Page 43 of Master of Netherfield
“My boy will not be...” Mrs Murray insisted in a stern whisper as Mrs Reynolds took the woman’s arm and urged her to follow Master William’s directions.
“Forgive the unpleasant scene,” William said to the physician who simply shook his head.
“Illness in families creates problems, Master William. I am certain the lady is distressed–she stands to lose everything with the passing of your father.”
“I understand sir. My father will make some settlement for her in his will and as I told her, I shall see my father’s wishes fulfilled.”
In the green room, George Darcy was asleep when William entered but the movements in the room by the physician and Mr Darcy’s valet were enough to rouse the master. He looked about and blinked, finding his son.
“William! Is it Monday already?”
“No Father, I have arrived on Saturday!”
“That must be a good stable you keep in Hertfordshire,” the man replied. “I am pleased to find you here.”
“Mrs Reynolds sent word that you required my presence, Father. I came with all speed.”
“And your sister? When does she arrive?”
“She comes in the company of trusted friends and will be here Monday if they travel tomorrow.”
“Travelling on Sunday? Lady Catherine will have strong objections when she hears such news. Perhaps she will die with apoplexy?” the bed-ridden man sighed.
“It doesn’t signify; I shall be gone before that glorious day,” George Darcy said plainly.
He closed his eyes for a moment but then rallied and asked his valet, “Have the solicitors come?”
“They wait in the library, sir.”
“Bring them then; Fitzwilliam is here, and we can be done with these matters before sunset.”
“Mr Darcy, I would not have you strain yourself,” the physician said.
But his patient snorted and replied, “I have only a few hours left. What difference does some effort now make?”
He looked up hopefully, “Might I have a thimble of brandy?’
The physician nodded. “Perhaps even two thimbles, but only if you agree to try some broth as well.”
“Only chicken broth,” George Darcy commanded. “Never could stand the taste of beef broth when I was a child.”
“I spoke to Mrs Reynolds earlier,” the physician assured his patient. “She sent a man to the poultry house with a hatchet before I could complete the request. I heard her tell the man to bring the cook the fattest hen.”
William smiled imagining the scene in the kitchens while the physician poured a thimble of brandy and handed it to Mr Darcy with the instruction, “Slowly sir! I insist you sip it!”
“Very well,” agreed George Darcy as the door opened and his valet escorted the two attorneys, Mr Campbell and Mr Tolliver, into the room.
“And who do we have as witnesses?” Mr Campbell asked.
“My valet and physician,” Mr Darcy answered from his bed. “My son shall know all my wishes, but he will not sign the will.”
“Master William,” Mr Campbell nodded his head in acknowledgement of the young man.
“We have prepared the new will to your specifications, Mr Darcy,” the second solicitor said as he offered the document to the man and a copy to his son to read.
George waved the document away. “My heir will review the documents and approve them.”
William and the two solicitors stepped to a table near a window with several candles adding to the natural light. Following the statements of identification at the beginning of the document, William found the primary settlements.
