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Thomas Bennet looked at the ledgers and sighed. “I hope I live to be at least a hundred years old.” He had money troubles because of an entailment. In case of his death, his wife and daughters would have to leave Longbourn as the heir would be a male cousin who was not particularly likely to be generous.
“There is just no way to save enough money to get all the girls a decent dowry and to provide for a nice home for Fanny and those who are still unmarried.”
Mr. Phillips privately thought that there were many economies that his brother-in-law might still attempt. But it would help only a little, and would not solve the entailment problem.
“Is there any way that the estate income can be invested more profitably? Is there any property or source of income that we have not taken into account?”
Mr. Phillips asked to borrow the Longbourn ledgers and other documents to see what he could learn from the past.
“I cannot promise anything but I shall take a look at them and see what I can find, and we shall ask Gardiner about investments.”
Mr. Bennet looked at all the boxes Mr. Phillips was taking and sighed. There were so many documents, so many letters. “Fanny says I am hoarding and can never throw anything away and she might be right.
**
It was some months later that Mr. Bennet’s heir, the long-lost cousin William Collins, came to visit.
Mr. Phillips made his acquaintance at a card party, and invited Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet, and Mr. Collins into his office the next week, along with the vicar, Mr. Goulding who was the magistrate, and Sir William Lucas. Mr. Gardiner was also there, and to everyone’s surprise, Mr. and Mrs. Hill.
“And this is Mr. Thornton.” Mr. Thornton was a quiet, efficient looking man who was not familiar to most of the people present but if they wondered why he was there nobody asked anything.
“I have been hesitating about how to proceed,”Mr. Phillips said apologetically. “At first I thought this would be best handled privately, within the family. But I think you all, and Mr. Collins in particular, would wish to hear from other witnesses who remember the time.”
“Remember what time?” Mr. Collins asked.
“That time when Edgar Bennet died.”
“Oh, it was a long time ago,” Mr. Collins said. He had been just a little boy at the time.
“Now, the thing is, some of you remember the dreadful fever epidemic of 1791. Several people in Meryton were very ill or died at the time.”
The older men all nodded grimly. “Mr. Collins, you might not know that when Edgar Bennet died, his grandson Thomas was also very poorly, and he was not expected to live.”
“Blessed be that you survived,” cried out Mrs. Bennet, who had been the mother of two young daughters at the time, pregnant with the third, and utterly terrified for her husband. Mr. Gardiner patted his sister’s hand comfortingly.
“This is Edgar Bennet’s will,” Mr. Phillips said, and showed them a document. “This was dated and witnessed on the eleventh of November, just a couple of days before his death on the thirteenth, which may explain why it is not a particularly professional looking legal document.”
The writing was a bit blotchy and there were some spelling errors. The word testament was written “testemint”, for one thing.
“It was witnessed by a couple of servants at Longbourn, who are both now deceased, one Johnny Burton who was a stable boy, as well as Robert Hill who was Edgar Bennet’s most trusted servant.”
Mr. Phillips looked at Mr. Collins, waved at Mr. Hill, and explained, “Mr. Hill’s esteemed father, you see.”
“I understand,” said Mr. Collins, and looked like he did not.
“Now, this will was rather peculiar in that there were no provisions for Robert Hill or other servants,” Mr. Phillips continued. “Edgar Bennet had made other wills previously, and he had always left a number of minor bequests to long-time servants as well as other relations. His previous wills contained no entailment clause.”
“Perhaps the fact that he was feeling sick at the time of drafting the will made him change his habits,” suggested Mr. Collins.
“Perhaps,” said Sir William. “He was really very ill for a week or more, as I recall.”
The vicar said Edgar Bennet had been insensible and unresponsive when he had visited the sickroom to pray for him. “The prayers were more effective for Mr. Bennet here, but the Lord saw fit to take old Edgar, as well as three of the servants at the time.”
“It was a terrible time at Longbourn,” Mrs. Bennet said. Mrs. Hill agreed and said that besides her father-in-law, they had lost a maid, Jenny, and one of the stable hands had also died.
“We must pray that God preserve our health and keeps us prosperous from now on,” said Mr. Collins.
