by J Dawn King
“Do you expect your cousin or his wife will cause you difficulty?” Elizabeth inquired.
“In truth, I do not know. Henry rejoiced...no, he gloated at my arrest. I am afraid I cannot forget his offense against me. At the same time, he will soon be a new father with severely reduced circumstances. He has lost his position, everything he was raised to expect. Lady Olivia, as the only daughter of a duke, was trained from infancy to expect deference. How they will recover from uncle’s decisions, I cannot begin to guess.”
“Are you willing to offer him leniency?”
“I suppose,” Darcy admitted. “I always admired my eldest cousin for standing up against Wickham. Henry never wavered.”
“What of Mr. Wickham? Have you heard how his case was resolved?”
“I have,” Darcy kissed his wife again, not wanting to speak of his old friend. “He attempted to bribe a guard at Marshalsea to better his circumstances. The response was a thorough thrashing. I doubt he will survive long.”
“Are you well?” Elizabeth’s gaze was filled with concern.
“You finally ask me after you hear about Wickham? Not Lord Matlock, Richard, Jem, Henry, Mr. Shaw, and... pardon me, did I forget anyone?” He teased.
“Lady Catherine,” she pinched his arm. “You forgot your aunt. How could you?”
“I will tell you how I could,” he growled, before lifting her in his arms. “I am finished talking, Elizabeth Darcy, eventually, Countess Matlock. I have much better activities in mind.”
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she whispered, “I have always thought you an intelligent man.”
Richard burst through the door to their quarters at the inn.
“Pack only what is necessary, Abigail. I will take the baby.” He lifted Jem from her arms. “We leave immediately.”
“It is dusk, Richard. Is this a good time to travel?” she asked as she threw clean cloth strips and blankets into a bag.
Richard tucked the packet from the Darcys deep inside the satchel he picked up containing the best of their clothing.
“If we do not make the attempt to leave now, we will be here until the war is over. Circumstances are fairly good for British captives at the moment. Nonetheless, Napoleon could change his mind at a whim. I cannot take the chance with my family. Let us go.”
Taking the back stairs through the servant’s entrance, he was pleased when he found the kitchen devoid of workers. His plan to give the innkeeper extra coin for the staff had worked. Grabbing his wife’s arm, he prayed his son would remain asleep long enough for them to move through the early evening towards the sea. The walk would be almost ten miles. If they were in the right place at the right time, a hired pony cart would appear a mile from the inn to provide them transport to Ouistreham. There, a smuggler’s boat would take them to a cove close to Lyme Regis in Dorset. It was a considerable distance from London, but with hope and a bit of a blessing, they would arrive safely.
The night was bitterly cold. When they were out of sight of the inn with no alarm having been raised, the colonel unbuttoned his coat to envelop his wife in its warmth. Taking two of the blankets from her bag, he snugly wrapped the babe.
“We must run,” he softly commanded. Without hesitation, Abigail ran like the hounds of hell were after her.
The pony cart was where it was scheduled to be. They huddled together under a pile of burlap to keep warm and hidden. Their arrival on the beach outside of Ouistreham was heralded by the sounds of water lapping on the shoreline. Seeing a lamp flicker in the distance, Richard directed Abigail to take his arm, not letting go for any reason. When she stumbled over the uneven terrain, he stopped until she righted herself.
Within a quarter hour, the three of them were sitting close together on a wooden bench in a storeroom loaded with crates and boxes.
The crossing was miserable. Poor Jem fared no better than he had going to France. The lad used up every spare piece of cloth since nothing was able to stay in his stomach. Thus, Richard was as fragrant as Abigail had been when she had first arrived at the inn.
“Where do we go from Dorset? To Darcy House?” Abigail whispered over the sounds of the sea.
“We do.” Richard replied. “I am desperate to do anything within my power to remove Darcy from prison.”
Abigail nodded.
