Read Online The Elizabeth Papers by Jenetta James - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jenetta James
Ads: Link
had his kids. The upshot was that there were three women living in Australia by the name of Murphy who were lucky enough to be beneficiaries of the Darcy Trust. Next in line was Emma Darcy. She had married and had children too. A grandson and great grandson of hers had died on the Titanic. They had been in first class, so Charlie reflected as he sipped his coffee that they had been very unlucky to die. The only living descendants of Emma Darcy were Cressida Carter, her mother, and her cousin Jennifer.
The next Darcy sister was Frances, and although she married and had kids, her modern day descendants seemed to have been treated to a torrent of misfortune. Three of her great granddaughters died in the Blitz, two of them in the same raid. At the end of her line in the genogram, there stood only male names, so no worries there. The Darcy’s fourth daughter, Beatrice, came into the world in 1820 and only had one child, a daughter who died in childbirth in 1863. Then came the controversial Victoria Darcy, born in 1821 and still causing shock waves in 2014. Victoria’s only living female descendants were, as Charlie expected, Clementine and Evangeline Pemberton.
Fitzwilliam Darcy’s son, born in 1822, was the last of his children to be born, and his living female descendants comprised an eighty-six-year-old lady named Violet Fortescue, currently living in a care home in Brighton, and her two daughters, both in their fifties and living in what Charlie imagined to be great comfort in the Home Counties. So there it was. Astonishingly, there were only eleven women who benefitted from the Darcy Trust. If Cressida Carter could strike out the Pemberton sisters, then there would be only nine, each of them significantly richer in consequence.
Charlie checked the trust document again. It really did say “all of my female descendants in perpetuity.” It was that simple, that bald, that open. What had been in the guy’s mind? These Darcy daughters were all married to rich men. Simon had found evidence that Emma was married with a dowry of £20,000. That was an extraordinary sum in 1839. It would be very unusual if she had been married with a greater dowry than her sisters. Why on earth had Fitzwilliam Darcy felt the need to set up this trust? It was completely bizarre. Charlie’s coffee was stone cold and his back had started to ache by the time Maureen clattered in, still wearing her outdoor shoes.
“Good morning, Mr. Haywood. Thank goodness, it’s you. I thought for a dreadful moment that I hadn’t locked up properly on Friday.”
“No, Mau, just me. I’ve been in to get some headspace on this Darcy thing. It has been good actually. I have got loads done.”
The early morning was the best time to work; his dad had said so, and he was right. The memory stopped him in his tracks. Maureen smiled faintly and seemed to consider him over the thick rims of her glasses. She had been his secretary for ten years, and he wondered how much she knew of his life. She arranged his diary and did all of his paperwork. She made sure his tax was paid and his car booked in for its service. She knew the hours he worked and the overwhelming effort that went into appearing nonchalant. They shared the surface intimacy of long-term colleagues, and the truth was that Charlie felt comfortable in her presence.
“Well, I’m glad, Mr. Haywood. There is nothing in your diary until this afternoon when a Mr. Trinder is calling about his business partner. Shall you be working in your office until then?”
“No. I could do with stretching my legs. Anyway, I need to catch up with someone about this Darcy thing. I’m on my mobile, okay?”
She nodded as she stashed her faux leather handbag neatly below her desk. Charlie grabbed his jacket, slung it over his shoulder, and in a flash was out of the door, down the stairs, and onto the bustling street.
Across the road from Galbraiths, Flanders & Waites stood a newspaper shop, a Starbucks, and an independent
The next Darcy sister was Frances, and although she married and had kids, her modern day descendants seemed to have been treated to a torrent of misfortune. Three of her great granddaughters died in the Blitz, two of them in the same raid. At the end of her line in the genogram, there stood only male names, so no worries there. The Darcy’s fourth daughter, Beatrice, came into the world in 1820 and only had one child, a daughter who died in childbirth in 1863. Then came the controversial Victoria Darcy, born in 1821 and still causing shock waves in 2014. Victoria’s only living female descendants were, as Charlie expected, Clementine and Evangeline Pemberton.
Fitzwilliam Darcy’s son, born in 1822, was the last of his children to be born, and his living female descendants comprised an eighty-six-year-old lady named Violet Fortescue, currently living in a care home in Brighton, and her two daughters, both in their fifties and living in what Charlie imagined to be great comfort in the Home Counties. So there it was. Astonishingly, there were only eleven women who benefitted from the Darcy Trust. If Cressida Carter could strike out the Pemberton sisters, then there would be only nine, each of them significantly richer in consequence.
Charlie checked the trust document again. It really did say “all of my female descendants in perpetuity.” It was that simple, that bald, that open. What had been in the guy’s mind? These Darcy daughters were all married to rich men. Simon had found evidence that Emma was married with a dowry of £20,000. That was an extraordinary sum in 1839. It would be very unusual if she had been married with a greater dowry than her sisters. Why on earth had Fitzwilliam Darcy felt the need to set up this trust? It was completely bizarre. Charlie’s coffee was stone cold and his back had started to ache by the time Maureen clattered in, still wearing her outdoor shoes.
“Good morning, Mr. Haywood. Thank goodness, it’s you. I thought for a dreadful moment that I hadn’t locked up properly on Friday.”
“No, Mau, just me. I’ve been in to get some headspace on this Darcy thing. It has been good actually. I have got loads done.”
The early morning was the best time to work; his dad had said so, and he was right. The memory stopped him in his tracks. Maureen smiled faintly and seemed to consider him over the thick rims of her glasses. She had been his secretary for ten years, and he wondered how much she knew of his life. She arranged his diary and did all of his paperwork. She made sure his tax was paid and his car booked in for its service. She knew the hours he worked and the overwhelming effort that went into appearing nonchalant. They shared the surface intimacy of long-term colleagues, and the truth was that Charlie felt comfortable in her presence.
“Well, I’m glad, Mr. Haywood. There is nothing in your diary until this afternoon when a Mr. Trinder is calling about his business partner. Shall you be working in your office until then?”
“No. I could do with stretching my legs. Anyway, I need to catch up with someone about this Darcy thing. I’m on my mobile, okay?”
She nodded as she stashed her faux leather handbag neatly below her desk. Charlie grabbed his jacket, slung it over his shoulder, and in a flash was out of the door, down the stairs, and onto the bustling street.
Across the road from Galbraiths, Flanders & Waites stood a newspaper shop, a Starbucks, and an independent
Similar Books
