Goodly Creatures: A Pride and Prejudice Deviation

by Massey, Beth

  An apprehensive look in the baby’s eyes prompted her to remember another odd reaction Miss Elizabeth had exhibited that day. After their bargain had been struck, Anne had quickly changed the conversation to her trip home and seeing her family once again. “Do you have plans for a large celebration for Christmas? Ours will only be my mother in addition to Georgiana. Lord Wolfbridge’s wife lost her baby. None from their family will be coming to Pemberley.” She noticed that Miss Elizabeth had gone from looking resolute, to appearing shaken at the news of her cousin’s wife. She initially assumed it was because she did not like being reminded of the Viscount, but Anne was confused as to why she seemed to appear guilt ridden.

  Anne returned to the window, to check on the progress of Fitzwilliam’s discussion with his sister. Georgiana seemed both suspicious and petulant. She had overheard the two of them arguing over the name for the baby. Anne was insistent that the baby be named Elizabeth. It was such a small gesture to honour the baby’s mother by using her name, and she did not understand why he was so reticent about making it. Fitzwilliam feared that it might fuel speculation about the child. They had heard about rumours among the servants of some secrecy surrounding the baby’s birth. His main concern was that there had been no one within the Fitzwilliam, De Bourgh or Darcy family named Elizabeth for more than a generation.

  She had finally persuaded him to agree to the name, and now this afternoon she would have to hear her mother’s objections and insistence the baby be named for her. Anne could not countenance calling this child Catherine or Cathy. Her baby duck smiled and gurgled with approval at her mother’s determination.

  On Sunday, the 15th of March, 1807, the baby was baptized Elizabeth Anne Darcy. They told all assembled of their decision to call her Bethany. What they did not disclose was that it was a concession to Fitzwilliam’s fears. As expected, Lady Catherine had imperiously objected, but Anne—feeling the power of accomplishing what so many had despaired ever happening—refused to be moved on the question of the little girl’s name. Her determination had been fuelled by an equal need to honour Elizabeth and defy her mother. Richard Fitzwilliam and Lady Wolfbridge were chosen to be the baby’s godparents. Eleanor Fitzwilliam was not well known to the Darcys, but Richard encouraged his cousins that she would be a good choice. He knew her to be kind and generous.

  Three months after the baptism, Anne had still not fulfilled her promise to Miss Elizabeth. Just when she thought the time might be right for her confession, there always seemed to be some obstacle that arose. The latest impediment was her belief that she was with child. She could not tell him now, for fear he might reject her and the baby she might be carrying. More important than righting history was her mission to provide him with the best marriage she could and to be the most loving mother possible. This change in her outlook had led Anne to encourage intimacy with Fitzwilliam.

  Their days and nights had settled into a blissful routine. Anne loved being a mother, and she could tell Fitzwilliam adored being a father to Bethany. They planned their days with her in mind as much as possible. They sang to her and read to her, even though she could not understand. Georgiana had left her resentment behind, and joined them in a life centred around the baby. She brought her in a basket to the music room, and played the pianoforte for her. Bethany had a habit of looking at her parents and Georgiana with an intense gaze, as though she understood their words. She smiled and laughed a great deal, and all three found her mood catching.

  Anne had been present when Bethany was delivered and had been reassured by how easy her birth had been for Miss Elizabeth. She now believed her fear of childbirth to have been silly and selfish and enthusiastically determined it was her duty to give Fitzwilliam a male child. This had been her initial justification for going to him every night; but when he seemed pleased with her willingness, she gloried in feeling desired. Anne de Bourgh Darcy was happier than she had ever been in her life. Their marriage became less one of convenience, and more one of mutual admiration. She could not call it love; but even so, she enjoyed their relationship too much to risk his disapproval by telling him about her careless behaviour on a day more than a year ago.

