Prologue #3
Lady Catherine reached into her pocket and presented her sister with a small gift, taking Georgiana into her arms as her sister accepted the offering.
She watched her untie the ribbon and pull aside the delicate paper, and Anne’s breath caught in her throat as she looked at the painted miniature in the gold gilt frame.
It was a replica of the only portrait Anne had of her infant son; the original had grown worn from a decade of wistful caresses.
“Today makes ten years since he was taken from us.”
“I know,” Lady Catherine said softly. “But you need not speak of him as if he is… he may be still alive. Perhaps he was found, and taken in, as I have taken in the Bennets. Perhaps someone has done the same as me, and given him a good childhood, wherever he is.”
Anne smiled sadly. “I do hope so, but I cannot think how that could be.
We waited for that foolish governess to demand a ransom, but we never heard from her again, never located her.
We posted advertisements in the papers, and every response led to nothing.
Perhaps it ought to be enough to imagine him safe and happy somewhere, but I shall never get over the loss of my boy.
And then, perhaps if he was found – might he have ended in some dismal orphanage? "
“George and Henry searched every establishment within twenty miles of London. If he was found, and I have absolute faith that he must have been, then he was found by good people of means.” Lady Catherine laid a comforting hand on her sister’s shoulder.
“But now, all you can do is cherish your daughter. You are welcome here at Rosings for as long as you like; we shall be a very cozy household of so many ladies.”
“Thank you, Cathy. Georgiana shall have Pemberley when she is of age, but I cannot bear it there. And I cannot go to Matlock – poor Susan! This time it must be she who grieves while I bounce a babe.” Anne ran her thumb over the portrait of her son before reaching for her daughter.
“They shall have their four, and perhaps more, in time – and we shall have our four girls here,” Lady Catherine said. “Cardew and the uncles made no resistance whatsoever; I was prepared to go to war for them.”
Anne glanced over at the Bennet sisters and frowned. “I cannot imagine anybody not wanting them – but all three men, really! How awful! They are such little darlings. I am glad you shall keep them with you – Georgiana and I will stay, too.”
“Worthless men, the lot of them,” Lady Catherine grumbled. “I am sure I shall not allow any men within a mile of Rosings, not until it is time to see the girls wed! Even the new vicar, when I find a suitable one, may be obliged to wear a bonnet!”
Anne gave the most genuine laugh Lady Catherine had heard from her sister in years. “Cathy, you are incorrigible!”
Before Lady Catherine could defend her tyranny, a visitor was announced. Her new neighbor, Sir Geoffrey Beaumont, was shown into the parlor.
He smiled at the sight of Anne’s laughter, then balked at her mourning garb. “Forgive my intrusion; I did not know you had another visitor, your ladyship."
“My sister Lady Anne Darcy is not quite a visitor; she will be residing with me indefinitely, though she is in mourning.”
Anne colored a little. “Oh, stay; you have come all this way – I should not wish you to leave in my account. I recall we met at the Cardew wedding last year. He is your cousin, I think.”
Now Sir Geoffrey turned pink. He gave a little bow, and did the same to the girls, who all looked up at the handsome man with interest. He was uncommonly tall and had a shock of red hair, and an even greater abundance of freckles. Lizzy giggled as she glanced back at Lady Catherine and her sister.
“I am flattered you remember me,” Sir Geoffrey said as he came to sit across from the ladies.
“And my condolences, of course. I should never dream of intruding, but I have come to apologize for my cousin Mr. Cardew. I just met with him on the vicarage lane; I came to bid him farewell before he travels to Surrey. I am sorry to hear that he has been a disappointment to your ladyship. I understand my late elder brother recommended him to your notice.”
“On the contrary; I am most exceedingly obliged to him,” Lady Catherine said. “He has given me two priceless treasures.” And since Sir Geoffrey could not take his eyes off Anne, Lady Catherine turned her triumphant gaze toward the girls, her dearest darling girls.
***
Summer, 1800
Rosings Park, Kent
Lady Catherine smiled indulgently as she retrieved a handkerchief and wiped the smear wedding cake from Georgiana’s cheek.
Anne and Jane had already finished their generous slice; Elizabeth had not ceased talking long enough to take a bite.
