Chapter 4: Revelations

When Mrs. Phillips passed away six months after her brother-in-law, her diaries were found by a curious seventeen-year-old Emily Gardiner, her brother's youngest daughter. Emily's name had been chosen to honor the cousins she would never know since it contained the "EL" from Elizabeth, "M" from Mary, and "IY" from Kitty. The youngest Miss Gardiner's fascination with the mystery of her cousins' disappearance had given rise to an overwhelming curiosity to learn everything she could about the missing relatives for whom she had been named.

After arriving home in London with her late aunt's diaries, Emily quickly located the volumes for the year 1797 and skimmed until she found an entry for June 12th of that year. Glued to the diary page was a newspaper story from the London Times detailing the deaths of the young daughters of a Marquess and Marchioness of Weston. According to the article, the girls had drowned when a dock they were standing on collapsed. On the June 30th entry, another carefully glued newspaper clipping, this time from the Hatfield Gazette,reported a carriage accident. In this story, an unknown couple and an infant had been traveling in Hatfield when their carriage was struck by a carrier wagon. All three were instantly killed along with the wagon's driver. Thinking it curious that her aunt had kept two news stories completely unrelated to her family, Emily continued reading about very boring, day-to-day happenings and village gossip until the July 2nd entry.

According to her Aunt Phillips, on July 2nd, Aunt Bennet had convinced her sister to write and send a letter via express to the Marquess of Weston. Mrs. Phillips had used their late father's business stationery and forged his signature as the sender. Mrs. Phillips had carefully copied the letter's contents into her diary. Then, on July 5th, the marquess had written back. Mrs. Phillips had placed the marquess's letter between the pages of her diary alongside a copy of the letter she had forged in reply.

The more Emily read, the more horrified she became. She now knew how her cousins had disappeared. Her aunts had committed a terrible crime against both their family and the family of the marquess. But, wondered Emily, had the marquess believed the girls to be his nieces or had he realized they were not his family and put them in an orphanage or a work house? Had he or someone else in the family raised them? Where were her cousins now?

Emily knew she needed to tell someone what she had learned but whom? Her mother? Her father? Both of them? Her cousin Jane? She finally decided to tell her parents and let them decide if her cousin needed to be informed.

On the one hand, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were as horrified to read the contents of the diary as their daughter had been. On the other, they were relieved to learn exactly what had happened. Mrs. Gardiner had expressed her surprise at Fanny Bennet's meticulous planning. Mr. Gardiner felt sick that his sisters had conceived and carried out such a cruel, horrific plot.

What, they asked each other, should they do with the information? Should they contact the marquess? Was he even still alive after all this time? Would he believe them? Would he want compensation? Mr. Gardiner was frankly relieved that both his sisters were dead since, not only could he not kill them himself for doing such a thing, but they could not be hanged for defrauding a peer. He was also thankful that both his brothers-in-law had died without ever learning of their wives' perfidy.

Finally, the Gardiners agreed Mr. Gardiner needed to meet with the marquess to learn the ultimate fate of their nieces. Like Emily, they worried he might have uncovered the deception and, without knowing to whom to return the girls, have put them in an orphanage or given them to a tenant to raise. What if he had separated the girls into different homes? Where were the girls now? Were they happy? They had to know more.

The next morning, Mr. Gardiner wrote a letter to the Marquess of Weston explaining who he was and asking for an appointment to discuss an event occurring in 1797. Mr. Gardiner assumed that, once the marquess read the date, he would know exactly why this unknown merchant was requesting an audience. Had Edward Gardiner consulted DeBrett's before writing his letter, it would have been addressed differently. After all, 27 years had passed since his sister had sent a forged letter to a marquess and the marquess of 1797 was now a duke.

Two days later, Alexander Grey, Marquess of Weston, was confused to receive a letter from an unknown import/export dealer regarding the year 1797. In 1797, Alex had been a 14-year-old schoolboy. Obviously, this letter had been intended for his father. Alex quickly scribbled a note explaining why Mr. Gardiner's opened letter was being forwarded and then requested a footman deliver it to his grace's house across the square.

The fifth Duke of Bainbridge was surprised to receive a note from his eldest son indicating that a letter mistakenly addressed to Weston should have been sent to Bainbridge. Upon reading the enclosed letter, however, Bainbridge recognized the name "Gardiner" and knew exactly what event this Edward Gardiner was alluding to while wondering if an attempt at blackmail was about to follow.

