwilliam. If Mrs. Murray marries, my son is to remain as administrator for the estate distributing the income for the benefit of Mrs. Murray without regard to her husband’s wishes. For her son, Matthew, a trust of ten thousand pounds is to be funded to provide for his education. Upon graduation from university or attainment of four and twenty years, the boy is to receive the principal. If the boy should die before reaching that age, the funds revert to the Darcy estate.

  For my daughter, Georgiana Charlotte Darcy, I bequeath the total of her mother’s dowry of thirty thousand pounds upon her marriage with the approval of her guardians, my son Fitzwilliam Darcy and my nephew, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. If my daughter should marry without the consent of her guardians, the dowry is to remain in trust until she is thirty years.

  For my godson, George Wickham I leave my regrets and a thousand pounds. I wish I had never elevated him to the pulpit and but love him too well to leave him penniless. The bishop has defrocked him so the damage ends. I encourage him to venture into town and to make himself an establishment that suits his nature.

  The administration of all these trusts is left to the care of my son Fitzwilliam in whom I place all faith and confidence.

  **++**

  There were additional bequests for his valet, elderly servants in town and on the estate, and one for the couple on the Pemberley estate who cared for his pack of fox hounds.

  “Is the document to your liking sir?” Mr. Tolliver asked.

  “It is to the liking of my father. He is the master of Pemberley and we are all his servants this day,” William replied before taking the pages to the bed for his father’s signature and then to the table to watch the witnesses sign in the appropriate places below the shaky signature of George Darcy.

  The solicitors provided a second copy of the same document that was signed and witnessed. With their duties at the master’s bedside complete, the two men left immediately to deliver the first copy to the courts in Derby while leaving the second copy with Master William.

  Mrs. Reynolds arrived with a tray of the promised chicken broth. As she spooned it into the master’s mouth, he asked his son about Netherfield and his sister. While they spoke of crops, tenants, and merchants, William came to a realization and shared it with his father, “I understand why you have kept me from Pemberley these past years.”

  “Indeed? And why is that?”

  “So that when I become ‘Mr. Darcy of Pemberley’, the tenants and merchants will see me as my own man, not just the son of George Darcy.”

  “With none of my sins upon your shoulders,” Mr. Darcy said between spoons of broth. “It is a mighty thing son, to be master of great wealth and power. Mr. Grenville sends inquiries concerning my health regularly. He will call on you to maintain the seats to his liking.”

  “I shall carefully consider Mr. Grenville’s requests sir but I do not see any need for change. Our interests in the East India...”

  Seeing his father’s eyes drooping, William grew silent as Mrs. Reynolds withdrew and the physician once again checked his patient.

  “The thimbles of brandy have done the trick,” the man reported. “He will sleep several hours.”

  “I shall stay with him,” William announced.

  “After you bath and eat, Master William,” replied the physician. “Go now and then you can return to sleep on the settee while I sit with Mr. Darcy.”

  **++**

  It was before dawn w
hen George Darcy woke again and asked for a taste of coffee. The footman was sent to rouse a cook and get the master coffee. In quick order, the man returned with a hot pot of fresh coffee. This time it was William who fixed his father’s coffee to his liking and spooned the liquid into his father’s mouth.

  “It tastes marvellous!”

  “Do you remember the first time you allowed me to taste brandy?” William asked.

  George smiled. “I remember! It was Christmas when you were twelve years. You declared you were a man grown and would have a thimble of brandy. Your mother was very displeased but I allowed the drink.”

  “And I sputtered and coughed for five minutes when I attempted to down it with one swallow.”

  They shared a smile as William spooned more coffee into his father’s mouth.

  “You were correct about George Wickham,” his father admitted. “He should not have been a parson. It cost me thousand pounds to clean up his mess.”

  William looked surprized at the sum named. “That is substantial, sir.”

  “His dalliances required two dowries for local girls for farmers in Derby and Nottingham to take them as brides while they were increasing with another man’s child.”

  “A thousand pounds?” the son asked with growing surprize.

  “No, only fifty pounds for each dowry but Wickham had debts of one hundred pounds and I gave the bishop eight hundred pounds to bring a stable parson to Kympton. The bishop sent a man with a large family who is unlikely to lift the skirts of the daughters of his parishioners.”

  “Father...” William tried to speak and tell his father that it did not matter.

  “We argued,” Mr. Darcy admitted sadly.

  “With whom did you argue Father?” William asked.

  “I argued with Wickham. I was very angry with him and he was not repentant in the least. I was shouting at him when suddenly I could not breathe,” Mr. Darcy admitted. “I awoke only after the physician had been called and I was in this bed.”