Darcy nodded and made the quick walk to his study. He returned within minutes, the missive in his hand. His uncle must have read Darcy’s thoughts. Lord Matlock realised that Darcy was not sanguine that he had not also received a letter from his father.
“William, your father wrote you at least two epistles that I know of. I will hand the relevant one to you when we reach the event he wanted to occur before it is handed to you.” Lord Matlock nodded.
Darcy handed his cousin the letter.
Richard looked at the sealed missive in his hands, his late uncle’s firm script easily identifiable on the outside. He sat in a wingback chair, took a deep breath, and broke the seal.
1 May 1806
Richard:
The fact that you asked your parents and others the question, which meant that this letter was placed in your hands, tells me that you in your own way are too proud, Nephew.
First, no one asked or even hinted that I leave you one of the satellite estates. It was my own decision. The only thing which influenced me was the love of a nephew. I own five satellite estates, none of which are entailed, so why would I not do this?
Your parents and brother would have willingly done the same and had an estate reserved for you, but the Matlock and Hilldale entails preclude that. You and I both know that had they purchased an estate for you, you would have refused it, claiming charity. And that is what I mean by pride, but not only pride, selfishness!
Yes, that is what I said. I did not write it in error. Did you for one second consider the suffering you would have left behind every minute you would have been in harm’s way? Did you think of the heartbreak it would cause if, heaven forfend, you were felled in battle?
How selfish of you to not think of how your mother’s heart would not have been the only one which would have been broken. Enough remonstrating with you.
It has been some months now that I have known there is but one end to my illness, and doing this foryou was one of my dying wishes. Tell me, Richard, would you deny my bequest because of your pride and selfishness? I pray not.
You have many in the family who will help you become familiar with the running of Rivington.
It is my greatest pleasure to give you the estate.
With all my love as your uncle,
Robert Alexander Darcy
Richard’s uncle’s words from beyond the grave rang true. There was but one choice; he had to accept his uncle’s parting gift with good grace.
“I will return to London, resign from the army, and sell my commission,” Richard announced. When he saw the relief on the faces of his family and the tears which fell from his mother’s eyes, Richard realised how selfish he had been.
Chapter 10
On the second day of March 1807, Henry moved into the dower house at Longbourn. Even though it was smaller than the manor house at Sherwood Dale, Netherfield Park, or even for that matter, Longbourn, for a single man, the space was many times what Henry required.
Contrary to his niece by marriage’s nonsensical pronouncements about the house, it was far too large to be termed a cottage and had been constructed with the comfort of its inhabitants in mind. The structure was two storeys in height and faced with the same beige stones which adorned Longbourn’s manor house’s façade. On the ground level were the kitchens—with a set of rooms behind for the cook-housekeeper, a study, spacious dining parlour, nice-sized drawing room and a smaller parlour.
The first and second floors were where the bedchambers were found. Half of the first floor consisted of the master suite with a private sitting room between two bedchambers. Attached to the master’s and mistress’s bedchambers were two small but very generous sized rooms for servants, a valet, and a lady’s maid. In addition, there were three more bedchambers. The second floor had a suite, not as large as the master’s, and four additional bedchambers. The attics had been constructed both for storage and space for female servants.
A sturdy stables had been built with rooms above it for four male servants. To one side of the stables was a nice-sized coach house. Henry had purchased a phaeton and a gig when he had decided it was time to execute his plan and move ontoLongbourn’s land. There was room for his smaller carriage in the coach house as well.
A great advantage which reduced the need for more indoor servants was the fact that when Henry had the house rebuilt, he had ordered pipes for hot and cold water with a cistern and boiler attached to a pumping system. To fill a bath or to have water to wash dishes, et cetera, in the scullery was as simple as turning a valve on a faucet. Henry could only smile when he thought about this and what Fanny would have said about thepeasant’shouse having something so convenient that Longbourn’s manor did not have.
Thanks to the sisters—Mrs Hill and Mrs Nichols—a cook who could function as the housekeeper as well had been employed. She had been allowed to employ two scullery maids in addition to two more maids for the house. Two manservants were added, and they with the coachman and footman, would live above the stables.
On Wednesday, the day before Lizzy’s sixteenth birthday, Henry invited the residents of Longbourn to enjoy a meal in his new home. He received a note from Lizzy that she, Mary, and Kitty would attend. It told that their father had not made attendance mandatory. He did not want to trouble himself—Henry saw it as a petulant protest to being made to live by the agreements they had made—and as soon as he said that, Fanny, according to the note, had refused, allowing Jane and Lydia to do so as well.
Rather than be upset, Henry was pleased. The best of the Longbourn Bennets would be in attendance. Mrs Bellamy had been invited as well, and she had accepted. Luke was at Eton in his second year. Henry had Eton offer a scholarship to Mrs Bellamy for Luke, which she had accepted knowing that education was the way for Luke to have a good life. She did not know it yet, but she would receive the same offer from Oxford when Luke was ready to move on to university. When Henry thought of Luke going to school, he remembered withfondness the way Lizzy had pouted that she was not allowed to attend university just because of her sex. She had correctly stated that she would have done better than almost all of the males at the institutions of higher learning. It had not been a boast; Henry was sure she would have done as well, if not better, than she had predicted.
As it was a cold early spring evening, Henry had sent his carriage. He was well aware that Lizzy could walk the trifling distance from the manor house to the dower house without exerting herself. However, he knew she would not complain because she was aware, as he was, that Mary and Kitty did not enjoy walking like she did. One thing Lizzy was not, was selfish.
It was her care for others which reassured him that he had chosen his heir with care, not that he had doubted his choice for more than five years now.
He heard the crunch of wheels on the gravel drive which led to the dower house. Henry stood—it took him more time to straighten himself and his old bones out than it used to only a few years previously—and made his way to the front door. He opened it just in time for three of his great-nieces to pour into the house. One of the maids was there to relieve them of their outerwear.