Simon Grey, however, was as powerful as he was curious and had no fear about meeting with this Mr. Gardiner. He penned a note explaining the change of title and offering a meeting date and time. Gardiner had offered his own offices as a meeting place, but the duke had countered with Windmere House, the duke's London residence.

Edward Gardiner was not a stupid man. He realized the duke's reasons for meeting an unknown man in at Windmere House rather than an office building near Cheapside. He sent a reply agreeing to the change of venue, and, half an hour before the scheduled meeting settled himself in his carriage for the ride to Mayfair. In his briefcase, Gardiner carried the diary Emily had found. Bookmarks had been placed on the pages relevant to the meeting that was to come.

After arriving at Windmere House and being shown into the duke's study by the butler, Mr. Gardiner and the duke exchanged pleasantries before the businessman nervously began his story. "My eldest sister, Mrs. Grace Phillips, recently passed away," he announced. Noting the black armband his guest wore, the duke offered his condolences and, after thanking him, Gardiner continued, "Since her own husband predeceased her and they had no children, my daughter, Emily, helped to sort through her aunt's things. Emily found this diary for the year 1797."

Gardiner handed the duke the diary. "As you can see, we have marked several entries. I believe you will find them interesting reading," he concluded.

Bainbridge opened the diary to the first marked entry, the one detailing his daughters' deaths. He inhaled deeply as long-buried grief hit him anew. After taking a few moments to compose himself, he turned to the page with the carriage accident entry. As he made his way through the diary, he read about the forging of the first letter, saw the letter he had sent in reply, and then he read about Fanny Bennet's plan and how the two women had conspired to rid the one of her children and foist them off on his own family. For a brief moment, Bainbridge forgot how much he and his family adored their Elizabeth, Marianne, and Katherine. He forgot that Marianne was his own daughter-in-law and the mother of several of his grandchildren. For that brief period in time, he was furiously angry at Fanny Bennet and Grace Phillips and wanted to do them both a harm. It truly was only a brief moment, however, as memories of the joy those three little girls, now grown women, had brought and still continued to bring into his and his family's lives overtook him. "What do you want from me," he asked quietly.

Gardiner sat up straight and replied in an open, honest tone, "We only want to know what happened to the girls after they came to you. We want to know if they are still alive, if they are happy, if they need us."

Bainbridge gave a slight smile, "That is all? You don't want money to keep quiet or my investment in your business?"

Affronted, Gardiner firmly replied, "No, your grace. I am a wealthy man and have no need of investors. My wife and I just want to know that the girls are safe and well. You see, sir, other than their older sister Jane, my wife and myself are the only family members left who remember our Lizzy, Mary, and Kitty. Their cousins are too young, their parents are dead, and, unfortunately, their baby sister eloped twelve years ago, and we've not heard from her since. We just want information. That is all."

"They have other sisters," inquired the duke, surprised.

"Jane and Lydia," responded Gardiner. "Jane is nearly three years older than Lizzy, and Lydia is...was…would be two years younger than Kitty."

"And your sisters didn't try to get rid of those two as well? Why not," asked the duke.

Gardiner shifted uncomfortably in his chair before deciding to give an honest answer, "Jane and Lydia were Fanny's favorites. She believed Lizzy was too inquisitive; Mary was too plain; and Kitty was in the way. Truthfully, Lizzy, Mary, and Kitty looked like their father while Jane and Lydia resembled Fanny."

"And you never tried to find your nieces," stated the duke.

"Oh, we tried," exclaimed Gardiner. "It's just that, by the time we realized we needed to be looking, all the witnesses and clues were gone."

"Just how long did it take for your family to realize your nieces were missing," asked the duke.

"Five months," answered Gardiner.

"Three little girls were gone from their home for five months and no one went looking for them? Unbelievable," derided Bainbridge.

"Your grace," Gardiner replied, heatedly, "My brothers-in-law believed the tale their wives spun that the girls were with me in London. As you can see from the diary, I received a letter saying that, if it proved necessary, a tenant traveling south would bring the girls to me for a short stay. When the girls did not arrive, I assumed the crisis had passed, and they were safe at home. I have berated myself for nearly 30 years because I didn't immediately follow up on my sister's note. Please, your grace, if you have any information about what happened to Lizzy, Mary, and Kitty, please, please, tell me."

