“Bennet was a fine man, though his brief time here was, alas, marked by sorrow. Yes, I had the privilege of knowing Reverend Bennet. An intelligent, somewhat reserved gentleman.”
“You knew him personally?” Fitzwilliam asked.
“Oh, yes,” the vicar said with a nod. “I was his curate. He and his wife often invited me to dine with them. She was a lovely woman, very kind. He was awarded the living here and had only just made a start of it. Quite a studious, thoughtful man.”
Darcy inclined his head. “It must have been a fine opportunity for you, working alongside him.”
“It would have been,” the vicar agreed, a note of regret in his voice. “But it was not to be. His wife, poor lady, was lost in childbirth not six months after they arrived. Tragic business.”
Fitzwilliam was all sympathy. “That must have been a dreadful loss.”
“Indeed, it was,” the vicar said gravely. “And not a fortnight after, he had word from the south that his brother had died as well, and that he was now the master of their family estate.”
“Was he pleased to return home?”
Reverend Compton’s cool blue eyes assessed Fitzwilliam. “He was in mourning for his wife and brother. He also had to confront the prospect of living a very different life than the one he had planned. He was devastated, Colonel. Spent a great deal of time in prayer.”
Darcy took a deep breath. This was the question he had travelled all this way to ask. “Was the child lost as well?”
The question hung in the air for only a moment before the parson replied, though it felt an eternity to Darcy.
“No,” the vicar said, shaking his head. “He was spared that, at least. Mr. Bennet’s man hired a nursemaid to care for thebabe’s needs, and once his son was churched, they all proceeded south.”
No.
The child had not died.
It was the most important “no” of Darcy’s life.
“May we see the register?” Fitzwilliam asked, breaking through the buzzing in Darcy’s ears.
“I suppose,” Reverend Compton replied mildly. “But it was long ago. I shall have to locate it. If you would wait here, I shall retrieve it from my office.” He smiled. “We keep all the old registers locked up there to prevent them from being misplaced.” He walked around the back of the pulpit, unlocking a small wooden door and stepping through.
“It would prove nothing,” Darcy said quietly to his cousin.
“Perhaps. But we have come this far. We ought to be thorough.”
Darcy nodded once.
The reverend bustled back into the nave, holding an aged register. “Here it is,” he said, setting the book on the pulpit and opening it to a page he had marked.
There it was. Thomas Christopher Bennet had been churched in January of 1758. Too early. His own father had not been churched until the third week in February.
“Did you know that before he journeyed back south, Mr. Bennet formally relinquished the living and vigorously promoted my own candidacy? I shall be forever grateful to him, for I was then only twenty-five, and a living is given for life. He might have kept the position and the income for himself and visited but once a year. But that was not the sort of man he was.”
“It was very generous of him,” Darcy remarked carefully.
“Exceedingly so,” the vicar said with a nod. “When I thanked him, he simply said it would be wrong to keep the living when he would not be performing the duties. Few would show suchintegrity under similar circumstances, but then, he was a man of great character.”
Darcy leaned forward, his gaze steady. “You said Mr. Bennet departed with his child and a nursemaid. Do you recall any further details about them?”
Reverend Compton tapped a finger thoughtfully against his lips. “Let me see. The nursemaid was a local woman, Mrs. Albright, I believe. She was a fine choice, dependable and experienced. She travelled south with them, though I could not say what became of her after that. And he had a manservant and the man’s son, though their names I do not recall.”
Darcy exchanged a glance with Fitzwilliam, whose expression was inscrutable.
“Thank you,” Darcy said, and stood. “You have been very helpful.”
Reverend Compton smiled warmly. “It is my pleasure, Mr. Darcy. May I ask whether you know Mr. Bennet?”
