Without Undue Pride

Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

It was a lovely christening, was it not?” Elizabeth said to Charlotte as they walked home from church. Charlotte had been silent the entire time except for when she had to speak in her role as godmother. To Elizabeth’s confusion, Charlotte only threw her an exasperated look and walked a little faster.

Elizabeth entered the house after her, carrying the baby. Mr and Mrs Hart, who had gone to the church with them, followed and went below stairs, and Elizabeth called for Rebeckah to take Edward.

Charlotte stalked into the drawing room and sat with her hands clenched in her lap, her lips pursed together.

“What is the matter?” Elizabeth asked, but Charlotte only shook her head as Rebeckah came in for Edward. “Will you unwrap him from all his blankets and occupy him while I talk with Miss Lucas? I will be up to feed him soon.”

Rebeckah smiled brightly and took the baby. “Yes, ma’am. Come along, Master Edward.”

When they were alone, Elizabeth took a long look at her friend. She knew Charlotte had never approved of her leaving Pemberley, but Charlotte had grown increasingly short-tempered over the last week. “ You must tell me what is troubling you. You are leaving soon, and I hate to part with this animosity between us.”

Charlotte sighed heavily. “Eliza, I have supported you through your terrible decision to leave Mr Darcy’s care, and to stay here in Leicester alone. But that service was a travesty. I cannot believe the grandson of an earl was christened in such a manner.”

Elizabeth drew back. “Whatever do you mean? He did not even cry.”

“Your servant, Mr Hart, had to be your child’s godparent!”

“And you,” Elizabeth cried. “And I can trust in you to encourage Edward’s faithfulness.”

Charlotte rose, shaking her head. “You needed two godfathers, and no one could be there because, here in Leicester, you are no one! Mr Hart had to bring a friend to stand up for Edward. A complete stranger, and a servant no less!”

A boy child needed one female and two male godparents to conduct the service. “Is that why you are angry with me?”

“I am not angry.” Charlotte huffed. “I am disappointed and afraid for you. And, I confess, a little ashamed of you. You are already a woman without fortune and consequence, and you choose to live here independently in obscurity. I had thought by now, after you recovered from having Edward, you would see the situation more clearly.”

Elizabeth noticed the hard look in her friend’s eyes. She had never known Charlotte to be so irritated with her. “I am new here and preoccupied with the baby, and none of my relations could come.” Her father was capable, but he chose not to trouble himself to travel, and her uncle Gardiner could not leave his business. “I could have waited until next year when we travelled to Longbourn, but that was hardly in Edward’s best interest.”

“But you choose to live here, in this manner, and have no one to depend on outside of this house. At the first moment you needed a wider circle, there was no one. You could not even find two gentlemen to speak for your son in church.”

In an ideal world, she would have asked Jane and her uncle Gardiner to be godparents, but it was not convenient with Jane expecting a baby and her living so far from the Gardiners. Jane was more cautious and had people telling her how foolish it was to travel while pregnant, especially with what had happened to Elizabeth. Upon reflection, it should have been Jane, her uncle Gardiner, and Darcy in the church with her today. Fitzwilliam’s best friend and cousin should have been there for his son, someone who loved her and Edward.

An ache stung her heart. She had not expected to miss Darcy so much. But blindly trusting a man had never served her well, even when she loved them—and she loved Darcy to distraction.

“I am new here,” she repeated, swallowing thickly. “I will make new acquaintances and friends in time. As far as the christening, there is no sense being distressed over it. Edward’s spiritual future is in excellent hands.”

Charlotte threw up her hands. “The baby should have been christened with the splendour suitable to his future rank in life.”

“He was christened in the style of living of his mother!”

They stared at one another for a long moment, and then Elizabeth rushed forward and put her arms around Charlotte. “You are so angry, Charlotte, and I do not understand why. It cannot be only over a humble church service. Please, tell me what I have done to distress you.”

Charlotte pulled away. “I would accept any respectable man solely from the desire of an establishment of my own. It is the only honourable provision for well-educated young women of small fortune, like us.”

“But Charlotte,” Elizabeth said, laughing a little, “what about your happiness?”

“What about preservation from want?”

Her shoulders fell, and she took Charlotte’s hand. “I understand that, truly I do. My life in Spain after Fitzwilliam died was harrowing, and I have had trials since then, but I cannot expect marriage to solve my problems.”

Charlotte let go of her hand. “Marriage has always been my object, and it pains me you threw away that kind of security. Widows have two options: turn to the mercy of a male relation or marry again. I thought you might do both with Mr Darcy.”

