A Child for Elizabeth

by Carrie Mollenkopf

  *****

  Meanwhile, inside her cottage, another woman brooded with equal uncertainty. If feelings of anxiety were contagious, Rosamund Endicott believed that she had enough to poison the entire county. This was only magnified by the arrival of her gaoler carrying a most personal letter.

  “This arrived for you… if you wish to reply, I have some errands to attend in town and will be leaving within the hour. I will see it posted, but when I return, there are matters we must discuss.”

  Rosamund only nodded, eager to read the contents of her letter, even if Maura now suspected the truth about her baby’s father. All manner of thoughts had flown through her mind concerning Andrew. Had he forsaken her? Had her father discovered him? Had something else terrible befallen him? By now, nearly three months had passed since she last laid eyes upon him. What would he think of her now? The once slim waistline had vanished. In its place a rounded bump that moved about now gave evidence to her condition. The feeling of the child’s movements was both exhilarating and terrifying. If she had to raise her child alone, she would do it, but the prospect was daunting. This had softened her once harsh opinion of Maura Runnymede. It was possible, but one had to have an income, and unless her father relented, or some other opportunity presented, she and the baby would be penniless. They would never starve, Rosamund knew that the Darcys would see that, but she was not a person to be beholden to anyone. It set a precedence of dependency that rankled her deeply. Breaking the wax seal, she read the note repeatedly, hoping for word that a rescue from her prison was imminent, unfortunately, quite the opposite was suggested in a manner that could not be rationally contradicted.

  My dearest Rosamund,

  I must profess my deepest apologies for the lateness of my reply, but as your letter just reached me the first of this month, I could not have done otherwise. I have been temporarily assigned to the small Parrish of Kipperton, out in the wilds of Northumbria until a more permanent living comes available. My exodus was quite providential as word of your father’s displeasure has had far reaching effects. He has interrogated nearly every man within five miles in an attempt to discover who is responsible for your present state. I should have broken under his pressure and admitted my part, but for your insistence on silence. I can only believe that it was again God’s will that my curacy was complete and my departure expected. My heart aches to have abandoned you to his rage, knowing that you feared for us both. But I could never deny you your way, even if it meant my hiding like a coward. Since I have bent to your will, I request now that you do the same for me. Remain under the care of Lady Maura Runnymede and the Darcys. It is the safest place where no threat of harm may reach you. My time here is but a few more months and then I shall come for you and our child.

  All my love,

  A

  Rosamund crumpled the letter in frustration and allowed the pent-up tears to cascade down her cheeks. But she cried in both relief and happiness. They might well be penniless and live in poverty, but she would not be alone.

  ~Eighteen~

  Two months later…

  It was just after tea when Elizabeth bid Georgiana goodbye as Darcy arrived to drive her home. In the short time in which the Darcy Ladies’ Academy had been in operation, all three could honestly say that considerable progress had been made. Georgiana had taken to practically living there fulltime as assistant headmistress, but an advertisement had been placed for an additional teacher. As expected, there had been much trial and error, but now all were on their way to becoming skilled in their chosen professions. Of those, it had been necessary to curtail the original plan to train governesses. Only two of the twelve girls chosen had arrived with the ability to read and write, nor had any formal education been supplied in the mannerisms expected for those applying to such posts.

  “I declare, Abigail Jones has finally ceased biting her nails,” Georgiana said with a laugh. These small achievements were milestones in the transition of ragged orphans into young ladies of reputation.

  “Take what comes, and be glad of it,” Elizabeth agreed. Her memories of those first weeks were ones she did not wish to ever relive. They had nearly despaired of unwashed faces, poor posture and tangled hair. But all of that was tolerable when confronted with the use of profanity. At one point, the threat of dismissal had been necessary to curb such coarseness of language.

  “I actually had to ask Darcy what some of those words meant,” Elizabeth reflected, but was pleased with the alacrity of change brought on by simple environment. Now, with neat braids and clean countenances, they had begun the actual schooling of necessary skills and found many of their charges quite talented. As their uniform dresses were the first items to be learnt upon, no girl wanted to damage what was the finest attire they possessed. Even Elizabeth and Georgiana had taken to wearing identical dark blue bombazine dresses with matching lace fichus. It gave a rather severe appearance, but also one that brook no tolerance of disobedience.

  “I rather like the simplicity, it hides my figure rather nicely,” Elizabeth had insisted the first time Darcy had observed the dresses.

  “And what is there to hide? I think you are beautiful,” he insisted, but received a negative shake of her head.

  “Men do not understand such things, but thank you.”

  Now, as he drove a small carriage to a stop at the base of the veranda steps, he could not but smile at the sight of his wife and sister.

  “There you are… my two ‘professors’,” he teased, but in truth, was proud of their venture. Already, word had gotten out with interest in graduate placement. To this, both Darcy women had insisted was far too early, but perhaps by the same time next year, qualified candidates would be ready.