  It was not long after embracing her marital duties that her courses stopped; she began to feel tired and battled nausea in the morning. She told Dr Wilder of her symptoms, and he told her he suspected she was with child. His advice had been to try to improve her health as much as possible. Her mother had always told her that she was unable to do things because of her fragile constitution. Dr Wilder’s approach was to encourage her to increase her strength. He encouraged her to eat as much as possible as she tended to be frail. As with Elizabeth, he encouraged her to get as much exercise as possible. Dr Wilder agreed she should tell Mr Darcy but cautioned her that it would not be certain until she felt the baby move.

  She and Fitzwilliam celebrated Bethany’s first birthday and prepared for Christmas. This year, the whole family was coming, and they would have a joyful time; and soon after around Twelfth Night, her baby would be born. She was anxious to have it over, and continue the idyllic existence her life had become… this time with two babies instead of one.

  On the night of January 5, 1808, Anne’s pains began. Mrs Hinton was called, and the birth was easy, but Bronwyn felt something was wrong with the afterbirth. She had Dr Wilder summoned. Anne was unaware of their concerns as she cuddled her infant son. He was beautiful, and was born with a head of dark hair like his father. They had decided to name him Lewis George after both of his grandfathers. Anne even nursed him as Miss Elizabeth had done with Bethany. She tried as best she could to sing to him. When she ran out of lullabies, she chose the only other song she could think appropriate. She sang Bobby Shafto to him. He truly seemed to enjoy that song, and she thought maybe he was trying to smile or even laugh at the words. She was supremely happy that all had gone well and was filled with pride that she had produced such a perfect little boy.

  Thirty-six hours after the birth, Anne became feverish. Dr Wilder told Mr Darcy that the placenta had broken apart, and Mrs Darcy had developed an infection. Within hours of that news, she began to slip in and out of consciousness. When she was awake, she made a desperate attempt to tell Fitzwilliam about Miss Elizabeth. She repeated over and over, “She forgave me and I promised to confess. Please Fitzwilliam, I need to tell you what happened that day. I promised I would and I did not.”

  Four days after Lewis George Darcy was born, Anne Darcy died. The last hours of her life, she was not conscious at all. She was never able to confess her role in the violation of the only woman friend she ever had.

  20 AN IDEAL HUSBAND AND FATHER

  Fitzwilliam Darcy watched as his daughter slept. She had already brought such joy to their lives… He, Anne and Georgiana had all changed. It was as if she had completed some kind of circle, and had given all three of them a renewed purpose. They read to her, they sang to her, and Georgiana played for her. He was intrigued by the intelligence that shone from the eyes she had inherited from her mother. They were often the same as Miss Elizabeth’s had been that night at the theatre—green shining with flecks of gold. In response to that memory, he began telling her things an infant could hardly fathom, but she always seemed to reward him with a stare that said she completely understood his words

  Anne had prevailed, and they had named her Elizabeth. He had been apprehensive about using the name Elizabeth, and he persuaded Anne that they should call her Bethany instead. It was a good compromise. The name had a biblical connotation, and he liked a reference he read to the town of Bethany as a little oasis laden with figs in a barren region. The literal translation from the Hebrew was house of figs, Bethany was definitely a little oasis in what had, for many years, been a barren existence for him.

  He and Anne still frequently called her baby duck. The name Miss Elizabeth had given her somehow suited her, even though the blond fuzz was gone and had been replaced by mercurial brown curls that sometimes shimmered with red and gold. He tried to put the
young woman who had given birth to her out of his mind. But those eyes and hair made it difficult.

  The baby’s presence had created a new, much closer bond between himself and Anne. She was determined to give him a son. The intimacy was agreeable, and they had settled into a pleasurable routine of days given over to enjoying Bethany and nights enjoying each other.

  The suggestion to ask Lady Wolfbridge to become Bethany’s godmother came from Richard Fitzwilliam. Darcy felt at heart his cousin’s motive was that the two would have a justification for spending time together. Concern for her well-being was obviously also a part of his rationale. He had rushed to comfort her shortly after hearing she had lost the child she was carrying. Darcy struggled to remember whether he had heard of them being close prior to her engagement to Edmund. Richard had not confided in him; but then he had been busy with some secret mission in Austria. Still, Darcy had the suspicion that Eleanor’s true affections lay with Richard. Perhaps, she had married Edmund to please her father. The gossip at White’s had been that Mr Harding was looking to buy a title for his daughter, and Edmund and his uncle had definitely been in the market for her fifty thousand pounds.

