Unexpected Friends & Relations

by Jayne Bamber

  Lady Catherine took in a deep breath and paused in her tale, to which Darcy had been listening in rapt attention. A silent tear slid down her cheek, and he leaned forward to offer her his pocket square.

  “By the time Sir Lewis died, Lady Sutton had borne her husband four children, while I had had as many failed attempts at giving my wretched husband the son he long desired, and borne his wrath for seven long years. And yet, Anne adored him, though he barely tolerated her. He delighted in stealing all her affection from me, though privately it rankled his pride that his great estate would be passed on to a daughter he was not entirely sure was his own.”

  Darcy sat up with sudden dismay, but Lady Catherine waved her hand dismissively at him. “Anne was Sir Lewis’s child, do not fear. Yet another barrier to true affection between us.”

  She let out a long, melancholy sigh, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief. “Good Heavens, where was I? Oh yes, Sir Lewis died, and I was overjoyed to be free of him at last. Gerald hoped that we might resume the dalliance of our youth, and it was very tempting. I had no great affection for his wife – indeed, I despised Rhoda, for she had become the darling of the county. And yet I rebuffed Gerald’s every entreaty to resume our relationship. The rest of our neighbors were so very fond of Lady Sutton that I scorned Gerald out of spite. ‘Go home to your charming wife,’ I would tell him. ‘Everyone else loves her so much, why can you not?’ But even this did not deter him, dear man. I begged my father to arrange another marriage for me, to a kinder man, far away, but Father died shortly after Sir Lewis, and as I was obliged to go back into mourning as soon as I had come out of it; it was not the right time to remarry. After that, it was not long before Gerald won me over, and we resumed our affair even as Lady Sutton entered her fifth confinement. Eight months after Cecily Sutton was Christened in Hunsford, Gerald became a father once more, to a child born in secret.”

  Darcy could scarcely believe the turn of his aunt’s narrative, equal parts heart-wrenching and horrifying. “That is why you would have supported my attempt to conceal Julia’s origins, because you, like Georgiana, bore an illegitimate child?”

  Lady Catherine stared back at him unrepentantly. “Yes.”

  Darcy exerted himself to maintain a neutral outward appearance, but internally his mind reeled. Have I really ever known my aunt at all? And how could she have carried a second child, with no one in the family learning of her disgrace? Had they known, and concealed it, just as I did for Georgiana? “Who knew?”

  Lady Catherine smiled. “Nobody. It was our secret, Gerald’s and mine. It was a very near thing, for I was already showing a little when I was obliged to attend the funeral of my mother, who passed about six months after my father. I wanted to tell my sister, for it was a difficult burden to bear alone, but she had suffered another miscarriage so recently, and I knew it would only have given her pain. I suppose I am not half so devious as you, else I might have concocted the very same scheme, and allowed Anne to pass my child off as hers, though I am not sure your father would have agreed to it. If my brother had caught wind of it, I am certain he would have killed Gerald with his bare hands, for he was a rather ferocious man when he was younger, despite his present indolence.”

  Darcy tried to remember attending the funeral of his grandmother – he had been but ten years old at the time. The memory was a distant, blurry one, and though he could recall his aunt traveling to Matlock to pay her respects, he could scarcely conjure up the image in his mind. “What became of the child?”

  “I saw nobody, as my time drew near. It was easy enough, as I had been in mourning so long, first for my husband, then my father, and lastly my mother. I dismissed Anne’s governess and hired a new one, Mrs. Jenkinson, who had formerly been a midwife’s apprentice, and she alone assisted in the delivery of my second daughter. I nursed her myself for the first three weeks of her life, but I knew I could not keep her. The staff at Rosings had been reduced to only those necessary, and loyal to me, but I knew it was impossible to keep her.”

  “What about Anne? She must have been aware of what was going on, to some extent.”

