Mary Bennet and the Longbourn Heiress Read online

  “Miss Mary, you ought not to blame yourself. Heaven knows someone has to take charge around here now that Miss Jane and Miss Lizzie are gone,” consoled the portly housekeeper.

  “Tell that to Papa.”

  “I just might if he tries to put all this on you! I just might quit this place too!”

  “Oh please don’t say that!”

  “I was just teasing…. And it may not be my place, but you girls have had to do everything around here. It is a wonder that any of you turned out at all,” she added before giving Mary a quick hug and shuffling away.

  Mary felt a twinge of apprehension fill her. What if the staff left? What would she do then? Would anyone want to work in a place where a body had been found? Besides, the Longbourn servants had not had an increase in pay for years. They would not be able to afford to hire anyone new. Sighing, she sat heavily in a nearby chair and awaited the outcome.

  Inside Longbourn’s modest library, four men sat crowded around Mr. Bennet’s cluttered desk. Of the four, three were well into their cups. Offering a tumbler of his hidden whiskey supply to the magistrate, Mr. Bennet sighed at his old friend, who accepted with a wry smile.

  “So… do tell me about this skeleton,” Sir Philip asked with a raised eyebrow as he sipped his glass. It was not every day that one of the most respected members of his constituency found a body in their cellar. It should prove to be a most diverting tale.

  ~Six~

  Mr. Bennet waited until Sir Philip had been comfortably seated before he made introductions and gestured to Atlas Sutton to speak.

  “Dr. Sutton, in addition to having medical expertise, has an interest in what he calls “forensics”. I hope he can provide assistance in this most disturbing discovery.”

  After clearing his throat to disguise his excitement, Atlas tried to be professional, but the unmasked disbelief that showed on the magistrate’s face made it difficult. So many people did not agree with what they saw as a desecration of the dead.

  “We’ve had the remains taken to my surgery, but from a cursory examination, whoever she was, she’s been dead for a very long time. I cannot say as of yet if there was any suggestion of foul play, but if you allow me further study, I may be able to provide some answers.”

  “And what purpose would that serve? You say she’s been dead long enough to rule out any of the current Bennets or their staff as a possible culprit, so I don’t see the use of any so-called ‘study’. An immediate Christian burial would be the best solution in my mind,” Sir Philip said with a quizzical look at Mr. Bennet.

  Philip Evans and the present owner of Longbourn had been friends since childhood. He could see no reason as to why Bennet would suddenly indulge the perverse whim of some young upstart doctor. It would only cause gossipy tongues to wag and that was not best for anyone. Bennet himself had recently confided to him the patched up situation involving his youngest girl. Another such problem must be avoided if possible. Mr. Bennet waited a moment and appeared to be pondering such before speaking his mind.

  “I agree, that would be best, but perhaps some knowledge as to who she was and how she got there would provide some closure. My Mary is most upset… she was there when they found the body.”

  Sir Philip sighed. While he disagreed with the idea, he did understand the indulgence. Mary Bennet was his godchild and he had always noticed how she was slighted in society, never receiving the same attentions as her siblings. If he could offer this one small gesture, so be it. Rising from his chair, he nodded, but gave stern direction.

  “I will allow you to do your examination, but have a care. This is a human being, not some university experiment…. And you do not have unlimited time. I expect the remains to be interred within a fortnight.”

  “Thank you… I shall see to it.”

  With that, the men rose and took their leave, filing past Mary where she sat sentinel in the hall. Finally, when the front door had closed upon the last, she timidly knocked on the library door. Still ajar, she could see her father seated at his desk, face in his hands. While she hated to add to his distress, no sleep would be had for her until she knew what had transpired. Looking up at the sound of her knock, Mary’s father motioned for her to enter.

  “Well Mary, you’ve had yourself quite an adventure today.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “It is fortunate that the injured worker is going to survive. I have taken the responsibility for paying for his care, not an expense that I can afford, but it is only right.”

  “I can pay for it.”

  “With what? It may be nearly fifty pounds before all is healed. Plus, there is the repair to the house. Heaven forbid Mr. Collins hears of this. He will probably charge me with neglect and try to have us evicted earlier.”

  Mary trembled, it was all her doing. One small tear escaped and rolled unheeded down her cheek. It was not like her to cry, and Mr. Bennet knew she felt responsible.

  “Now don’t cry, you were only trying to be helpful. It is I who am to blame. I should have had that work done years ago, but there were other, more pressing demands.”

  “I can still help pay for it. I have nearly a hundred and twenty pounds saved.”

  Mr. Bennet looked at her in wonder. “How did you manage such a sum? Surely your pocket money has not amounted to that?”

  “I never spent any. There was no need. Please allow me to help…”

  Mr. Bennet sighed. He already felt indebted to not only Mr. Darcy, but also his brother-in-law Gardiner. To also owe his daughter was simply too much, but he was not in a place to refuse. Just this morning he had received notice of payment in full to the grocers, a bill he had not paid. Mary again… Strange how she turned out to be the most responsible of the five.

