Anne had feared Lady Catherine would show up unannounced once she knew of the birth. They had purposely waited until the day before Miss Elizabeth departed to send an express to tell her. She was sure to be livid when she learned they had waited more than a week to communicate the existence of her granddaughter. She would stay for Christmas, but luckily no one else in the family was coming. Lady Eleanor had lost her baby, and all the Fitzwilliams were staying at Matlock… well all except Edmund. He had yet to arrive home. She was sure that he had not given Fitzwilliam the three thousand pounds to include with their remittance to Mr. Gardiner on Miss Elizabeth’s behalf.

Elizabeth had not been as gleeful as Anne had expected. She had seemed to deflect a discussion of what she would do with the money at every attempt. Fitzwilliam had told her the only thing he knew was that she was going to hire a young man to act as steward in training for her father. He was going to recommend Mrs. Reynolds’ nephew, John. He had been working with his father for the last several years. Since her brother was Lord Hughes’ steward, she imagined his son’s presence would make it much easier for Miss Elizabeth’s father. She had told Fitzwilliam that her father was losing his sight and had lost some of his confidence. Anne knew not what to make of that; she was surprised they did not have a steward.

Anne remembered her last conversation with Miss Elizabeth. She had watched her nurse, and then took the baby from her to hold and rock. Anne had wanted Elizabeth to forgive her.

“Miss Elizabeth I wish you could find it in your heart to forgive me. I know now it was completely wrong of me to allow my cousin to be alone with you.”

“Mrs. Darcy I forgave you after our conversation at Darcy House. That is, I forgave you for helping your cousin with his beastly scheme. I have not forgiven you, and I am not sure I ever will, for disregarding my modest proposal of demanding three thousand pounds each from you and your cousin.” Anne noticed that Elizabeth chuckled at something before she continued. She was unsure why she found it humorous.

“You played Portia to my Shylock. I came that day for reparations, and you instead forced me to sell you this baby. I was denied the revenge I had hoped to extract. The money you offered was too much for someone in my circumstances to ignore. I will have to live forever thinking myself Faustus, and selling my soul to the devil.” Elizabeth chuckled once again. Anne was unsure of her references and was unhappy she could not receive absolution from Elizabeth.

Elizabeth continued, “Mrs. Darcy, your first act was done thoughtlessly. I forgave you your carelessness because I determined you had not been given proper instruction with regards propriety between men and women. I also decided that you had suffered greatly being under your mother’s thumb; and you were sheltered from interaction with both men and people outside your family. However, when you turned the tables on me at Darcy house, and thought the best solution for my dilemma was to take the baby; I came to realize that despite your mother, or maybe because of your mother, you had been raised to feel entitled. My existence has never allowed me to feel entitled to anything. It is true I am a gentlemen’s daughter; but with the entail on my father’s estate, our financial situation has always been precarious.”

Elizabeth was standing by the window, looking out at the beauty of Pemberley. “I am reconciled to my decision, because I think Mr. Darcy honourable, and believe he will make a fine life for the baby. However, I wish I could convince him to have a good opinion of me. I believe him to think me mercenary. It would be humiliating for me to tell anyone, especially a man, the details of what your cousin did to me; but I do feel it would help my case if you told him how I came to be trapped. Your confession to him is your decision. His loyalty to you would make it difficult for me to tell him; and I do not feel it in the interest of this child to sow dissention between her parents.”

“Miss Elizabeth, you are right. I promise I will tell him.”

Elizabeth looked out the window one last time and sighed. “Thank you. If you do that, I will be happy to forgive you. Your confession will enable me to feel confident that his feelings toward me will not colour the way he feels towards his daughter. My main concern in this whole affair is the wellbeing of this child. Ever since I was violated by your cousin, I have felt the absence of choices when making decisions. Recently, I have come to realize that there are many others in the world whose circumstances are much worse than mine. I leave here cheered that no one at home will know of my dishonour, and your husband will not think me mercenary. Furthermore, I am resolved that unlike Faust, I will not waste what I have been given for the bargain.”

“Do you have plans for a large celebration for Christmas? Ours will only be my mother in addition to Georgiana. My cousin’s wife, Lady Eleanor, lost her baby, and none from their family will be coming to Pemberley.” She noticed that Elizabeth had gone from looking resolute, to appearing shaken at the news of her cousin. She assumed it was because Miss Elizabeth did not like being reminded of him.

Anne had promised that day to tell Fitzwilliam the truth; but she felt she should wait until after Christmas to broach the subject. She first wanted to resolve the issue of the baby’s name, and besides he was currently occupied with addressing Georgiana’s anger.

Georgiana had overheard Anne and her brother arguing over the name for the baby. Anne was insistent that the baby be named Elizabeth Anne. She wanted to honour the baby’s mother by using her name. Fitzwilliam feared that it fuelled the fire of speculation about the child. It was gossiped about among the servants, and even some of their family, that there was some secrecy surrounding the baby’s birth, and there was no one within the Fitzwilliam, De Bourgh or Darcy family named Elizabeth.

