Page 43 of Pemberley's Imposter
Mr Knightley removed the top sheet to reveal the will underneath.
7thAugust 1815
Office copy of the will of ys.dFitzwilliam Thorne Alexander Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.
I will that all my just debts & funeral expenses shall be paid and discharged by the executors out of my personal estate, half of Pemberley in Derbyshire and related estates by the time of my death.
Unto Elizabeth, my beloved wife, for & during the term of her natural life, I will half the income of the entire profit and the right to live out her days at Pemberley, be mistress of the house, and occupy the current master/mistress suite of rooms.
Said personal estate, after satisfaction of funeral expenses and settlement of outstanding debts, a thousand-pound legacy to my housekeeper, Mrs Reynolds, a thousand-pound legacy for my steward, Ian MacGregor, and one hundred pounds for all other servants, the legacy therein is left solely to the heirs of my flesh; Elysande Bennet Darcy and any other offspring the union with my wife, Elizabeth Vivienne Darcy, should produce.
Clause: Should there be no heirs and Elizabeth’s demise precede me, I give & devise the same to George Darcy of Somersby, my third cousin.
Executors: Mr Charles Bingley and Reverend Henry Tilney.
Mr Knightley removed the second sheet as Elizabeth leant back in her chair. Under the 16 pages of his will, with everythinghe owned listed, lay a sealed letter in Mr Darcy’s immaculate handwriting.Elizabeth Darcywas all that the folded sheet revealed of its content.
“I shall leave you to read your letter in peace, Mrs Darcy. I shall be in my room until I am summoned, should you have any remaining legal questions after you have read the letter.”
“Thank you, Mr Knightley.”
The attorney bowed and left the study.
Elizabeth regarded the letter suspiciously. The deed lay beside it, mocking Elizabeth for her uncharitable thoughts. She hid it in the top drawer, took the letter, and walked to the mistress’s chamber. Perched on the window seat, she tore off the seal and read. A coward, she was not.
Dearest Elizabeth,
I have wronged you beyond redemption, which is why I shall not excuse my behaviour nor beg you to forgive the unforgivable.
What I have done is to provide you with a roof over your head and sufficient means to support yourself.
I shall only add that I am an imbecile who is too inclined to trust those who do not deserve my loyalty. I once informed you that my good opinion once lost was lost forever. What I should have said was that once my good opinion is given, it is never lost.
My father loved Wickham (I refuse to use the title of Mr because he is no gentleman) more than his own son. On that subject, Wickham told you nothing but the truth. I remained the respectful, devoted, but overlooked son. My father taught me estate business but did not enjoy my company. I was dour, staid, and shy. He was my father; I owed him my love and respect. Whether he deserved it is an entirely different matter.
I only mention this fact to make you understand why I believed the depraved colonel. We grew up together, more like brothers than cousins. He was my staunchest protector against my father, and later, Wickham. On occasions when Wickham framed me for something he had done, Richard took the blame upon himself. He proved invaluable when we rescued Georgiana from Wickham’s clutches. Wickham never mentioned Georgiana’s indiscretion to anyone, which was to Richard’s credit alone. I do not know what he said or did, but Wickham’s lips were sealed.
I have never had any reason to doubt my cousin in the one-and-thirty years I have lived, but it has come to my attention that I should have formed suspicions at an earlier date.
Richard unravelled when I confronted him at Matlock. After his web of lies had been revealed, he launched at me in a moment of lunacy that has not yet culminated. He admitted during one of his ravings that he had been the instigator of my involuntary sojourn beneath the floorboards at Eton. I wish I had known or even suspected him of any dishonest behaviour at the time. Matters could have been resolved differently had I possessed a more discerning mind.
The colonel has been committed to St Mary of Bethlem Hospital, St George’s Fields, by a field doctor in the army. He will never be released, but my uncle has secured him decent accommodations. He will be cared for and treated at the asylum.
God bless you,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
Elizabeth stared unseeingly out over the garden; her vision was blurred and her mind reeled. She no longer doubted thatbeneath Mr Darcy’s austere exterior lay the man she had once chosen to marry.
There were no winners in this disaster. The colonel would never inherit Pemberley, even if Georgiana should produce his heir, which was doubtful. She had admitted to Jane that her courses had come on the day of their disappearance. There was a slight possibility she could still be increasing, but it would be months before that could be established with any certainty.
Elizabeth’s heart bled for Georgiana. So young and inexperienced, with a husband committed to the lunatic asylum, her reputation in ruins no matter the outcome.
Her own life had reverted to a contented existence, but happiness had been within her grasp, only to be ripped from her hands by a madman. It was not fair—not to herself, not to Georgiana, and not to Mr Darcy.
A disturbing thought appeared unbidden in her mind. Whom would she have believed had it been Jane in Mr Darcy’s arms instead of Caroline Elliot née Bingley. She had no doubt that she would have trusted Jane, or even Charlotte for that matter. Only, Charlotte had acted slyly to secure Mr Collins… Elizabeth did not begrudge her the clergyman, but Mr Darcy would have been another matter, simply because she loved him. Yet, she did not know him well. Their courtship had been fraught with misunderstandings, their engagement period had not afforded them much privacy with her mother hauling them about the neighbourhood, and their marriage had lasted less than two months before they were ripped apart. She did not know much about his childhood, friends, family, and education, nor any of the significant events that had formed his character. He had held himself under good regulation—guarding his authentic self.
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