“My wife, since hearing of Darcy’s troubles with my father, I have been remembering scenes from my early life. In an odd circumstance, I have early memories of a man we called Uncle Gerald, who would come to Matlock for several weeks each summer. He was devoted to Harry and me. When I was about six years of age, he stopped coming. We never saw him again. I also remember conversations between my mother and Aunt Anne Darcy. My aunt lost several babies. At the time, I wondered how we might go about finding the infants. I even mentioned it to my father who told me it was a woman’s business. A man should not get involved with babies.”
“Do you believe this Uncle Gerald might have information that could help the Darcys? Do you know if he still lives?”
“I do not know. Yet, I feel driven to attempt to contact him after we travel to London.”
“Then, let us do all that we can to free Mr. Darcy so he can return to Elizabeth and Miss Darcy.”
He and Abigail had been married a fortnight. During that time, he found her to be exactly as he had remembered, a woman of sense and beauty. Apart from the kiss they shared after viewing the major’s grave, he had not touched her in a physical way. That, he knew, would come in time.
One of Richard’s goals when they finally reached London was to take her to visit her daughter’s grave and Anne’s. Then, they might finally be able to put their former lives behind them. Starting afresh did not intimidate him. He knew his wife would feel the same. She was the best female he could have at his side under these trying circumstances.
Thank heavens for Mrs. Darcy’s generosity in providing funds for Abigail. Had she not done so, there would have been no means of escape.
By the time they arrived in Dorset, the sun was beginning to rise. The three were exhausted. Taking the few coins left after hiring a room to refresh themselves and having their clothing laundered, they slept for hours.
Georgiana was a skilled pianist. Elizabeth’s voice raised in song was so beautiful that Darcy felt a squeeze in his chest. When the butler entered to announce a guest, Darcy was disappointed that their musicale would be disrupted.
Before Dobbs could speak, he was interrupted by a voice from behind him.
“Thank you, Dobbs, old man. I will see myself in from here.”
Immediately, Darcy recognized the voice. So did his sister.
“Richard!” Georgiana bounced up from the piano bench as Elizabeth’s voice trailed off.
“Abigail?” Elizabeth rushed to where her friend was entering the room.
Darcy did the same to Richard.
“Where have you...how did you...” they all spoke at once.
When the initial embraces and welcomes had been extended, Darcy closed the door before they were seated.
“Tell us, how did you manage to escape France?” Darcy inquired, eager for the report.
“I will if you inform us how you come to be here instead of at Newgate.”
The following discussion took several hours. During that time, first Georgiana then Elizabeth held Jem. When he began to fuss, Darcy instinctively reached out to hold him as he had done in the past.
Richard was closer so took Jem into his arms. Like the baby had always done with Darcy, he calmed.
It hurt.
Elizabeth must have surmised his feelings as she reached over to clasp her husband’s hand, squeezing lightly.
In his heart, Darcy knew this was the better arrangement.
“You will stay with us, will you not?” he asked.
Richard and his wife exchanged glances. “I cannot imagine we will ever be welcomed at Matlock House. We would be happy to accept your hospitality,” Richard replied. “Cousin, I must tell you that I
have remembered details from my youth that might have a bearing on my father’s actions. Now that you are safely home, I ask whether you would be willing to accompany me to Sussex to speak with my Uncle Gerald. Have you heard of him?”
“Gerald Fitzwilliam? Yes, we became familiar with the name during the hearing.” Darcy admitted.
“Should you be willing to depart for Sussex on the morrow by horse, we could be in the tiny village of Three Bridges before noon.”
Darcy looked to Elizabeth for her response.
“Will, with your absence for the day, Abigail and I can catch up on all of our news.”
Georgiana offered, “And, I would be pleased to keep Jem company.”
Glancing at each one of the room’s occupants, Darcy was overwhelmed with the affection and respect every individual was giving one another. This was family. This was home. This was love.
Chapter 31
Richard and Darcy rose before the sunrise the next morning. As his cousin had calculated, they were able to locate the parish church before Darcy’s pocket watch showed noon. The clergyman appeared unsurprised at their arrival.
