“Thank you, Charlotte,” said Elizabeth. “It has honestly been a pleasure staying with you this past month. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I would like to take a walk.”
“You took quite a long walk this morning, if I am not mistaken,” said Charlotte. “I seem to recall Mr. Darcy accompanying you as you returned.” Again, there was an unspoken question in her voice.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “For some reason, every time that man comes across my path, he insists on keeping me company, though he does not say much. Even what he does say makes little sense. Do you know, he talked about my next visit to the area as if I would be staying at Rosings instead of here with you? The man must have marbles for brains.”
“Perhaps, he is under the assumption that Colonel Fitzwilliam will be making you an offer,” said Charlotte.
“Perhaps,” said Elizabeth. “It seems unlikely, but I can think of no other explanation. It makes little difference in the end, however.”
“Does that mean you would refuse him, if he proposed?” asked Charlotte.
“It means that, under the circumstances, I could not give a definitive answer without consulting my father,” said Elizabeth.
Charlotte’s eyes widened in surprise. “That must be some rather incredible news to make you hesitate when making your own decisions.”
“It is,” said Elizabeth. She then stood and headed to the front of the house to grab her pelisse from the hall closet. “Now, I believe I shall take that walk. I have much to think about, and you know I always think better when I am moving.”
Charlotte smiled indulgently. “I am well aware of that particular foible. Go take your walk. Hopefully, you will feel better when you return.”
With her pelisse on and buttoned up, Elizabeth left the parsonage, which was the home of her cousin, Mr. Collins, and his wife, Charlotte, who was Elizabeth’s closest friend. Charlotte and Mr. Collins had married this past January, and Charlotte insisted both Elizabeth and Charlotte’s sister, Maria, come visit her once she was settled. Her visit was supposed to last six weeks, though it would now be cut a week short.
Elizabeth headed for her favorite walk. It was a little path that ran through the middle of a line of trees. It was not exactly a forest. Rather, it appeared as though the trees had been deliberately planted to provide shade to this particular path.
Once she was hidden within the trees, she pulled her father’s letter from her pocket and read it again.
April 7, 1812
Dear Elizabeth,
I have just received the most astonishing news. First, rest assured we are all well. In fact, we shall soon all be better than we have ever been, though likely quite a bit busier. A distant cousin of mine, of whose existence I was not even aware, has passed away, and I have been declared his heir.
Knowing that this letter will reach your hands directly, since I will be sending it express, I will write here some of the details, though they must go absolutely no further until events are more settled. Feel free to burn this letter to keep it from your nosy cousin’s notice. In fact, I request you do just that. Despite what he may think, this has nothing to do with him.
You may recall me mentioning my grandfather a few times. He was the one that established the entail on Longbourn. Before he became owner of the estate, however, he was a naval captain. And before that, he was the youngest son of His Grace, Peter Smythe, tenth Duke of Derby.
Yes, my Lizzy. My great-grandfather was a duke, and I had no idea. The title passed to his eldest son, then to his grandson with no problems. However, the twelfth Duke of Derby, His Grace Michael Smythe, ran through a series of unfortunate circumstances. His first wife had two daughters, but they both died of smallpox. After the wife died, he married again. The second wife had a series of miscarriages, ending in her death as well.
The poor man had no wish to marry again after so many tragedies, but the crown insisted he try again for an heir. So, he married a final time when he was sixty-one years old. He finally managed to produce a son. Unfortunately, both mother and son were killed in a carriage accident in 1799. After that, he isolated himself from all society.
His Grace, Michael Smythe finally passed on a month ago. The crown, unwilling to let the dukedom die without one last effort, initiated a search for any long-lost heirs, which is how they discovered my grandfather. His family had declared him dead, but there were enough records to prove that my grandfather was indeed Brent Smythe, second son of the tenth Duke of Derby.
Which brings me to the present time. Two days ago, I received a visit from a very official-looking solicitor, who brought me a letter declaring me to be the thirteenth Duke of Derby. He told me I will need to present myself to the Prince Regent to be acknowledged, and then I may claim my new property.
I will be going to London tomorrow to take care of that matter, after which I will need to travel to Derby. I will need you and Jane to come to Derby with me, so that we may do what is necessary to make our new home ready to receive the duchess, your mother.
I will come pick you up next Monday and take you to London, where we will collect Jane. Then on Tuesday, you and Jane will be joining me in traveling to our new house in Derbyshire. It is just a few miles outside of Derby, and the journey will take a couple of days.
Take courage, my daughter. Our lives are about to be upended in the most extraordinary ways, but once we are used to it, we will be all the better for it. Please, keep this secret. Once I have taken possession of my property, we can make plans about how to make our new status known, but we must be careful about this.
Love,
Papa
Upon her first reading, she had not been able to take in all the details nor quite sketch out her relationship to the deceased duke. She was too distracted by the knowledge that Charlotte was watching her read. Now, however, she could see that the deceased duke had been nephew to Elizabeth’s grandfather.
Despite the complex genealogy, Papa hadn’t actually been that far removed from the rank he had now inherited. It only seemed distant, because no one had even suspected that Papa’s grandfather was connected to nobility in any way.
Elizabeth did wonder why Papa said that none of this was Mr. Collins’ business. If he was a descendant of Papa’s grandfather, which was a requirement to be eligible for theentailment, he must be somewhere in line to inherit the dukedom. She would have to trust that her father knew what he was talking about, however. As soon as she returned to the parsonage, she would burn the letter, just as her father requested.