Elizabeth’s stomach dropped. There was no way Charlotte could know she refused him. “What? Why would you think that?”

“Eliza, am I wrong?” When she said nothing, Charlotte lifted her eyes. “You refused an honourable offer of marriage. By a man who loves you! For what? Pride? Fear? Look around at your life. You are poor and you are alone and vulnerable.”

“I am independent !” she cried, and then attempted to calm her anger. “No man will control me or disappoint me. You cannot know how important that is to me, to not have to depend on another man for my safety, for my most basic needs.”

Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest. “You are independent?” She scoffed. “Where do you think that money came from?”

This brought some confusing and imperfect recollections to her mind. “What do you mean? The attorney said that the bank?—”

“Never mind,” Charlotte interrupted. “Eliza, you are my closest friend, and I refuse to allow your prideful actions to damage your life and your son’s life. If you will not have Mr Darcy, then you should turn to Lord Milton.”

“Absolutely not,” she said, her voice shaking. “He hated his brother, he hates me, and he will hate Edward for being his heir when he cannot have a son of his own.”

Charlotte shook her head and went for the door. “I had already decided how to act. Today’s service only confirmed that I made the right decision.”

Sunday’s quarrel with Charlotte had distressed Elizabeth, and Edward felt her worry and was more fretful and difficult than normal. Charlotte took her meals alone in her room, and Elizabeth suspected it was for the best because she was not ready to speak to her calmly. However, it had been an anxious few days in Castle Street.

Rebeckah bustled around Edward’s room Wednesday morning cleaning while Elizabeth fed the baby. She suspected Rebeckah wanted to be at hand when she was done, so she could hold the baby and coax more smiles from him. She was likely Georgiana’s age, and Elizabeth had hired her because she was eager and she could afford her.

“Rebeckah, have you always been handy with children?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she answered while folding Edward’s bedgowns. It occurred to Elizabeth how little she had for Edward. She would have to part with a little more money for more blankets and other baby things.

“You previously worked as a scullery maid, though.”

“Aye, but there were children at home younger than me. My father was a drunk, and he died falling under a carriage when I was twelve. No loss there—always hitting us, he was—and then I had to leave my lessons to work because my mother could not afford to keep us all. I was a scullery maid for a lady who had twins. I always liked babies, ma’am, so I tended to them whenever I could. Besides, if I had one of the babies with me, her husband was less likely to touch me. But then she died, and her husband divided the children amongst relatives. And now I am here,” she said with a grin.

Elizabeth looked at her gap-toothed smile and thought of the neglect and abuse she had seen in her short life. “We are glad to have you,” she breathed.

“And I am glad you are a widow with no husband. You can never be too sure how the men of the house will behave.”

It was true, and it was terrible. Women were always at risk of being mistreated, regardless of rank and circumstance. “I would allow no one to take advantage of you, Rebeckah.” Female solidarity could always triumph over class.

There was a knock at the door, and Elizabeth heard Mrs Hart answer it. She looked out the window as far down the street as she could. There was a carriage at the cross street, Castle Street being too narrow to admit a carriage. She had only met the neighbours on either side and the vicar, but a carriage that fine could not belong to any of them .

Mrs Hart entered, looking pale. “There is a constable downstairs, ma’am. He asks to speak to you, and to bring Master Edward.”

Elizabeth felt sick to her stomach as she descended the stairs. Four footmen in livery she did not recognise were in the drawing room along with a constable who introduced himself as Mr Pierce.

“What is this about?” she asked.

“Mrs Fitzwilliam, that child belongs in the custody of Lord Milton, and he has sent us to return him to his keeping.”

This could not be happening. Lord Milton had sent these men? How had he known where she was? “He is only two months old. It goes against custom, against nature, to leave custody of a young child with anyone other than me.”

“His father’s family has a claim to him, ma’am. And a mother has no enforceable custody rights.”

Elizabeth gripped Edward so tight he cried. “There is no will naming Lord Milton custodian or guardian. You cannot take him from me.”

Mr Pierce looked impatient. “Ma’am, the choice falls to the Court of Chancery. And as a widow, you have no right to keep that child unless you have a will from your late husband attesting to it.”

She went hot and cold, and then felt incandescent with rage. Her fury felt like it should shoot from her fingertips and fire from her eyes.

“You cannot take him!”

“Ma’am,” said Mr Pierce in a tone that made Elizabeth want to hit him, “please do not embarrass yourself. There is no reason to assume harm will come to the child in his uncle’s care. His lordship even said that you can accompany the child if you choose it, but we will leave with him.”

“How do you, in good conscience, stand there and rip an infant from his mother’s arms?” she cried.

