Saints and Sinners

by Karen V. Wasylowski

  Her knees were buckling…

  “Your hair is golden rays of molten sunlight, your eyes a glorious summer blue – are you feeling all right?”

  “No. I’m chilled suddenly. And very, very warm. Perhaps I have a fever.”

  He knelt on one knee before her, taking her hands in his. “Martha, we barely know each other, and yet here we are, loving each other completely. It is so illogical as to be comical, similar to one of those farces by Moliere or …”

  “You were much quieter at the hospital.”

  “I was in a coma.”

  She pulled her hands from his. “Please stop being charming for one minute. You left with another woman last evening. Are you engaged to her?”

  “Bunny? Goodness, no. I have told her several times that we really don’t suit each other, but we’ve been known as a couple, off and on for a few years, and we had obligations to others that she asked me to honor, so she’d not be embarrassed in front of her friends. Last evening was the end.” He rubbed his cheek. “Believe me. Besides, she’s decided to marry her cousin, Paul. She’ll be a countess then… I suppose you wish I was in a coma again with all my jammering.”

  Taking his hand again she held it between her own. “No.” Oh, his hand felt beautifully warm. “I love hearing you speak, love everything about you in fact; what I imagined you would be like seems to pale beside who you truly are.” She caressed his cheek and smiled. “I’ve never believed in love at first sight before this.”

  “Must run in my family. My father fell in love with my mother at first sight. Yes. They were at a ball and she was being harassed by some randy soldiers when my father stepped up to rescue her. He said the moment she looked up at him with her huge brown eyes he was finished, said he saw their children in her eyes.”

  “Oh! That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Really? When they would tell us children that story we’d all make gagging sounds.”

  “There is nothing worse than children. And what do you think now?”

  “I like children. I’d like several of my own.”

  “No. I mean about love at first sight.”

  “I am all for it. Shall we leave now? My carriage is waiting at the gate with hot bricks inside – very warm – and, woman, I dearly need you alone to myself for a while.”

  “Was that Mark’s voice I heard in the entry hall?” When Kathy Fitzwilliam glanced up to speak her cousin noticed she had paint on her nose, chin, cheek and four fingers.

  “Yes. This is the third week in a row he’s visited, brought some gifts for the children. What on earth have you done to yourself?”

  “Why? What’s the matter?” Kathy turned when the others began to laugh.

  “She was swatting at a fly,” answered Mary Beth. “On her face. With her brush.”

  “I was not!” Kathy flicked the paint from her brush at her younger sister. “It was Alice. She claimed there was a fly there and began to attack me, and then I tried to grab the brush from her hand. It’s all true. I am afraid Alice is insane and should have been committed years ago.”

  “Perhaps it was a mole with wings.” Alice flicked paint from her brush at Kathy’s shoes.

  “Vengeful brat.”

  “Would you hooligans stop flinging paint around. I am running out of tarps.”

  Kathy chuckled as she wiped her shoe. “Remember the olden days when we painted little tea cups and small tables. We were all so much more ladylike then.”

  “Where is he?” Mary Margaret was the only truly talented painter in the family, so her concentration rarely left the canvas, except to worry about her brothers and father. And the weather. And age spots. And Greeks.

  “Where is whom, dear?”

  “Mark. Didn’t you just say he’d arrived?”

  “Oh, him. He’s gone upstairs. He always goes upstairs first. I must say he’s looking exceptionally handsome these days, don’t you think? One could never guess he’d gone through such an ordeal.”

  “They’ll make a beautiful couple. I hope they have children.”

  “Who, dear?”

  Kathy rolled her eyes. “Bunny and Mark, silly. Such a handsome couple.”

  Her sisters and cousins stared at her in surprise. “Hadn’t you heard?” Alice attempted to wipe paint from Kathy’s chin but only spread it further. “Oh dear; well, now that’s a mess.”

  “Give me that rag! What gossip haven’t I heard this time?”

  “Mark and Bunny aren’t seeing each other any longer. It’s been weeks.”

