She chose a different gown with buttons down the front.Her hands trembled slightly, but not from weakness. It was as though the act of dressing herself—choosing for herself—restored a tiny fragment of the person she once was. Each button fastened seemed a small victory claimed back fromhim.
She pinned her hair into a low chignon and then went in search of Suzanne.
Chapter Fourteen
March 1807
London
Elizabeth
JaneandMrBennetarrived before noon on the following day. Many tears were shed and there were endless reassurances that she was well. After but a moment of awkwardness, Elizabeth threw herself into her father’s arms, savouring the security of his embrace. Suzanne remained above stairs with Arthur, granting the family the privacy they required.
When her relations had refreshed themselves, they joined her for tea. Jane’s gaze wandered about the parlour, her usually serene countenance marked by confusion and unease. “This is a pleasant room,” she observed at length, before taking a delicate sip of tea. “The creams and blues are soothing.”
Elizabeth gave her a slight smile. “I confess I had little to do with the decor. The house, I am told, was refurbished less than five years past—it has an understated elegance, and as you said, the colours are soothing.” She reached for a biscuit, broke it absently, and let the crumbs fall untouched to her plate.
“I find myself unequal to the task of trifling conversation. Let us speak candidly. My husband is gone, and from what I am told, he has manybusiness affairs requiring settlement before I can determine my future. It will be several months before my child arrives, and I would have everything in order before that time.”
“Though I know something of your situation, your indifference seems strange,” Jane murmured. “I know I promised never to doubt your words, yet—did you feel nothing for him?”
“I felt more than you know, Jane. I am not ready to recount the last months of my life—I wish instead to relish my freedom.” Her chin lifted, and the poise she had cultivated these past months returned. She took a fortifying sip of her tea. “Papa told you how the marriage came about, and my letters have supplied what further detail was necessary. That must suffice until I am prepared to share more. Lady Westland has been of great assistance.”
“Indeed, she has, and I am grateful. Where is the lady?” Mr Bennet enquired. “I wish to offer my thanks in person.”
“She will join us at dinner. Lady Westland is presently above stairs with her son. Lord Westland is a charming lad of eight years—I shall ask Suzanne whether you might meet him this evening.”
After their restorative tea, Elizabeth accompanied her father to meet with Wilkens. The solicitor’s desk displayed bundles of papers and ledgers, each precisely arranged, a reflection of his orderly habits. He explained that settling Mr Fiennes’s estate would take time, for there were many holdings; fortunately, his records were exact. As they examined the books, Elizabeth began to comprehend the true extent of her husband’s fortune. He owned several buildings and townhouses in London beyond the one she now occupied—all leased to merchants or families. Netherfield Park was amongst his acquisitions, together with a textile manufactory, an import and export concern, and several mills in the north.
“How could he possibly manage all this?” She was unable to hide her astonishment.
Wilkens adjusted his spectacles. “Mr Fiennes employed stewards and managers for each enterprise. They met with him quarterly here in town to give account. During the summer, he travelled to the more distant sites—the mills in Yorkshire amongst them. He is—was—a most attentive man of business, meticulous to a fault.”
“’Tis a pity his diligence in commerce did not extend to my daughter.”
Elizabeth heard the bitterness edged in Mr Bennet’s tone. “How did he come by all of this?” she asked Wilkens.
The solicitor hesitated. “He was a moneylender, ma’am—a usurer, if you will. Most of these properties came into his possession when debtors could not meet their obligations.”
Elizabeth glanced at her father. “Netherfield Park. Morgan Fields did not sell the estate, did he?”
“No.” Wilkens shook his head.
Mr Bennet’s hands tightened on the arm of his chair. “And how much of an accomplice are you, sir? I failed Elizabeth once—I shall not do so again.”
“Peace, Mr Bennet.” Lady Westland entered the room, her chin lifted, looking every inch the countess she was. “I have interrogated Mr Wilkens at length. He is not a threat.” The pale blue silk of her gown shimmered in the light as she approached the desk. The diamonds she wore caught the sun and scattered rainbows across the room.
“You are not what I expected,” she continued, allowing her gaze to travel over him. “I anticipated a foolish-looking man, not one of intelligence. No matter—some of the shrewdest minds I know have been deceived by those less clever than Mr Fiennes.”
Mr. Bennet’s brows lifted, his irony gentle. “I thank you for your commendation. I can see why Elizabeth likes you.”
“I shall take that as the compliment that I am certain it was meant to be,” she parried. “As it happens, I have already questioned Mr Wilkens’s loyalty.” Suzanne outlined that conversation, watching Mr. Bennet relax. “The gentleman affirms that he now acts with your daughter’s best interests at heart.” She cast a measured glance of warning towards Wilkens before gesturing to the ledgers spread before them.
It was agreed that Wilkens would catalogue every business holding and record the income from each. All funds in banks, stocks, and the four per cents would likewise be listed, and arrangements made for Elizabeth to have access. On the birth of her child, half the assets would be placed in trust for her issue until such time as the heir attained one-and-twenty or married.
Suzanne and her son returned home the following morning, promising to call again soon. A notice of her husband’s death appeared in the papers, and Elizabeth acquired one ready-made black gown to wear should she have callers.
For the next fortnight, she endured endless visits—each acquaintance eager to speak of her husband’s supposed virtues and offer their condolences on his passing. At length, the calls ceased, and she and her family drew a collective breath of relief.