  He observed, during Bethany’s baptism, that both Richard and the Viscountess seemed miserable with their situation. As they stood at the altar, they exchanged glances full of remorse. Her marriage to Edmund would mean that even if the rascal died, they would never be able to marry.

  He had intended to persuade Richard to confess his feelings for Lady Wolfbridge during a journey they made together to London toward the end of the Season. This relative who had been his best and truest companion since childhood needed him. It was his duty to persuade his cousin to accept the hopelessness of his situation. Darcy was also prepared to encourage his amiable cousin—even if it meant attending any balls being given with him—to meet a young lady, who would take his mind off the one he had lost to Edmund. Later he would realize that Richard had purposely deflected his cousin’s aims. It began when Captain Fitzwilliam said, “I am to see action again shortly. Where is uncertain, though there are rumours it might be Copenhagen.” For the remainder of the journey the two men spoke of little but war.

  The reason for Darcy’s visit to London was to retrieve the painting of his mother by George Romney. He had loaned it for a retrospective of portraits done by the recently deceased artist. Mr Jarvis, the organizer of the event, had agreed to a personal showing with commentary for his generosity. The day he went to the exhibition hall, he had little expectation the exhibit would affect him so profoundly.

  Darcy was shown into the main gallery where many of the paintings were of the same model. “It is these paintings which have made this so very popular—with ton and cits alike. In this room we have put together nearly all the close to sixty paintings Romney painted of Emma Hamilton. She is best known as the mistress of Lord Nelson, but long before her liaison with him she was Romney’s muse.” Darcy was entertained with details of the artistic obsession that had developed between the teenage ‘Emma Hart’ and Romney as they went from painting to painting.

  Darcy was struck by how very young she appeared as they stopped before a portrait of Emma in a large hat with just the slightest hint of coyness in her expression. As they stared together at the painting, Mr Jarvis whispered his next snippet of delicious gossip. “You know, she was barely fifteen when she became the paramour of Sir Harry Featherstonhaugh. It is said she agreed to dance naked on the dining room table for the entertainment of his male friends at a ‘stag’ party at Sir Harry’s country estate.” His laugh was lascivious and he rubbed his thumb against his fingers in that universal gesture of greed. “I am certain there was money involved in their arrangement. A year later, she was living under the protection of the Honourable Charles Greville. It was he who sent her to the artist to have her portrait painted.”

  Darcy, who had previously seen some of these paintings, shared his impression of the model with his guide. “I have always been intrigued by how lovely she was, but it was only as she represented the ideal image of Circe or Cassandra or a bacchanante. Today, you have caused me to ponder the irony of her otherworldly beauty in contrast to her wanton ways.”

  You will see some very different portraits of Emma as Miranda from The Tempest. I hung them separately because they are so very unlike Romney’s other work. They are in the alcove off the gallery with Lady Anne’s portrait.”

  After leaving his guide and his steady stream of juicy titbits, Darcy meandered through the remainder of the exhibit. He spent several minutes observing and considering the Fitzwilliam sisters. He had been instrumental in persuading Lady Catherine to loan her portrait to hang next to Lady Anne’s. Both were handsome women with expressions that proclaimed pride in their lineage. The familial ties were obvious in their features, but he remembered with pleasure that there the similarity ended.

