Page 28 of The Scarred Duchess
“She did,” he admitted, feeling wary.
“Where is your daughters’ governess? Where are their masters? Drawing and music instructors?”
“I left that to Franny. Is it not a mother’s duty?”
Mrs Gardiner’s face turned grim. He did not understand how far off the mark was his answer until anger bloomed across her face by way of a flush. “You absolve yourself of your daughters’ education? Does a father not have an obligation to care?”
“I did not?—”
“The lower servants undermine your wife. The principal matron of the neighbourhood defends her to her peers.” She did not wait for his reply. “Why have you not spoken to their husbands?”
Bennet opened his mouth, but no words came forth.
“The predominant male figure in their lives is Sergeant Reeves. You have left innocent girls to the responsibility of a ruffian-turned-killer!” Mrs Gardiner brushed out her dress skirt again. In a quieter voice, she continued. “A loving wife knows everything about her husband. Everything. As I do of mine. We have no secrets between us.”
From this Bennet surmised that Gardiner had confided in his wife of his business and association with Roark. “I see I have been remiss.”
“Yes, you have. But they are yet young and it is not too late for you to support and guide your daughters and your wife.”
Bennet nodded and joined her at his desk as they wrote letters to connexions that would help resolve his oversights. That evening, he spoke from his heart when he apologised to Franny. He confessed his shortcomings and begged her to accept his flaws. He vowed to do better by her. By their children.
And I shall start immediately.
Agavel banged upon the head table initiating the proceedings of an estate owners’ assembly. “Let us begin, gentlemen,” called out Lord Haversham.
The twenty-four estate owners of Meryton and the county took their seats.
“We are here to select the next magistrate. This evening’s result will be for a six-year term. First to speak, Mr Harrington.”
Mr Harrington used his five minutes to share his knowledge of town’s newest laws and court decisions. He summarised the few weeks he observed runners from Bow Street. Mr Long presented his local connexions throughout the gentry, vicarages, and larger tenant farms. He enumerated his relations all about the county and dwelt upon the good names his extensive familial relations boasted. Mr Lucas spoke of his business, his familiarity with the Meryton citizenry, and displayed the depth of his geographical knowledge of the shire as it related to conducting commerce.
The three candidates sat in chairs next to the head table. Haversham called for a vote. Each estate owner stood and called out the name of their chosen candidate.
The tally reached an equal six votes for each candidate. Everyone then looked to Bennet, who stood. “As neither of the first two men can manage their household, it is folly to consider them for a position that requires strength of character. I cast my vote for Mr Lucas.”
Bennet turned and left. As he did, he overheard Lambrook, known to the neighbourhood as Smyth, say, “I also cast my vote for Mr Lucas. I should expectneither Mr Harrington or Mr Long look to Longbourn, nor Netherfield Park, for any advantages in the future.”
Franny sorted through the post—two letters from her school chums written in a decidedly feminine scroll. A third message written in a male script caught her attention. She had never received a letter from a man other than her husband. Propriety required her to hand it to him, but curiosity called her to read the contents and discern the writer.
The light had grown dim on the cloudy day so she rose from the sofa and went to stand by the window that she might better see the words on the page. It proved a mistake; she felt as if she might swoon as she read the venomous, poisonous, and foul language directed at her husband.
“…illegitimate assumption of my inheritance…ancestral evil doings towards a legally-wedded couple…fraudulently denying the rightful heir his due…call on the Almighty to right an overt wrong…pray to bring hellfire and brimstone upon you and yours…”
She gasped and fought to regain her breath. The enormity of the accusations the writer made, detailing her husband’s dishonourable actions. The letter was unsigned but the writer knew his target.
She dropped it, covered her eyes with both hands and wept. The curses and the appeals to the Almighty to strike down her beloved, herself, and those in her family wereheinous. She attempted to regain her self-control but fell again into uncontrolled sobbing.
She was suddenly enfolded from behind in a tender embrace. “What is it?” Bennet asked gently.
Franny turned within his arms. “Who, Thomas? Who?” she cried.
He picked up the letter, skimmed it, and dropped it into the fire. “I know not why, my dear. It is my distant cousin—he is a difficult man, a hard man. He is not a good man.”
“This malice is unfathomable. I cannot believe any of it. How long has this been so? What can we do?”
“Josiah Collins has had the same foul slander written by a clerk and sent to me regularly, as he is incapable of doing so. It costs him much, as he cannot read or write. I feed each of his messages into the fire unread.” Bennet pursed his lips. “Now that he has harassed you, I must act. I cannot leave this unchallenged.”
“Please do not subject yourself to danger,” begged Franny.
