by J Dawn King
Georgiana continues with her music lessons. The influence of Mrs. Wollstonecraft’s work has created in her strong opinions as to her position in our growing family. I fear not that Elizabeth and Mrs. Abigail Mansfield’s influence will be to her detriment.
I have taken it upon myself to have drawings done of the newest residents of Pemberley. As you will have noted, they are enclosed. The first is of Mrs. Mansfield. The next is my wife holding that precious child. Perhaps by the time you return from your assignment we might have a little Darcy of our own.
I wish you well, Richard. I wish you peace of mind and heart. Most of all, I wish to see you again soon.
Your cousin in good times and bad,
FD
Calling Mrs. Reynolds, he asked that Georgiana’s drawing instructor attend him as soon as possible. Visions of Elizabeth and the baby at the window in her study needed to be preserved for Richard’s benefit, and his.
The letter would go out as soon as the drawings were completed. He would send it to the Admiralty. That would be the quickest means of contacting his cousin.
Within an hour the artwork was done. Mrs. Mansfield handed him a carefully written note of her own that Richard could pass on to her husband. The express rider was ready to depart when Darcy had an idea. Running upstairs, he asked Parker to accompany him to the nursery with one of his razors. Within seconds, a wisp of baby hair was wrapped and tied into a corner of his handkerchief. This treasure was carefully folded inside the packet. Ten minutes later, the bulky parchment was sealed and on its way.
Chapter 15
Henry Fitzwilliam could not have been more pleased with the report from Oscar Huggins. The man knew how to do his job well.
Preparing himself to share the findings with his father and aunt, Henry, in his arrogance, failed to appreciate the depths of his family’s concerns over Darcy’s actions. He believed the praise he would gain from his efforts would rule the day.
“Girls!” Lord Matlock yelled to no one in particular. “Five daughters and no sons? What was that Bennet woman thinking?” He stood gazing unseeingly out of the window, his hands clasped behind his back.
“But, Father...,” Henry began, wanting to get to the juiciest portions of the scandal. Personally, he cared not how many nor what sort the Bennet children were. To him, it was a minor detail that had no bearing on the new Mrs. Darcy’s suitability as mistress of Pemberley.
“Hugh, we should rejoice in this news,” Lady Catherine smirked, savoring the fact that her brother’s actions met with no success. “Should Darcy only have girl children, then the point of him or his offspring inheriting your title is moot. We shall need to look further afield.”
“Perhaps...” Lord Matlock considered the ramifications of the information carefully. Musing aloud, he said, “Darcy is fool enough to shower his attention on any child born to him, regardless of its sex. I mean, look how welcoming he is to that Bingley fellow. Trade!” he sneered.
“But, Father...” Henry tried again to gain attention. “Pray listen to the rest of what I discovered. It is not senseless gossip. While I do not necessarily know how the facts can be used for our benefit, I feel strongly we gain advantage from understanding Darcy’s activities over the past two weeks.
Hugh Fitzwilliam turned to look at his eldest son. Lady Catherine sat forward in her chair.
“What is this?”
His father’s curiosity was piqued. Henry appreciated having the man’s undivided attention.
“I was diligent in my efforts...”
“Yes, I know.” Lord Matlock motioned with his hand to skip the listing of Henry’s accomplishments. “Get to the important portion, Son.”
“You wondered why Darcy chose to ignore the fine ladies of the ton? It is because your perfect nephew made a grandiose mistake he needed corrected as quickly and quietly as possible. He sired a son with a woman of unknown origin. To claim the boy as more than his natural child, he married a gentleman’s daughter far outside our circle, then took her and his mistress off to Pemberley where the new Mrs. Darcy will bide her time until the couple can successfully pass the boy off as the genuine heir to Pemberley.”
“What!” Lord Matlock exclaimed as Lady Catherine jumped up from her chair. “Darcy with a mistress? I cannot imagine!”
“Still waters run deep,” Henry quipped.