“This child stands to become a peer of the realm. There is naturally a public interest that he be raised in a”—he paused and looked round the modest room before settling a patronising smile on her—“a proper manner. He could be one of England’s leaders, and his education is of interest to the public good.”

“I would not let Lord Milton raise my dog!”

“Eliza,” Charlotte said. Elizabeth had not even realised she had entered the room. “This is for the best, for you and for Edward.”

“How is living in a prison and losing all right to raise my child the best?”

She fell into a chair, putting Edward upright against her shoulder to calm him. His shrill cries only matched the fear and anxiety building in her own heart.

“I value your friendship beyond that of any other person,” Charlotte said, kneeling by her chair. “Your security and your son’s situation in life matter to me. You cannot see it clearly, but I can. You need a man’s protection, and I arranged it for you.”

“ You wrote to Lord Milton?” Elizabeth gripped the arm of the chair as if it could keep her from tumbling further into what her life had become. “You told him where we were and that I had a boy? Why?”

Charlotte gasped. “How can you ask me that? Because your life is one of obscurity and scarcity, and that boy could inherit an earldom.”

“Is this what you would want for your own life? To depend on a man like Lord Milton, who sees nothing wrong with what he is doing? You would lose all right to your own child?”

“I ask only a comfortable home. You will have that with Lord Milton and be near to your son.”

Near to her son, as one might wish to live near the sea or near to their family. “I cannot believe you would betray me like this! We have been friends for years, as close as sisters.”

“Betray you?” Charlotte cried, standing. “You may not see it yet, but I am saving you. You have nothing here, and your brother-in-law will be an earl. A marriage contains the liability of a woman’s financial needs within her family; Lord Milton is your family.”

“He is no family of mine.” The Fitzwilliam family had insulted her since the moment they were introduced. They left her to die in Spain and wanted nothing to do with her or her son. “And what financial needs? I have money to live on now. ”

“You live off the interest of a few thousand pounds when you might have been mistress of Pemberley and had ten thousand a year.”

Elizabeth winced. She had wanted the man, not the house and the income.

“And do you know how you got that money? Charity!” Charlotte took a breath and lowered her voice. “Regardless, you have no way to set your son up in the world, to educate him and introduce him to people of rank and wealth. You need a rich and powerful man for your son’s sake. If you refuse to rely on Mr Darcy to provide for you as your husband, then you must rely on your brother-in-law, who will inherit an earldom and a splendid fortune, all of which will probably fall to your son.”

“A son who will not know me as his mother, who will have no say in his life.”

Mr Pierce stepped between them. “Miss Lucas, I presume?” Charlotte nodded. “There is a post chaise on High Cross Street to return you to Hertfordshire. Lord Milton will send a man with you.”

Elizabeth noted the trunks by the door and shook her head, clutching Edward tighter. Charlotte had planned all of this in some perverse attempt to help her. “Charlotte,” Elizabeth croaked with tears in her eyes. “Lord Milton is a cruel man. A life under his command will be Edward’s ruin. His own father would never have wanted this for us. How can you call yourself my friend?”

Charlotte clenched her fists at her sides. “How can you still know nothing of how women must survive in this world? You refused to marry, you refuse your family’s shelter, so I sought a generous male relative on your behalf. I am your friend and Edward’s godmother, and I have a duty to his well-being as much as yours.”

“You swore he would be virtuously brought up, not that you would commit him into the care of a cruel man!”

“If you cannot act in your best interests and his,” Charlotte stated calmly, “then I will.”

Mr Pierce cleared his throat. “Mrs Fitzwilliam, Lord Milton said that the child needs a nurse. You may accompany these men to Milton Hall, or you may stay here. But that child is no longer your responsibility, and we are leaving with him now.”

Charlotte put on her hat and gloves. “Choose wisely, Eliza. And be grateful that someone is looking after you.”

As Charlotte passed through the door, one footman moved to block the door to the hall, and another stood in front of the door to the servants’ offices. The other two took two steps nearer to her chair.

“Do you agree to bring the child,” asked Mr Pierce, “or do I take him from you?”

It hurt. It physically hurt in her chest to speak the words. “I agree.”

Mr Pierce gestured for her to go into the hall. Rebeckah was sitting on the stairs, sobbing, watching the dismal proceedings through the railings. When Elizabeth entered the hall, she ran down to her. “What shall I do, Mrs Fitzwilliam?”

“Nothing, my dear. You may take your wages from the cash box before you go.”

“No, what shall I do to help you? Who shall I turn to?”

