Page 54 of Ashes and Understanding
There is something strange to all of this. I have not yet received a response from your father with regards to my last letter suggesting that the fire was set deliberately by France. I normally do not involve myself with such affairs of state and politics, but there is now too much at stake for me stand idly by.
Please make inquiries—discreet ones. I have made the same request of your father, and I plan to send for a Bow Street Runner to begin investigations here.
Darcy leaned back in his chair, pressing his fingertips together. Three letters, three directions. He only hoped that something would break before another attempt was made on the Gardiners—or on Benjamin.
Or Elizabeth.
He would not allow that.
Elizabeth was quite disappointed to have been called back to Longbourn with Jane, but her father’s unusual severity did not leave room for question or debate. Watching Netherfield Park fade from view, Elizabeth privately admitted that she would miss the enigma of Darcy most of all.
Poor Jane had been forced to endure an extremely painful carriage ride over the three miles of poorly paved road, her ankle jostling at every rut and ditch in spite of the large quantities of pillows, cushions, and blankets being used to stabilize the limb.
Upon arriving at Longbourn, Jane was carried upstairs to her room by Mr. Hill, where she gratefully accepted a cup of laudanum-laced tea. She was soon fast asleep, leaving Elizabeth free to seek out Benjamin, whom she had not seen in several days.
The young lad grinned and reached for her when she stepped into the nursery. Mrs. Gardiner and Mrs. Bennet both agreed that he was now about six months of age, and Elizabeth did not think she had ever seen such a handsome child. His light blue eyes and dark hair …gave him a striking appearance, and though his cheeks were still a touch too thin, he had begun to fill out from regular feedings and proper care. He babbled when he saw her, pudgy arms flapping with delight, and Elizabeth felt some of the heaviness in her heart ease.
Cradling him close, she sat by the nursery window and let him tug at the ribbon of her sleeve while she hummed a nonsense tune. Her time in the nursery flew by, offering her solace and consolation from the disturbing recent events. She took her lunch and dinner on trays, and soon it was time to retire for the night.
“Good night, beautiful boy,” she whispered as she kissed a sleeping Benjamin on the head.
As she left the nursery, Elizabeth could scarcely hold back her tears.Please, Lord, keep him safe. Keep all of us safe.
∞∞∞
The following morning, Elizabeth descended to the breakfast room feeling weary in both body and spirit. She had slept poorly; every creak and groan of the house woke her with a racing heart, terrified that Smithson had broken in to take Benjamin.
She entered the breakfast room to find everyone else already at the table, even Mr. Bennet, who was perusing the morning post.
“Good morning,” she said, fetching a plate of eggs and ham from the sideboard.
The ladies in the room responded to her greeting with their own, but Mr. Bennet did not reply. He was staring blankly down at one of the letters, the black edging around the parchment unmistakable in its meaning.
Elizabeth’s stomach turned. “Papa? Who?” She gestured towards the missive, unable to put her thoughts into words.
He looked up at her with a grim expression. “My cousin, Mr. Collins, is dead.”
“The heir?” gasped Jane.
He nodded. “Apparently, he was in London when the fire struck. Had just completed his studies and was preparing to take orders. They say he fled in the wrong direction—toward the blaze rather than away from it. He died from smoke inhalation.”
Jane’s hand fluttered to her chest. “How dreadful.”
“They were only able to identify him from the initials on his pocket watch,” Mr. Bennet continued. “His schoolmates recognized a sketch in the newspaper and confirmed it. The solicitor was listed as an emergency contact, and he managed to trace us here thanks to Mr. Collins’s… frequent boasting about inheriting Longbourn.”
“Oh, thank the Lord!” Everyone turned to stare at Mrs. Bennet, whose hands were raised above her head as if in praise. “We are saved!”
But Mrs. Bennet was already rushing forward, her face lit with sudden joy. “If Mr. Collins is dead, then the entail—why, Jane could be the heir! Or even Lydia! Oh, what fortune!”
“We know nothing of the sort,” Mr. Bennet said firmly. “The solicitor made it very clear that they would not be handling the matter. The entail must be consulted— Phillips’ predecessor drew it up. I will go into Meryton to speak with him.”
“And I shall come with you!” Mrs. Bennet declared. “I must tell my sister immediately. This is news worth sharing!”
Mr. Bennet sighed. “Yes, I thought as much.”
At the prospect of a trip into town, Kitty and Lydia perked up at once.
“Oh, Papa, please let us come!” Lydia pleaded. “There are soldiers in Meryton, and it is ever so dull here!”
