Chapter Twelve

Elizabeth

E lizabeth glanced at the young man from the corner of her eye, unsure why she felt so compelled to reassure him. It had been clear that something was on his mind, for he had sat by the barn looking utterly miserable. She had not approved of her father’s plan to cheer him up by having him struggle with the milking task, but she also knew this was not the cause of his downcast state.

Not knowing his true identity upset him deeply—she knew this much. Yet, she felt helpless to do anything for him, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to wake one day and not know who she was. The best she could do was offer him tea and companionship, which, to be truthful, she welcomed, especially now that her sister was gone.

“Would you like a cup of chamomile tea?” she asked as they entered the house, but he shook his head.

“I think it would make me too sleepy, and I had hoped to trouble you for another book to read,” he said, hanging his hat up on the hook by the door.

Elizabeth’s smile softened. “I’ve noticed you seem to enjoy reading very much. Every book I bring you is devoured in a day.”

He brightened at this. “Yes, I do enjoy reading immensely. I wondered if perhaps I was a book merchant.” He winked, and she knew he was jesting.

“Perhaps you ran a circulating library,” she replied.

“Let us hope not, lest my loyal customers think I’ve abandoned them,” he said with a chuckle, and she found herself admiring his ability to laugh about his predicament. It took strength to live as he did, she was certain.

“Why don’t you select something from my father’s library instead of me bringing you books?” Elizabeth suggested. “We have a substantial collection, and I am sure you will find something to your liking.”

Georgie agreed eagerly, and they walked to the library together, abandoning her plan to cheer him with tea and biscuits. It was the right decision, as she knew the moment they entered. Georgie’s eyes widened, taking in the shelves upon shelves of books. The room had a cosy, inviting atmosphere, with a large window admitting the soft winter light.

“Goodness, so many books!” he exclaimed and began to peruse the shelves, his fingers trailing over the spines. He pulled out a volume and opened it, his eyes quickly scanning the pages.

“Ah, this is in French,” he murmured.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “You can read French?”

“Yes,” he replied, looking somewhat surprised himself. “Apparently, I can.”

“Let us see,” Elizabeth said, stepping closer. “What does this say?” She read over his shoulder as he recited a passage from the book effortlessly.

“ Les plus grandes choses sont accomplies par la persévérance, ” he read aloud, then repeated the words in English, “The greatest things are accomplished through perseverance.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Impressive. Your knowledge of languages suggests you might have had a very different upbringing than what you initially assumed.”

Georgie closed the book thoughtfully. “It does seem that way. I certainly wasn’t a farmhand, that’s been established.”

Elizabeth placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “Whatever your past, you are welcome here. Take your time, explore the library, and perhaps more memories will come to you. I think there is a Russian novel somewhere here, maybe you can read that too. If so, you might be a diplomat of some sort.”

“Let us hope not, otherwise the world could hang in the balance due to my absence,” he said, and Elizabeth let out a chuckle that was more heartfelt than any in a long while.

“Let us hope not, then,” she said and made her way to her father’s desk. She sat in his chair, planning to let Georgie select a few books while she wrote to Jane, when her eyes fell upon a letter lying on the desk. She picked it up and let out an unladylike grunt.

Georgie turned at once. “What is wrong?”

Elizabeth sighed, trying to shake off her irritation. “Nothing, I just saw an old letter from my cousin, Mr Collins. He came to visit some months ago, and he is, to put it mildly, a rather pompous individual. This letter was sent prior to his visit and invoked, shall we say, unpleasant memories.”

Georgie raised an eyebrow, curious. “How so?” He placed the book he had been holding back on the shelf and focused on her instead.

Elizabeth could not help but let out a dry laugh. “Allow me to share a sample,” she said, picking up the letter and reading a passage aloud, “My reasons for marrying are, firstly, I think that every clergyman in easy circumstances such as myself, should set an example to his parish, it is the proper thing to do. Secondly, I am convinced it will add greatly to my happiness, and thirdly—which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier—this is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling my patroness . ”

Georgie raised his eyebrow.

Elizabeth added, “The patroness he speaks of, is the star in his sky. He does all that she demands of him and more. He thinks rather highly of himself because she pays him attention, though from what he says, she thinks herself the queen of the ton, and her daughter a diamond of the first water.”

Georgie chuckled. “He does sound quite the character, as does his patroness.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, remembering Mr Collins’s tedious visit. “He is indeed. I was to call on him a week ago, or rather on my friend Charlotte, who is his wife, but I did not truly wish to go.”

“And I see you did not,” he said. “May I ask why?”

She smiled, her cheeks colouring up. “Because of you. I thought it more important that I stay here and help, since we did not know what condition you’d be in. So, after you first arrived and we understood you’d be with us a while, I cancelled the trip to Kent.”

“I am sorry you will not be able to see you friend on my account,” he said, sounding genuinely regretful.

“Our friendship has been strained somewhat, and I truly do not want to be in Mr Collins’ company anyhow, even if marriage might have somewhat tempered his character. He is rather vexing. And to make matters worse, he is the heir to Longbourn.”

Georgie looked puzzled. “Heir? Does that mean there is an entailment on the estate?”

Elizabeth sighed, “Yes, there is. You know about entailments?”