  “If it will make you feel better, but I insist upon paying it back when harvest time comes. Now, let us not think of money… What say you about this skeleton? I trust you are as fascinated as I am to discover who she may be?”

  Mary brightened visibly. It was indeed a mystery. She had never heard of any Bennet relation or resident of Longbourn who had disappeared or run away besides her own sister, Lydia.

  “I intend to find out, even if it means tolerating that Dr. Sutton to do so.”

  “And what has he done to earn your dislike? I find him very agreeable. So much so that I have invited him to supper this Saturday. Perhaps in a few days he will have some information for us. Until then, I suggest you examine the old family Bible for the birth and death records. It has not been until now that the estate will be passed out of the direct Bennet line so we may be able to find her. The attics are also filled with old portraits and such that may be of assistance.”

  “Thank you Papa!” Mary exclaimed and hugged him tightly.

  “Don’t thank me yet. I still have to figure out a way to tell all of this to your mother! I can hear the uproar already.”

  Mary grimaced at the thought, and bid her father good night. Her burden had not been lightened, but at least she now had a purpose beyond housework. Tomorrow could not come soon enough.

  ~Seven~

  That next morning, before even the servants rose for the day, Mary lit a lamp and crept down to the crumbled area of the cellar. Despite stern warnings to stay out, she had to see the area for herself. What would make someone lock up another down there? Mary had heard stories of families hiding mad relatives or disgraced women to prevent scandals. Had this happened to her? Picking her way over the piles of stones, Mary easily found the pile of rags that the woman must have used for bedding. Nearby was also a collection of clothing and a bowl of long rotted food. At least they had bothered to feed the poor thing. Moving to the makeshift pallet, Mary touched it gingerly, fearing she disturb mice or spiders. It was moldy and smelled terrible, but she carefully sorted through the pile and soon her fingers touched something solid. Near the bottom, but protected from the dirt floor she found a leather-bound satchel.

  Mary tried to open the clasp, but it was crusted with years of dirt. Deciding to take it to her chamber, for better light as well as privacy, she hastily sifted the rest of the rags. A small shiny object bounced to the floor and rolled away. Looking about, the red flash of a gemstone set in gold winked from under a large pile of rubble. It was a brooch, a very beautiful piece that somehow had managed to stay clean in the squalor of the chamber. It must have been wrapped up in some way. Inspecting it, Mary ran her finger over the filigree that surrounded what appeared to be a ruby of considerable size. The oval stone flashed like a droplet of blood in the dim shadow of her lamp. Placing it in her apron pocket, Mary took the satchel and went above. As she entered her chamber the sound of her mother shouting her name made her wince.

  “Will she never stop?” Mary asked aloud with a glance heavenward. Irritated that her finds would have to wait, she placed them at the bottom of her wardrobe, tossing a spare shawl on top.

  “Coming Mama!” she shouted back and went to answer the demands of her mother.

  *****

  “Where have you been? I have called for hours and no one responds. I could be dying and not one person would notice around here. You must help me dress, I must go call on Lady Lucas immediately.”

  “But Mama… aren’t you unwell?”

  “Oh don’t be silly. I have no time for such things when there are more important matters. I must get to her before anyone else does. My story must be the one told about town, not some secondhand nonsense.”

  “I suppose Papa told you what happened yesterday…”

  “Yes of course… too bad about that poor boy, but he will live. Those sort always manage to get well when the rest of us continue to suffer endlessly from our maladies. But he is of no concern. I must decide what to say about our tragic heroine.”

  “What heroine?
We don’t even know who she was.”

  “What does that matter? It must appear to be tragic… sympathy is everything Mary… have you not learned a thing from me? Now hand me my blue silk…no, maybe the pink stripe is better.”

  Trying not to grumble, Mary assisted her mother in order to hasten the elder woman’s departure from the house. A few hours of quiet was much in demand, but by the time Mary had a moment to herself, it was near tea time. Allowing herself a rare indulgence, she asked Mrs. Kincaid to have her tea sent to her chamber. Pleading a headache, Mary locked the door once it arrived and dug into her wardrobe for the items she found earlier.

  Now, as she sat cross-legged on the floor, Mary sipped her tea and tried to pry open the clasp with a hairpin. The leather had swelled with damp over the years and now the simple locking mechanism was imbedded deeply, but after a few moments of careful manipulation it was free. Lifting the flap, Mary was able to remove the contents. There were only two items, a thin journal and a small portrait. While the book was intact but fragile, the image in the frame was no longer discernable. Only a blotchy smudge remained of what may have been a charcoal drawing. Despite the damage, Mary felt a strange familiarity with the portrait.

  “Where have I seen something like this before?”

