The Question of Consent
By DJ Clawson
A sequel to "A Bit of Advice"
Chapter 6 – The Earl of Kincaid
When Mr. Bennet and his daughter finally arrived at the castle of the Earl of Kincaid, the scheme had been cooked up, properly spiced, and was ready on a serving plate. It relied on Mr. Bennet getting past the guards, but he could be exceptionally charming when he wished to be, and very soon they had an invitation to see the grounds and the home, and even meet its master, Lord William Kincaid: a charming young man with a thick lowlands accent, not quite the highlands burr of most of his servants, who were in kilts while he was in pants, but quite different in speech tones from their own. He was so overwhelmed by the idea that anyone would want to visit his estate (which was a drafty castle with the insides converted into something more modern and suitable for living) that he decided to provide the tour himself.
Mr. Bennet was addressed as he had introduced himself to the servant, which was as Mr. Darcy's steward. "We only regret that Mr. Darcy himself cannot be present, but he quite busy with business in Tow – London. That and he trusts his wife's opinions exquisitely." Mr. Bennet bowed to his daughter, who had trouble keeping a straight face.
"Of course. Though to be perfectly honest, I cannot recommend this area as the ideal place for the construction of a summer home, but I will not be too harsh on my ancestral lands," said the earl.
He went on for a bit, which was proper for a tour, and they saw most of the public rooms, which did not take very long, as the castle was no Pemberley, and was full of mainly old furniture and knickknacks, and even some weaponry that did not look like it had been used in some time. Lord Kincaid took some delight in showing them a drinking horn, which he said his family was no longer in the practice of using. "And thank goodness."
"Why is that?"
"In the wild Highlands, they have a custom – I think they got it from the Vikings. When a man is to become chief of the clan – which I, by the way, am not chief of mine – he must fill it a drinking horn with Scotch and consume it all in one gulp. Whether he then passes out I think is irrelevant, but I would surely not be up to the task." Now intimidated by his own artifact, Lord Kincaid put it down.
They eventually made it to the room that served as a portrait gallery, where the Earls of Kincaid were pictured in the English style of portraiture. "And here is my father, the former earl, Lord James Kincaid. He gave his name to my older brother, of course."
"Who is to inherit, is that correct?" Elizabeth asked.
"No. We may be lowlanders, but my father insisted on the old clan custom that the next 'chief' was chosen from his sons, instead of it diverting automatically to the eldest, to my brother's great dismay and my delight. Of course, James – I mean, my brother James – could not have been all that surprised."
"Why ever not?" Mr. Bennet said.
Lord Kincaid sighed and turned to another portrait. "This is my brother, James Kincaid." The man pictured there, very handsome, did resemble him greatly. "He is in Australia now, or something."
"Or something?" Elizabeth said. "I'm sorry, but are you in search of your brother?"
"I am not in search. I merely mean to say, he went to Australia and his correspondences have been more irregular than we have cared for."
Seeing the time was right, and that this Lord Kincaid was not inclined to gossip and would be eager to move on if Mr. Bennet did not say something to continue the topic, he announced, "I believe your brother is in Town."
"You mean London?" the earl said, spinning around to face them proper instead of turning to the next portrait. "What? How do you know this?"
"There is some talk," Elizabeth said quickly. "He is even affianced."
William Kincaid was obviously dumbfounded. "That is impossible, Mrs. Darcy."
"I believe it is true."
"No, it is certainly impossible. Of that, I am sure."
"But you just said – and I do not mean to butt in on a family matter – that you did not even know his location."
"Yes, that is true, but I do know that even if he is returned to Britain, he is affianced to any woman, English or otherwise. My brother is married."
In unison the Bennets shouted, "Married?"
If there was one thing Darcy detested – and he did, admittedly, detest a great many things – it was being caught unawares. He attributed it to being fuming over Elizabeth's departure and his overwhelming concern for safety (and his inability, apparently to do anything about it) that he was almost entirely distracted when he made his next visit to the Bingleys and was easily trapped in the billiards room, alone, with Caroline Bingley. "Miss Bingley," he bowed quickly when he finally noticed her entrance.
"Mr. Darcy," she curtseyed. "I'm quite sorry, but I refuse to carry on this charade anymore. If I know anything about you, I doubt you can stand it as well."