  “I sent her to stay with my brother’s family a few months before my confinement. She had been difficult enough after the death of her father, but I knew I could not hide my condition even from an eight-year-old girl. She observed one afternoon that I had grown quite fat, and a week later she was at Matlock. I suppose that was another strike against our relationship, for no doubt she believed I had sent her away because of her insult. She could not have known how terrified I was of the truth being exposed.”

  “And what became of the child?”

  “Gerald’s sister Amelia had fallen on hard times – her husband had gambled away nearly all their money, and then taken his own life. She was left with a modest house in Surrey, and little else but his debts. She had written to Gerald of her intention to convert her husband’s house into a school for young ladies, and begged him for funds. He agreed to assist her financially, on the condition that she would take in a young foundling that had been abandoned in the area. Mrs. Goddard came and collected the child she never knew was her natural niece, and raised her as one of her own. The school became a modest success in her community, taking in as many as a dozen other boarders, and Gerald would share every letter from his sister, which invariably bore news of the progress of young Miss Smith. In that way, Gerald and I saw her grow up, through Amelia Goddard’s eyes. Gerald went to visit his sister once, six or seven years ago, and saw the school for himself. He returned with a sketch that he made of Mrs. Goddard’s best pupil, Miss Harriet Smith, aged eleven years old. I have looked upon it every day since then.” At this, tears spilled from Lady Catherine’s eyes once more.

  Darcy moved from around his desk to perch beside his aunt, resting his hand on her shoulder as she wiped away her tears. “Why did you not wed, after the death of his wife?”

  “After Harriet, our affair was quite over. The risk was too great. Knowing we shared a daughter, we remained close, and revelled in each piece of news of her from Amelia Goddard, but I suppose our passion had cooled. We were content to be friends, occupied in the raising of our respective children. Though he had five and I had but one, I attempted to devote myself to her, though I failed in that. For more than ten years it carried on that way, until Anne passed last year. It was my grief over Anne that brought Gerald back to me, his heart truer than ever. After I removed to the dower house, it was all too easy for us to meet in secret, and we began to talk of building a future together, when my mourning was up. And now, it nearly is. We mean to wed, and though I have another fortnight of mourning yet, I believe it is time to make the announcement. If our upcoming marriage is not enough to make people forget what they have heard about Georgiana, certainly the news of our daughter will do the job.”

  “You are going to tell them about Miss Smith? Surely not,” Darcy scoffed, horrified at the notion of his aunt burying one scandal with another.

  Lady Catherine sniffed, tipping up her chin. “I am going to tell them about Miss Harriet Sutton. Once we are wed, we shall send for our daughter and introduce her to the world into which she was rightfully born.”

  Darcy leaned back against his desk, unable to credit what he was hearing. “You mean to bring an illegitimate girl, who is in fact nearly a woman grown, who has spent the whole of her life as a boarder in a remote country school, into London society?”

  “Yes,” Lady Catherine replied. “And when I do, nobody will be whispering about your sister, will they?”

  “I think not,” Darcy sputtered, “But they would still be whispering about our family! I cannot think it wise, aunt. Surely they shall tear her to pieces!”

  “Let them try,” Lady Catherine retorted, standing up in a posture of defiance. “She shall have fifty thousand pounds, as you were kind enough to refuse Anne’s dowry. I thought you a fool for declining it, but I suppose you felt too guilty to take the money, seeing as how you were deceiving me. At any rate, o
ur daughter will be brought into society as an heiress.”

  “Georgiana, too, has a large dowry,” Darcy argued, “And yet it has not protected her from the gossip of the ton.”

  “Yes, but this will certainly protect Georgiana. And I am not afraid for Harriet. If she is anything like her mother, she will not shrink away from the whispers any more than I shall.”

  Darcy began to grow frustrated with his aunt. “I cannot imagine what makes you think she shall be anything like you, aunt, when she has been raised in such drastically different circumstances! No, I think it a dangerous plan, and hardly fair to the poor girl. She is your daughter, not a lamb to be sacrificed on the altar of public opinion! Even for Georgiana’s sake, I would not have you do such a thing to an innocent!”