  Frowning in concentration she sipped her tea again and ran her finger over the carved frame, but nothing occurred to her. Placing it back in the satchel, she focused her attentions on the journal. It was indeed a diary as it held pages of faded entries, each bearing a date and some were stuck together. The first was from January of 1721, that much she could make out, but the spidery script was so deteriorated that a magnifying glass and better lighting would be necessary to read the contents. Having no such item at her disposal, she pondered where she might acquire them. Her father might have a glass in his library, but he would want to know why she needed it. Fearing she would damage the paper, she replaced the book in the bag. For the moment, Mary preferred to keep the dead woman’s diary a secret. Perhaps once her father retired, she would search his library for the glass. If she were caught, the pretense of wanting the family bible for birth records would suffice nicely. The only remaining clue to the woman’s identity was the beautiful brooch. Mary now took it from her apron and attempted to remove as much of the caked dirt as possible. It would need to be soaked in some salts to bring back its original beauty, but she had no doubts as to its value.

  “Probably worth a few hundred pounds at least!”

  Rising, Mary placed the jewel at the throat of her dress and admired it in the small mirror over her dressing table. “Too fancy for the likes of me!” she muttered and found a handkerchief to wrap it in for safe keeping. It was too bad that none of the items had any sort of identifying marks on them, not even initials. Finding out her identity was not going to be easy. Unfortunately, the one person who may already have the answer irritated her immensely. Well, it was not the first time Mary had to deal with an unpleasant person to get what she needed. Tomorrow morning, she would go and see Atlas Sutton.

  *****

  Hours later, as the hall clock struck two, Mary made her way down to her father’s library. The house was completely quiet and she did not expect any to know of her nocturnal wandering, however a light was glowing from under the closed door. What was her father doing up so late? Worried about his health, Mary eased open the door to find Mr. Bennet wide awake and pouring over the very book she sought. Looking up at the sound of her actions, he waved her to enter, oblivious to the lateness of the hour.

  “I confess to being rather curious as to the identity of our unfortunate tenant in the cellar,” he said with a chuckle and bade her to pull a chair beside him.

  Looking down at the elaborate family tree that filled the entry pages of the Bible, Mary first realized the magnitude of the Bennet lineage.

  “There are so many… how to determine who is who?”

  “Yes, yes… this particular Bible goes back only to the mid 1700’s, but I have another that records all of the Bennets since the first resident of Longbourn around the time of Henry VIII.”

  “I had no idea…”

  “Oh yes, we are quite a long standing family. More so than some others… even the Darcy’s and Bingley’s but none of that matters anymore… Look here, this is where you and your sisters are. It seems that I have been remiss in my accounting once again. Do hand me a pen.”

  Mary sharpened the tip and handed the instrument to her father. He dipped it in ink and carefully added the names of Charles Bingley and Fitzwilliam Darcy next to those of Jane and Elizabeth respectively. He was about to clean the pen when Mary quietly cleared her throat and pointed to the space next to her youngest sister. Mr. Bennet sighed and nodded before dipping the pen once again.

  “Yes, of course… but I must admit to not liking that young man one bit!” he replied as he wrote George Wickham’s name with such force that it left a blotch of ink underneath.

  Smothering a laugh, Mary redirected her father’s thoughts to the primary reason for examining the family tree. “Did you find anything?”

  “I am not sure. There are a few women in here that do not have a marriage listed, and many who do not have a date of death. It appears that my ancestors were as careless as I when it comes to record keeping. However, I don’t recall any stories of wayward young ladies of the family either, but we don’t know exactly how long she has been down there. Someone must have wanted to keep her a secret very badly.”

  Mr. Bennet closed the cover on the now dry ink and Mary lifted the older tome from its case and lay it on the desk. The leather cover was dry and cracking, creaking when she opened it to the family records. This tree did not bear the fancy scroll work and leaves as the other, but it was more complete. Each name was neatly printed with clear lines designating relations. Unfortunately, none were missing dates of death. The mystery remained as Mary scanned the names.

  “So many people with the same first name. It is a wonder they could tell each other apart. Only the unusual ones stand out. Look here Papa, ‘Juniperia Andrews Bennet’ 1733-1776. I am glad you and Mama did not name me that!”

  Mr. Bennet chuckled sadly before replying. “Your mother wanted to name you Alfana, but I thought it was terrible. Indeed, Juniperia is a strange name, but her story is a sad one. She was my great aunt. They say she was born with some sort of disfigurement and rarely left the house. There are no portraits of her either.”

  “Do you think that it could be her?”

  “No…She is buried out in the family cemetery. My mother always spoke fondly of her. She even had a lock of her hair saved.”

  “Hmm… that is an idea!”

  “What?”

  “Perhaps if I made a list of all the Bennet women in the Bible and matched them up to those in the cemetery it would make guessing easier.”

  “That would be a start, but don’t go expecting your Papa to help. Those places have always made me uncomfortable.”

  “Oh Papa!”

  “Well, everyone has their Achilles heel, I suppose.”

  Hearing the hall clock strike half past three, Mr. Bennet insisted they find their beds. “All of this can wait, after all, she has been dead a long time.”

  Mary, now restless with anticipation, had wanted to get started immediately, but realized the practical wisdom and went to bed. However, her dreams were filled with strange images of a faceless woman calling out to her in distress.

  ~Eight~

  The next morning, after placating the demands of her mother for some hours, Mary finally escaped the confines of Longbourn and walked to Meryton.