Page 9 of Conundrums & Coincidences

He withdrew something from a pocket and handed it to Mr Fordham. “Have a look at that miniature of her as a young woman, then pass it round for others to see. Miss Armstrong’s maternal ancestors included no less personages than a bishop, a viscount, a chaplain to Queen Elizabeth, and various Members of Parliament. Her father was a wealthy cloth merchant, draper, moneylender, and mayor of Carlisle. He owned extensive personal property, including Oakwood Manor, and was landlord of numerous other houses and farms. Ergo, his daughter lived in the manner of the moneyed merchant class and never was involved in the family drapery business. Miss Armstrong was educated. She had dance masters and all manner of powder, pins, ruffles, ribbons, et cetera.”

“Oh, indeed,” said Miss Kensett. “Years ago, she showed me the blue silk court mantua created for her when she was a young woman. The silver lace on the gown was hugely expensive, and I had hoped… Well, my bequest was her pearl parure.” She looked pointedly at Elizabeth and Miss Rigby and, apparently for their edification, added, “A parure—French for ‘set’—is jewellery designed en suite. The parure bequeathed to me has matching necklace, earrings, brooch, and bracelet.”

Mr Fordham shifted in his chair, which creaked beneath his weight.

Miss Kensett gave that gentleman a curious look and a sniff that, to Elizabeth, smacked of contempt. “Although it was awfully trite of her, Miss Armstrong also left me what she called ‘pearls of wisdom’.”

“Will you share with us one of those pearls?” enquired the chaperon.

Looking more displeased by the second, Miss Kensett withdrew a slip of paper from her reticule. Rather than reading it herself, she gave it to Miss Rigby, who spoke the words aloud. “Whoso walketh uprightly shall be saved: but he that is perverse in his ways shall fall at once.” As she passed the paper back, she said, “Proverbs 28 is not to be sniffed at, madam.”

Elizabeth could almost feel enmity radiating between the two women, and she was grateful when Mr Monroe stepped in.

“Thank you for sharing that with us, ladies, but let us return to Miss Armstrong. I shall make this a short and compendious history. When their father’s death was followed by that of their mother, the eldest son inherited all and held back the stipulated provisions for his two brothers and one sister. After the deaths of all her older brothers, Miss Armstrong—with a lively intelligence and ready insight into the process of litigation—spent fifteen years in a legal dispute at the Court of Chancery trying to reclaim her own and her brothers’ legacies from grasping cousins. At the age of sixty-nine, she finally gained possession of the family fortune and became an independent woman. Victorious, she left London and returned to Carlisle, where she was landlady of all her late father’s properties and insisted the rents be paid in gold or silver. You appear astonished, Miss Bennet. Do you have a question?”

“I do. With so much wealth, why, when I met Miss Armstrong in town, was she dressed like a pauper?”

The attorney nodded in understanding. “After such a long court battle, my client hoarded her hard-won wealth and spent as little as possible on herself, particularly on her attire.” With a smile, he added, “I do know, however, that she drank not only sherry but brandy and port wine. And, as you can see, she spared no expense when it came to refurbishing this house. But, back to my story. In Carlisle, Miss Armstrong’s neighbours called her a miser and treated her poorly. That is why, in the year nine, she moved here to Oakwood and became something of a recluse.”

Mr Hadley spoke up. “Miss Armstrong once told me she dressed poorly in London so she would not attract pickpockets. In Carlisle, and later here in Buckinghamshire, she kept loaded pistols to deter robbers.”

Frissons of excitement coursed through Elizabeth’s veins. What a singular woman. Might I, like Miss Armstrong, become wealthy and independent? But I very much would like to be a wife and mother some day. Her eyes strayed to Mr Darcy.

He looked at her just as he used to do in Hertfordshire and Kent. His current expression cannot mean what it had back then.

Since his proposal, and more often than Elizabeth cared to admit, his words at Hunsford—‘you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you’—occupied her mind like an appealing and memorable piece of cheerful music.

At the thought of ending up a spinster like Miss Armstrong, Elizabeth was dismayed to find ‘Old Maid in the Garret’ had taken up residence within her brain. The song, however, was soon intruded upon when their host struck together his palms, startling her and demanding everyone’s attention.

6

A BATTLE OF WILLS

“After my long-winded preamble about your benefactress,” said Mr Monroe, “it is time to discuss the tournament. All the information I am about to impart has been printed on broadsheets, which I shall hand out in a moment.” He held up a sheaf of printed papers. “Afterwards, I shall answer your questions with, I hope, insight and meticulousness.”

Almost three-quarters of an hour later, after the attorney’s speech and numerous clarifications and the distribution of printed matter, the five beneficiaries glanced at one another in shared puzzlement. In Darcy’s opinion, puzzlement was an apropos description, considering it was to be not a chess match, as he had hoped, but a tournament of wit and whimsy.

Seated next to Darcy, Miss Kensett leant close and spoke in a complaining tone of voice. “I am at sixes and sevens. Please make this intelligible to me, sir.”

Darcy shifted away from her as subtly as possible so as not to offend, and he tapped his sheet of instructions. “Everything is printed here.”

“Yes, but if you will read it to me or explain it in your own words rather than an attorney’s, I surely shall understand it better.” She fluttered long, dark eyelashes at him and pursed pouty lips.

Darcy looked away and, in doing so, caught a pair of fine eyes observing the two of them. At once inattentive to Miss Kensett, he responded, “Yes, of course, Miss Bennet.” Whipping his head back to the lady beside him, he felt the tips of his ears grow red hot. “Forgive me. I have made an egregious blunder. I meant to say Miss Kensett, not…” Dash it! He remembered the day’s date and prayed he was not doomed to make endless mistakes.

The lady’s expression made it clear she was not appeased by his apology, but before Darcy could make amends by clearly communicating the tournament’s details to Miss Kensett, Mr Monroe again demanded their attention.

“I have in here”—he shook an upside-down grey felt hat—“five folded pieces of paper. Each of you, alphabetically by surname, will select one. Do not show whatever is printed on your page to anyone other than me.” He walked over to Elizabeth and presented the hat.

With dainty fingers she withdrew and opened a piece of foolscap. After briefly studying its content, she refolded the paper and placed it upon her lap with the other document. Elizabeth’s features, customarily so expressive, revealed nothing.

It was his turn next, and Darcy dithered between reading his chosen paper straight away or doing so after being shown to his room. Deciding on the latter due to Miss Kensett’s proximity, he further folded the page and placed it inside a breast pocket.

Mr Fordham chose his, but finishing his Madeira seemed more important than anything.

Mr Hadley’s leg bounced while he awaited his turn. After perusing the paper he had plucked out, he glanced across at Elizabeth, whereupon his face reddened.

“Well! This is terribly unfair,” cried Miss Kensett. “I really have no choice, do I? I must take the only remaining paper. If I do not like it, may I exchange mine for someone else’s?”