“Gentlemen, I am delighted to see you both.”
Gerald Fitzwilliam was a tall man with a cleft chin, sandy blond hair, and blue eyes. In every way he looked as if he could be Richard’s father.
“Sit down,” the rector gestured to a small table with four chairs. Once they were seated and he had provided tea, he speculated, “I followed the trial as reported in the newspaper with much prayer and supplication. I cannot believe Hugh’s arrogance and stubborn insistence on having his own way. But then, he has always been under the impression that the natural order of things is Almighty God then Hugh Fitzwilliam.”
Richard snorted. Darcy attempted not to smile.
“I imagine nothing less than the full story will do. Pray, settle back young men and I will share a tale that will surely unsettle your stomach, tighten your fists, and possibly have you pulling at your hair.” He chuckled.
“My youth was spent living the sort of life Hugh Fitzwilliam was brought up to, though with far less money. I was selfish and prideful. When I met Miss Millicent Bagwell, I was in love for the first time.” He sighed at the memory. “She was a lovely girl with yellow hair and blue eyes as clear as the sky. As she had not reached her majority, we could not marry. We had no money to elope to Gretna Green. Instead, we chose to live in a small cottage one of my father’s tenants had abandoned. We lived on love and the regularly pilfered meals from the big house’s kitchen. Millie’s parents shunned her. Within three years, she gave birth to two sons. The first was Henry. The second was you, Richard. My sweet girl lived long enough to see you baptized in the church. She died soon after.”
Darcy nodded. This was the same information he had received from Mr. Huggins.
Richard asked, “I know that my father offered you money to take us before he and mother were wed. Do you know why? Had something happened that he suspected his ability to father children?”
“Oh, yes,” the clergyman answered. “I remember the accident well. You see, Hugh had been forbidden by his mother to jump fences and race across the fields when we were out riding. She was the only daughter of the earl with a male child. Hugh’s eldest sister, Catherine, encouraged Hugh’s folly. I have always assumed it was in hopes the earldom would be settled on a male child she would have. I could be wrong.”
Both Darcy and Richard shook their head.
“No, I believe you are correct,” Richard confessed.
“Be that as it may, we were doing as boys will do. Henry was in his seventeenth year. I was only twelve. His horse was much faster than mine. My horse could fly over the jumps. Hugh’s horse ran at a fence then stopped, throwing him over his front shoulder. Hugh ended up straddling the wooden railing. He had landed hard enough to knock him unconscious. By the time the physician arrived, the bleeding from having crushed...well, the damage was done.”
All three men groaned in unison, each crossing his legs tightly.
“In the intervening years, from then until he contacted me after you were born, none of Hugh’s women had conceived a child.” The clergyman shook his head. “When Hugh found out I had sons, he approached me with an offer. Without Millie, I was struggling. The promises he made to me, to raise you boys as his wards to be good men with no worries of your futures was too tempting. At the time, I could provide little.”
Richard reached over and patted him on the arm. “Do not fret, Uncle Gerald. Henry and I have had good lives. I have a son of my own whom I would sacrifice anything for. My willingness to leave him behind with Darcy, because I knew his life would be better, is no different from the decision you made. Both of us lost the woman we loved at the same time we gained a child. I sympathize with your plight.”
Gerald Fitzwilliam nodded his head. “I thank you for understanding, Richard.”
“To continue the tale, I was pleased when you were young to be invited to Matlock regularly where I could watch you boys flourish. When Hugh and Helen had been married for several years, the invitations suddenly stopped. It was not until Henry and you were past your majority that I discovered my distant cousin had made no legal arrangements for either of you. Hugh was not a man to follow anyone else’s orders but his own. With him restricting me from seeing you, it felt like he had purchased you with as little care as he would have done a new stallion from Tattersalls.” He shook his head. “You and Henry were blended into that Fitzwilliam household as sons. I have no doubt that had he been able to father children, you and Henry would have been brought back and dropped on my doorstep.”