He paused and then nodded, as if surprised that he did. “I seem to know a great deal about it,” Georgie admitted and rattled off the legal details of the entailment law which had Elizabeth stumped. She had been jesting when she suggested he was a diplomat, but now she had to wonder—was he someone of higher rank? A barrister perhaps?

“You certainly know more about entailments than I do,” she said finally.

He slipped into the seat across from her. “I cannot tell you how I know all of this.”

Elizabeth looked at him with newfound interest. “You know, it is curious that you have this knowledge. Perhaps you were a gentleman before the accident?”

Georgie shook his head thoughtfully. “I do not think so. I do not feel very gentlemanly, I must confess. Maybe I was a steward or had some other role related to managing properties.”

Elizabeth pondered this, her mind racing with possibilities. Georgie’s knowledge of entailments and his familiarity with the intricacies of estate management suggested a background far removed from manual labour. What kind of life had he led before his accident?

“… can naturally be broken if both parties agree,” he said, and she looked up, realising she had not been paying attention.

“Broken?” she asked, and he nodded.

“The entailment, it can be broken,” he repeated.

She sighed, her thoughts returning to their earlier conversation. “Breaking the entailment requires money, which we do not have. Mr Bingley could have helped us, and would have, but this is one of the reasons his friend Mr Darcy warned him off Jane. He thought Jane would use him for his money. We found this out some time later by way of a friend who spoke to someone with knowledge of the situation.”

Georgie was aghast. “How did this Mr Darcy come to such a conclusion without ever meeting your sister? Besides, family ought to help one another. If I were a rich man, I would help my wife’s family without question.”

Elizabeth felt a tenderness spread through her at his words. He was so earnest, so genuine. “You are a better man than both Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley, it seems.”

At that moment, they were interrupted by her father, who entered the library. He glanced between Elizabeth and Georgie.

“Ah, there you are, Georgie. How did the milking go? Did Maisie cooperate?” he asked with a hint of jest in his voice.

“I told him you tricked him,” Elizabeth said, and Mr Bennet shrugged.

“Ah, Elizabeth. Must you ruin my little bit of fun?” He grew serious then and turned to Georgie. “I do beg your pardon if you were upset. I meant to lighten the mood.”

“It is quite alright,” Georgie replied. “I hope you do not mind, your daughter was kind enough to let me look at your books.”

“Of course not. I hope you are finding our library to your satisfaction, Georgie.”

Georgie smiled politely. “Indeed, Mr Bennet. It is a wonderful collection.”

“We have discovered Georgie can read French and he is quite knowledgeable when it comes to estate law and entailments,” Elizabeth informed her father.

Mr Bennet’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he eyed Georgie with renewed interest.

“Is that so?” Mr Bennet said, turning to Georgie.

“It seems so, yes,” he replied, although a little uncertain.

“Well, let us see how much you know,” Mr Bennet said and leaned against his desk, arms crossed. “Can you tell me, what are the requirements for breaking an entailment?”

Georgie nodded. “Indeed, Mr Bennet. For an entailment to be broken, both the tenant in tail and the remainderman must agree. This can be done through a common recovery, which involves a series of legal fictions. Essentially, it allows the tenant in tail to ‘suffer a recovery,’ thereby converting his limited estate into a fee simple.”

Mr Bennet looked impressed. “And what if the remainderman is a minor?”

“In that case,” Georgie replied, “a guardian would need to act on behalf of the minor, but it would require the approval of the Court of Chancery. Additionally, the estate’s income would be taken into consideration to ensure that the minor’s interests are protected.”

“You see, Papa?” Elizabeth said, “Georgie has a keen mind for estate matters.”

Georgie coloured up but smiled back at her. “I suppose I might have been involved in the law or in running an estate.”

Mr Bennet tapped his chin thoughtfully, still appearing quite puzzled. “You certainly have a wealth of knowledge. Tell me, what would be the proper way to handle a dispute over tithes?”

Georgie answered without hesitation. “Disputes over tithes would typically be brought before the ecclesiastical courts. However, if the dispute involves a matter of law or statutory interpretation, it could be escalated to the Court of King’s Bench. Mediation by a neutral third party could also be sought to resolve the issue amicably.”

Mr Bennet’s eyes widened in surprise. “You certainly know your estate law, Georgie. I think you are correct. You may well have been a steward or held a similar position. I now see why my attempts at turning you into a farmer have failed.”

Georgie offered a modest smile, and Elizabeth felt pride for him. “Thank you, sir.”

Mr Bennet nodded, seemingly unaware of the growing connection between Elizabeth and Georgie. “Georgie, would you mind staying and looking at the estate ledger with me? I’m afraid I’ve made a bit of a mess of it, and I’d appreciate your help. Perhaps we can ascertain if you have other skills in this area.”

“I’d be happy to, Mr Bennet,” Georgie replied.

“I will leave you to it,” Elizabeth said quickly, clutching a book to her chest. She slipped out from behind her father’s desk and walked sideways to pass between the two men in the narrow space. As she passed Georgie, their arms briefly touched. She felt a pleasant shudder go through her, and her cheeks heated. Georgie glanced at her, his eyes softening, and they exchanged a fleeting but telling smile.

Elizabeth left the room, her heart fluttering as she walked down the hallway. For the first time in a long while, she felt a sense of excitement and anticipation.