She had just gotten him to agree to the name, and now this afternoon she would have to deal with her mother’s objections. She knew her mother would want the baby to be named after her. She could not imagine calling this child Catherine or Cathy.

On Sunday, March 15th, 1807, the baby was baptized Elizabeth Anne Darcy. They decided to call her Bethany. It was a concession to Fitzwilliam’s fears; but Anne quite liked the name. As expected, her mother objected, but Anne was determined to honour Elizabeth. She refused to be moved on the question of the baby’s name. Richard Fitzwilliam and Lady Eleanor were chosen to be the baby’s godparents. Lady Eleanor 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.

Four months after the baptism, Anne had still not fulfilled her promise to Miss Elizabeth. Every time she thought the time might be right for her confession, there always seemed to be some obstacle that arose. The latest obstacle was her belief that she was with child. She could not tell him now, for fear he may reject her and the baby she was sure she was carrying. After Bethany’s birth, Anne had been determined to have the best marriage she could, and to be the best mother possible. She put aside her fears and encouraged intimacy.

Their days and nights settled into a blissful routine. Anne loved being a mother, and she could tell Fitzwilliam loved being a father to Bethany. They planned their days around being with her as much as possible. They sang to her and read to her, even though she could not understand. Georgiana had gotten over her anger, and she loved entertaining Bethany. 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 born, and had been amazed how easy the birth appeared. She determined it was her duty to give Fitzwilliam a male child. She now believed she had been selfish with her fears of childbirth. This was her initial justification for going to him every night; but when he seemed quite pleased, she gloried in feeling desired, and she 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 what she had done.

It was not long after her changed outlook toward her marriage 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 was to try to improve her health as much as possible. Her mother had always tried to convince her that she was unable to do things because of her fragile health. Dr. Wilder, however, felt increasing her strength had been successful for Miss Elizabeth, and would be equally rewarding for Mrs. Darcy. He encouraged her to eat as much as possible since she tended to be frail. He promised to frequently bring her Miss Elizabeth’s favourite treat to fatten her up – Mrs. Hinton’s famous madeleines. As with Elizabeth, he encouraged her to get as much exercise as possible. They agreed she should tell Mr. Darcy, but make sure he understood that it would not be certain the baby was viable until she felt it 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 nursed him for the first time, and tried as best she could to sing to him. When she ran out of lullabies, she sang the only other song she could think appropriate. She sang Bobby Shafto to him. He really seemed to enjoy the song, and she thought maybe he was trying to smile. She was supremely happy that all had gone well and he was a perfect specimen.

Twenty-four hours after the birth, Anne became quite 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. She was desperately trying to tell Fitzwilliam something. She kept trying to say, “She forgave me and I must confess. She said I thought myself entitled. Please Fitzwilliam, I need to tell you what happened that day. She forgave me. I promised her I would tell you the truth and I did not. I think God is punishing me. I need to atone.” The sounds that came out were unintelligible. He shushed her and encouraged her to sleep. He held her hand continuously and frequently brought it to his lips, whispering to her that he loved her.

Three days after Lewis George Darcy was born, Anne Darcy died. The last day 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.

Chapter 22 – An Ideal Husband and Father

Fitzwilliam Darcy watched as his infant 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 amazed at how she would look at them as though she understood. He remembered that look from the day Miss Elizabeth sang to her.

Anne had prevailed, and they had named her Elizabeth Anne, in honour of the woman who bore her. He had been apprehensive about using the name Elizabeth, and he convinced Anne they should not use her official name, but call her Bethany. It was a good compromise. He liked the name’s 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 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 chestnut curls. He observed that in addition to her hair, she had Miss Elizabeth’s eyes… green with flecks of gold. Even at only a few months old, they shone with intelligence.

The baby’s presence created a new, intimate bond with Anne. She had lost much of her fear of childbirth while being present at Bethany’s birth. She wanted to give him a son. He enjoyed the intimacy, and they settled into an enjoyable routine of days given over to enjoying Bethany and nights enjoying each other.

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam convinced his cousins to make Lady Eleanor Bethany’s godmother. Richard was very solicitous of his sister-in-law’s well being. He had gone to comfort her as soon as he heard she had lost the child she was carrying, as they had been very close prior to her engagement to Edmund. Richard had not confided in him; but it seemed to him that her affections lay with Richard, and she had married Edmund to please her father. Mr. Harding was known to desire a title in his family, and Edmund and his uncle had definitely desired her fifty thousand pounds, even if it came from trade.

He observed, during Bethany’s baptism, that both Richard and Lady Eleanor 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.