  Lady Catherine fanned herself coolly. “Good heavens, Fitzwilliam, how dramatic you are. I think you worry too much for nothing. I assure you, she will be protected. I have it all planned out.”

  “Have you? It seems to me you concocted this scheme on impulse, and I cannot like it.”

  “This plan was not contrived purely for Georgiana’s benefit, nor has it been the work of a moment. Only the timing has changed – we always meant to acknowledge Harriet as our own, though I had wished to wait until summer. But it is of little matter, we shall simply accelerate things by a few months. Really, Fitzwilliam, do not trouble yourself, for you shall find my mind is quite made up on the matter, and I am sure we are both wanted in the dining room.” At that, Lady Catherine strode confidently out of his study, and Darcy could only trail after her in a state of bewildered exasperation.

  ***

  Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Georgiana at last enter the dining room, and heard Marianne do the same. Fortunately, the casual seating arrangement of several small tables rather than one large one had made her absence less apparent, but Rebecca knew the other ladies in her family shared her concern. Marianne gestured for Georgiana to join them, but the girl instead approached Sir Gerald Sutton, speaking to him with surprising animation.

  “Look at her, she is smiling,” Marianne whispered. “That is a good sign.”

  Rebecca was pleasantly surprised to see Georgiana looking more serene, particularly as the only other people missing from the dining room were Darcy and their Aunt Catherine. It was truly remarkable that Georgiana could appear to be in such improved spirits after what must have been an extremely mortifying interview, and she was eager to hear what could possibly account for it, if only Sir Gerald would stop detaining her.

  “I am most curious about Sir Gerald,” Marianne continued, keeping her voice low. “Richard said that he is staying at Lady Catherine’s house, even though he has one of his own in Town. Robert suspects that he and Lady Catherine are particularly fond of one another.”

  Rebecca nearly choked on her wine. “What a horrifying thought!”

  “Indeed it is,” Marianne smirked. “It has put some rather dreadful mental images in my head, but I take comfort in knowing that now they are in your head too!”

  Rebecca swatted playfully at her new sister, her eyes still following Georgiana’s circuitous course through the room. The girl had been acting like a ghost all evening, and understandably so, but now she was stopping and speaking with great enthusiasm to nearly everyone she passed. What on earth did Aunt Catherine say to her, and how could it possibly have put her in a better mood?

  It was nearly a quarter of an hour before Georgiana made her way over to them and took the seat they had been saving for her. “Your spirits seem much improved,” Marianne whispered. “We were worried terribly.”

  “I never thought I would say this, but Lady Catherine made me feel ever so much better.”

  Rebecca beheld her cousin in open astonishment. “Do close your mouth, sister,” Marianne giggled. Rebecca gazed at her with incredulous amusement. How I have missed Marianne since she and Richard went away!

  Rebecca and her companions had little opportunity to say more, for Darcy and their aunt had just returned to the dining room and Sir Gerald was rushing towards them with tremendous excitement. Is he drunk?!

  “Good heavens,” Marianne laughed. “Cousin William looks as though he has got a concussion!”

  Rebecca looked questioningly at Georgiana, who merely shrugged and turned her eyes back to their aunt. Lady Catherine moved to stand beside Sir Gerald in a commanding pose, while Darcy took his seat beside Elizabeth.

  Holding a glass of wine aloft, Sir Gerald cleared his throat before loudly addressing the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention please! I wish to propose a toast! Tonight we are gathered to honor Miss Mary Bennet on the occasion of her twentieth birthday, and I wish her continued good fortune as she graces the first circles of London, following the excellent example of her amiable sister, Mrs. Darcy. If it is not too much, I should also wish to share some wonderful news with you all, which is that Miss Mary Bennet now has the singular distinction of sharing a birthdate with my oldest grandchild. Her cousin Emily, my son Samuel’s wife, has delivered a healthy baby boy just this morning, according to the express I received shortly before coming here tonight! A toast to Miss Mary Bennet, and to my grandson, and to one more person amongst us tonight, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, a lady you all know and admire, who has recently consented to be my wife!”

