As you can tell, we are no longer in Connecticut, which I dare say is the reason it took so many months before the men you sent were able to locate us. We had first moved to what is now the state of Ohio, then to the Territory of Indiana. Five years after my darling Roger passed away, our eldest son, Henry, named for you, moved us to the Territory of Mississippi. We have been on the farm for more than 10 years.
Henry is married and has two sons and three daughters. His eldest son is 24, and the youngest of the 5 is 11.
Your letter arrived at a very opportune time. Although we all like our life here, we are looked at with suspicion at times because my Roger and I came from England. That in and of itself would not have made us consider leaving, however, they keep slaves in this country, and it is very prevalent in this territory. We refuse to keep a human being like they are so muchchattel, so we cannot be competitive when we sell the cotton we grow here.
We have spoken, and as my son Henry is, as you explained it in your letter, the heir presumptive to Longbourn, and his eldest son, Roger, is the next in line, we will sell our farm and everything else we are able and then make for England. We hope to be there by the spring.
We appreciate your wanting your man to pay our way. If my old bones survive this journey (I will, by the grace of God, be 78 in November), we will speak about your spending so much money on us.
I am truly sorry we lost contact. If I am alive when my family arrives, you will have to regale me with the tales of your adventures in India.
With sisterly love and regard,
Felicity
“Mama will have someone new at whom to aim her ire about beingthrown into the hedgerowsother than you. She will, however, blame you for discovering our great-aunt and cousins,” Elizabeth said with a giggle she tried, but failed, to hide behind a hand.
“Lizzy, your mother will try to throw Jane at Roger Taylor. I would not put it past her to push Lydia forward for my other great-nephew. She will not be sanguine that there will be three more girls to compete for the attentions of men in the area,” Henry predicted. “Felicity did not write the names of the other grandson and her granddaughters.”
“I dare say you are correct,” Elizabeth owned.
“They may be on their way across the Atlantic Ocean as we speak,” Henry estimated. “That is unless there were some unforeseen delays.
Elizabeth was deep in thought for a minute or two. “Uncle Henry, if you decide that one of my Taylor cousins should be your heir and not me, I would understand without complaint.”
“And that, Lizzy, is exactly why I know you are the ideal person to be my heir. There are perhaps a handful of people in the world who would be willing to give up the wealth we are speaking of and actually mean it.” Henry smiled warmly at his great-niece. “I will certainly add bequests for Felicity’s children and grandchildren, but I will not now, or ever, remove you as my heir.”
“Thank you for having such confidence in me,” Elizabeth responded. Unlike Papa, who saw her as an instrument of entertainment, a foil for his wit, Uncle Henry just loved her like a father should love a daughter. He did not want anything from her except a loving great-niece. His love had provided Elizabeth with the strength to never be hurt by Mama’s comments about her looks, as compared to Janey, or that she was too educated for any man to be attracted to her.
“Will you inform your father? I hope he will allow his cousin to take over the running of Longbourn so that my namesake may bring the estate back to what it was in my late father’s and brother’s times.”
“I will, of course tell Papa. But where will the Taylors live? At Netherfield Park?”
“There is a man who is very interested in leasing Netherfield Park. Your Uncle Phillips will conduct a tour on Friday. If there had not been someone wanting the lease, I would have kept it for our family. There is a solution, though. I have heard through Phillips that since the death of her son and heir, Mrs Purvis wants to sell Purvis Lodge. I intended to purchase it anyway. The Taylors will be able to live there very comfortably, and if Felicity wishes, she can always come live here.”
“All I ask is you not add it to my inheritance. I suggestyou leave it to my, as yet, unnamed Taylor cousin.”
“It will be so,” Henry agreed. “I will have Remington send a letter to Crawley to prepare a codicil to that effect. As soon as we know his name, we will have the solicitor add it.”
Great-uncle and great-niece made for the drawing room where the latter ordered tea. Once their tea and fresh shortbread biscuits had been consumed, Elizabeth openedSense and Sensibilityby A Lady—newly published—and began to read from the place Mary had marked when she had read to their great-uncle the previous day. She read for about an hour, and when she saw Uncle Henry dropping off to sleep, Elizabeth made sure his legs were covered before slipping out of the house.
It was a quick ride back to the manor house.
First, Elizabeth went to her bedchamber to change. Once that was completed, she made her way down to her father’s study. When he called out for her to enter, she did.
“Papa, do you remember Uncle Henry saying that if you and Mama have no son, but his sister did, that that son would be your heir apparent?” Elizabeth enquired.
“I do; what of it?” Bennet no longer played chess with Lizzy. She always won.
“When I visited Uncle Henry, he showed me a letter from his sister, your Aunt Felicity,” Elizabeth reported. “They are alive and well, and as we speak, could be on their way to England. She has a son, and that man has two sons of his own, so Cousin Henry Taylor is the heir presumptive of Longbourn.”
Bennet leaned back in his chair. That there was a discovered heir presumptive made no difference in his life, but the thought of the sport he could make of Fanny made him feel good. There were endless possibilities. His face dropped as he realised that Uncle Henry, or Lizzy on his behalf, would more likely than not make sure that his wife understood what this truly meant and that there would never be hedgerows in herfuture.
“I suppose all I can do is to wait for my aunt and her family to arrive,” Bennet stated uncaringly.
“Will you not inform, Mama, Papa?” Elizabeth asked.
As much as he wanted to say ‘no’, Bennet heard his uncle’s question that he had asked once, some years ago, about whether he was intentionally cruel to Fanny. He could not be seen to do that to her. “I will speak to your mother.”