"What charade?" he answered quite honestly, because he could think a dozen that were simultaneously occurring.
"Your presence here. Charles' refusal to grant his consent, despite my repeated pleas. I can only assume there is some conspiracy here, and since I also know you detest disguise, you will not deny it to me now."
Damnit, she did know him. And since she was in the perhaps unknowing position of victim in this whole situation, he felt compelled to be kind. "Very well. You are correct that my business in Town is directly related to surmising Lord Kincaid's character, but that does not mean you must assume the worst in me, or your brother. As you are well aware, a proper suitor must present his credentials, and they must prove to be more than just smoke."
"Why does it upset you so that I may have found happiness, Darcy?"
If it was anyone other than Miss Bingley, it would have been a rather low blow with its implications. It was, however, Miss Bingley. "Because I have yet to judge that you have found happiness. Not with Lord Kincaid, anyway. I will admit he is a pleasant fellow and a good fencer, and that you think he is suitable, but a marriage should preferably be something that is more than just suitable."
She scoffed at him. "When did you become such a romantic? Oh yes, when you fell in love with Eliza Bennet's eyes."
"I will not deny it. Though she is my wife, Miss Bingley," he said, not quite matching her tone but nearing it. This was the game they always played, even now when he didn't feel compelled to play it. "If we are to be so honest, then let us be honest. Even though marriage between us was never truly in question no matter how much you may have desired it, I am now Bingley's brother and you are my sister, so I have some affection for you, of the kind where I am concerned about your future happiness. Maybe I will not chase down suitors with a sword as everyone seems to be implying I will do with Georgiana, but that does not mean I am completely without opinion on the issue."
"But you would not have been, had Charles not come to you."
"It is irrelevant. I simply wouldn't have known until someone had told me, as I live in Derbyshire and you in Town. And so Bingley came to tell me, and I knew, and decided of my own wit to observe the matter myself. After all, if you are so content on the match, this man is to be my brother and so I must have an interest in at least meeting him."
"But you will deny that you have been looking at him with a most critical eye," she said.
"Miss Bingley, if you are so observant of my character, surely you know I that I look at everyone with a most critical eye." He added, "Even Doctor Maddox."
She apparently decided to give this no proper response no matter how many emotions registered on her face, so he decided to let it slide without further comment. She looked exhausted, as if this was as much a strain on her as it was on everyone else. He recalled many sleepless nights in his own courtship, both the unhappy bits and the happy bits. Why should it not be the same for her. Finally, in a soft, strange voice unlike anything he had previously heard from her, she said, "We would not have made a good couple."
"No," he said, his own voice gentle. "We are too good this sort of verbal sparring. But it does keep one's wits about them. We are better as brother and sister."
"Then do me a brotherly favor," she said, "and tell Bingley to grant his consent."
"If you ask him properly," he said, "in a way that conveys that you are love with James Kincaid, he will surely grant it."
Again, she did not respond. She huffed instead, like an angered peacock puffing up her feathers, and stormed out. She nearly slammed into Bingley, finally making his appointment with Darcy. Smiling and oblivious, Bingley said, "What did I miss?"
Darcy slapped himself on the forehead and groaned.
"Yes, married," said a now thoroughly confused Lord William Kincaid. "His wife lives in a house in the north. She is a Highlander, after all. But – I refuse to be a gossip about my family's matters, if you are merely here to discuss the country."
"And as you probably have already surmised," Mr. Bennet began, "we are not, though we did give our true names. Mrs. Darcy is my daughter, and I am not Mr. Darcy's steward, though he does know we are here."
Elizabeth curtseyed deeply, "My lord, we apologize for the situation, but the matter is apparently graver than we thought. Your brother – if we are correct in assuming it is the same man, or you have other older brothers who went to Australia to seek a fortune – "
" – of which, I do not -"
" – is newly returned to London, and claims to have made a great fortune there, and is to be affianced to my sister by marriage, whose name I will not mention for her reputation. My husband and her brother were suspicious of the arrangement, and are now investigating his connections, but since my husband's estate is so close to the border, I decided to make some investigations here myself as to who this man was."
"And I, being an old man with little chance for amusement and not willing to see my daughter off to the north unaccompanied, joined her," Mr. Bennet said, bowing to the earl.
