Charlotte’s brow furrowed as she considered the practicalities. “The journey would take at least three days by post, if the weather holds. The roads will be treacherous with autumn rains. You have, what, three pounds? That would barely cover a day’s travel expenses.”
“I had thought perhaps you might…” Elizabeth stopped, shame flooding her cheeks. How could she ask Charlotte to not only accompany her but also fund this mad venture?
“Lend you money?” Charlotte finished gently. “Evenif I could access sufficient funds without my father’s knowledge, Lizzy, I cannot support such a reckless plan. Not because I don’t believe in you, but because I care for you too much.”
“What alternative do I have?” Elizabeth’s voice cracked. “Marry Mr. Collins? Surrender my birthright? Allow my parents’ murderers to escape justice?”
“If Pemberley is truly yours, there are proper channels. Legal counsel, formal inquiries?—”
“My uncle believes those who murdered my parents would kill me if I pursued this openly,” Elizabeth interrupted. “The heir who has been master of Pemberley since his father died will not surrender it without a fight.”
Charlotte took both of Elizabeth’s hands in hers, her grip firm but gentle. “Listen to me, dearest. You are proposing to challenge one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in England for his estate based on a letter that could be genuine—or could be a trap to lure you into danger.”
“It is not a trap,” Elizabeth insisted. “Mr. Bennet confirmed it all.”
“Did he advise this course of action?”
Elizabeth hesitated, then shook her head. “He wishes me to marry Mr. Collins immediately and forget the entire matter.”
“Then perhaps his counsel deserves consideration.” Charlotte’s eyes filled with compassionate understanding. “If the danger is real, if these murderers still lurk, what chance would you have alone and friendless in a strange place?”
“But you would be with me,” Elizabeth whispered, a tear escaping to trace a path down her cheek. “I would not be alone if you came.”
Charlotte’s own eyes glistened. “I cannot, Lizzy. I cannot risk my reputation, my family’s standing, perhaps even my safety on what may be a wild fancy. If there is truly an inheritance, seek legal counsel first. Establish your claim properly.”
“There’s no time!My birthday?—”
“If the inheritance is legally yours, there will be recourse even after your birthday. The law provides for instances where heirs were unaware of their rights.”
Elizabeth rose from her chair and moved to the window, gazing out at the barren garden. The sky had darkened further, and the first raindrops spattered against the glass, mirroring the tears she fought to contain.
“I had thought you of all people would understand,” she said quietly.
Charlotte crossed the room to stand beside her, their reflections ghostly in the rain-streaked window. “I understand perfectly. I understand that you are in shock, that you’ve had your entire identity shaken to its foundations, that you’re desperate for some control over your fate. I understand that marriage to Mr. Collins seems a prison sentence, and that this inheritance represents freedom and justice.”
“Then help me,” Elizabeth pleaded, turning to face her friend.
“I help you most by being honest. This plan is not merely impractical; it’s dangerous. You have no proof, no resources, no protection. How far do you imagine you would get before disaster befell you?”
A tear slid down Elizabeth’s cheek, followed by another. “What would you have me do? Submit to a lifetime with Mr. Collins? Forget who I truly am?”
Charlotte reached up and gently wiped away Elizabeth’s tears. “I would have you stay alive. I would have you proceed with caution rather than desperation. I would have you remember that Pemberley will still stand next month, next year, five years hence—but your life, once risked, may be lost forever.”
“I cannot simply do nothing,” Elizabeth whispered.
“Doing nothing is not your only alternative.” Charlotte led her back to the fire, which had burned lower during their conversation. “Your uncle Philips is a solicitor. He should be able to write to your grandparents’ solicitor. Marriage records would exist at the parish. As for witnesses, Mr. Bennet and that locket he mentioned. Orservants. They might help establish your claim properly, through legitimate channels.”
Elizabeth considered this suggestion. Her uncle Philips was indeed a solicitor, but her aunt Philips was a gossip, and furthermore, would report her actions directly to her sister, Mrs. Bennet.
“That still leaves Mr. Collins,” she said. “He arrives this afternoon, expecting my hand.”
“Refuse him,” Charlotte said simply.
“My mother—Mrs. Bennet—will never forgive me.”
“She will recover,” Charlotte assured her. “And a reluctant bride makes a miserable wife. Even Mr. Collins deserves better than that.”
Elizabeth managed a watery smile. “Since when did you become an advocate for Mr. Collins?”