  “Pardon? Don’t be ridiculous. Of course they are still seeing each other. They’re to be married.” As she spoke, the other women shook their heads no.

  “I heard from my maid’s son’s wife – she’s Bunny’s seamstress – that she’s become engaged to her second cousin, Lord Paul. Bunny, that is, not the seamstress.”

  “Well, bloody hell, why am I always the last to hear things?”

  “Kathy, watch your language.”

  “Forgive my perfectly understandable pique, Anne Marie. Might I enquire when this all took place?”

  Mary Margaret sighed with exasperation. “Over the last few weeks – where have you been, Kathy? You know they both kept putting off the engagement; it was obvious to everyone they were looking for better matches over the years. Mark wanted a love match and Bunny wanted a title.”

  “They’d better speed up the wedding if she wants that,” added Mary Elizabeth. “I hear Lord Paul has one foot in the grave already. He’s older than Papa.”

  “Don’t be silly, Beth. No one’s older than Papa. Be that as it may, Mark Fitzwilliam is a better man than any title. Well, you know what I mean. She’s a fool.” Kathy’s eyes narrowed on her cousin. “And why may I ask does our Marcus bring your children toys, and not mine?”

  “Or mine,” interjected Alice, stirring the pot. “She must be keeping something from us.”

  Anne Marie picked up her knitting. “My children are adorable.”

  “What are mine, frogs?” Alice challenged. “Remind me to trip her when she next passes by,” Alice huffed; but Kathy wasn’t listening to her cousin. She was sitting back in her chair, staring at the open doorway as little Steven and little Deborah tip-toed past heading toward the servants’ stairway and the kitchens below.

  “Anne Marie? Was anyone else upstairs with the children when Mark went up?”

  “Yes, of course. Nanny Clarke. I really must stop calling her that. She’s so much more – a governess, a nurse, and a nanny all rolled into one. And, she comes from a wonderful family. Her father was Lord… something or other, I forget again. My memory is getting dreadful. Very important somewhere, I believe; I cannot tell you the relief I feel having finally found someone to replace Bridget, after all these years! Bridget was very good with Roberta and Roberta loved her – still does. I could hand my child over to her with not a moment’s hesitation. Until, you know, Matthew…”

  Mary Margaret and Mary Beth both put a finger up to their lips for silence while Alice and Kathy cleared their throats, casting meaningful glances to Anne Marie concerning a servant setting up tea in a corner of the room.

  “Yes. You’re right. Well, you all know what I’ve been through since then, one woman after the other. Either they were too brutal, or too lax, or they stole something, or they drank, or they were acrobats of some sort. It has been terrible. I am so relieved; so relieved to finally find someone who is able to nurse and teach, who was raised as a lady, who… Kathy, did no one ever tell you it was rude to laugh when people are speaking? Unless, they’ve said something terribly funny, and I don’t believe I’ve said anything even remotely funny for at least five years. Well, what is it?”

  “You have visitors.”

  When Anne Marie turned around she saw Steven and Deborah standing behind her in the doorway, making faces at all their aunts. “What on earth are you two doing down here? Why aren’t you upstairs at your lessons?”

  “Mrs. Clarke ended cla
ss early.”

  “Really? Well, she must have had a very good reason. I seem to remember, however, that after class you are both to take a nap. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

  “Unca Mark said we didn’t need a nap today. He said that we could go downstairs to the kitchen and cook would have special cakes for us that he sent around the back, but then Mrs. Davies said she hasn’t time to prepare them now and that we should come back in a little while. Can we go outside and play until a little while is over?”

  “No. Well, certainly not without Mrs. Clarke. Where is she?”

  “She’s upstairs with Uncle Mark.” Deborah covered her mouth and giggled. “They’re kissing,” she whispered through her fingers.

  Even though each of the ladies’ jaws dropped open no sound emerged, until suddenly, they exploded with excitement.

  All except Anne Marie. “What did you say?”

  Playing with the fringe on his mother’s chair, Henry wrinkled his nose. “She said, Unca Mark and Mrs. Clarke are kissing.”