The earl sputtered for a few moments before speaking as he took it in. "Well ... well, I don't know what to say, except that you should cancel the engagement as quickly as possible. I doubt very highly of his supposed fortune. In his limited correspondences with Fiona and me, he not only refused to come home but continued to draw on Fiona's inheritance, which is considerable. She even attempted to request a divorce, but he refused. Repeatedly." He shrugged. "If he is so in love with your sister now I suppose ..."
"We do not know if he is in love," Elizabeth interrupted, "but the entire matter is extremely distasteful. I am sorry, but we know nothing of your brother's character, and must judge him only on what you have told us, and if what you have told us is true, then he is intending to be a bigamist."
Lord Kincaid straightened, and said with authority, "I would not doubt it, if he thought he could get away with it – and with the complex differences between Scottish and English marriage laws, perhaps he could. But I do know my brother's character, and I will stop myself and say only there is a reason our father chose me to inherit over James, and that you must do everything to stop this engagement to your sister." He rubbed his chin in thought. "I suppose the best way to confront him is for me to go down there myself, but would that be too late?"
"Frankly, I have no idea," Elizabeth said. "But I would not bother you with the task, as my husband is a most loyal protector of even his extended family and would be happy to sort the matter out. Perhaps you have some proof that the marriage to Lady Kincaid still stands?"
"Yes, in fact, I do," he said. "After all, she's been trying to obtain a divorce, so all of these documents were made ready and even copied. I have copies here myself that I would be more than happy to lone you. He has already put Fiona through so much trouble; I will not see it happen to another woman. It is outright dishonorable, and we Scots do not stand for dishonor to the family or the clan." He called out to a servant, and gave the necessary instructions for the documents to be located. "I can give you Fiona's address, but she is some distance north, and if you wish to speak with her, I feel you will just lose time. You may wish a correspondence, but that is at your discretion. Now, to put it quickly – is there anything I can do for you, Mrs. Darcy?"
She had already considered it. "Can you perhaps loan me a horse?"
"Lizzy!" Mr. Bennet interrupted, dropping all formal pretenses. "You cannot seriously be proposing – "
"My own husband taught me to ride, and it will be quicker than even the post," she said. "And I would not trust such important documents to a courier, especially over borders. I will not push myself excessively, Papa, but someone must get to Town with the documents."
"It should not be you."
"And it will not be you," she said.
"I would ride myself," Lord Kincaid said, "but I do not know the way. I confess, I have never been to England. But I could ride with you, for your safety."
"You put yourself out, my lord."
"This is my brother and my responsibility."
He reminded Elizabeth quite a bit of a Scottish Darcy. The very memory brought her warm thoughts when all she could think of was disaster. "No, I will not allow it. You may follow in a proper carriage if you wish and see that the matter is carried out, but I will go and I will go at the speed at which I choose."
"I can see there is no arguing with you, Mrs. Darcy."
"There never is," said Mr. Bennet.
"I will prepare the horse and the necessary supplies. Mr. Bennet, you will accompany me in the carriage?"
"Only if you promise to drop him off along the way," Elizabeth said. "At an estate called Kirkland." She turned to her immediately-questioning father. "Papa, you cannot go all the way to Town right now and Jane must be told by someone with the calmness to do it properly. Besides, you despise traveling."
Mr. Bennet shook his head. "I cannot – Well, I cannot convince you that your plan is madness and a danger to your health. All for the sake of Miss Bingley?"
"She is my sister."
"At this moment I wish she was not. But I see there is no convincing you of otherwise. There never is." Mr. Bennet shook his head. "Lord Kincaid, thank you for your hospitality and all of your aid."
"Most gladly given, however unhappy the circumstances. Sealbh math dhuit." He added, "It means good luck, Mrs. Darcy. You will need it."
Before entering, Bingley steeled himself with a shot of whiskey. It was not his custom, but it was not enough to make him drunk (after all, he was not Darcy), and he needed the steeling. Not only was Caroline smarter, older, and taller than him, she was as an intimidating woman as there every good be, and all past attempts to verbally spar with her had ended in disaster.
Still, he had no other recourse. He knocked on her door. "Caroline?"