Fitzwilliam was thrilled when he heard Anne was expecting a child. He listened carefully to Dr. Wilder about ensuring her health. He instructed the cook to make all her favourite foods; and then when they were served, he made sure she ate. He scheduled a walk with her every day. He made a sling for Bethany so he could bring her with them. She nestled into the sling facing forward, and watched birds fly past. His Pointer, Florizel, striking the pose his breed was named for, would cause her to gurgle with delight. As always, he was amazed at how interested she was in her surroundings. Of course, sometimes he carried her facing him, and it pleased him that in those instances, the thing she seemed to love most was his face and hair, followed closely by his neck cloth.

It was truly an idyllic time, and his marriage of convenience had miraculously become a relationship he treasured. In all honesty, he knew it was not love; but it was a wonderful substitute. He began to erase his doubts of keeping his vows from his consciousness. Now that she was gone, his struggle had become a distant memory. Sometimes he would look at his daughter and realize the sacrifice Miss Elizabeth had made. 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. He refused to pay, and Darcy was both furious and chagrined. He was annoyed that his family would seem 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 more difficult for her, and each day her endurance waned. Darcy packed Bethany in the sling and they set out on a crisp day, redolent with dying leaves. For months, she had been babbling as though she was telling him something. She had her mother’s lopsided grin, and she used it frequently to get his attention. They stopped, and he sat down with his back against the trunk of a huge chestnut tree. He took her out of the sling and cradled her in his arms. He wished he could remember the song she had sung. Instead he sang the song he had sung with his mother so many times… Scarborough Fair. When he finished, she smiled at him and said very distinctly… papa. For some irrational reason, the moment he heard her first word, he was resolved to send her mother the additional three thousand pounds for Edmund, and another three thousand, not part of the bargain, from him. He had been thinking of sending her some money just from him ever since he saw her kiss the baby’s fingers and whisper her love.

The second Christmas with Bethany was the happiest one he had experienced since his mother died. He did not even mind that all the Fitzwilliams and his mother-in-law were present. He, Anne and Georgiana had concentrated on buying presents for Bethany. First they gave her presents on her birthday, and then turned around, and gave her more for Christmas. They got her a top, building blocks, three dolls and a puppy. Her godmother gave her a stuffed rabbit, and her godfather gave her a stuffed bear. Aunt Cassandra gave her several picture books. Her grandmother gave her a bonnet. She quite liked the boxes most things came in. One in particular made a fine hat that she preferred to the bonnet her grandmother had given her. The puppy was a last minute idea of Georgiana’s. They did not have time to get her a proper housedog like Georgiana’s Pug, Bianca. Instead they got a Foxhound pup out of the kennels. Bethany who was oblivious to the social stratification among dogs or humans, greatly appreciated her new companion. She was still crawling, so they had being on all fours in common. He father named him Bottom, but she called the dog Papa. She did not yet understand the true meaning of her first and favourite word, or that in the Darcy house, all pet dogs must be named after Shakespearean characters.

On the eve of Twelfth Night, Anne began her labour. To Darcy, it did not seem as though it took much time at all for her to deliver. The baby was a boy, and had a great deal of dark hair. They named him Lewis George Darcy. Fitzwilliam Darcy was very proud, and he was momentarily fearful his own child would diminish his affection for Bethany. He did not want that to happen, because he would think himself dishonourable, but as he looked at his son sleeping, he became certain that it was Bethany that had created the atmosphere that resulted in Lewis.

When Dr. Wilder told him that the infection from the ruptured afterbirth was probably going to be fatal, he was shocked that the euphoria they had experienced less than thirty six hours before, had now shifted to horror for him. She kept going in and out of consciousness, and he struggled to make sense of what was about to happen. He could think of nothing but finding some way to ease her departure. She kept trying to tell him something. She wanted to confess, and it sounded as though someone had forgiven her. If she had been forgiven, why did she need to confess? She was delirious, and then drifted into unconsciousness. All he could think to do was kiss her hand and tell her he loved her.

In the spring following Bethany’s third birthday and Lewis’ second, Fitzwilliam Darcy brought his entire family to town for the Season. His sister and Mrs. Watson were in town to allow Georgiana to spend time with a pianoforte master. His whole life was Georgiana, Bethany and Lewis, and he refused to be separated from any of them. While in town, he thought he should attend some balls and reacquaint himself with the ladies of the ton. There was always the possibility he would meet someone who could inspire passion of both mind and body in him and still be a good mother to his children. Perhaps this time he would not feel quite so much like horseflesh as he had six years ago.

Every day, while Georgiana was occupied with her lessons, he would take the children into the park across the street. Bethany was very precocious, and the most verbal child he had ever encountered. She was fearless in approaching strangers in the park and striking up a conversation. She had become fast friends with another child her age, named Elizabeth. She and Elizabeth Barrett enjoyed games of make believe. One day they would be pirates drawing on Elizabeth Barrett’s family’s history in the West Indies, next would be witches or fairies reflecting Bethany’s love for the stories read to her by her father.

One day, as Darcy was giving Lewis a piggyback ride, and Bethany was waiting her turn, she saw an amiable looking young man sitting on a bench observing them. He had blond hair, and Bethany thought he looked like an angel. She was sure she must make his acquaintance. She pondered how best to approach him. Finally she decided and said, “My mama is dead.”

