Goodly Creatures: A Pride and Prejudice Deviation (27 page)

The second Christmas with Bethany was the happiest he had experienced since his mother’s death. Even the presence of all the Fitzwilliams and Lady Catherine diminished his enjoyment. He, Anne and Georgiana had concentrated on buying presents for Bethany instead of worrying about any possible unpleasantness.

At the very last minute, Georgiana had the idea of giving her niece a puppy. With no time to buy her a proper housedog like her Pug, Bianca, she persuaded her brother to retrieve a common Foxhound pup from the kennels. Bethany, who was oblivious to the social stratification among dogs or humans, greatly appreciated her new companion. They had being on all fours in common. Fitzwilliam named him Bottom in keeping with family tradition, but she called the dog
Papa—not yet grasping
the true meaning of her first and favourite word.

On the eve of Twelfth Night, Anne’s pains began. To Darcy, it did not seem as though it took much time at all for her to deliver. A momentary pang of apprehension caused him to fear his own child might diminish his affection for Bethany. If that happened he would think himself dishonourable, but as he looked at his sleeping son, he knew without a doubt that it was Bethany who had created the atmosphere that resulted in Lewis George Darcy.

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 forty-eight hours before, had now shifted to horror for him. Anne 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 seemed to want to confess something. It sounded as though she was telling him that someone had forgiven her. If she had been forgiven, why did she need to confess? Anne soon drifted into unconsciousness. All he could think to do was to kiss her fingers and reassure her she was loved.

In the spring following Bethany’s third birthday and Lewis’ second, Fitzwilliam Darcy brought his entire family to town for the Season. He felt obliged to attend some balls and reacquaint himself with the ladies of the
ton,
but he could not bear to be separated from his children and sister. Perhaps this time he would not feel quite so much like horseflesh as he had when just a youth.

Every day, he would take the children to the park. Bethany, the most verbal child he had ever encountered, was utterly fearless in approaching strangers to strike up a conversation.

One day, as Darcy was giving Lewis a ride on his shoulders and Bethany was waiting her turn, she began watching a friendly looking young man sitting on a bench nearby. He had fair hair, and Bethany seemed fascinated by him. Darcy chuckled as he noticed Bethany’s determination to make the stranger’s acquaintance. She appeared to be deliberating how best to approach him. Finally she said, “My name is Bethany Darcy and my mama is dead.”

Hearing his daughter’s inappropriate remark, Darcy hurried to apologize to the young man for her behaviour.

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

“Oh, how sad. I love my papa… I would cry… if I never saw him again like my mama. Did you cry?”

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

Bethany patted the young man’s knee in sympathy before she continued her inquiry. “Hmmm, Mister, you look like an angel. Are you from heaven? Do you know my mama?” Bethany’s face seemed to be evaluating something about her new friend. She said, “Do you play chess?”

The young man smiled at her questions. “I have never been to heaven. Yes, I play chess—but not very well”

Bethany gave her new acquaintance a wickedly sweet smile. “Would you play with me?”

Darcy apologized for his daughter, and began discussing his attempts to curtail 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 different in each.

Their strengths and weaknesses as individuals complemented each other. Where Darcy was often dour, standoffish and ill-at-ease in social situations, Bingley was amiable, gregarious and comfortable in most company. Darcy was organized, conscientious and meticulously honoured his obligations. Bingley was quite disorganized, and known for his inattention 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 felt great joy before his mother died, and now and again in the presence of his sister and children, he saw a glimmer of those remembered idyllic days and privately contemplated how to augment these times. 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 condition quite often. Darcy disliked being in the presence of pompous, supercilious, vain and shallow persons. Bingley agreed with his friend wholeheartedly, but unfortunately he had two sisters that fit that description.

Soon they made a bargain. Darcy would accompany Bingley to many events of the Season with the hopes that his discomfort would be lessened. For his part, the Master of Pemberley agreed 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.

21 THE PORTRAIT OF LORD WOLFBRIDGE

Lord Wolfbridge watched as
his
daughter was baptized Elizabeth Anne Darcy. All the drama and intrigue surrounding the event was more interesting than most plays he had attended. Eleanor and his brother had been chosen to be his bastard’s godparents. Edmund noticed the exchanged surreptitious glances as they performed their ceremonial duties. The Viscount was certain he, unlike his brother, had never looked at a woman with that depth of emotion in his life. Lately he had begun to believe that his brother might have been interested in more than Eleanor’s fifty thousand pounds. The cynical military man—he had always assumed his brother to be—seemed to have succumbed to the excesses of the romantic age. The fool had actually requested leave and rushed to Derbyshire to be at Eleanor’s side after she lost the baby. Well the second son of the Earl of Elderton would just have to accept that he had lost out, once again, to his elder brother. Thanks to him, these two sorrowful souls had been denied their chance to stand before god and family and vow their undying love for each other. Now even if he was out of the picture, they could never wed. All of society knew it was improper for a widow to marry her husband’s brother.