"Come in," she said, her voice entirely composed. When he entered, her posture made it very clear that though she was perfectly dressed and this was merely her dressing room, he was invading her personal space. "I suppose Darcy told you everything."
"Very little, in fact. The rest was left to my imagination," he said. "If you feel slighted by him for his actions these past few days, you must excuse Darcy. He is only doing things on my behalf, because I requested his help in this matter."
"'In this matter,'" Caroline scoffed. "You can marry a country girl of no fortune, but when I find a suitable match, it becomes a matter that involves even the infamous Master of Pemberley."
"That is not the point – "
"It is the point," she said, stepping towards him. "You rely on him for every basic decision, Charles. It is pathetic."
No, he would not be cowed. He was Charles Bingley Junior, and the master of the Bingley fortunes. He was a member of the landed class, even if he was untitled. He was a man of stature and he had every right to do as his conscience required. "That is not the case at all. I did not like Lord Kincaid from the start, and so I did what any good businessman would do – what our father was so good at to the point of raising us to a high position such as our own – was to find an expert and delegate authority. Darcy is better at looking into the sordid pasts of people than I am and so I called on him. I practically had to drag him here, if you must know, but he did it as a favor to me and to you despite his own instincts."
"Because of what? What do you find so lacking in James?"
That was of course, the question he could not answer properly, so he had to invent something. "He appears out of nowhere with no established property, no connections in Town and pays in cash for his apartment. If he made a fortune in Australia that is wonderful for him, but no one has seen a pence of it. I cannot help but, with your inheritance, to be suspicious. More importantly, I know very well you do not love him, and that is my greatest concern."
"You make many assumptions about my feelings, Charles."
He fumed. "I am not the idiot you plainly believe me to be. Your affection for him derives from his own charms and perhaps his fluency in Italian but has no solid foundation."
"This is what you believe?"
"You have yet to deny it."
At least, Caroline seemed to recognize his determination. She took an innate step back. "What do you expect from me? Am I to continue to be the unmarried spinster, the laugh of all of Town?"
"You are being dramatic."
"In a few years I will not be!" she said, her voice unintentionally betraying emotion, something it rarely did. "I am thirty-one. I live off your fortune. Lord Kincaid is likely to be my last serious prospect for a good match."
He considered before answering. "Caroline, surely you have noticed that both Darcy and I would argue with you for what constitutes a 'good match.'"
"And you are both men with fortunes. The situation is entirely different."
He sighed. "To see you happy, I would gladly pay for your marriage to the Town's poorest pauper and buy him a great estate in Derbyshire."
To this, she had no proper response.
It seemed Bingley's responsibility, after some moment of awkward silence, to continue the conversation, "Caroline," he said formally, his hands behind his back. "I can't imagine – well, yes, I can imagine where it was drilled into you that you must marry a man of at least equal, preferably greater fortune to be a woman of any worth. You are a Bingley and must stand up to the name that father created. But he created that name out of smoke and hard work and clever business maneuvers. And now, our beloved father is gone and no longer makes the family policy on marriage. And since it falls to my shoulders, I will reiterate my stance – you may marry whomever you like, provided they are not a fortune hunter and you are truly in love with them, be they pauper, parish priest – or dare I say, doctor."
Miss Bingley had turned away, to the window. At this, she spun back around. "How dare you – "
"I am not blind, even if my stay here has been of short duration. But on this matter I will remain silent. It is for you and him to decide. I will withhold my blessing on this Lord Kincaid until you fall in love with him, or he proves to be a fortune hunter – whichever comes first. And however long that may take, I shall gladly wait it out to see you happy in your marriage. And it cannot be more than a few days."
"That or it will have to be much longer. Am I mistaken or is Jane not in confinement?"
This threw him off; it was her intention. "Yes, and I must be out within the week. But if Lord Kincaid is exactly who he says he is, he is most welcome to join us at Kirkland for as long as he wishes. Until then, we shall wait."
"Because that is what you are good at," she said. "Waiting."
He could take no more of this. It was either that, or he had said everything he desired to say, and so the conversation was allowed to end. He signaled this by placing his hand on the door handle. "I hope you will consider what I said, because there is only one thing I will not stand for, and it is to see you unhappy in marriage."
She did not respond as he left.
...Next Chapter - Mrs. Darcy Rides Again