Darcy heard his daughter’s inappropriate remark and hurried to apologize to the young man.

Just as he drew close, he heard the young man say, “so is mine, and my papa too.”

“Oh, Mister, sorry. I love my papa… I would cry… He would go away forever and I would never see him again. Did you cry?”

Yes, I did, and sometimes when I am all alone, I still cry.

Bethany hugged the young man and said, “I do not remember my mama. Ummm, Mister, you look like an angel. Are you from heaven? Can I be your friend?” My name is Bethany.” She got a thoughtful look on her face as though she was evaluating something about her new friend. She said, “My papa is teaching me to play chess. Do you play?”

“Yes, but not very well”

Bethany gave the young man a wickedly sweet smile. “Maybe you could play with me.”

Darcy apologized for his daughter, and began discussing her forwardness and competitiveness with the young man, whose name was Charles Bingley. They did indeed have grief in common, even though its appearance was radically different in each.

Their personalities were very different, but somehow their strengths and weaknesses as individuals complemented each other. Where Darcy was dour, standoffish and even a bit shy, Bingley was amiable, gregarious and comfortable in most social situations. Darcy was organized, conscientious and meticulously honoured his obligations. Bingley was quite disorganized, and known for his carelessness in many things. He could even be called fickle at times. His carelessness did not extend to his appearance, however. He was always beautifully dressed, and much more colourful than Darcy, who even though no longer in mourning, still favoured black. Darcy had once felt great joy, and now and again in the presence of his sister and children, he saw a glimmer of what he once remembered. Bingley often felt happiness, but he did not particularly dwell on his feelings. However, he did enjoy being in love, and tended to imagine himself in that state quite often. Darcy disliked being in the presence of pompous, supercilious, vain and shallow persons. Bingley did too, but unfortunately he had two sisters that fit that description.

That day they made a bargain. Darcy would accompany Bingley to many events of the Season with the hopes that his discomfort would be lessened. Darcy agreed for his part to help his friend locate an estate. Bingley’s father had made a fortune in trade and had wanted his family to gain the status awarded those of the landed gentry.

All in all, it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Chapter 23 – The Portrait of Lord Wolfbridge

Lord Wolfbridge surveyed the females at Almack’s. He was sure there were none under seventeen, or at least none who looked young. He really did not care the age, if the look he craved was present. He was bored as usual, and his parents, even his father, were insisting he come home to Matlock. His apparent disregard for his wife was causing gossip that mortified his parents.

He had hoped once he was married, that his time would be his own, but instead the expectations had increased. Twice he had spent time with Eleanor and made her with child, and twice she had lost the baby. He had not thought of this possibility before they married. Once he had an heir, hopefully he would be free to do what he wanted.

He noticed that even though all the young ladies at the assembly tonight must know of his marital status, he still generated a great deal of interest as a dancing partner. If it was not against society’s rules, he was sure many of these brazen young women would do more than ogle and insist he dance with them. As it was, the looks he received flattered him into believing that he would still be able to have most women present.

He did not want to leave London. He would send for Eleanor, and they would reside here until he was successful once again. In the beginning, she had exhibited some passion during their coupling, but the second time she was passive, the way Elizabeth Bennet had been. He had gone to her every night with the hopes of greater success; but she was barely a participant. Receiving him was nothing more than an obligation to her.

Both times she lost the baby, Richard had gone to comfort her. Obviously, he still cared for her, and he was quite sure she still cared for him. He had not thought his brother so constant to any woman, and he speculated whether they indulged their affections. Maybe his brother could perform his obligations, leaving him free to pursue his own inclinations. Unfortunately, there were natural facts to childbirth, and all would know he needed to be present at a certain time in order to qualify as the father. He needed to think of a scheme so all three of them were together.

He had observed their sad, longing looks as they stood as godparents to his bastard, and he was sure the entire congregation had been aware… not that the baby was a bastard, but that they had feelings for each other. Darcy had been quite successful at making the world believe the child was his and Anne’s. Their deception was reinforced when Anne gave him a second child… and a male child at that. It was unfortunate she died; he truly had some affection for his cousin. What a lucky man Darcy was. He had two healthy children and no wife. He was free to pursue any interest with a minimum of gossip.

If he arranged a situation where he, Richard and Eleanor were all within close proximity of each other, maybe they could carry off a similar deception. He would not want there to be any hint of his not being the father, because he did not want to be thought a cuckold. What a dilemma. He could tolerate an affair between them, as long as the perception of him publicly was not in jeopardy. On the other hand, an affair could be a reason for divorce, and the fifty thousand pounds would stay with him. Then he would be free to pursue some other young… yes, very young woman with a large dowry.

Darcy had confronted him at Bethany’s baptism, but he refused to even consider giving the chit any money. Anne and Darcy had made her a wealthy woman; she did not need any of his cash. She had said she had four sisters. He wondered what they were like. That could be an interesting pursuit… to see if he could capture all five sisters.

