“Is something amiss, my dear?” His voice already bore the note of concern.
“No, Papa, it concerns neither our family nor me, but we need counsel.”
“We—?”
“Yes. Mary and I. We are troubled by a matter…of conscience.”
That was all Mr Bennet could draw from her at present. Though curious rather than alarmed, he knew his daughter too well to treat the subject lightly. Lizzy understood the weight of words, and to speak of conscience was no trifling matter. That Mary should be involved rendered the affair all the more unusual.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth found herself a little daunted by the presence of the three gentlemen. She imagined that Mary, in her turn, must be quite overcome. She therefore resolved to present the matterherself and allow them to decide whether they required further particulars, which Mary could supply.
“I shall be brief, for I know Uncle Phillips must return to his office.”
“Do not concern yourself, my dear,” her uncle said with an obliging smile. “It is always a pleasure to spend time with my brothers and to be of service to my nieces. The office shall survive a day without me.”
He was plainly delighted to be consulted, and his gaze lingered on the two young ladies with affectionate amusement.
“It is a matter concerning Colonel Fitzwilliam, the second son of Lord Matlock, a gentleman for whom I have a sincere esteem. Uncle Gardiner can confirm that Lady Matlock, whom we had the honour of meeting at Pemberley, spoke to us of the colonel’s approaching marriage with a certain Miss Henry.”
Mr Gardiner nodded in quiet assent.
“My wife and Lizzy possess far better memories than I,” said Mr Gardiner with a smile. “I could not recall the name.”
“It was easily remembered, for it was not the first time I had heard it. Last autumn, this young lady was Mr Bingley’s guest at Netherfield for several days, though she departed before the ball. And now begins the strangest part of the tale. While she was still in the neighbourhood, Aunt Phillips and Mama were struck by her appearance and fancied they recognised her. Of course, it was nothing but a trick of time and resemblance. They believed her to be Miss Sophia Barrington—”
“The daughter of Mr and Mrs Barrington, who once resided in Meryton,” Mr Phillips said, now evidently intrigued.
“Indeed. It could not be Sophia herself, but the resemblance was so marked, chiefly in the colour of the hair, that the mistake was, I think, understandable.”
“They took the daughter for the mother,” observed Mr Bennet.
“Yes. Yet they could not affirm that Miss Henry was Sophia’s child. It remained no more than a conjecture, based on a rather uncommon trait. Lady Matlock informed us that Miss Henry’s father died many years ago and that she now resides in the North with her mother. Uncle Phillips, I believe, knows more of the Barrington family than any of us.”
“I do. I managed the sale of their house in Meryton. The documents I received stated he was Sophia’s husband, perfectly entitled by his father-in-law to sign in his name. If he is indeed the young lady’s father, then the first falsehood in her account is already plain, and the matter is both complicated and most disagreeable for your friend, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“So he was…Mr Henry,” Elizabeth hesitated as if she still wanted everything to be nothing but a bad dream.
“I confess I do not remember the name, I will search for it in my documents,” Mr Phillips replied with his well-known love for correctitude.
“Then let us be fair for now and say we do not have enough facts to draw a truthful conclusion,” Mr Bennet decided for them all. “What proof have we that Miss Henry is truly Sophia’s child?”
“Mary may answer that,” Elizabeth replied. All eyes turned to her sister, who, abashed, silently entreated Elizabeth to continue.
“Mary borrowed some books from the library at Netherfield, and some weeks passed, she found within one of them a letter written by Miss Emmeline’s mother.”
Mary, with evident hesitation and frequent blushes, read the letter aloud, as she had done the day before.
“Her mother knows our wives!” Mr Bennet spoke gravely. “And she is familiar with Meryton. That is suddenly too great a coincidence to be ignored.”
“Undoubtedly,” the other gentlemen echoed.
“Due to her fears regarding Mrs Bennet and Mrs Phillips, Sophia isalmostsure Miss Emmeline’s mother, but she iscertainlymarried to a Frenchman, who signed the documents in London,” said Mr Gardiner.
“While the colonel is employed at the War Office, and our country is at war with France,” Mr Phillips added. “The matter grows more and more peculiar.”
“The young lady was pushed to marry an officer,” Elizabeth continued simply.