  Darcy preferred not to remember Shakespeare’s The Tempest. He determined to quickly view the paintings that were Romney’s interpretation of the bard’s final heroine. The first thing that struck him upon entering the alcove was that these works had none of the bucolic prettiness of most of the artist’s portraits of his favourite subject. Nor did they display any of the optimism Darcy associated with Miranda as she prepares to encounter a brave new world inhabited by goodly creatures. Instead, he was confronted by a very young girl in agony—a child really—her eyes haunted by some off-stage horror. For more than an hour, he remained in this room going from one depiction to the next, then returning to the first in the series in an attempt to unlock their mystery. Despite the queasiness they caused, he could not look away. Though none of the other portraits of Lady Hamilton had done so, these reminded him of Bethany’s mother. The wildness of her hair, the disturbed look Romney had captured in her eyes and the extreme youth of his promiscuous muse were elements that mirrored Darcy’s most persistent nightmare.

  As soon as his mother’s portrait was restored to its rightful place in his study, Fitzwilliam immediately left London to return to Derbyshire. He desperately wanted to forget that exhibit.

  He was greeted upon arriving home with the news that Anne was expecting a child. He was thrilled for many reasons. Chief among them was that this was precisely the news he needed to banish Miss Elizabeth from his dreams. He took very seriously Dr Wilder’s recommendations for ensuring Anne’s health. The cook was instructed to make all her favourite foods, and he made certain she ate them.

  A walk was scheduled with his wife and daughter every day. Mrs Hinton made a sling for Bethany so Darcy would be free to hold Anne’s hand. The baby’s favourite position seemed to be facing forward so she could watch things. As always, he was amazed at how interested and delighted she was in her surroundings—her reactions reminded him of Mr Wordsworth’s words—for she truly found glory in each flower and splendour in even the simplest blade of grass he pointed out to her. Of course, sometimes he carried her nestled with her cheek against him, and it pleased him that in those instances, the thing she seemed to love most was his face and hair.

  It was truly an idyllic time, and his marriage of convenience had miraculously become a relationship he treasured. In all honesty, he acknowledged it was not love as his parents had known; but it was an adequate substitute. The doubts he had struggled with—particularly those awakened during his last trip to London—began to fade from his consciousness. Increasingly his recollections of Miss Elizabeth was most often the sacrifice she had made soon to be jarringly replaced in his consciousness by the memory of her resolutely negotiating her pound of flesh. He had sent twenty thousand pounds to Mr Gardiner immediately upon her departure. At Bethany’s baptism, he had confronted his cousin about the three thousand pounds that was his part of the bargain. His refusal to pay had left Darcy both furious and chagrined that his family would be seen as though they did not honour their obligations.

  One day, Anne begged off going on the walk because she wanted to nap. It was late October, and getting around was becoming mor
e difficult for her. Darcy packed Bethany in the sling and they set out on a crisp day, redolent with dying leaves.

  For the last month, Bethany had been babbling with the cadence of fully formed sentences. That the sounds were currently unintelligible seemed to him to be thought of by his daughter as the result of Darcy’s deficiency. Her eyes proclaimed an intuitive awareness she needed to proceed with patience as she shared her thoughts on the mysteries of the universe with her father. Today she concluded a long explanation of something or other by favouring him with her mother’s mischievous smile. She had learned early he would display a most unusual look on his face for her in response to that expression. The sides of his cheeks became dented.

  They stopped, and he sat down with his back against the trunk of a massive chestnut tree. He took her out of the sling and cradled her in his arms. Her comical grin slid into an unrelenting stare that seemed to be trying to sketch his character. In an effort to thwart her effort and bring back her smile, he decided he should sing. He wished he knew the song Miss Elizabeth had sung to her but instead settled on one he had learned from his mother… Scarborough Fair. When he finished, Bethany first giggled and then said very distinctly… ‘Papa.’ In that moment, he became resolved to send Miss Elizabeth the additional three thousand pounds for Lord Wolfbridge, and another three thousand—not part of any bargain from him. Even though almost ten months had elapsed since he had sent Mr Gardiner the twenty thousand pounds, a demand for the additional amount promised had never been received. As he stared down at his daughter’s laughing eyes, it suddenly seemed the honourable thing to do. Besides, he had long thought he personally owed Bethany’s mother some tribute ever since he saw her kiss the baby’s fingers and heard her whisper words of eternal love. Regardless of her moral lapse, her sacrifice had been great.