Lord Wolfbridge saw Darcy across the room. He was amazed he was attending any of the events of the Season. His cousin seemed enormously uncomfortable, but very popular. Perhaps that was the reason he was uncomfortable. What an idiot he was. It was true, the chatter was about his wealth, his beautiful estate and occasionally his looks thrown in for ballast. Most were in agreement that he would be more appealing if he would smile and not hug the sides of the room. He was with an amiable young man whose job it seemed to be to goad his cousin into minimal social interaction.

They also seemed to be accompanied by a young woman, who definitely wanted the room to think she was with Darcy. She would seek him out around the fringes of the assemblage and insinuate her arm in his. She seemed to be trying to win his approval through a running repartee. He wondered what her subject matter was. If it wasn’t books or the theatre, he was sure she had not a chance. He hoped she was not filling him in on all the gossip or evaluating the participants as to clothes and appearance. That was not his cousin’s preference. She was not unattractive, but he really questioned her style. Everything she wore was of the finest quality, but there was too much… lace, feathers, beads… she was a perfect example of gilding the lily.

A few days later, he saw Darcy and his blond friend playing with some children… two girls around three or four and a boy that looked to be two. The blond young man seemed to be engaging in swordplay with the children. They each had a paper tricorn hat and a patch over one eye. Obviously they were pirates. When they removed their garb, he saw the one girl had beautiful chestnut curls. He realized he was looking at his daughter, and she looked like her mother. He wondered what her eyes were like, so he decided to get a closer look.

“Hello, Darce. I saw you the other night at Lord Cleveland’s ball. You did not seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“No, I was not, but I am making an effort this season to be sociable among the ton. I need to be open, for my children’s sake, to the possibility of remarrying. My friend here is giving me moral support and advice in my pursuit. Charles Bingley, may I present my cousin, Lord Wolfbridge.”

Bethany walked up to the group of men, looked at Lord Wolfbridge and said, “You look like my Papa.” She screwed up her face and peered intently at him. “You smile more.” She thought to herself that somehow his smiling did not make him more pleasing.

He looked back at her just as intently. Her eyes were just like her mother’s. They were green with those unique flecks of gold and gleamed with the same intelligence. She seemed larger than he would have thought her mother to be at three. Perhaps she would have his height. He said to the little girl who continued to stare unabashedly at him, “I am his cousin. My wife, Lady Eleanor is your godmother.”

For the first time, Bethany smiled. “Lady Eleanor is nice… so is Cousin Richard. I am lucky. They give me presents.” Once again she looked quizzically at him. “Are you Cousin Edmund that Papa talks about?”

“Yes, we have met. I was at your baptism and your first Christmas.”

“Hmmm… I must have forgotten. You met my dog, Bottom? He is back at Pemberley. I wish he was here… he would be a good pirate.” For the first time, she gave him a rather lukewarm smile. She was not sure she liked him. “This is my brother, Lewis. He does not talk good yet. We have to go back to playing with my friend.” She curtsied, and she and her brother ran off to continue playing pirate.

Edmund had done his duty and returned to Matlock. He and Eleanor had spent most nights together, and after six months, she once again was exhibiting signs of being with child. She seemed to conceive quite easily, but struggled to carry the child. His mother told him she thought her sadness contributed to her losing the babies. He remembered that his mother had lost several.

He was anxious to be out and about. Once he knew she was definitely with child, he would remove himself and indulge in some pleasure. He planned to find Wickham and enjoy some sport with him.

While he waited, he was spending his time doing something quite radical for him… he was reading. A friend at White’s had recommended two books, he thought Lord Wolfbridge would enjoy. They were the Marquis de Sade’s Justine and Juliette. He was indeed enjoying them.

Chapter 24 - Elizabeth Puts Away Childish Things

Elizabeth Bennet leaned toward the window of the post. The terrain was becoming more familiar. She would be home in a couple of hours. Her uncle, Dr. Wilder, and even Mr. Darcy had offered to arrange for her return to Hertfordshire by hired carriage; but Elizabeth felt the need to economize. She did not want the ladies of Meryton gossiping about how fine she had become during her year of absence. She would be glad to be back in Hertfordshire, but was concerned about keeping everything that had happened in the past year a secret.

Elizabeth was arriving just before Christmas, and she knew her youngest sisters, Kitty and Lydia, would only care about the presents she brought. Before she left Derbyshire, Mrs. Wilder helped her choose bonnets for all her sisters and her mother from Mr. Davies’ store. In addition, there was an assortment of ribbons, new kidskin gloves for each and some very fine Irish linen handkerchiefs. She had spent the last month of her confinement embroidering them – forget-me-nots for Jane, lilies for Mary, violets for Kitty, daffodils for Lydia and roses for her mother.

She thought about the two knives… one sturdy and utilitarian, the other a beautiful silver dagger… one in her reticule and the other in her box. She wished she could have brought a knife home for each of her sisters, but she knew not how she could have encouraged them to carry a knife without disclosing her dishonour.