  “Deborah, Henry, you must be mistaken. Perhaps Mrs. Clarke had something in her eye.” A sense of deja vu laughed in her face.

  “No. I don’t think so, Mama.” Deborah fussed with the bow in her hair, shook her head thoughtfully. “Perhaps she had something stuck in her mouth, though.”

  “What about my clothes, my books.” Mark was pulling Martha down the stairs behind him. She’d only had time enough to grab her cloak, bonnet and gloves.

  “You won’t be needing either for the next month or so if I have anything to say about it.” He swung her into his arms and looked down both hallways for the butler, Timmons. “Good God. You must have weights sewn into your cloak.”

  “Mark put me down.”

  “No. Where is that butler? Stop squirming. Martha, I cannot put you down, you move too slowly and I really don’t want to face my female relations at this moment, especially Anne Marie. Ah, there you are Timmons.”

  “Och, Master Mark, what’s this? Has our Mrs. Clarke injured her wee foot?”

  Mark turned his back to the man. “In the pocket-book attached to my trousers are two letters. One is our Special License…”

  “Mark! What are you saying? I thought we agreed to wait.”

  “I am saying that I am an academic, a scientist, a mathematician, and the least spontaneous person I know. Look at what you’ve done to me. You’ve forced me visit a family friend and obtain permission for us to marry immediately. After all, I must make an honest woman of you now.”

  “Mark! Hush! I forced you, of all the… wait, who is this family friend?”

  “The Archbishop of Canterbury. Did you find them, Timmons?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Excellent. Remove them both, please. The note is for your mistress. Make certain you hand it to her after we’ve left, not before. You can give me the Special License. We’ll be using that in a few moments.”

  “Och, this is verra unfortunate, Master Mark. The laird spent a good deal of time findin’ this lassie for the wee bairns. What’ll they do now?”

  “It’s all in that letter, and I have… there she is now. Answer the door Timmons. Quickly. My betrothed is becoming very heavy.”

  “You could always put me down.”

  “Not on your life.”

  Timmons opened the door to a plump little woman with a bright smile. “Can I help ye, madam?”

  “Yes, hello, A Mr. Mark Fitzwilliam sent for me. I am here for the position of nanny – Good heavens!” Behind the butler Martha and Mark were involved in a passionate kiss. “Oh, I say! This does look like a jolly place to work. Yes indeed.”

  Martha broke away from the kiss at the sound of that voice. “Annie Kelly! What on earth are you doing here?”

  The gregarious nurse looked equally shocked to see that the recipient of all that passion was none other than prim, proper, Martha Clarke.

  “What am I doing here! What are you doing here, other than the obvious?”

  “I work here. I am employed by the Durand family as the nanny.”

  “Really, so am I! Wait a moment. Isn’t that your Bob Cratchit?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Hello, Bob! Well! As I live and breathe, things are looking better and better. Does he work here as well?”

  Mark hefted Martha higher in his arms. “All right, that does it – my arms are breaking. Miss Kelly, enjoy your new life. Your wages will be doubled if you prove satisfactory to my cousin after three months. Now, if you will excuse us, we are very late for a wedding.”

  “Your ladyship.”

  Anne Marie looked up from her children, shock and confusion still written on her face. “Yes. Yes, Timmons.”

  “I’ve a note for ye… and I think y’should know there is a lassie waitin’ in the library. A Miss Annie Kelly. She tells me that she’s our new nanny, hired by none other than Master Mark himself, verra generous – a personal trait t’be greatly admired.”

  “No. No. This can’t be happening. He wouldn’t do that, would he?” In answer, her sister and cousins stared back at her, not daring to laugh again. Anne Marie jumped to her feet. “No. No. No. I could not have lost another nanny to another bloody Fitzwilliam brother. I’ll just have a word with ‘Master Mark’ right now, give that brigand a piece of my mind! Where is he, Timmons? Pity he is no longer reliant on that cane of his, then I could kick it right out from under him!”

