William Collins.
His nephew. His brother’s son.
Theo sat down again, the chair creaking beneath him.
He belongs here,he thought suddenly.With us. With family.
He reached for a fresh sheet of paper and dipped his pen. There was a journey to be made, and a child to bring home.
∞∞∞
Two months later…
The sky over Wroxford was low and gray as Theodore Bennet dismounted in front of the blacksmith’s cottage. The clang of iron on iron rang out from the smithy nearby, rhythmic and relentless, as he looped his reins around the post and squared his shoulders.
This is a mistake.He had known it even as he rode northward, but duty—and something deeper—had compelled him.
The door opened before he could knock.
A young woman stood there, her hands on her hips, a toddler on her hip. Her face was flushed, her chest rising with breathless impatience. She was little more than a girl herself—perhaps seventeen at most. Stringy blonde hair framed a narrow face, and her eyes were bright with challenge. The child in her arms looked sleepy and sticky-fingered, a crust of jam on one cheek and a fist tangled in her hair.
“What?” she asked a bit rudely, looking him up and down.
Theo held his hat in one hand, bowing slightly. “Mrs. Bennet? I am Theodore Bennet, your late husband’s brother.
The girl’s face darkened with anger. “I am NancyCollins, and I’ll stay that, thank you very much. Nathaniel said he wanted no part of your fine family, and neither do I. So, leave. I told that man of yours I had no interest in selling my son. You wasted your ride.”
Her tone was sharp, her words barbed. Theo chose calm. “I did not come to insult you, madam. I came because your son is my nephew, only a few months older than my own son. I thought perhaps he might have a better future at Longbourn—an education, a place amongst his cousins, a—”
“Future, is it?” she cut in. “Like the one your family gave his father?”
The accusation stung more than he let show. “You know nothing of what happened between my brother and my parents.”
“I know what he told me,” she snapped. “How he was always second-best. Always the extra. How your mother wept when he was born, because she only wanted the heir and got stuck with a spare. How your father barely spoke to him except to scold.”
Theo took a step forward, pulse quickening. “That is not true.”
“Stop lying. I’ll not let you do the same to my son as your parents did to my husband.”
She shifted the child on her hip, and Theo caught his first true glimpse: brown curls, wide hazel eyes, and the faintest ghost of Nathaniel’s boyish grin.
“He ismine,” Nancy said fiercely. “Iraise him.Ilove him. And I will not let you sweep in here with your fine boots and your fancy London lawyers to take him away like you own him.”
“I never meant to—”
“And what, exactly, do you think he would be at Longbourn, anyway?” she pressed. “Some poor cousin in the corner? Always standing beside your son, but never equal? No thank you.”
Theo exhaled through his nose, trying to keep his voice steady. “He would befamily. He would have everything I could give—”
“Well, I will give him more!” she shouted. “I’ll give him love, which is more than that place ever gave my husband. And I willneverlet him feel like he is less. In fact—” she jutted her chin defiantly, “—heisthe elder cousin, is he not? Perhaps he should inherit Longbourn!”
Theo blinked. “That is not precisely how entails—”
“Go home!” she yelled, stepping back and reaching for the door.
Behind her, two men emerged from the smithy. Both bore the blacksmith’s arms: thick with muscle, red from the forge. One—her father, he assumed—picked up a heavy iron bar as he came closer.
Theo backed away a pace, heart sinking. He bowed once more, though she had already turned her back.