“Harrumph!” Lord Matlock paced the length of the drawing room. “This leaves us in a quandary. If we can prove the child is not a result of Darcy’s marriage and Mrs. Darcy bears only daughters, we are back in the seat of power.”
“How so, Father?” Henry gloated. He had too many friends who needed, for one reason or another, to have a natural born child become heir. “As you are surely aware, the law states that all Darcy has to do is sign the baptism register claiming the babe is his. From then on, there would be no question that the infant has all of the same legal rights as one born to the new Mrs. Darcy.” Henry asked, “Who follows Darcy in the succession?”
“The next in line after Darcy is a distant cousin on the Fitzwilliam side. Gerald Fitzwilliam is a former reprobate. During his university years, he devoted his attention to wine and women rather than his studies. About thirty years ago, he found God, as he states, and became a man of the cloth who desires nothing more than to serve his parish. To my knowledge, he has never come to London and has no desire to do so in the future. Gerald is a few years younger than me, has never married, and has no political aspirations. We will work on him to change matters, offering to find him a proper bride and aid in the upbringing of any sons he may have. I will bear the full expense with no complaint.”
“How good of you, Hugh,” Catherine sneered. “Why do you not just remarry and sire more sons of your own? Helen has been gone long enough.”
“Because, Cathy dear, in the past twenty years I have had a mistress...or two...or more...none have born a child. I believe I am past the years of siring a son.”
All three in the room paused in thought.
“Who is this woman Darcy has trifled with? Do you know?” Lady Catherine reseated herself, giving the appearance of calm.
“The rooms Darcy took in Hertfordshire where he married were arranged by his man. Her name was not uttered where the servants could hear. With enough coin being offered, the maids were eager to share what they knew, which was not much. Nonetheless, Mrs. Bennet was a fountain of information and speculation.” Henry paused for effect. “With that said, there were many witnesses to my cousin being in company with the woman and child, who was newly born. As it was reported, Darcy’s kept woman is extremely lovely, with the poise of a lady and the figure of a courtesan.”
Lady Catherine snorted. “How could that be if she had recently given birth. Your sources are fools!”
“Be that as it may, the salient fact is that she and the babe left Hertfordshire with the new Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. She currently resides at Pemberley where I am sure the nursery has been opened for the Darcy heir.” Self-satisfied, Henry brushed his fingernails on his coat lapel. “You should know too that Darcy was seen arriving in London about midnight the night before his wedding. When he departed only an hour later, the woman and child were with him.”
“How do you know this?” his father challenged, leaning towards his son, his finger pointed directly at Henry’s chest.
“I know this because you are not the only one with spies.” Henry Fitzwilliam gloated. “I have waited all of my adult years for Darcy to slip up, to be found as imperfect as the rest of us. Now, I have the proof in my hands.” He turned towards his aunt. “All of your boastful comments about Darcy being the flawless master, the best son, and the only man worthy of marriage to Anne are, in truth, a sham. He is not a man of duty and honor as you claim. He is as much a wastrel as that mongrel Wickham who always hung around Pemberley.”
“You are confident in your information?” his father asked before his aunt could form a reply.
“I am.” Holding out his right hand, Henry studied hi
s manicured nails. He was bored.
“He is wrong,” Catherine de Bourgh almost spit out the words. “Think! The Fitzwilliam Darcy we have long known would never act in this manner. You said it yourself, Henry. Darcy prides himself on being the best master with duty and honor being his motto. Why would he change now? And, what of the gossips? Nothing, not even a hint of wrongdoing, has been whispered about the man. A babe takes nine months from conception to birth. How could Darcy have kept his private life quiet that long without someone sharing his nefarious activities with others. Servants talk, even well-paid servants. Admit it, Henry. You are and have always been jealous over my nephew. I see your report being as flawed as you are.”
During her tirade, Lord Matlock said nothing. Henry chose to view Lady Catherine as a pesky fly he wanted to swat. What could she possibly know? She was a female!