  “Ach, miss.”

  She closed her eyes. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Truth is they left several minutes ago. He carried Mrs. Clarke out the door and right into his waitin’ carriage, both o’them laughin’ and soundin’ verra gay and happy. He said they were gettin’ married by Special License.”

  Stunned speechless, Anne plopped back into her chair.

  Timmons’ eyes twinkled with delight. “He also said to tell ye all good-bye for now, they’ll be in touch with ye when the deed is done… oh, and he added that you’d better keep your eye on pretty Miss Kelly. Ye ken, he has other brothers.”

  Epilogue

  1877

  * * *

  The fifteen years since the marriage of Martha Clarke and Mark Fitzwilliam in the early months of 1862 saw many changes in the Darcy and Fitzwilliam households, the swiftness of time bringing joys, triumphs, disappointments, sickness, and, inevitably, the passing of loved ones.

  Alex Durand succumbed peacefully in his sleep in 1865 at the family home in Scotland, where he and his wife had returned to live out their remaining days happily together, with Ewan leaving for Harrow just before his twelfth birthday.

  And, true to his word, Matthew Fitzwilliam left the Durand family in peace, traveling to America – with his brothers, Father Ted and Luke – where he remained until his return directly to Scotland in 1866. With the blessing of their son, Ewan, and Matthew’s daughter, Amanda, Bridget and Matthew finally wed in 1867, their children serving as their witnesses.

  Sadly, the cholera epidemic of 1867 brought about the sudden death of Mary Elizabeth Fitzwilliam. The family was devastated, of course; her sister, Mary Margaret, found herself lost in a world without her twin. She became quieter and sadder over the years, staying to herself more and more.

  In 1868 Mark Fitzwilliam proudly assisted with the design of the new St. Pancras Station in London, called the Cathedral of Railways, and later with the design of The Albert Hall in 1971.

  In 1869 Kathy and George’s two sons, Benedict and James Darcy, students together at Oxford University, participated on the team that beat Harvard University in the first International Boat Race. The family, every one of them, were there to cheer them on.

  In 1870, a few years after his graduation from Oxford, Fitzwilliam Darcy the second, first grandchild of Fitzwilliam Darcy and Richard Fitzwilliam, passed his written exam and was promoted to Lieutenant in the Royal Navy. He had followed the path of his uncle, Admiral Andrew Fitzwilliam, but only after two years of aimlessly traveling around the continent with a group of v
ery wealthy young men with nothing to do and no plans. His parents and grandparents were against the entire idea of his joining the Navy, making the idea just that much more desirable.

  So, the grandchildren of Fitzwilliam Darcy and Richard Fitzwilliam were now taking their places in a new world. Amanda Rose Fitzwilliam and Roberta Durand had their first season in society together in 1871, both deemed to be diamonds of the first water, lovely beyond compare and great catches. They received dozens of marriage proposals, refusing them all, deciding to attend University together instead. Although women were not allowed to graduate, they could attend lectures, take examinations, and achieve honors in those examinations.

  The independent young women felt perfectly safe attending Oxford, even if they were greatly outnumbered by the young men (a situation Roberta dearly loved) since they had a good many male cousins attending at the same time – including Ewan Durand – all keeping a protective eye on them (a situation Roberta dearly despised.) Romances followed until marriages began.

  It was not until the winter of 1877 that the inevitable happened…

  It was a bright, cool, autumn morning that saw Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy resting in their London home. Within days they would be leaving for Pemberley, their estate in Derbyshire, the social season in London now over. They would probably not be returning to London the following Spring, they agreed. After all, they were getting on in years, both in their seventies now.

  “William, have Georgianna and her husband decided if they’ll be joining us for Christmas this year?”

  “I seriously doubt they can.”

  “Really? That’s disappointing. Have you noticed we see her and her family less and less the older we all grow? Now they’re living in some far-off country with odd cultures, speaking languages we can never understand?”

  “Georgianna is in Ireland, Lizzy.”

  “As I said.”