The two eldest Bennet sisters looked at Mrs. Jenkinson expectantly. With a wide smile, a nod of permission was received. “No more than a half hour, then you need to rest more, Miss Anne,” Mrs. Jenkinson allowed.
“Thank you, Jenki,” the three young ladies chorused.
The nurse and now companion in one inclined her head and then exited the bedchamber.
“Jane, what happened to…that man who wrote the hideous…poetry for you? Lizzy…wrote about him,” Anne clarified.
Jane had come out locally in March of the current year, a few weeks after she turned seventeen. Her first assembly had been at the end of May. The son of the tenant of Netherfield Park had become smitten with Jane. He was thirty years old.
The age did not bother her very much, but Jane had found him boring. All he could talk about was his horse and hunting. Any other subject was beyond his limited knowledge. Also, the only thing he seemed to admire about Jane was her looks. The quickest way to turn Jane’s attention away from a man was for him to objectify her and not see past her external shell. She was too used to the respectful way her father, and other men in her life related to her, to ever accept one who objectified her.
At the mid-July assembly, he had presented Jane with the worst attempt at poetry she had ever seen. As he had not taken her hints, Jane spoke to Papa about not wanting the man to continue to attempt to court her. Her father had spoken to both the father and son at Netherfield Park the next day.
A fortnight later, they moved out of the area, giving up their lease. Uncle Philips was the agent for the owner, Sir Morris Samuels, and he had attempted to sell the remaining one year in the lease, but to date, it had not occurred.
“Did Lizzy not write and tell you after Papa warned him off? The family left Netherfield Park,” Jane replied.
“I forgot to write about that, and then Mr. Darcy passed away and you and Uncle Lewis had to travel north,” Elizabeth explained.
“There is a more serious…subject I want to discuss with…both of you, but Jenki will return…soon,” Anne related.
“Hopefully on the morrow, you will be allowed to join us, then we three may find somewhere to sit and talk,” Jane suggested.
“Did Jane write to you that Aunt Elaine has a date for her presentation and come out in London?” Elizabeth questioned. Anne shook her head. “It is on the penultimate Friday of February, only six days after Janey turns eighteen.”
Before there could be more discussion, Mrs. Jenkinson entered the chamber. Jane and Elizabeth exited before theywere asked to do so.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
“Bennet, losing Darcy like this reminded me of my own mortality. I would like to make another change to my will,” Sir Lewis related. “As Darcy will not be able to do so if I predecease Annie, will you agree to be her other guardian, and my executor alongside Matlock?”
“Although I pray that never comes to pass, it would be both an honour and a pleasure,” Bennet agreed. “You are aware Fanny and I see Anne as another daughter already, do you not?”
Sir Lewis nodded it was so. “You know I had Philips redraw my will for me not long after the attempt was made on our lives, do you not?”
“I remember you telling me you requested my brother do some legal work for you, I did not know the specifics. Why do you mention that now de Bourgh? Surely Rumpole in London can make the changes you are speaking of now?”
“That is not why I mentioned that at this time.” Sir Lewis removed a thick document from inside of the leather bag he carried with him. “This is the will as it is now, the only change will be substituting your name for Darcy’s.”
“Why do you need me to see this at this point?” Bennet raised an eyebrow in question.
“As one of my executors, you will need to keep a copy, and you should know I have taken some extraordinary steps to make sure a forgery can never…” Sir Lewis explained what he had done to ensure his wishes would be the only ones that governed the distribution of his property after his death.
“Keep a copy, yes, but that will only be after the changes you have enumerated.”
“Bennet, read the document.”
Still not sure why, Bennet read. The more he read thecloser his eyebrows approached his hairline. “Surely you jest!” Bennet exclaimed.
“No, I do not, and before you ask the question, I was of entirely sound mind when I made the relevant decisions. My actions were driven by reality. I know Anne will not survive me, or if she does, it will not be by many years. Yes, I spoke to Matlock and Darcy before I made these changes and neither man objected.”
“I am dumbstruck.” Bennet, who was normally very articulate was at a loss for words.
“There is nothing to discuss at this point. Even if we did, it would not change my mind,” Sir Lewis insisted.
Bennet raised his hands in surrender. “All I can do is pray it will be many years before any of this,” Bennet picked up the documents, “needs to be executed.”
Sir Lewis lifted his glass of port to the heavens. “Amen to that.”
