“If you can do so without Mrs. Younge overhearing,” said Bennet. “You must be certain, girls, for we have no notion of what she will do if she learns we suspect her of disloyalty.”
The two girls nodded and voiced their solemn assurance that they would practice caution. Thereafter, the Darcys withdrew from society to a large degree, instead concentrating their attention on the girls and keeping watch over them. While they still attended certain events in the evenings, they did not stay late, and Mr. Bennet remained behind to keep watch over them. That was no sacrifice for Mr. Bennet, of course, as he was no more eager to perform for society than he had been before, and it allowed them some measure of relief. That Mr. Bennet found Longbourn too quiet for his tastes was of great assistance!
Darcy alerted Lord Matlock the day they changed their schedule, for his lordship appeared at Darcy’s house that day with a matter of business. Darcy explained what they had decided, and his lordship agreed it was prudent and then moved to the business that had drawn him hither.
“I have received word from my solicitor that pertains to you.”
“Oh?” asked Darcy.
“They should have communicated this to us in the aftermath of my nephew’s passing.” The earl nodded. “I have spoken to them of my displeasure. Mortimer is an excellent man of the law and does not suffer lapses—he takes it personally when matters do not proceed as they ought.”
“I do not use Mortimer,” observed Darcy. “As it deals with my cousin, might I assume it has to do with Pemberley?”
“It does, and specifically, it deals with the entail. When your ancestor set up the entail, it was to continue for five generations. You are the fifth to inherit the estate.”
That bit of news surprised Darcy, for it was a significant alteration. “Then the entail is ended.”
“It is,” agreed Lord Matlock. “My nephew’s will left Pemberley to Georgiana in the unlikely event that all potential heirs predeceased him; as you know, there were two more who were in line to inherit after you.”
Darcy nodded, though he did not know the men in question. They were even more distant members of the Darcy family, one who lived in Cheshire on a small estate, while the other was a solicitor in London, following in the footsteps of several progenitors descended from the youngest son of the man who had instituted the entail. There were more distant relations bearing the name Darcy, but their connections to the family predated the entail.
“My will also leaves the property to Georgiana in the event it becomes necessary.”
“That will change when you have a son or daughter of your own. The difference is that Georgiana is your heirnowrather than a conditional heir should no others remain under the terms of the entail.”
“Thank you for bringing this to me, Lord Matlock,” said Darcy. “It changes matters altogether.”
“It does.” Lord Matlock eyed him for a moment, then offered in a tone that was only half jesting: “It would be best if you hastened to sire an heir to secure the future of the estate. Had Jameson married earlier, as my wife had pushed him for years, he might have had a son to inherit when he fell from that horse.”
“Trust me, Lord Matlock,” grinned Darcy, “I shall not stint at all in meeting my responsibility. Fortunately, my wife is of hardy stock—her mother birthed five children, after all.”
Lord Matlock barked a laugh. “Yes, that is fortunate, indeed. Give Mrs. Darcy my regards.”
LORD MATLOCK’S SOLICITORwas not the only official communication Darcy received, for the very next day, Darcy received a letter from his solicitor. Jennings was a man who did not boast the highest members of society as clients, but he was an excellent man of the law, and one Darcy had not considered leaving when he had inherited Pemberley. The subject of his communication was not Darcy’s venerable estate, but a matter about which he had inquired not long before his wedding in Hertfordshire.
When Darcy perused the missive and understood the contents, he left his study in search of his father-in-law. As Elizabeth was with the girls in the sitting-room, a sour-faced Mrs. Younge in attendance, Darcy knew where to find Mr. Bennet. When he entered the library, Bennet looked up and greeted him from the small desk in a corner that he had made into his personal space.
“Darcy! Have you tired of the ladies’ company already, such that you seek me out for more sensible conversation?”
“How do you think my wife would greet the news that you do not consider her sensible?”
Bennet laughed. “I cannot but suppose she would subject me to the rough side of her tongue. Lizzy is sensible, as you know, but while I enjoy the girls’ company, a little often goes a long way, for they speak of things that make my eyes cross.”
“Such are the tastes of young adolescent girls,” agreed Darcy.
Then, turning serious, he said: “I have received a letter from my solicitor.”
Understanding what this meant, Bennet laid his book on the table after marking his page with a small sheet of paper. “Might I assume he writes about the entail on Longbourn?”
“He does. Though it is unfortunate, you will not have the boon of an entail ending with you, for Longbourn’s entail requires another two inheritors before it expires.”
Darcy had informed both his wife and his father-in-law about the new information on Pemberley when Lord Matlock had informed him. That, of course, led to a few choice comments from Longbourn’s master and earned him a reprimand from his daughter.
“Trust me, Darcy, I am well aware of it. Lizzy’s reproofs are still ringing in my ears.”
“Then you will be pleased to know that Jennings believes the entail on Longbourn is not unassailable.”
Bennet offered a slow nod. A man of significant intelligence, Darcy knew Bennet had suspected this from the moment Fitzwilliam spoke of it.