Who had she ever been able to rely on? One person came to mind. Although the law was entirely against her, she still wanted him to know what happened. She had lost the right to confide in him, to turn to him for anything, and even to still love him. But he was the only one she wished was here, even though there was not a single thing he could do.

“Can you write a letter for me?” she asked, and Rebeckah nodded. “I need you to write to Pemberley House in Derbyshire. Can you remember that?” Rebeckah nodded again. “Tell Mr Darcy Lord Milton took the baby.”

Mr Pierce ordered her out the door and into a carriage, where she sobbed the entire way.

Darcy may have had a comfortable carriage and fast teams and a fine driver, but he hated travelling at this time of year. Going farther than one stage from November to February meant delays from rain or even snow, ruts in the road, and feeling damp through. He had gone hundreds of miles, nearly from one end of England to the other, to Portsmouth and then back again.

Not that he regretted seeing to the matter himself, but he was weary and cold and would not be suitable company until tomorrow.

The sun had set half an hour ago, but they had been nearly home and Darcy wanted to press on to Pemberley. He would stay at home for Christmas and not get back into a carriage until he went to town for the winter with his sister and Mrs Annesley.

Once again, Mrs Reynolds met him in the hall as soon as he came in from the cold. All he wanted was a stiff drink, a blazing fire, and his own bed, but whatever his housekeeper needed to tell him, he knew it could not wait. He suppressed every desire to shrug his shoulders like a petulant child and trudged across the hall to her.

“The last time I came home and you approached me with such a look in your eyes, my houseguests had left.”

His housekeeper gave a rueful smile. “This time, there is a young girl who says she has a message for you.”

“A young girl? Who is she?”

“She told us her name, but not who sent her. I think she is a servant, but she will only speak to you. She has been here since yesterday.”

“And she is not from any of the neighbours’ houses? Where did she come from?”

Mrs Reynolds pursed her lips. “She gives us the impression that she has come a long way, but she refuses to say more or give her message to anyone but you. Would you like to wait to see her in the morning?”

Darcy sighed when he looked at his pocket watch. “No, she has waited long enough.”

He went into the library to wait. Once this was done, he could go to bed and put all the business in Portsmouth behind him. Everything was in the hands of attorneys now, and therefore there was no reason to see Elizabeth again, no matter how much he wanted to.

Mrs Reynolds returned a quarter of an hour later and brought with her a freckled girl of about sixteen with a gap between her teeth. “This is Rebeckah Adkins.”

She eyed him warily and stayed near to the door after his housekeeper left.

Darcy rose tiredly to greet her. “I understand you have a message for me.”

She nodded. “If you are Mr Darcy, I do.”

“I am. Who sent you?”

“Mrs Fitzwilliam.”

His impatience drained away, and alarm quickly filled its place. “Is she well?”

Miss Adkins had a sceptical look in her eyes. “Who is my mistress to you?”

“A friend,” he said, still wishing that he could have been more. “She is my cousin’s widow.”

“Then are you Lord Milton’s cousin too?” she exclaimed in a fearful voice.

He inhaled sharply. “How do you know that name? What has happened?”

“I don’t know that I should tell you anything. How can I trust you if you are his cousin, too?”

“It seems that you cannot,” he snapped. “But Mrs Fitzwilliam can, and she sent you all this way, so what has happened?”

Miss Adkins looked resigned when she said, “She begged me to tell you that Lord Milton took Master Edward.”

The news was like a blow to the chest. A righteous anger filled him so deep that his vision spun. In these first few seconds of hearing what Milton had done, his rage knew no bounds. It was a struggle to cope with his increasing fury. If Milton was in front of him right now, he might have shot him in the heart.

“When?” he said through clenched teeth.

“Wednesday, the twentieth.”

Five days. He formed his resolution of leaving for Peterborough at dawn before she even answered his question. “And you left your mistress all alone in Leicester?” Elizabeth must be beside herself with grief and terror. As much as he wished to rush to her side, it was better to deal with Milton first.

“No, she went with them. Mrs Fitzwilliam seemed to hate him, but they were going to take the baby from her arms if she did not go. It all happened in less than ten minutes. As they hauled her off, she begged me to write to you.”

He wondered why Miss Adkins had not written. It would not have been any faster to help Elizabeth since he was not here, but why travel sixty miles when a letter would do? “Why come yourself?”

She scoffed. “You could have thrown my letter in the fire and ignored it, or not even believed it. It is easy for a man to dismiss a woman, especially a poor one or a servant. It is harder to ignore her when she is standing in front of you demanding your help.”

“Oh, I am not about to ignore this.”