  Murmurs of excitement and surprise rippled across the room, and Georgiana was the first of many to raise her own glass and cry, “hear, hear!”

  2

  The next morning, William expressed an intention to call upon his erstwhile friend Charles Bingley, assuming he and his wife must be in Town for Jane to have begun spreading tales with Fanny Dashwood about Georgiana. Elizabeth was uneasy about the idea of William confronting them, but he would not be dissuaded. “If I have to purchase their silence, so be it. I shall have your wretched sister recant her vicious tales, and that shall be the end of it. She is just like Wickham; people like that always have a price.”

  Breakfast was an awkward affair. Elizabeth could barely touch her food, and began to wish William would simply be off already, for his sour mood was doing nobody any favors. Were it not for William’s dark mood, Elizabeth and her sisters might have indulged in some gossip with Lady Rebecca, who was silently eyeing them all with her usual cheerful defiance, about Lady Catherine’s surprising engagement .

  The tension was finally broken when a note was delivered to Elizabeth from her Aunt Madeline, offering an apology for not attending Mary’s party and summoning her and Mary to Gracechurch Street as soon as possible. “Oh dear, I hope our aunt is well,” Mary said. “She is very near her confinement now.”

  “I had not thought of that,” Elizabeth muttered. “Indeed, I scarcely noticed her absence last evening, what with everything else…. I think I am quite out of sorts this morning, but I suppose we had better go. I do wish you would join us, William, but if I cannot dissuade you from your other errand, I suppose I shall make ready to depart the house immediately. Mary?”

  Mary glanced down at her plate of unfinished food and set down her fork. Rebecca grimaced at them all for a moment before throwing down her napkin and standing up in such a way as caused her chair to scrape loudly behind her. “Georgiana and I will accompany you. It will do her good to practice being out and about, and facing down the world.”

  “Oh, yes,” Georgiana replied. “That is, if you agree. I am very fond of the Gardiners, and Rebecca is right, I cannot hide here at home.”

  Rebecca declared she would call for the carriage, and Georgiana and Mary quietly followed her out of the room. Elizabeth hesitated and glanced at her husband, who looked up and caught her hand in his. “Lizzy, do not be cross with me, I beg you.”

  She chewed her lip for a moment, trying to check her temper. “I, cross with you? Indeed, I think you have it wrong, sir. Clearly it is you who is angry with me. You hold me responsible for the nefarious actions of my sister. Do you not understand how it pains me enough already, to know that she is such a
person, that she would take such pains to injure the ones I love dearest?”

  “What? Good God, is that what you think?” William rose from his chair and pulled Elizabeth into a tight embrace. “You know me better than that, my love. I should never hold you responsible for Jane’s actions. You have done nothing but good for this family – as my wife, as Georgiana’s sister, as Julia’s mother. Do not ever forget how much I love you for that. I would never punish you, but I will punish Jane and her husband for this. I must do something to defend my sister; I cannot let Lady Catherine have all the credit of saving us, while I do nothing.”

  Elizabeth looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

  "My aunt intended to wait until her year of mourning for Anne was fully passed before announcing her engagement to Sir Gerald, but she did what she had to do in order to give the society gossips something else to talk about.”

  “Ah, I ought to have seen that! It is rather noble of her, to let people tittle-tattle about her surprising second marriage, to keep them from gossiping about Georgiana. Clever, too. But can this not be enough for you?”

  “There is more still, which I had not the chance to tell you last night. They have a natural daughter who has been living in a boarding school in the country all her life, and they mean to acknowledge her, to bring her out into society after they are wed. They might have passed her off as a ward, a distant cousin perhaps, but to turn the gossip away from Georgiana they will acknowledge this girl as their natural child.”