His father started tapping his fingers on his thigh, a move Henry knew well. The wheels were turning in Lord Matlock’s brain.
After a few moments more of silence, his father spoke. “Cathy, you are correct. There is something very wrong about this. Darcy could have had any lady of our circle as a wife. Had he desired to satisfy his fleshly needs, there are houses where he could have gone. Until now, he has shown no inclination to take a wife or visit the brothels. Something urgent must have happened to move him to act quickly, marrying an unknown lady without notice to his family. No, there is something we are missing. We need to find out everything there is to know about this supposed mistress. We need to know where the child was born, when the child was born. We need a copy of the civil records where the birth was listed to see who was named as father. We need to know what hold this female has over Darcy.” He gave his full attention to his son. “What information, other than children, do you have about these Bennets? What of the new Mrs. Darcy? Why her? What motivated her to marry with none of the pomp and ceremony desired by ladies of quality?”
“Pemberley,” Lady Catherine muttered. “She married for Pemberley.”
“I suppose you are correct,” Hugh Fitzwilliam nodded. “But what if that was not the issue? I suspect there was something happening that...wait! What date did Darcy marry? You said he came to London late the night before the ceremony, did you not? Was that not the same day Anne died? Surely, Richard would have contacted Darcy. They have always been as close as thieves. What if,...” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Surely, not.”
“What, Father?” Henry loved intrigue as much as his father loved politics.
“Oh, Good Lord!” Matlock exclaimed. “Cathy, what did that surgeon tell you about the birth.”
“I...how did you...” Lady Catherine sputtered.
“How did I know you left to grill the physician about the babe? I have my own sources in Richard’s house.”
“Very well,” Lady Catherine sat back in her chair. “I wanted that baby to live more than you desired, Hugh Fitzwilliam. Therefore, I applied to the doctor as soon as Richard departed after announcing the death of Anne and the infant. What he told me was Anne’s labors were lengthy. The blood loss was deadly. The baby came out a mottled shade of purply brown. He was not breathing. Immediately, the boy was handed to his nurse as the surgeon struggled to save Anne. By the time he knew Anne was lost, the babe had been covered in a blanket and carried away. I went to the grave two days after they were buried. The marker was for Anne Elaine de Bourgh Fitzwilliam and Richard Sebastian Fitzwilliam, infant.”
“Damnation!” Henry’s father pounded his fist into his palm. “The misery of their death continues to haunt me. You and I, we not only lost our first grandchild, we lost a valuable asset for the Fitzwilliam future. I cannot help but feel it in my bones that there is something very wrong here.”
“Then, I will contact Mr. Huggins and have him broaden the scope of his investigation.” Henry offered.
Lady Catherine announced, “And, I will write to Georgiana, asking her opinion of her new sister and the woman and child who are living at Pemberley. At the same time, I will offer Rosings as a refuge to her should she be unhappy at the change to her home. A shy little creature like her would be no different from having Anne there.”
Lord Matlock continued to ponder. Finally, when it appeared that he was settled within himself, he directed, “Find that cur, Wickham. If nothing has truly changed, I suspect these uncharacteristic actions Darcy has taken is to cover up a mess Wickham has created. If anyone has studied the character of our nephew more than us, it would be him.”
Georgiana Darcy was unsurprised to be summoned to her brother’s study. What did shock her to the core was to find him holding the baby. Immediately, she wanted to turn around and leave. Latent respect for the brother who had cared for her during the five years since their father died held her in place.
Once she was seated, Darcy rounded the desk to sit in the chair next to her.
“Georgie,” he began. “I am afraid we did not have a good beginning upon our arrival.”
Darcy shifted the baby so she could see his face. How odd! He had the same cleft in his chin like her male Fitzwilliam cousins, her uncle, and her Aunt Catherine. Georgiana glanced at her brother’s chin. No little hole marred his smooth skin. Of course, he was only half Fitzwilliam from their mother’s side. Gratefully, the dreaded cleft had bypassed her too. Where it looked intriguing on the males of the family, it was unsightly on Aunt Catherine.
