Elizabeth’s Heritage (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Prologue

The Duchess of Essex awoke in a state of absolute fury. For the third time, she had lost a child to miscarriage, and it was all that little girl’s fault: the little girl whose name the duchess refused to utter or even think, even though it was her own child.

That girl must have damaged something on her way out or cursed her or something, because the duchess had not carried a child to term in the four years since she was born. Three pregnancies and not a single heir to show for all her trouble.

What made it all far worse was that the Duke seemed to have a soft spot for the thing, despite the fact that she was the reason he did not have an heir.

Even so, he doted on her and adored her as if she were his favorite puppy, all the while ignoring the duchess’s pain every time she failed to carry his heir to term.

It was so unfair. It was ridiculous. It was entirely preposterous. And the duchess would put a stop to it right now.

Ignoring the pain in her abdomen, she got out of bed and headed for the nursery. There she found the little witch who had cursed her. She was playing with some dolls in a dollhouse that the duchess didn’t remember being there before. The child’s father must have purchased it for her.

Fury rose from within the duchess’s breast up through her neck and head, making her see red. With a guttural cry of anger and anguish she rushed forward, arms outstretched to seize the beast.

Her hands had just enclosed the child’s neck, and she had just begun to squeeze when the nursery maid returned from the adjacent bedroom.

“My Lady, my Lady!” cried the nursery maid. “You must stop!”

“I shall not! This child cursed me. She is the reason nothing goes right. She is why I can never be happy. Only when she is dead will I finally be free”

The maid laid a hand on the duchess’s arm. “But you mustn’t sully your hands in this way. This is servant’s work. It would be awful for you to have a child’s blood on your pure hands.”

The duchess released the beast. “You are correct,” she said. “I was so angry, I forgot myself. I will leave this most important task up to you. If you cannot do it yourself, get one of the gardeners or the butcher to do it. Just bring me proof when it is done.”

“Yes, my Lady,” said the nursery maid. “It shall be done as you say.”

Ignoring the child’s unpleasant noises of gasping and crying, the duchess went back to her bed with hope in her heart for the first time in four years.

~~~~~

The nursery maid, whose name was Thelma, comforted the little girl as well as she could.

Once the child had calmed down, Thelma took her to her father, the duke, who was in his study.

The Duke of Essex had suspected something like this would happen, for he knew how angry his wife had become.

He was the one who had told Thelma how to respond if the duchess attempted to take the little girl’s life.

“Thank you, Thelma,” he said after she explained what had happened. “I will take care of her from here.”

“Your Grace, there is one thing my Lady did that we did not anticipate,” said Thelma. “She asked for proof that the child had been killed. How are we to do that?”

The duke thought for a few moments. He didn’t think his wife would want something particularly bloody or gory, even if such things were the best proof.

The only thing he could think of would be to give her his daughter’s hair.

It would have to be all of it to be convincing to the duchess.

If he could mix a little blood in it, it would be certain to convince her.

He bent down to his daughter and said, “My dear, I need you to be brave for a little longer. We will need to cut your hair, and then I shall take you on a journey. Is that alright with you?”

“Will that make it so Mother won’t hurt me anymore?” asked the little girl in a small voice.

“Yes. If we do this, you will be safe. She won’t harm you anymore. I promise,” said the duke.

“Then, you may cut my hair,” she said.

While His Grace cut the little girl’s hair, Thelma fetched a bag to place it in. When he was done, he took his pocketknife and cut his finger rather deeply, letting it bleed onto the hair in the bag. Once he was done, he wrapped a handkerchief around his finger to stop the bleeding.

“Take this bag. Give it to Her Grace tomorrow as evidence that her daughter is gone. In the meantime, I will take her somewhere safe. Tell no one about this. No one. We cannot risk word getting back to my wife about it. Nor can we risk anyone knowing that Her Grace is no longer altogether sane.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” said Thelma. “I am so glad she will be safe now.”

Once Thelma was gone, the duke said to his daughter, “I must ring for the housekeeper, but she cannot see you. I need you to hide under the desk until she is gone.”

“Yes, Papa,” she said. Then she crawled under the desk.

When the housekeeper arrived, the duke said, “I received some urgent news, and I’m afraid I must take a sudden journey.

I will be gone for two or three days. My wife is still recovering from her travails, so there is no need to bother her.

If she happens to notice I am not here, just let her know I will return soon. ”

“Yes, Your Grace,” said the housekeeper. Then she left.

Getting his daughter out of the house without anyone noticing her wasn’t the challenge it could have been.

Pollaner, his home, was a relic from a time when a duke’s home was meant to be more of a fortification than a palace.

Such places always had secret exits which would allow the ruling family to escape if the place was attacked.

In these modern times, it was unlikely that the house would be attacked by an army or even a handful of thugs.

Even so, he, as well as his father before him, had kept two of these exits in good condition for his own use.

There had been a few occasions, mostly involving secret trysts with women, when they had come in handy over the years.

The Duke of Essex went over to the wall in his study where a portrait of his recently deceased father hung with a pair of sconces flanking it. He turned one of the sconces sideways and heard a click. A crack appeared in the wall. He pushed, and the secret door opened.

“Come,” he said to his daughter. “We shall use this to leave.”

As he turned to her, he could see that she was wide-eyed with wonder. “How did you do that, Papa?” she asked.

“I shall tell you all about it once we are on our way,” he said with a smile. He adored her natural curiosity. He reached for the candle which burned on his desk with one hand and his daughter’s hand with his other. Once she had grasped it firmly, they set off.

The exit of the secret passage was in a woodsman’s cottage in a little copse of trees only a quarter mile from the house. He asked her to wait there while he went back and boarded his carriage from the front door so as not to raise any suspicion or curiosity.

She seemed frightened to be left alone, but she nodded bravely. The lack of hair framing her face made her eyes seem even wider in her fear. The duke hesitated to leave her, but he reminded himself that secrecy was her best shield.

He gave her a firm hug to bolster her spirits, then he practically ran back to his study and just barely made it back in time for a footman to arrive telling him the carriage was ready.

He boarded the carriage, and only after it was moving did he tell the coachman to head to the little copse so he could get his daughter.

Finally, they were on their way with only the carriage driver and Thelma even aware that Lady Elizabeth had left the house.