“Now, I have asked the vicar to look at the records from that time in the church register books, as well as the graveyard,” Mr. Phillips said. “And he told me the strangest thing.”
There was a theatrical pause.
“Mr. Robert Hill had died the day before he witnessed Edgar Bennet’s last will and testament.”
“That is very singular,“ Mr. Goulding said. “Are you sure?”
“My father died early in the morning on the tenth of November, 1791,” Mr. Hill said. “About five o’clock. It was Thursday.”
“Ah yes,” Mr. Phillips said. “We are sorry for your loss.”
“He had a good life and we have pleasant memories of him,” Mr. Hill said.
“Here is Mrs. Edgar Bennet’s journal from the time. The entries of this period are very sparse, as understandably she was under great stress. But you see here that she has marked the dates of the deaths of the servants and the records correspond to the church records. And this is the Bennet family Bible with the records of the deaths. This is the Hill family Bible, stating Robert died the tenth. Here is the church register noting the date of his death and his funeral. Finally, his date of death on the tenth is marked on his grave.”
“That is true, we walked the graveyard and confirmed it,” Sir William and Mr. Goulding said.
“Are we all agreed that it is a curious detail?” Mr. Phillips asked. There seemed to be no argument so he pressed on.
“What about Mr. Burton then? He is also deceased but all of my sources seem to agree that he died three days after the will was witnessed.”
Mr. Phillips showed them some records of the fact. “I was not able to find the Burton family Bible as I could not find his family.”
“I do not recall him having any,” Mr. Bennet said. “That is, none that he ever mentioned to me.”
“If I remember correctly, John Burton was on his deathbed for a week or more before he finally succumbed,” Mrs. Bennet said. “I do not understand why he would be asked to witness a testament when he was hardly conscious himself at the time. There were other servants in the house who could have done it just as well. And Edgar Bennet was very ill for several days as well and could not even sit up so it seems very odd that he penned a legal document just then.”
The vicar confirmed that he had prayed for Johnny Burton and Edgar Bennet in the days before their deaths and remembered them languishing in a high fever.
“Right,” Mr. Phillips said. “Let us look at the facts concerning Mr. Burton.”
He had more ledgers, letters and documents.
“Here are some receipts and records from the Longbourn ledgers and Mrs. Edgar Bennet’s journals from early 1791 and the previous years. You will note this X in a circle. Here, and here, and here. It is Johnny Burton’s signature as he acknowledged that he had received his wages. Here, in May of 1791, Mrs. Edgar Bennet writes about the servants they had at the time, and their skills. She notes that several of them were unable to read, including Johnny Burton, and planned to ask the vicar about the possibility of getting someone to help instruct.”
“That is true,” the vicar said. “We had a new curate at the time, and the young man put together some lessons for those parishioners who wanted to learn to write. It was Mr. Thornton, here.”
“Unfortunately I do not recall Mr. Burton,” Mr. Thornton said regretfully. “But I kept a journal at the time and marked the initials of those who passed a simple reading and writing test in October of 1791, and Mr. Burton’s initials were not on the list.” He showed the relevant page in his journal, and those closest to him could confirm this.
“To conclude, it seems that we have ample proof that Mr. Johnny Burton was unable to read and write,” Mr. Phillips said. “I was unable to reach his relatives to ask if they could confirm, but would still like to do so if any of you are aware of their direction, or where I could find people who knew them.”
“I think it is unnecessary,” Mr. Goulding said. “I would say his signature is evidence enough that he was not literate.”
“Right,” Mr. Phillips said. “Hence, it is curious that his signature on Edgar Bennet’s will reads very clearly and beautifully, John Roger Burton.”
“I do not understand,” said Mr. Collins.
“Well,” said Mr. Philips. “This might be uncomfortable for you but please bear with me.”
He produced more documents. “My brother-in-law lamented earlier that he has a tendency to collect too many papers in his study. But in this case, I would rather call it meticulous bookkeeping, and find it rather beneficial.”
Mr. Bennet smiled.
“I shall never scold you for the mess again,” Mrs. Bennet said.
“Here are some letters of condolence from that time,” Mr. Phillips said. “Do you know who wrote this letter, Mr. Collins?”
“It looks like my father’s handwriting,” said Mr. Collins.