“Dear sister, I have news to impart which will be difficult.” He patted the back of her hand. She braced herself for what was to come. “Uncle Hugh wrote that Anne did not survive the birth of her child. The babe was lost as well.”
Her heart broke. Unable to contain her tears, she groaned. “No, not Anne. She and Richard were so in love. They wanted this baby badly, I know. Anne’s last letter shared her plans for Richard leaving the military. They planned to settle at a small estate. They were hoping you would help them find one close to Pemberley, so their child, boy or girl, would know the joys of our property. I cannot believe she is gone—they are gone.” She sobbed. “Poor Richard. How is he faring?”
Offering his handkerchief, Darcy waited until she settled before replying. “My dearest girl, Richard surely was overcome with grief. He left immediately after the burial for the battlefield.”
“No! He cannot have gone.” Desperately, her mind hovered over the worst outcome. “He could be killed. Pray, tell me you are in error, I pray you.”
“Oh, Georgie,” Darcy sighed. “If only I could.”
Pulling her hand from his, she stiffened her spine. “I apologize, Brother, for my lack of control. It feels like everyone I have loved leaves me. Mother, Father, Anne, and now, Richard has placed himself in extreme danger. I do not know how to feel anything but sadness.”
“We are not alone, Georgie.” Darcy softly reminded her. “My wife cares deeply for those whom she loves.”
“Mrs. Darcy? My heart is crushed, and you speak of her?” Her anger rose at the mention of that woman.
“Georgie, she is my wife for better or worse, in sickness and in health for as long as we live together on earth. Elizabeth’s genuine kindness to others attracted me almost from the start. I offended her greatly the first time we met. This kindness I valued allowed her to forgive me my error, which was grievous. When Elizabeth met Mrs. Mansfield, she jumped to the wrong conclusion as to who and what Mrs. Mansfield meant to me. Despite this, within moments of discovering that I had not met Mrs. Mansfield before that same day, Elizabeth took charge of seeing to every comfort for both mother and child.”
“You had never met her before?” Georgiana was flummoxed. How could this be true? What she was hearing was completely opposite to what George had shared in his last letter. Nonetheless, her brother had never lied to her before. Suddenly, she did not know what to think.
“No. I was attending a ball at Bingley’s estate. In fact, I was dancing with Elizabeth when a footman interrupted with a plea from Mrs. Mansfield for help. I left immediately for London. By midnight I was b
ack on the road to Hertfordshire. We stopped in Meryton long enough for me to purchase a common license and speak to Elizabeth’s father. Within an hour we had gathered Mrs. Mansfield and young Jem to head north.”
“What sort of a wedding was that for a new bride?” Georgiana was horrified. Never would she want that for herself. Instantly, she was chagrined. For had she eloped with Wickham, standing over the anvil was not her dream for her wedding either.
“You are correct, my dear. It was not much of a wedding indeed.” Darcy exhaled forcefully. “Her father’s cousin, Mr. William Collins, is the rector at Hunsford parish.”
“Aunt Catherine’s living?” At Darcy’s nod, she could not help but ask, “What does Mr. Collins have to do with your marriage?”
“He is a bore who informed me right before I stood up with Elizabeth at the ball that after a period of only thirty minutes in her presence, he had singled her out as the object of his affection and would be offering for her the following morning. Truly, he groveled to any he believed to be superior to him in rank. To any who would listen, or not, he bragged about the condescension of Lady Catherine as though she was a queen who wielded the ultimate authority on all subjects. Good heavens! He even boasted of placing shelves in all the bedroom closets when Aunt Catherine mentioned they were desirable.”
Georgiana could not help herself. She snorted. “Shelves in closets? All of them? How in the world could the wrinkles be hung from dresses and other long garments? How did he hang his own outer clothes?”