  “I hope you don’t mind stopping at Maura Runnymede’s for dinner. I believe that a certain ‘someone’ has finally arrived to take responsibility for Rosamund,” Darcy announced. Although Elizabeth had been made aware of the correspondence from Maura Runnymede, the myriad of tasks at the academy had caused Rosamund’s predicament to completely slip her mind.

  “I see…well, this should be an interesting evening, but somehow I don’t think it will go as easy as hoped.”

  “It never does,” he agreed.

  Darcy had been pleased to know that the father of Rosamond’s child was of a respectable sort. Although he did not approve of the situation, he understood human nature and realized that this sort of thing happened with regularity in all social circles. The only difference being, the higher the rank, the greater the demand to hide, for the fall from society was often not recoverable. The fact that the man named was a vicar only complicated matters, for there are those who are held to a higher standard yet still possessed human failings. Of course, a marriage would take place immediately, and despite the fact that Rosamund was not quite of legal age, Darcy had found a loophole. He happened to be her god-father, and no one would dare question his authority. It was the matter of Rosamund’s inheritance that caused a problem. When presented with this option, her features reflected a barely controlled rage. She wanted what was rightfully hers, but that would require legal action…. Very public legal action, resulting in the permanent ruin of Andrew Hanneford’s career as a vicar. Of yet, no one knew the young man’s opinions, but Rosamund had been adamant that he not suffer.

  “I will not be the cause of his downfall. Andrew was born to serve…this…just sort of happened.” She insisted with a glance at her expanding waistline.

  “Really Rosamund! No one will believe in the virtue of a vicar that cannot show by example. You must either let go of your money, or he must abandon the priesthood. Your father will never consent to any marriage, especially when he learns the identity of who happens to be Andrew’s mother. Peter Endicott is not a forgiving man, and he has never forgotten that Jane broke their engagement,” Darcy had insisted.

  Rosamund had not replied. It was not fair that one must sacrifice everything for another. Guilt riddled her as the prospect of being a poor vicar’s wife no long
er seemed as appealing as it once did. Even the best of livings only held salaries of about four hundred a year. The impending realities of motherhood had reinforced the need for money to live. Although she had the finest of educations, better than most university men, it was of no use when one had a child. Employment options were extremely limited. Governesses simply did not bring children along to their posts, nor did they live in separate quarters from their charges. If she were a man, the law would protect her, but as a woman, she remained at the mercy of her father… or husband. Although she desperately wanted to marry Andrew, she could not live with the possibility that he would resent her later. Perhaps it was best that she refused him and allowed the baby to be placed with a respectable family?

  That had been nearly a fortnight ago. Darcy had hoped it was enough time for Rosamund to reflect on her future, for there was no time left to contemplate. A legal marriage was necessary before the child arrived to ensure there was no question of legitimacy. Even if Rosamund was denied any sort of inheritance, a son of hers could lay claim to an entire Earldom should Peter Endicott not father any more children. Taking a few liberties, Darcy had thought to arrange for a special marriage license, and asked Maura to invite Reverend Munson to dinner when Andrew Hanneford arrived. Hopefully, a marriage would take place that very evening.

  ~Nineteen~

  The newly ordained Reverend Andrew Hanneford found that his hands shook as he stood before the closed door to the small cottage that held the woman he loved and his unborn child. Of the lack of marriage vows, he was more than willing to rectify, for he had made his confession and received absolution with the penance of making Lady Rosamund Endicott his wife. Waiting patiently in Maura Runnymede’s parlor was another minister, as well as the Darcy’s to serve as witnesses. All was arranged, but the consent of the bride. Even his bishop knew and approved, but only after a severe warning that his was an exception to the rule.

  “I should have you de-frocked immediately,” Bishop Edward Crifton had insisted, but had taken the practice of forgiveness to heart.

  “But… if you marry her… AND make amends to her father, I am sure some sort of living can be arranged. It will be a small one, and remote, allowing you both to reflect on the virtue of abstinence.

  He had promised, given a solemn vow, but now that he was about to propose, his steadfast nature threatened to give way to a case of nerves. What if she refused? Rosamund was known for her stubbornness. She had refused him once already, demanding they wait until she had the opportunity to tell her father, thinking she could arrange a formal wedding and retain her inheritance. But that had not come, instead, Peter Endicott had sent his daughter away in disgrace, only wanting a male heir. Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Andrew grasped the doorknob and entered without knocking. If she was to be his wife, there would be no barriers between them. He would convince her, but of Lord Upton he was not so sure. Upon entering, he found the cottage darkened, with the sleeping form of Rosamund reclined upon a small sofa. Her hair had come undone and now curled around her swollen abdomen. “Like a Madonna,” he whispered, and bent to kiss her cheek.

  The gesture, one of the most tender love, rendered Rosamund Endicott immediately awake. But her senses, still muddied with sleep, flew into a defensive mode as she clawed out at her would be attacker. Taking her small fists in restraint, Andrew sought to soothe her fears.

