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James Morgan’s Office

The first thing William noticed when he and Richard were ushered into James Morgan’s office was that he did not resemble his brother in any manner. Whereas David had been short, a bit overweight and beginning to bald, James was tall and slender, with a full head of dark hair. Moreover, James was, indeed, a good deal handsomer than his late friend, and, for a moment, he wondered at Elizabeth Bennet’s rejection of this man’s suit from the beginning of their acquaintance. Until he revealed his heartless manner, James Morgan might have appeared a sensible suitor, in William’s opinion. Shaking his head as though to vanquish all thoughts of Elizabeth, he resolved to concentrate on the topic at hand—a topic that had put the owner of Morgan Enterprises in a foul mood.

“I resent your insinuation that I have been avoiding you, Mr. Darcy! I received your note requesting a meeting regarding Lady Morgan’s situation, but I have not had time to even consider it. One of the ships I employ is overdue at a port in Spain, and there are rumours it may have been lost during a storm at sea. Surely you understand I have been involved with more important matters!”

William exchanged a look with Richard before answering. “The termination of Lady Morgan’s income is of great importance to her.”

Morgan tossed aside the paper he had been perusing when they walked in. “In any case you are here now. What is your purpose in coming?”

“As David’s executor, I have read his father’s will which provides for the payments from the trust to transfer to his family in the event of his death. Your letter to Lady Morgan claims that is no longer the case. Naturally, I will need to see a copy of the will you mentioned to her.”

James Morgan waved his hand in dismissal. “My solicitor has the only copy. I gave it to him for safekeeping since I have no relations to leave it with in the event of my death.”

Richard chimed in, “How is it that you were the only person given a copy? And can you tell us which solicitor wrote up this new will?”

“My mother gave it to me right before she passed … God rest her soul. I was too heartbroken over her impending death to ask any questions. I was more interested in the terms, which she graciously pointed out to me.”

“It was not handled by your solicitor?” William asked.

“No.”

“Would you be willing to give us your solicitor’s name so we may request a copy directly from him?” William enquired.

“I had rather keep my affairs private. I will, however, contact him to request a copy.” Morgan gestured to a stack of papers on the side of his desk. Now, if you are finished, I must get back to the business at hand.”

William stood and Richard followed suit. “Before we go,” William declared, “I am curious to know how you can look at yourself in the mirror each morning, knowing you are leaving your brother’s widow and child without a penny to live on?”

Incensed, Morgan raised his chin. “Very easily. I just recall how when Father died, David callously took over everything Father had worked for all his life, leaving me and my mother struggling to manage on the income from this warehouse—income that rises and falls at the whims of the market or on ships lost at sea. David cared nothing for my mother’s position, so I care nothing for Jane Bennet’s.”

Incensed that he used Lady Morgan’s maiden name, William said, “It is obvious that you hate the Bennets. Is that because Miss Elizabeth Bennet would not accept your attentions?”

James Morgan’s expression got even darker. “Elizabeth Bennet is a fool if she believes she can make it in a man’s world on her own. She has no money, no connections, little sense and will soon be past her bloom; thus, she will reap the consequences of her arrogance. Now that my brother is dead, and her sister will soon be reduced to poverty, who will she call on once she realises her folly? I imagine Miss Elizabeth will rue the day she refused me.”

Seeing that his cousin was infuriated, Richard interrupted before William could reply. “I have another question.” After James Morgan changed his focus to him, Richard continued, “Some believe David Morgan’s death was personal. For instance, most highwaymen take things of value but do not kill their victims to avoid the enquiry that would follow, likely rewarding them with a rope around their necks. Given your vitriol towards his widow, I wonder if you had something to do with his death?”

If possible, Morgan’s face crimsoned even more. “I hated the man, but I did not have him killed. Frankly, I have been too busy making a living to give it much thought.” Without allowing William or Richard a chance to say more, he stood, “Now, if you are done impugning my character, I insist you leave; I have work to do.”

Having no choice, that is what they did. Once safely inside William’s carriage again, Richard said, “David Morgan was right about his brother. That man is not to be trusted.”

Still angry beyond words, William merely nodded.

Lambton

Days later

Once Elizabeth and Mr. Hill arrived in Lambton, she paid for rooms at the local inn for them both and advised the elderly butler to rest whilst she walked down the street to the bakery. Mr. Hill was weary and glad for the respite, as the trip had been quite rushed; therefore, he agreed.

The bakery was not hard to find, for it was in the centre of Lambton and there was a steady stream of customers going in and out in search of bread, pastries and such. Following a man and woman in, Elizabeth stood off to one side watching transactions taking place. Once the flurry of activity died down, Elizabeth walked over to the counter where an older woman was busily tidying up the display case.

“Excuse me,” Elizabeth said. “Are you Mrs. Potter?”

The short, rotund woman with white hair and bright red cheeks smiled brilliantly. “Yes, I am. May I help you?” Before Elizabeth could answer, the proprietor proceeded to look her over, adding, “I fear you are in need of a good many of my pastries to fatten you up, Child. You are nothing but skin and bones!”

Once said, she instantly clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, excuse me, Miss! I have a tendency to say whatever comes to mind, whether it is prudent or not. I likely run off as many customers with my bluntness as I attract with my gooseberry tarts.”

Elizabeth had already begun chuckling when the woman declared she needed to eat more pastries, and it progressed to full-fledged laughter the longer she spoke. “Please do not be unsettled on my account. I took no offence, for you are absolutely correct. I am thinner than I have ever been, and I know I must look like a homeless waif.”

“Even if you do,” the shopkeeper replied, eyes crinkling with merriment, “I should never have said it aloud.”