“Then we shall address that matter later. You are excused.”
The man withdrew without another word, leaving Suzanne alone in the austere study. She trailed her fingers along the edge of the desk—there was not a speck of dust to be found. Several drawers were locked, but she suspected the key would lie in the master’s chambers. Before quitting the room, she rang for Mrs Heinz, leaving directions to prepare a suite for herself and Arthur, then penned a quick note to be sent to her house by a footman.
A brief glance into Elizabeth’s chamber let her know the girl still slept. It was a cruel fate, to be wedded at so tender an age. A lady ought to enjoy her youth, unburdened by the cares of being a wife and mother. By all accounts, Elizabeth had borne her trials with uncommon grace.She is stronger than I was,Suzanne thought.There is no doubt of it.
The master’s rooms were immaculate and sparsely adorned. Tidy rows of books lined the shelves—most were ledgers or journals, though several ancient tomes appeared of considerable worth.
Suzanne moved about the room, observing the bed, untouched and neatly made. The dark green curtains were still tied back, revealing a deep blue coverlet and four plump goose-down pillows. A chair stood before the hearth with a small table beside it. At length, she approached the writing desk, where a disordered stack of papers lay where Fiennes had left them. One sheet bore a large ink blot, likely from the quill that had slipped from his grasp at the moment of his seizure.
Curiosity overcame distaste, and she lifted the page he had been composing. A wave of nausea rose within her. It was detailed scheme for the child’s upbringing—a regimen so rigid, so coldly calculated, that it chilled her to the bone. Two columns divided the page: one for a boy, one for a girl. Both were abominable to read.
Tempting as it was to consign the paper to the fire, she stayed her hand. Elizabeth must see it; she must know the full measure of her husband’s depravity and comprehend the magnitude of her deliverance.
Dropping the sheet to the desk, she lifted a crumpled paper and began to read. The script was unfamiliar, but the tone was unmistakable—sharp, measured, and laced with irony. Within a few lines, she understood it for what it was: a letter from Mr Bennet himself.
She could not prevent the smile that formed on her lips. So, this was the final voice he heard. Every line struck true; the gentleman from Longbourn had delivered his reckoning with perfect precision. That Fiennes should die within the hour of receiving it was almost poetic—Providence itself closing the account.
Having concluded her perusal, Suzanne took up a pen once more and began a letter to Mr Bennet. She would not mention the correspondence she had found on Fiennes’s desk—at least, not yet.
London
17 March 1807
Dear Sir,
I write on behalf of your daughter, Mrs Fiennes. She awoke this morning to the death of her husband. The necessary arrangements have been made for his interment, but I must entreat you—and such of your family as may be spared—come to London with all possible haste. There is much requiring your attention that cannot be conveyed by letter. I intend to remain here until matters are brought into proper order.
Sincerely,
Lady Westland Godfrey, Countess of Westland
She sealed the letter and had it sent by express. When her son arrived later that afternoon, she saw him settled comfortably in his chamber, then requested that Mrs Heinz prepare several additional rooms in the family wing for the expected guests. All else could wait until the morrow.
Elizabeth
Elizabeth awoke disoriented. The room lay in darkness, the curtains drawn at some point during the day. She rose unsteadily, one hand on her barely rounded form. Her stomach gave a low growl, and the child within answered with a gentle kick. “Very well, little one, we shall ring for a tray.”
Crossing to the window, she drew the drapes wide. Daylight flooded in, harsh and dazzling. At once, the memories of the morning returned,striking her with their full weight. Elizabeth gripped the window frame for support, a strange lightness rising through her—a feeling almost of elation.
Still half-disbelieving, she turned towards the door that connected her chamber to her husband’s. Never before had she entered his domain uninvited. The thought pricked her conscience, but she dismissed it and stepped quietly within.
The desk where he had fallen commanded her attention. She moved to it, and lifted the papers he had been writing before his death. Her breath caught as she read. Each line revealed his cold determination to shape all to his will—even their innocent babe. Any trace of regret she might have felt at his passing vanished.
“Good riddance.” She crushed the papers in her fist casting them back on the desk. Turning swiftly, she returned to her own rooms and rang for her maid.
Martha appeared almost at once, as though she had been waiting outside the door. She drew a gown of dark blue, plain and unadorned, from the dressing room. “Will this do until you have some dyed?” Her voice trembled, and Elizabeth could see the genuine sorrow on the girl’s face.
“I shall not dye any gowns,” Elizabeth replied evenly. “And ‘tis only right that I tell you—I intend to hire a new lady’s maid, one whose loyalty is to me alone.”
Martha‘s eyes widened. “Oh, mistress! Have I not been a good maid? I perform my duties well—”
“No, you have not, nor have you been faithful to me. Your grief for my husband reveals where your true allegiance lies. You cannot be trusted.” Elizabeth’s gaze was steely as she confronted the maid, who had reported her every move to her husband. “I am not required to explain myself to you. You shall receive a letter of reference and your wages for the quarter.”
Martha’s imploring look turned mutinous. “You did not deserve him,” she hissed. “He was too good for the likes of you. I could never see what he wanted withyou—short, dark-haired, and unrefined.”
“That will do.” Elizabeth was absolute. “You are excused. Leave your direction with Mrs Heinz, and I shall see your pay and reference delivered there. I want you out of my house before I leave this room.”
Martha gave a look of defiance and flounced away, the dark-blue gown still hanging over the chair. Elizabeth stood motionless for a moment, then drew a slow breath. Another chain had fallen away; another tie to that despicable man was severed.