The Hintons, Jamie, Mrs. Wilder, and even Mr. Davies had contributed to a box of presents and supplies for her trip home. Mr. Hinton had gotten a beautiful wooden box from Mr. Davies. He inlaid iron scrollwork into the top and fashioned a lock and key. The design of both the lock and the scrollwork was a heart and Elizabeth got tears in her eyes when she first observed the box and its contents.

Bronwyn had contributed a supply of madeleines to eat during the trip. Jamie and Bronwyn had made her a sage tea to stop the flow of milk, and included strips of cloth she could use to wrap her breasts in the interim. Grif and Ang had included one of the bandalores with a note decorated with hearts telling her they would share the other one. Jamie had included sheet music for John Gay’s A Beggar’s Opera and an Irish whistle; but the gift that caused her to become most emotional was a beautiful silver Celtic cross from Mrs. Wilder to replace her garnet one.

For the last hours of her journey, her thoughts drifted to Mr. And Mrs. Darcy. She was pleased she had gotten a promise from Mrs. Darcy to confess her role that day at Darcy House. If he at least knew she had been trapped, perhaps he would not think her merely mercenary. She hoped he would realize her right for revenge and consequently not judge his daughter by her actions. The details of that day were too painful to remember, and she knew she would never be able to share them with anyone… she hoped one day she would simply forget.

The conversation she had with Anne made her realize how much she had wanted forgiveness. She had given it freely once Anne had promised to confess. More than anything she wanted to believe her baby would be happy, loved and well cared for. She chuckled to herself when she remembered speaking to Anne of her “modest proposal” and how she had seemed unfamiliar with the reference. A man who had been in the coach the entire trip stared at her as she sighed, remembering how her modest proposal of six thousand pounds had been usurped by Mrs. Darcy’s truly modest proposal to take the baby… albeit not to eat.

Elizabeth remembered the other thing she had learned during that discussion with Mrs. Darcy. Lord Wolfbridge had, indeed, married Eleanor Harding. The surge of guilt she had felt at the time came back full force. She realized her pursuit of revenge had been at the expense of this woman’s happiness. She and her uncle should have communicated how despicable the viscount was. Anne had agreed to confess her guilt; but how would Elizabeth atone for hers.

She needed to put thoughts of the Darcys behind her. Being cooped up in the coach gave her too much time to remember him in particular… his dimples when she made him laugh, his perplexed look as she lay on the floor in her bare feet quoting Shakespeare and his stolen glances he thought she did not observe when they were alone reading.

Elizabeth smiled broadly at her next thought. Hopefully, she would never see or hear from the Darcys again; but she eagerly anticipated hearing from the rest of her friends in Derbyshire. They had all promised to write. Mrs. Wilder would include letters from Jamie so her parents would not question the propriety of corresponding with a man. Bronwyn and Mrs. Reynolds had agreed to write, although Mrs. Reynolds would correspond through her uncle, so no association with Pemberley was perceived. She encouraged all to come to Hertfordshire to visit her. Jamie might be a good match for Jane. She laughed out loud, and the man in the coach was startled. Oh Lord, once again, she realized, she was not that different from her mother.

As arranged, the Gardiners came to Longbourn for Christmas. They arrived before Elizabeth. Prior to her arrival, Mr. Gardiner communicated to her parents the agreed upon story of the legacy from Mrs. Thomas. He explained that Lizzy had instructed the money be sent to her uncle. The amount was substantial, but not enough to make her wealthy. She had instructed him to invest the amount with the hopes that it would grow and be enough to ensure Mrs. Bennet was well cared for in the event of Mr. Bennet’s demise.

Mrs. Bennet was initially ecstatic, but became less so when she realized the money could not be used to increase the finery of her daughters’ clothes, but was partially mollified, when it was hinted by her brother that there might be enough to increase their dowries.

Mr. Bennet made no comment to his brother, but was resolved to question Lizzy when she returned. He felt relieved that their financial crisis was lessened; but Mr. Gardiner could tell he felt discomfort that the security of his family had been won, not by him, but by his daughter.

Upon Elizabeth’s arrival at Longbourn, she was warmly greeted by her family. For the first time in a long time, she relaxed a bit, knowing she was back where she belonged. She felt loved as she shared hugs and kisses with her family. When her father embraced her, she instinctively stiffened. He smelled of tobacco and port… smells she had never minded before, but which now repulsed her because of the association with the viscount.

Elizabeth felt coolness in the greeting of Jane, and she was aware her father was unhappy with her reaction to his embrace. She knew she would have to talk to them privately to try to set their relationships right. She would catch Jane before bed tonight, and spend time with her father tomorrow morning. They had always been the two early risers in the family.

Her mother chattered on about the entire goings on in the neighborhood. Her competitiveness with Lady Lucas had not diminished. Lizzy learned that Charlotte Lucas was to marry Colonel Lawrence Forster next week. Charlotte had written of her engagement; but Elizabeth was a little disconcerted that she would be going away so soon.

