“Do you have a guess as to what took my husband as he was not yet fifty?” Martha asked in as steady a voice as she could manage.
“Based on what I saw, and the fact that his hand was clutching his chest as he passed, I believe that Mr Bingley suffered a heart attack,” the doctor surmised.“As it is cold, I had the servants carry the body to lie in the sickroom near the study. What are your plans for burial?” he asked.
“We have not yet made any plans,” Charles spoke up, straightening his spine as he met the eyes of the doctor.“We live in Hertfordshire; we will take my father home on the morrow or the next day, and he will be laid to rest in Meryton.”
“I am sorry that there was not more I could do. I left the certificate of death on the desk, after the body was removed from the study,” Mr Morrison informed them.
After he repeated his condolences to the widow and her son, Charles walked the doctor to the front door. When he returned, his mother stood.“I am going to sit with my husband.” She stated, and with that, she took determined steps toward the sickroom where his body lay.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
After a scant few hours, Charles woke from a fitful sleep. He hurried his man through his morning ablutions and went to the sick-room without stopping for his morning cup of coffee. There he found his mother sitting in the cold room holding her husband’s cold hand.“Mother, you will not be able to help anyone if you make yourself sick from lack of rest,” Charles was gentle as he helped his mother to rise, requesting a footman summon his mother’s lady’s maid. When she arrived and curtsied to the new master and her mistress, Charles asked her to assist his mother upstairs to wash and rest. He was firm that she needed to rest for at least four hours and that she would have something to eat when she woke.
Charles Bingley had just truly assumed his role as head of the Bingley Family. There was a hole in his heart that his father had filled, but his mother’s words had guided him as now was truly not the time to indulge his sorrow. There was much to do.“I will miss you every day, Papa,” he told his father’s body as he sat with it for a minute.“And as much as I want to stay here with you, there is much I need to achieve this morning.” He stood, leaned over, and kissed his father’s cold forehead, then instructed the footman to stand watch at the door.
He went to the study and started to write a note to Louisa, then stopped himself and tore it up. He could not deliver this devastating news by missive. After he took care of the missives he did need to write for both business and extended family, he would ride to their house on Grover Street to see Louisa and Harold.
He knew that these notes had to be legible and without blots. Truth was, when he desired, he could write as clearly as the next man, but he normally rushed and let his thoughts fly hither and yon, producing the ever-famous messes that were nigh on unreadable. His first note was an express to the Nichols to open Netherfield and place the signs of mourning. The next was to Mr Pierce, who in addition to the Longbourn living held the one at the church in Meryton so that he was aware that his services would be needed for the funeral service and interment.
Charles had considered taking his father back to Scarborough to rest with his family there but quickly rejected that in favour of Meryton. He knew how proud and happy his father had been at finally becoming a landed gentleman; the friends they had made were now closer to them than most family, so Charles determined that Oscar Bingley would arrive at the estate that he now owned, before being laid to rest for his eternal slumber.
Next, he wrote to Uncle Paul and the family in Yorkshire, also to be sent by express. He told his uncle that the funeral would be in ten days so that they would have time to make the journey to pay their last respects to the oldest Bingley. Last, he sent black-edged notes to the Darcys, Bennets, Gardiners, Phillips, and Fitzwilliams. Once he was finished, he knew that he could no longer defer the inevitable, breaking the news to his older sister…as the sun now told him it was morning.
When he was shown into the breakfast parlour, Louisa was happy to see him until she noticed the black armband.“Charles, who?” she asked as her husband stood to support his wife.
“Papa,” Charles replied simply.
“When?” Louisa asked, as she sunk into her chair, tears flowing down her face in the initial stages of shock.
“Last night. Mama did not know why he had not come to bed, so she sent his man to the study to check on him and he found our father,” Charles shared sadly.
“Why am I only being told now?” Louisa asked angrily.
“Mother said, and I agreed with her, that there was no reason to wake you and disturb your rest,” Charles explained to placate his sister.
“I think that was a wise decision, Lulu,” Hurst opined as he hugged his wife to himself.
“Come, Harold, let us get ready to go to Gracechurch street. I want to see my Papa,” Louisa was determined.
“I rode here on my horse, so I will see you back at the house. Father will be moved to Netherfield tomorrow; and I have already sent out the notices. If you feel that Harold’s parents should be notified, I will leave that to you as I did not send them a notification,” Charles informed his sister, then took his leave for the solitary ride back to the house in which he would never hear his father’s voice again.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Andrew had just approved Ian Ashby’s application to court his sister Anne de Bourgh. Ashby had a small estate, Sherwood Park, not far from Rosings over the Kent-Surrey border. He also had a healthy legacy that was bequeathed to him by his maternal grandmother along with the estate. Andrew had no concerns that his friend was a fortune hunter. He had just summoned Anne to congratulate her when the butler offered the salver to master. Andrew paused; his stomach sank as soon as he saw the black edging.
“If they do not already know, I give you leave to inform mother, Marie, and Lizzy. I see I have some business I cannot delay, but I will join you soon,” he said to Anne as he stood and gave her a hug.“Always treat my sister like the beloved gift that she is, Ashby,” Andrew warned.
“If Anne agrees to marry me in the future, you have my solemn oath that she will never be treated as anything less than she deserves to be,” Ashby intoned seriously as he followed Anne out of the study.
Andrew lifted the missive and held it carefully, as if he thought it would bite him. He did not recognise the script, so he breathed a breath of relief. He was relatively sure that it was not a family member, but then he realised that he was not familiar with any of his new family’s handwriting. He finally opened it, as all of the guessing in the world would not reveal the contents to him.
He read in surprise that Mr Oscar Bingley had passed away the night before and would be buried in Meryton, Hertfordshire at the Church of St Alfred on Thursday, the first day in December. His sympathies went out to the Bingleys, but at the same time he felt relief it was not a member of his extended family. Now intimately familiar with the after-effects of losing a father, he dashed of a note to Bingley telling him to call upon him for any reason and went to tell his family. When Andrew entered the family sitting room, Marie saw the black edged missive in his hand.“Who?” she simply asked.
“Mr Bingley passed away last night,” he announced,“he will be laid to rest in ten days at his home.”
“The Bingleys are neighbours to my birth family, are they not?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, Sprite, you are correct. In fact, until a few days ago Uncle Thomas was his landlord. Mr Bingley just purchased the estate,” Andrew replied. Without saying it, they all knew that Lizzy would be returning to the area from where she was kidnapped earlier than any of them had expected, but she would not be alone. All of her family would be there with her.
