“Yes, it seems your grandmother—on your father’s side—had a brief friendship with Miss McLean before her death. The details are not necessarily clarified, but we do have a record of Miss McLean living in Derbyshire some twenty years ago.” He cleared his throat. “It’s a rather convoluted connection, but Miss McLean named you in her will as a beneficiary, as you are your grandmother’s closest living descendant.”
I straightened, crossing my arms. “And what, exactly, am I inheriting?”
He rifled through a few papers on his desk before pulling out a document. “Primarily some personal effects, a modest property near Edinburgh, and a few heirlooms. It’s not of any significant monetary value, but the will was quite specific in naming you as the recipient.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Why me?”
Arthurson coughed. “It seems your grandmother left quite an impression on Miss McLean in her later years. She had no close family left, and as a mark of her esteem for your grandmother, she chose to pass on what remained of her estate to you.”
So, I was being handed down a collection of ancient relics from some woman I’d never met, purely because she once liked my grandmother. Wonderful.
“And the heirlooms?” I asked, wondering if this was going to involve some ancient piece of furniture or worse—a collection of cats.
“Yes, there’s one in particular mentioned in the will,” Arthurson said, pulling out another document. “A brooch. According to the inventory list, it’s a white rose brooch—a piece of jewelry Miss McLean treasured and kept from her family’s history. There’s some... sentimental value attached to it, I believe.”
A brooch. Just what every gentleman longs to acquire. I could almost hear Caroline Bingley’s shriek of delight at the thought of a new bauble to pin to her gown.
But there was something odd in the way Arthurson said it.Sentimental value.A brooch hardly seemed the sort of thing a solicitor would put much weight behind, unless...
“You seem hesitant,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “Is there something else I should know?”
He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze for a moment before answering. “Well, there are some... unusual stories attached to the brooch. Nothing official, of course. But there were rumors—local legends, you understand—about its significance. Some say it’s been passed down through the family since the Jacobite Risings.”
I raised a brow. “Jacobite?”
Arthurson nodded. “Yes, sir. The McLeans were known to have supported the Stuart cause, and the brooch is thought to have belonged to a member of the family who was lost after the Battle of Culloden. Some say his spirit lingers—though, of course, that’s just superstition.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to admit he was joking. When he didn’t, I let out a short laugh. “You mean to tell me this brooch is supposedly haunted?”
Arthurson cleared his throat again. “That’s one way of putting it, sir.”
“Absurd,” I muttered, turning to look out the window. The rain had picked up, pounding against the glass. It matched my mood.
“Yes, well, I’m certain there’s nothing to be concerned about,” Arthurson added quickly. “Most of these old family heirlooms come with some kind of legend. It’s purely decorative, I assure you.”
Of course. Because what else could this day possibly throw at me? A haunted brooch, a friend of my grandmother’s I’d never heard of, and now some nonsense about Culloden ghosts.
Still, the sooner I dealt with this, the sooner I could return to Netherfield and be done with it.
“I’ll take the brooch,” I said shortly. “And the rest of the inheritance?”
“We’ll arrange the details for the property transfer in due time. But for now, the personal effects, including the brooch, are already here in London. I can have them sent to your residence at your convenience.”
I nodded. “Do that. I’ll review the rest when I return to Pemberley.”
Arthurson gave a small bow, clearly relieved the meeting had concluded. “Very good, Mr. Darcy. If you have any further questions, you know where to find me.”
I took the letter from his desk, pocketing it without another glance. The sooner I left this office, the better.
The idea of returning to Netherfield suddenly seemed far more appealing than it had that morning.
And perhaps this time, the rain would let up.
Elizabeth
“It is such anhonor for Jane, of course,” Mama was saying as she bustled around the sitting room, holding up first one and then another sample of ribbon beside Jane’s gown to see which suited it best. “An invitation to dine at Netherfield! And only a day after the assembly. You see, Mr. Bingley is quite taken with her!”
I watched Jane as Mama darted around, issuing instructions as though preparing her for a royal engagement rather than a simple dinner. Jane smiled and nodded in all the right places, but I could see the faintest hint of hesitation in her eyes.