Darcy observed, “You story is grievous but not unexpected due to Uncle Hugh’s recent exposure.”
“No, I do not believe this would come as much of a surprise to either of you,” the clergyman admitted. “I do have a question for you, Richard. In all of these years, did not anyone question your parentage? What of your aunt, Lady Catherine? I cannot imagine her not using this information to gain an advantage over her brother.”
“You are correct about our aunt,” Richard agreed. “However, at the time Henry and I were taken to Matlock, she was recently wed to Baron Rosings. Uncle Lewis and Aunt Catherine were not a love match. In fact, they were far from it. After four or five years of marriage, they had no child. Uncle Lewis took a mistress who almost immediately gave birth and then died. Lady Catherine had her own issues in keeping the origins of this daughter secret. Anne was a sickly babe. The de Bourghs remained at Rosings Park for years. By the time her brother announced that he had fathered two sons, Aunt Catherine would not have cared where they came from. She was selfishly interested in her own life. Because we remained at Matlock until well after that point, no one else questioned our ages or our paternity. Mother doted on both of us boys. Father spoke of Henry as his heir and me as the spare. Nothing out of the ordinary attracted unwanted attention from the ton or his peers.”
“I see.” The man Richard called his uncle continued, “Hugh seemed to live a charmed life, until you, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy noted, “Interestingly, I read a case while in Newgate that helped me understand why Uncle Hugh did not seek to legally establish either boy as his own.” Darcy tried to recall all of the details. “I do not recall the exact dates of the case, but one of the studies I read while in Newgate was of Frederick Berkeley, 5th Earl of Berkley. When he died, his oldest son applied for a Writ of Summons to the House of Lords with the intent of inheriting the properties and the title. He was the eldest of seven children, if I recall. The dispute came when the date of marriage of the parents was determined to be over a decade after the eldest son was born. The wife, desirous of her eldest to have the title, told the court that she had married Frederick Berkeley in 1785. The earliest ceremony of which there was incontrovertible proof was in 1796. The eldest son inherited Berkeley castle but his attempt to assume his father’s title was disallowed by the House of Lords, who considered him illegitimate.”
“I a
m not familiar with the case, but it certainly applies to the earl’s attempts to hide Henry’s and Richard’s origins.” The clergyman tapped his finger on his chin before adding, “You were born on 30 March in the year 1780, Richard. The decision Mr. Darcy mentioned about the Berkeley family was not made by the House of Lords until long after Hugh Fitzwilliam claimed Henry and you as his heirs. Therefore, I do not know whether the earl was merely arrogant in assuming he was above the law or if he truly did not know enough law to determine how the court would rule in a situation like his. As it was, he took the easy way out by doing nothing at all.”
“Which leaves you and Henry...” Darcy mused.
“Illegitimate sons of Gerald Fitzwilliam and Miss Bagwell.” Richard blandly stated. “When my son grows older and asks why he did not inherit the barony instead of a distant cousin, he will find out that his mother was not the only natural born child in our family. Both his mother and father came from the wrong side of the blanket.”
“I am sorry, Son,” Gerald Fitzwilliam’s chin dropped to his chest. “My sins have been many.”
“Do not mourn me or my future, Uncle Gerald. My son will inherit the estate belonging to Lady Catherine in Kent. Thus, we will not be far from you at all. In fact, you will be welcome to get to know your grandson as you please.”
“I please very much,” the clergyman said with a smile. “Since you are looking for the blessings in this situation, I should inform you that I put the money Hugh gave me into the four percents. I have not touched it all of these years. I would be pleased to have it divided immediately for you and Henry. That way I know at least one thing good has come from this mess I made.”
“I would never expect money from you, Uncle Gerald.” Richard stated, then paused. “You are not my uncle, are you? Rather, the man I called Father all of these years is merely a distant relative, is he not?”