Mary told her that Becky and Sir Walter Trent had gone to Bath to economize. Sir Walter had let Netherfield to an Admiral Calderwood. He was not young, and had a wife but no children.

Mrs. Bennett added to that bit of news by saying, “Yes, unfortunately there is no potential for husbands for any of you at Netherfield. I have heard Mrs. Calderwood might have a brother who is a captain in the navy, but currently he is at sea.”

All of her daughters including Elizabeth groaned in unison, and Lydia said, “But Mama, I am only eleven and Kitty is only twelve.”

Elizabeth wished she could chime in with the information that she did not want to marry… ever.

Mrs. Bennet ignored her daughters and continued to prattle on. “Now that Sir Walter is not in the neighbourhood, Longbourn becomes the most important estate. I am quite distressed because that means I should have precedence over our neighbours; but Lady Lucas insists that since she is the wife of a knight, she is the most important.”

At this all too familiar complaint, all of her daughters rolled their eyes. Elizabeth smiled and realized that at least her mother had not changed during her year’s absence.

That night, Elizabeth went to Jane’s room for a private talk. Jane was indeed cool, but as Elizabeth talked to her, she realized it was not because she was angry with her sister, as much as she had pulled into a shell like a tortoise. Her reticence was the armour she wore to keep from being wounded again. Elizabeth knew all too well, how strong the impulse to withdraw when unhappy was, and her heart went out to her sister.

“Jane, I know I should have been here to help you make sense of your feelings for George Trent, but you need to fight against your disappointment. You are by far the most beautiful of all the young ladies in the county. In fact, when I went to the theatre in London, I saw none who were as lovely as you.” Lizzy shuddered at the thought of that night, but composed her face to hide her true feelings.

Elizabeth continued to try to bolster her sister’s confidence. “I do not want Mama to know; but I think there will be enough money from my legacy to establish a five thousand pound dowry for you. I know it would still not have been enough to compete with Miss Green; but I refuse to allow my dearest, loveliest sister to fall into deep despair. You have always been the joy of me, and I will not be satisfied until you are the most happily married woman in all of England. My job will be to teach your children to play musical instruments poorly but passionately, and to speak and read French. I am also excellent at making and flying kites, and you will not believe the skill I have developed playing with a new toy called a bandalore.”

Jane laughed at her sister’s encouragement. Still she saw something in Lizzy’s eyes that hinted at a sadness that had never been there before. She allowed Elizabeth to fold her into her arms and rub her back.

Later that night, Jane was awakened by noises from Elizabeth’s room. She was asleep but thrashing about and begging someone to stop. She distinctly heard her say that she had four sisters. Jane crawled into bed with her sister and reciprocated rubbing her back. She quieted quickly under Jane’s touch. Jane wondered what it all meant.

Elizabeth awoke at dawn and went for a short walk before knocking on the door to her father’s study.

“Enter”

“Papa, I wanted to talk to you alone about what has happened to me.”

“Good, Elizabeth. I can tell you are changed, and I want to make sure all is well with you.”

Elizabeth realized she had used a poor choice of phrase, and consequently, he had surmised something had changed in her demeanour. That was not what she wanted to talk to him about. She had to think of some humourous way to deflect his probing. She said, “I think I am as I always was. I admit I am a little bit older, and I have acquired some amazing wisdom that I am in keen anticipation of exhibiting for you. To that end, I spent my time reading and reading, sometimes through both the night and the day until my eyes got weary, but luckily my hair did not turn grey. Other than that, the only things that have changed are, I am richer, and I have bosoms. Be aware, Papa, I have not played chess the whole time I have been gone, so you should challenge me immediately before I get my game back.”

Her father laughed at his daughter. “I noticed you had grown. Now tell me just how rich are you?”

“Not very, but I am rich enough to provide for Mama after you are gone. You may quit worrying about that, and concentrate on the estate. Uncle will be procuring a young man to help you. He will be a steward in training. He will live here with us, and he will, under your direction, help you with the management of Longbourn. Mary and I will continue to keep the books and read and write your correspondence. You have been without help too long.”

Mr. Bennet knew his most intelligent daughter had used her gift for humour to deflect his inquiries. He decided for the moment not to press her; but he was convinced something traumatic had happened to her. Even with his diminished sight, he could see sadness in her eyes. He became even more convinced when she asked him to help her with Mrs. Bennet. “Papa, I have decided I do not want to marry. The legacy that I received will allow me to live modestly, in addition to taking care of Mama. Please intervene on my behalf, and help me convince her that my decision is for the best. I also do not want to go out into company. I think I can abide house parties with our neighbours, but I would like to avoid assemblies and balls. I really do not want any wider company than the four and twenty families of our neighbourhood.”

Mr. Bennet agreed to her request, but determined he would ask one final question that had been nagging him since she arrived home. He would listen to her answer carefully, since he was sure it was somehow connected to the mystery “Lizzy, what happened to your garnet cross?”

