The solicitor’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “I am afraid that is not possible, Mr. Darcy. The contents of the will are confidential.”
Darcy’s frustration threatened to boil over, but he knew his request was unusual. “Mr. Holt, I understand your position, but this is a matter of urgency. The Bennet ladies may be in some danger.”
Mr. Holt’s expression softened, but he remained firm. “I do sympathize, Mr. Darcy, but the law is clear. Without Mr.Bennet’s approval, I cannot disclose the contents of Mr. Ellis’s will. Can you not make other provisions to see to their safety until Mr. Bennet can be summoned?”
“There are plans in motion, but . . .”Darcy took a breath, straightened, and clasped his hands behind his back. “If you cannot show me the will, perhaps you can answer a few questions without violating your professional obligations?”
Mr. Holt hesitated, then nodded. “I shall do my best to assist you, Mr. Darcy. Within the law, of course.” He waved Darcy towards one of the two chairs that faced his desk.
“Thank you,” Darcy said, and sat. “Can you tell me if there was anything unusual about Mr. Ellis's bequest?”
The solicitor considered the question carefully. “I cannot speak to the specifics, but I can say Mr. Ellis's decision was made with great deliberation. He was of sound mind and fully aware of the implications of his choice.”
Darcy nodded, filing away this information. “And the transfer of the estate—were there any conditions attached to it?
“Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Holt said, a note of warning in his voice, “I am afraid that ventures too close to the contents of the will.”
Darcy held up a hand in apology. “Of course, forgive me. Let me rephrase. In your professional opinion, is there any legal means by which the ownership of Hollydale could be challenged?”
The solicitor's brow furrowed in thought. “Hypothetically speaking, any will can be contested if there are grounds to do so. But in this case, I see no basis for such a challenge.”
Darcy leaned forward, his voice low and urgent. “Mr. Holt, there is someone who claims to be familiar with the estate who is slandering my name. My sister recognised him as a man she had met at Hollydale years ago, someone who may be related to Mr. Ellis.”
The solicitor’s lips pressed together.
“I made a promise to Mr. Bennet to look out for his wife and daughter until he returns, and these rumours have separated me from Hollydale House. Do you know if there is anyone who might have a motive to do this?”
Mr. Holt was silent for a long moment, clearly wrestling with the conflict between his professional obligations and his desire to help.
When he spoke, he chose his words with great care. “Mr. Darcy, while I cannot speak to the specifics of Mr. Ellis's will, I can say this: in cases where a substantial estate is left to someone outside the family, it is not uncommon for disappointed parties to complain.”
Darcy's pulse quickened. “You are saying there was someone else who expected to inherit Hollydale?”
Mr. Holt held up a hand. “I am not saying that, Mr. Darcy. I am merely pointing out a general truth about these situations.”
Darcy nodded, understanding the solicitor's need for caution. “Of course. But, if such a person existed in this case, who might they be?”
The solicitor sighed, removing his spectacles, and polishing them absently. “Mr. Darcy, I have already said more than I should. But . . .” he paused, then seemed to come to a decision. “I suppose it can do no harm to mention that Mr. Ellis did have a relative, distant though he might be.”
Darcy leaned forward, his entire body tense with anticipation. “Go on.”
Mr. Holt replaced his spectacles, his expression grave. “There was a cousin—she is dead, but her husband still lives. I do not believe he was in contact with Mr. Ellis, as he had borrowed a generous sum of money from him which was never repaid.”
It was this man. It had to be. “His name?”
“He is not mentioned in any of Mr. Ellis’s documents, Mr. Darcy, so I am afraid I do not know.”
Darcy stood, his mind already racing with this new information. “Thank you, Mr. Holt. You have been most helpful.”
He left the solicitor’s office with a renewed sense of purpose and gratitude for his sister’s excellent memory. She had only seen the man at Hollydale once or twice, when he was gone to school and their father had taken her to call.
A cousin by marriage—someone connected to Hollydale, but not by blood. Someone who might have felt entitled to inherit when he ought not, who might be bitter enough to steal things from the estate and spread malicious rumours. In the absence of any other possibilities, he felt it had to be this man behind everything—the thefts, Mrs. Bennet’s fears . . . Now all he had to do was find the man and prove it.
With the final week of November upon them, Elizabeth would have liked to be working on the last of the children’s clothing. Instead, she found herself spending all her time with her mother, trying to ease her fears and restore some sense of normalcy to their routine.
It had been three days since Mr. Darcy and his sister had removed from Hollydale, and Elizabeth missed them both. She had been looking forward to spending more time with Miss Darcy, but the search for the thief and Mamma’s exuberance had prevented it. Though it had been a source of irritation at the time, now Elizabeth wished for even a small part of her mother’s relentless cheer to return to her.
She had coaxed Mamma to the drawing room and now could only watch as her mother plucked nervously at the embroidery in her lap.
