An older gentleman of perhaps fifty years entered the room; he was impeccably dressed, wearing a black frock coat, waistcoat, and breeches; he wore a grey wig, freshly powdered.
“Mr. Darcy, I’m not sure we’ve had the pleasure.”
Darcy bowed. “Indeed, sir, we would have met but for a landslip on the Meryton to St. Albans road.”
“Of course, you’re that Mr. Darcy! My apologies, for it has been four years since I heard the name. I wish to thank you for your service to the Bennets. To my shame, before the court case I did not have the courage to tell Mrs. Bennet, my sister by marriage, that the law was against her, that Collins would win the day. I hoped for a miracle, and you, sir, were the angel that delivered it—a meticulously written order from the court. We all thank you for your acumen. Though, I’m sorry to say, the judge forced my dear niece, Elizabeth, to flee.”
“Mr. Phillips, your praise is unwarranted. I only sought justice for all the parties. If it were not for the judge, Lord Finch, the outcome would have benefited all. However, I know of Miss Bennet’s plight, for I met her journeying to New South Wales in ‘09, from where I’ve recently returned.”
“How is she? We’ve not heard from her for many months.”
“When I left the colony, in February, she was exceedingly well.” Darcy blushed. Memories of Elizabeth and himself at Boondi sprang unconsciously to mind. To cover his embarrassment, he coughed and sought his handkerchief.
“Dear me, I’ve forgotten to call for refreshment. Tea, sir? The very best from my brother Gardiner in London.”
“My intent for calling today was to enquire about the Bennets and how they were faring. I promised to do so on Miss Bennet’s behalf, as she was uncertain as to the truth behind the letters she received. Further, I spoke to Mr. Gardiner just yesterday, and he said Mr. Collins has disappeared. At once I was concerned that the Bennets may be imperilled in some way.”
“Not at all, they are well. But the matter of Mr. Collins. I fear he has donea moonlight flit.” Phillips arose and retrieved a journal from the shelf. “You may not know it, but our dear Lizzie wrote the labels—what fine calligraphy!“
Well did Darcy know the hand—seeing her script moistened his eyes. Once again, he made his excuse that dust from the road was affecting him.
“Ah, the details of the year to date.” Mr. Phillips turned the ledger around so that Darcy could view the numbers. He pointed to several columns. “These represent the income that accrues to Mr. Collins and the taxes, which I ensure are paid quarterly. It’s a goodly sum, and any squire would do well on the remainder. But there are many complaints—from the tenants, that repairs are outstanding on their houses and outbuildings; the same for the cottagers, many with leaking rooves; and the vestry also, for Collins hasn’t contributed to the maintenance of the lanes and bridges.”
Darcy examined the numbers in the ledger. “Does he live beyond hisincome, I wonder?”
“You’ve the right of it, Mr. Darcy. When he first arrived, he immediately bought a fine carriage and horses, then a gig, and had the manor house decorated in a most ostentatious, some would say, garish style. We thought he had wealth of his own, but it appears he had none and bought everything on credit. But the estate, being held in trust, cannot be mortgaged or used as security. So the debts he accrued are personal. Mayhap, some of his creditors called in the outstanding loans.”
“Indeed, I believe you’re correct—he absconded to avoid bankruptcy. Not the most upright of clergymen.” Darcy leant back in his chair. “Would you accompany me to the inn? We can take lunch, for I’ve been on the road already three hours this morning and need a substantial repast. With sufficient privacy, we can talk over the issues. There is, I believe, asilver liningfor the Bennets, though many of Mr. Collins’s creditors will be left unsatisfied.”
***
Darcy’s return to Pemberley was uneventful; having arrived late in the evening, he retired directly to his room. The next morning, he met Georgiana in the breakfast-parlour. She, like himself, kept country hours, whereas Lady Matlock and Felicity would not arise until later in the morning. Shortly thereafter, their father joined them. A footman poured coffee and made selections for each of them from the sideboard, knowing their preferences.
“I enjoy breakfast,” said Darcy, “the simplest meal of the day, with the best of company. ‘Tis not always the case when we have guests to dinner.”
“Was life so in the colony? I had supposed that as lieutenant governor, there were many functions that you were obliged to attend.”
“Breakfast was a delight…” Sweet memories misted his eyes. “At table, I had the handsomest of companions…” Darcy paused, for Georgiana was looking at him most curiously.
The moment passed. It’s time, thought George Darcy, that Georgiana be told the truth—that Fitzwilliam is already married. There must be no secrets within family.
Winthrop entered, carrying a thick package just delivered by the post. “’Tis most unusual, sir, that it was already franked but not an express. There is some direction from where it came, difficult to discern, but possibly Point de Galle.”
He handed the package to Darcy, then retired, with the footman leaving alongside. The wrapping was water-stained, but otherwise intact. Impatiently, Darcy broke the outer seal, then the seal of the letter contained inside. Was it truly seven months since he had departed Port Jackson?
Lizzie’s careful, elegant hand, her heart laid bare—tears as theSwiftsurewas lost to sight… sitting alone of an evening, with only Bumper for company… the trip to Parramatta and St. Andrews—impetuous woman, challenging the ruffians on the road… theGrosvenor, her uncle’s cargo assigned to her… Wickham, oh, to fling him into the sea… saying farewell to their friends, a ball on the quarterdeck… passing through the Bass Strait to Cape Leeuwin, arriving at Point de Galle.
Georgiana and their father saw a mix of emotions play across Darcy’s face: heartache, distress, amusement, pride, anger, sadness, anticipation… Unexpectedly, he tipped his head back, his eyes closing. A growing smile spread across his countenance, and tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes.
“William,” cried Georgiana, “whatever is it? What is the matter?”
Darcy’s eyes snapped open; he looked at his father. “You can guess, I think. How say you, sir, to being a grandfather?”
The two men clasped each other, each slapping theother’s back. “’Tis true, Fitzwilliam? When is the babe due?”
“It quickened on the 17th of June… the birth, perhaps, at the end of October. It will be a close run thing—the vessel, theGrosvenor, must make England by then. First to Bombay, and then the Cape.” Darcy rang the bell. “Winthrop, the very best Sillery and Ay champagne from the cellar!”
“What babe? I don’t understand you and Father. What are you about?” Georgiana stared at them in confusion.