Not that Lady Catherine minded the gregarious nine-year-old’s effusions; she agreed that the ceremony and decorations had been beautiful, and her sister Lady Anne was the loveliest bride in England.
“I think it is so romantic,” Elizabeth cried.
“Sir Geoffrey courted her for five long years, and is madly in love with her! And has he not been looking more handsome, ever since she admitted that she fancied him? Only, I think it is a shame she must take the name Beaumont. How plain it sounds! Darcy is a much better name – it is musical and romantic. Beaumont is so dreary.”
“Do not be unkind, Lizzy,” Jane gasped.
Elizabeth finally took a bite of her cake, furrowing her brows thoughtfully as she chewed.
“Well, I hope you like the name Bennet, my dear,” Lady Catherine observed. “And I hope you will not wish to quit your name for another dozen years at least!”
Elizabeth laughed. “I shall never marry at all, not unless I am as mad with love as Aunt Anne, and with a man twice as handsome.”
“When you wed, it will be to a gentleman of good fortune and breeding, which will render him very attractive indeed, I daresay,” Lady Catherine informed her.
Elizabeth screwed up her face, then moved closer to whisper. “I do not think Sir Geoffrey as ugly as Mr. Cardew was, but Aunt Anne is far too beautiful for any man in the world. That is why you have never married again, is it not?”
Lady Catherine felt the compliment her ward wished to pay, and smiled in spite of herself.
She had lately reached her fortieth year, but she hoped she was still a handsome woman.
“It is true, no man deserves me, but then I do not have your whimsy, little Lizzy. You may some day fall in love; and when you do, you must have a care. Let it be with a suitable gentleman who deserves you.”
Elizabeth took another ponderous bite of her cake; her gaze drifted across the large parlor of Rosings, to where Lady Anne was receiving the congratulations of their neighbors.
“If I am half as pretty as Aunt Anne when I grow up, I will only marry a very handsome man who brings me flowers every day, like Sir Geoffrey – but I do not like his red hair. A gentleman should not have red hair, if he can possibly help it – and he should not have a dull name, either.”
Jane let out a piteous sigh. “He cannot help it, Lizzy.”
Anne grinned at her playmates. “His hair, or his name?”
“Neither, I should imagine,” Lady Catherine told them.
Elizabeth set down her fork and looked askance at them.
“Of course he can – either might be changed to something better. You told me Lady Metcalf uses dye on her hair to hide that her hair is turning grey, Mamma, and you also said we could change our names to de Bourgh if we wish it. If ladies can do these things, surely gentlemen can.”
Lady Catherine shushed her, glancing over to ensure Lady Metcalf and her son had not heard Elizabeth’s unguarded remarks. “Lower your voice, my darling, or I shall send you back to your governess. But, tell me – should you like to change your name?”
A surge of hope welled in Lady Catherine’s chest, for she had lately begun to think it would be a fine idea for Jane and Elizabeth to take the de Bourgh name.
Jane shrank back a little. “Would it make our mother sad in Heaven?”
Elizabeth ignored her sister and gave Lady Catherine a teasing smile. “Can we have the Darcy name now that Lady Anne is not using it? If I must change my name, I really think it must be Darcy, for that is the most wonderful name I have ever heard.”
Lady Catherine watched Elizabeth again glance over at Lady Anne with a look of awe.
It had been a fine thing for all of them, for Lady Anne and Georgiana to stay so long at Rosings.
Her sister adored the girls as much as she did, and they returned her affection just as she deserved.
But Elizabeth had always been singularly fascinated with the widow, convinced that she was a tragic and fascinating heroine without fault, and projecting a great many fantastical speculations upon her history, for the girls were too young to know the truth of it.
“De Bourgh is very grand, too,” Lady Catherine said.
Jane and Anne agreed at once, but Elizabeth tapped her chin thoughtfully. “It suits all of you, because you are serious and proper. But I am not, you said so just this morning! I like sunshine and flowers and laughing, and that is why the only other name that could ever suit me is Darcy.”
***
Summer, 1805
The Crown Inn, Lambton, Derbyshire
William Worthing sat with a rowdy group of friends at a wooden table near the bar that encompassed most of the ground floor of the inn where he and his companions were staying.
Since finishing university, he and his friends had made a debauched progress northward, with the Lake District being their final destination.