Lizzy touched the silver cross at her neck, paused for a moment, then replied, devoid of emotion, but great sadness in her eyes, “I lost it along with a few other things while I was gone.”

Elizabeth was very pleased with the changes in her sister Mary. Before going to London, she had judged her younger sister as self-righteous and too stern in her outlook toward others. Her interaction with Mr. Bennet seemed to have taken the edge off her natural tendency to dismiss others for their failings. The irony of her evaluation of Mary was that she and her father had also been experts at condemning others. They, however, were skilled at reproaching with sly humour. Sometimes her father’s sarcastic wit stung its recipient a bit too much, while Elizabeth had an archness combined with sweetness that was not as offputting as either his caustic barbs or Mary’s sanctimonious criticisms.

Mary had developed a sense of humour during the past year. She told her sister it was the only way she could ensure harmony with her father. Every day he would almost reduce her to tears with his merciless witty attacks. His main target was her fervent religious beliefs. The day Elizabeth’s letter had come advising the two of them to curtail their theological debates, she resolved to change. That night, as she lay in bed, she decided to fight wit with wit.

The next day, she launched her first successful foray into humourous attacks on his character. She asked him with a stern face whether he was reconciled to going to Hell. He looked at her, ready to pounce, thinking she was as self-righteous as ever, when she concluded that she could not imagine he would be able to collect all the needed species of beetles he had promised God. In fact, she was quite sure he had not collected even one in the last two years. Besides, she was beginning to doubt he would ever leave England, so how would he ever collect those in other lands. She told her father that maybe it was time to strike another bargain with God. Perhaps he could agree to be pleasant to his middle daughter until he was called. Mary knew she was successful when he threw back his head and laughed.

Elizabeth enjoyed working with her sister on the books and her father’s correspondence. They would chat and laugh as they worked, and were pleasantly surprised that they were quite similar in many ways. Elizabeth was pleased that Mary, who had always been a great reader of sermons, had expanded her interests. Mary explained that she had recently become enamoured of Daniel Defoe. She had been reading some of his religious pamphlets when their father insisted she read his novels. She did, and now she was even reading Jonathon Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels, which was said to parody Robinson Crusoe. She was hooked. She still read sermons, but felt the additional reading expanded her horizons.

Mary shared with Lizzy the other experience that had changed her. She found that learning to enter debits and credits in her father’s ledger had given her a new way of evaluating acquaintances. Before she made a judgment as to their character, she made a human ledger. She balanced all a new acquaintance’s attributes against their flaws. She was amazed to realize that her first impression was often not what the ledger approach concluded. Elizabeth wished, as she listened to her sister’s process for sketching a character, that she had learned such an important skill before she had gone to London.

About six months after Elizabeth arrived home, two events occurred. A young man, Mr. John Reynolds, came to fill the position of steward. He was eighteen, even taller than Mr. Darcy, and was Mrs. Reynolds’ nephew. He was what she had heard referred to as gangly, and had a very quiet and calm personality. He reminded her of his aunt in both his personality and the air of efficiency he projected.

Mrs. Reynolds soon wrote her through her uncle to tell her how pleased she was that her nephew had taken the position. She assured Elizabeth that he knew nothing about their acquaintance. The only thing she told her about her daughter was that the Darcy’s had baptized her Elizabeth Anne, and they called her Bethany. She communicated that Mrs. Darcy was with child. Elizabeth worried that a child of their own could jeopardize the treatment of Bethany; but decided she would trust Mr. Darcy to be honourable. Mrs. Reynolds reassured her of Mr. Darcy’s scrupulous commitment to obligations.

The other event was that Elizabeth was adopted by a dog. She often walked early in the morning as an antidote to sleeplessness. She got to the top of Oakham Mount one morning, and there he stood like a sentinel, the ugliest ugly dog she had ever seen. He was big and looked to have some Irish Wolfhound in him. Sir Walter had several of those when she was younger. This dog’s parentage must have been the result of one of Sir Walter’s Wolfhounds getting out and visiting the gaming den on the far side of Meryton. She had heard that dog fighting and bull baiting took place there, and the dogs of choice for those sports were Old English Bulldogs. Somehow the characteristics of the two breeds did not blend, but instead seemed to exist as though the animal was put together with pieces of two dogs. The short hair of the Bulldog would stop abruptly to allow patches of the long wiry hair of the Wolfhound. He was brindled and had obviously been in numerous fights. Half his right ear was missing, and his right eye drooped from another injury. He was frightening looking, but Elizabeth was drawn to him. Instinctively she knew he was destined to protect and befriend her, and he knew she too was an outsider. She laid out her blanket and sat to watch the sun rise over the meadow. He lay down on the blanket beside her and put his head in her lap. She named him Caliban. She had sworn she would never think of The Tempest again, but she took one look at the dog’s deformities, and knew there could be no other name. He would teach her to survive as Caliban taught Prospero