Bainbridge stared intently at his guest for several seconds before standing and saying, "Come with me, Mr. Gardiner."

Gardiner followed the duke from the study up one flight of stairs into a long gallery filled with paintings. Bainbridge paused in front of a grouping that Gardiner could not see well from where he was standing.

"These are my nieces, Elizabeth, Marianne, and Katherine Hamilton. It was painted not long after they came to us after the deaths of their parents," stated the duke as he moved to allow his guest to see a portrait of three small girls Gardiner immediately recognized. The duke pointed at another portrait, this time it was a beautiful young woman of about 17 in court dress. "Here you see Elizabeth in her presentation gown. How she hated that dress! Her grandmother insisted she wear it for this portrait. Marianne," he continued indicating the next portrait depicting a girl of a similar age seated at a pianoforte, "is very musical and insisted that her birthday present be included in her portrait. Katherine has always been horse mad," he finished as the men stood before yet another portrait this one of a young lady in a riding habit seated on a magnificent chestnut stallion.

Gardiner stared at the paintings unconsciously attempting to memorize every detail of his long-missing nieces. "You kept them? You raised them as family," he asked faintly.

"As far as we could determine, they were family," replied the duke. "Elizabeth gave her father's name as Bindit. My wife's younger brother, Benedict Hamilton, disappeared during his grand tour when war with France spread to Spain. It was possible that he'd recently returned to England and was seeking out his family. My late father-in-law insisted that all three girls had the Hamilton eyes and hair. My in-laws lived happier believing they had three pieces of their younger son back, and, I admit, we all quickly fell in love with those little imps."

The now elderly man smiled at his "nieces," before turning back to his guest, "Now, Gardiner, what do you intend to do with the knowledge you have? Do you wish to confront them? Tell them all about their mother and aunt abandoning them?"

"No, sir! We just wanted to know what had become of them. It is obvious you have given them a much better life than they would have had with their own parents. Lizzy might have hated that dress, but she looks so happy. They all three do. No, we don't want to interfere in their lives or destroy their childhood. We just needed to know they weren't lying dead in a potter's field somewhere," concluded Mr. Gardiner.

"I will tell you a bit more if you'd like to return to my study," offered the duke.

"I'd like that," agreed Gardiner.

Once the men were again ensconced in the study, each with a tumbler of port in his hand, the duke said, "Elizabeth married at 18 in 1811. She and her husband live in Derbyshire and have five sons and two daughters. Marianne married at 17. She was presented on a Monday, her debut ball was on Thursday, and she was engaged on Friday. She and her husband have three boys and three girls and spend the majority of their time in Sussex. Katherine married at 20. She and her husband own a horse breeding operation in Kent. They have three wild boys. You'll forgive me for not giving you more particulars, I'm sure."

"I should tell you that Mr. Bennet never got over his daughters' disappearance. Every time he met someone named Elizabeth or Mary or Katherine who could possibly be the right age to be his daughter and realized that she wasn't, he died a little more inside. It's funny," continued Gardiner, "in Autumn of 1811, a woman named Elizabeth Darcy visited in the neighborhood. She and her husband were gone by the time my family and I arrived at Christmas, but Bennet confided in me that Mrs. Darcy was exactly what he imagined his Lizzy would have grown up to be and that it did his heart good to see a young couple as well suited and she and her husband were."

The duke stared at Gardiner for several seconds. "Indeed," he replied.

After several moments of silence, Gardiner thanked the duke for his time and, after his carriage was called, departed for home with a much lighter heart than when he had arrived in Mayfair. Over dinner, he told his wife and daughter what he had learned about Lizzy, Mary, and Kitty. He kept Lizzy's married name to himself, however. It wouldn't do to provide temptation. The family discussed what they should tell Jane and Mr. Collins. The consensus was that Jane deserved to know that the girls were safe, but no one wanted to be the one to ruin her memories of her mother. In the end, the Gardiners decided that, if Jane ever asked, they would tell her what they knew, but, if not, they would remain silent. Jane Collins never asked.

The old duke tossed Grace Phillips's diary into the fire and watched until it burnt to ashes. He never revealed what he had learnt about the origins of the three little girls who had so brightened his family's lives.

The End.