  “It’s me, dearest… I have come for you.”

  “I…what? Andrew! I had been dreaming… more of a nightmare…”

  “Hush now, I am here and all will be put to rights. That is… if you will marry me.”

  “But how? My father…”

  “He does not matter now. I… that is, the Darcys and your Aunt Maura have helped arrange things. Marry me now…tonight.”

  “AUNT Maura? What the devil are you talking about… that woman is my keeper, not my aunt.”

  “Oh dear… I thought you knew. Maura Runnymede is most definitely your aunt, just as Fitzwilliam Darcy is your godfather. They may consent to your marriage in the absence of your father… and considering our circumstances, no one would dare challenge it. Not even Lord Upton. In a strange way, it is because of him that this place even exists, for it was here that Maura came during her own time of need. Unfortunately, things did not work out for her as it can for us, but I suppose she never told you any of this.”

  “No… not a word.”

  “I am not surprised, not that you would have listened.”

  “No… you are right, I would have seen her as one of his servants, paid to keep watch over me.”

  “Well, that is somewhat true, he does know where you are, but I can assure that he and Maura are not of one mind. It was only through the Darcys that your father agreed to send you here… from what I have been told, it could have been much worse, but none of that matters now, if we are married immediately.”

  Andrew Hanneford had placed a gentle hand upon her abdomen as he spoke, and was greeted with a hefty kick. Smiling he looked at Rosamund for acceptance.

  “See, the baby agrees.”

  “But how will we live? What of my inheritance? What will everyone think? It will be obvious that the baby will be early.”

  “We will live just fine… My bishop already knows and has arranged for a small living, if you are agreeable. And I don’t care what people think. I just want you. Your father and your inheritance can go to blazes, it is where they belong… greed and pride.”

  “Who is this stranger that has accosted me? Surely the Reverend Andrew Hanneford does not swear or think ill of anyone?” Rosamund teased, but for the first time, was pleased that he had not given in to her demands. She was keenly aware of her often-bossy nature and its ability to sway others to her will. Nodding in agreement, she kissed him gently before replying.

  “I will marry you… tonight.”

  Elated by the acceptance, Andrew Hanneford picked up his bride to be and spun her in his arms. He was the happiest of men, but he was not a fool, for he knew Rosamund best. She would never let the quest to obtain her inheritance rest quietly, eventually she would demand recourse to obtain it legally. But that was for another day, today they would be married.

  *****

  Miles away, as if he could hear himself being spoken of, Peter Endicott downed his third brandy in one gulp. Ever since he had permitted Darcy to remove his daughter, the feelings of regret had been overpowering. It was not that he possessed any sense of moral obligation to Rosamund, he simply did not trust the younger Darcy to keep the promise to bring a male child back to Upton Chase. In truth, Darcy had not actually given his word to that effect, only that his daughter would be safe. And safe she was, but under the care of his sister. He had no doubts that Maura had filled Rosamund’s head full of malign thoughts, but that was what women did. Once you gave in to their whims, they never stopped demanding. Only his Jane had been different, but she too had not been loyal, turning her back upon him when Maura’s disgrace became known. Now, as he stared at the miniature portrait of his former love, anger only grew. Darcy had done him a favor, allowing time to rationally contemplate an acceptable story to explain the sudden appearance of a grandchild without its mother. But now it was time for Rosamund to come home. A small, secluded cottage, really no more than an old cold cellar, had been refitted to accommodate a woman and child. No one would ever know she was there. Even he would not visit, but await the hired nurse’s word of the child’s arrival. Afterwards, when an ungrateful daughter was no longer of use… well…unfortunate things did befall women in childbirth. Money had a way of buying just about anything and anyone to do the necessary ugliness. Who would dare blame a grieving father?

  ~Twenty~

  In the weeks that followed, a welcome sense of serenity seemed to fall upon everyone at Pemberley and the surrounding area. With the marriage of Rosamund and Andrew Hanneford, life returned to its own sense of normal. Elizabeth, and her growing child, were the image of health and she continued her work at t
he Academy despite pressures from her husband to take life a bit easier.

  “Darling, you have but a month left, shouldn’t you rest more?” Darcy queried with worry as he observed Elizabeth dressing in the plain blue uniform once again.

  “I feel wonderful, and Maura insists that exercise is good. Besides, I should go mad with boredom and jealousy if Georgiana were to have the place to herself,” Elizabeth admitted.

  “It does seem that she has found a calling. But with two additional teachers now, surely you might reduce your hours there.”

  Just last night, Darcy had noticed the swelling in Elisabeth’s hands and feet. Consulting privately with the family doctor, he was assured of the normalcy of her condition.

  “That happens, she is probably on her feet too much. I suspect that the baby may come a bit earlier than previously expected, but she is in excellent hands. And you sir, are the epitome of a worrywart father!” Dr. Evanston had chided with a knowing smile.