The baby was alert and watching the proceedings—no sleeping through the ritual for her. Lord Wolfbridge was struck by how much this little one had already changed his cousins. Anne appeared to have acquired poise as she assumed the role of mother. The Viscount even believed there was evidence that Darcy was treating his wife of convenience with more affection. That also seemed to have played a role in increasing Anne’s confidence.

Little Georgiana had also come to the forefront with this newest addition to the Darcy household. For the first time he noticed his eleven-year-old cousin’s appearance. She was very different from the baby’s mother but still another delightful variation of an appealing little girl. Miss Elizabeth had been a joyful, intelligent and impertinent sprite with whom he could engage in a battle of wits and ultimately defeat. Georgie was more like a spirited thoroughbred colt—all legs and a long elegant neck—waiting for someone to break her in.

His mother had a look of longing on her face as she watched her second son and daughter-in-law perform their roles in the sacred ritual. She so wanted a grandchild. Edmund was not quite certain what she thought such an event would mean for her. The Earl stood by her side looking stern. Periodically, he would look over at his oldest son in an attempt to impress on him the importance of producing an heir—just in case the Viscount had forgotten the duty he must make his priority.

Lord Wolfbridge was pulled aside by his cousin after the baptism. He waited patiently for Darcy to get to the point. After much hemming and hawing he said, “Edmund, it has been three months since Miss Elizabeth left. Have you sent her uncle the three thousand pounds you promised?”

“No, I have not, and you are mistaken that I said I would. You and Anne agreed to buy my bastard that day—I pledged nothing.”

He paused and watched as his cousin predictably gave him a withering glare and said, “You are speaking of my daughter.”

Edmund cocked his head and smiled sardonically. “Yes, I remember now. She is the one you just had baptized Elizabeth Anne Darcy. Remind me again, which one of the Darcy, Fitzwilliam or De Bourgh relatives was she named for?”

Darcy looked a bit disconcerted, but gathered up his arrogance and spoke forcefully. “Your attitude is completely repulsive to me. It is unconscionable that one day you will take your place in the House of Lords. You took advantage of a poorly chaperoned young woman and left her with child. I would have expected you to exhibit more honourable and gentlemanlike behaviour.”

“Oh Cousin, you are so naive. That cheeky little bitch begged me… please, please Lord Wolfbridge were her words… and then she removed her clothes to entice me. The silly chit thought she could lure me into marriage. Her goal all along was to become the next Countess of Elderton.”

His proud cousin was momentarily struck dumb. He obviously did not know how to counter this revelation. Edmund decided to twist the knife a bit. “Despite abandoning the marriage market after only one Season, you must remember how it was. Even young ladies with excellent connections throw themselves at desirable men… imagine what it has been like for me with a title to titillate.” He shrugged his elegant shoulders and said, “Unlike you, I sometimes use poor judgement and succumb to a succulent morsel.”

Edmund noticed his cousin shuddered at the unsavoury image that came to mind with his remark. “I saw her after you finished with her. She was very agitated.”

“That is because I had told her there could never be anything between us. She put her clothes back on and stormed out in a pique.”

Darcy was not persuaded. He shook his head. “She was not angry, she was distraught. Edmund, you were twenty-five and she was fifteen.”

“Yes, but you also saw her the day she came to demand money. She is clever beyond her years. It took her only a few months to realize—if I would not marry her—she could ask for money instead. You and Anne were pigeons waiting to be fleeced by her.” With that Edmund knew Darcy was defeated. He thought it wise to wait for his cousin to respond.

After several seconds, Darcy glared at his cousin even more menacingly than before. He chose not to mention his cousin’s mixed metaphor in the interest of making his point. “You have not persuaded me of your position, but there is something more important than Miss Elizabeth’s motives. Thankfully she is gone, but her daughter is now a most important member of my family… our family. I will make your life miserable if you ever breathe a word about Bethany’s parentage.”

Edmund decided to end the conversation. He preferred to spend some time conversing with Georgiana—watching for the occasional equine flair of her nostrils when she was spooked—soon to be followed by a delightful nervous girlish giggle. Now, that could be a pleasant diversion. There was no good reason not to concede to Darcy’s demand. He would gain nothing if others knew he was the father of this child. He stifled a smirk and stretched out his hand with a well-practiced look of sincerity. He waited for his wary cousin to extend his as well. They shook in agreement and parted. Lord Wolfbridge waited until his back was turned to register the disdain he felt for his prideful prig of a cousin.

Lord Wolfbridge surveyed the debutantes at Lord Cleveland’s ball. He was disappointed there were none under seventeen, nor even any that appeared very young. The actual age was unimportant if the look he craved and a certain air of vulnerability or perhaps, naiveté was present. Of course, a dalliance with one of these young women would be extremely dangerous, but he had been hopeful there might be one on the fringes of society who could offer a bit of sport. He had come to town for the Season leaving Eleanor behind in Derbyshire. The Viscount had been in desperate need of a diversion, but that morning he had received a letter from the Countess stressing that his duty was to be at his wife’s side. To make matters worse, his apparent disregard for Lady Wolfbridge was causing gossip among the
ton
according to Lady Elderton.