“Yes, it was signed by your father, Gerald Collins. In this letter he wrote what time he would arrive for the funeral, and asked about the reading of the last will and testament.”
Mr. Phillips shrugged. “Or, ‘testamint’, as he wrote.”
“My father had had some schooling but spelling was not his forte,” Mr. Collins said.
“Right,” Mr. Phillips said. “Would you agree that he lived elsewhere so he may have been unlikely to be intimately familiar with all the Longbourn servants, including their current health status and literacy level?”
“Yes,” Mr. Collins said. “There was no reason for him to know the Longbourn servants very well.”
“But he came to Edgar Bennet’s funeral and learned that several servants had also died, and Thomas Bennet was very ill.”
“He was not thought to survive but we sure are glad that you are with us still, Bennet” Sir William said.
Mr. Gardiner confirmed that he remembered the elder Mr. Collins attending the funeral. “As I recall, he found the will.”
“We had always thought that Edgar Bennet’s will was written by his solicitor,” Mr. Bennet said.
“There was an earlier version,” Mr. Phillips confirmed. “According to the earlier version, you or your heirs would inherit Longbourn. There were bequests to the servants, including the Hills, but the entailment to the male line was not mentioned.”
“So what are we to think now?” Mrs. Bennet asked.
“What do you think, Mr. Collins?” Mr. Goulding asked.
“Um, well, I think,” Mr. Collins stuttered.
“Look at the handwriting in this letter written by Gerald Collins. And the handwriting in the will detailing the entailment.” Mr. Phillips laid the documents on the table and allowed everyone to peruse them.
“It seems the same to me,” Sir William said.
“Definitely very similar,” Mr. Gardiner said.
“It is the same watermark on the paper,” Mr. Phillips said.
“And some of the same spelling errors,” Mr. Bennet said.
“Right,” said Mr. Phillips. “My conclusion would be that this will that was purported to be Edgar Bennet’s last will and testament was, in fact, a forgery perpetrated by Gerald Collins. It only benefits him and his sons, and as Mr. Thomas Bennet was at the time very ill and not expected to live long enough to sire a male heir, he may have expected to benefit very soon.”
“But, but,” said Mr. Collins. “The entailment…”
“If the courts recognize this document as a forgery, as I believe they will, there is no entailment,” Mr. Phillips said.
Mrs. Bennet squealed in happiness. Mr. Gardiner and Sir William congratulated her.
“I am sorry for the years of unnecessary concerns for you,” Mr. Phillips said. “These problems with the will were really rather obvious and somebody ought to have seen them sooner.”
“It was a difficult time for many of us,” Mrs. Bennet said graciously. “So many people died or got ill..”
Mr. Phillips addressed Mr. and Mrs. Hill next. “As we are fairly confident that the earlier testament will be upheld, I took the liberty of bringing you the bequest that ought to have been yours in 1791. With interest. Thank you for the valuable services to the Bennet family.”
“Thank you so much,” the Hills said.
This seemed to conclude the proceedings and everyone started to rise and take their leave. When suddenly, Mr. Bennet started.
“Wait a minute,” said Mr. Bennet. “Mr. Collins, when you wrote to me, and I apologize for not recalling it verbatim…”
“By no means, “ Mr. Collins said. “I do not recall what I wrote exactly either.”
“I have the letter at home and we may check at any time, but you said something about your hopes that we would overlook the circumstance of your being next in the entail, and wanted to extend an olive branch because you were concerned for being the means of injuring my amiable daughters. You begged me leave to apologize to them for it, and said you were willing to make them every possible amends.”
“Yes, I believe I wrote something to that effect,” Mr. Collins said.
“Did you by any chance know that your father forged the entailment?”
From his flustered response, it was obvious that he did. Eventually it turned out that he had been present while his father wrote it, and at the time he had been told that they might live at Longbourn soon if it worked out so he should keep his quiet.
"You were a child at the time," Mr. Goulding said. "But you have been a grown adult for some time now, and should be ashamed of yourself."
“Mr. Collins,” Mr. Thornton said. “Let me introduce myself, I am Elijah Thornton, from the Diocese of Canterbury, and I feel that it is safe to tell you that as a man of God, the Archbishop will take a very grim view of your conduct in this matter…”