Page 10 of Aunt Felicity

L etters continued unabated between Beth and Felicity when they were not together. Since the first time she had visited her daughter’s family, Beth spent months in Ramsgate. She arrived in the winter, the most recent year even before Christmastide in early December, and she remained until July. So far, each time she visited her friend that she had met that first year, her friend had conveyed her home, and from the second year on, collected her as well.

1784 was the first December that Beth joined the Fitzwilliams when they travelled to Pemberley for Christmastide. A fortnight before she departed Longbourn, Thomas had been accepted by the very pretty, but rather vapid, empty-headed, and gossipmonger, Fanny Gardiner. Even though her father was a solicitor, Beth’s husband had not opposed the match. He was too delighted that his son had found anyone to accept him. They would marry in January a week or so after Twelfth Night. Beth did not repine the fact she would be convalescing when her son married.

It had not taken Beth long to understand why Felicity loved Pemberley, or at least its environs. When she was there, no mention of anyone named Bennet was made. It was the same in Ramsgate, Andy and Rich knew their Grandmama Beth, but not her family name.

Unlike his cousin Richard, William was quite a serious young boy even at the ripe old age of two. That did not stop the boys, who were aged almost seven and the younger two approaching three, from becoming the best of friends over and above being cousins.

Andy and Richard did whatever they could to draw William out and make sure he had fun with them. There was a new boy at Pemberley, he was barely one so not able to play with the other boys in any event. He was the son of the new steward and his wife, the Wickhams. What none at the manor house knew was just how much Mrs Wickham, a spendthrift, coveted everything the Darcys had, and that included Robert Darcy’s person as well. As Darcy and Wickham had been friends of a sort, Mrs Wickham had manipulated Mr Darcy into becoming young George’s godfather.

It was one afternoon, a few days before Christmas 1784, that a letter had arrived from Sir Lewis de Bourgh. Robert Darcy had read this one as it was not from his sister-in-law. In it Sir Lewis announced that his wife was with child and should give birth in April or May 1785. Anne Darcy wrote her sister a short note of congratulation, but no more than that.

Two days before Twelfth Night word reached Pemberley that the Earl and Countess of Matlock were both dead. After making sure his shocked wife was well, absorbing the realisation she was the new Countess of Matlock, Reggie joined his brother Darcy, and they rode to Snowhaven. When Darcy and the new Earl reached the estate, even in the failing light, it was easy to see the neglect it had suffered under the stewardship of the late Jefferson Fitzwilliam.

The butler and housekeeper, both working into their sixties because the late master had refused to pension them, explained that the Earl and Countess, who always fought when they were in the same house, had had a physical altercation the night before while standing on the first floor landing of the grand staircase when, from a footman’s report, his Lordship pushed his wife, but before she fell, she grabbed onto her husband’s clothing, pulling them both down the stairs. Among other broken bones, the doctor who had been called opined that they had both broken their necks.

When the two men joined the physician to view the bodies, it had been obvious both were suffering from the French disease. Had they not killed one another, the pox would have taken them soon enough.

Before they rode back to Pemberley the next day, Reggie, now Lord Matlock, ordered that the former Lord and Lady Matlock be buried quietly in the family crypt under the church. They did not remain for the funeral which would be attended by the parson only, as neither man was a hypocrite who would act as if they had not disdained the two just because they were dead. The brothers were sure that neither had asked God for forgiveness before they murdered one another. They shuddered, both sobered by the image of two souls lost to the eternal fires of hell.

“Reggie, is it true?” Felicity asked when her husband returned with Robert the next day.

Once the children had been taken to the nursery, the couples and the three mothers made their way into the master’s study. As soon as the door was closed and the ladies were seated, the two men gave a sanitised version of events. Until their wives insisted on the full story as neither of them, nor their mothers, one of whom had lost a son, would swoon if their sensibilities were affected. The two looked at one another, nodded and told all.

“I am not surprised that it seems my eldest son was mad. Ever since he murdered his father, I have believed him insane,” Lady Angeline shook her head. “We need to try to keep this from Catherine until she delivers. If she discovers Reggie and Felicity are the new Lord and Lady Matlock, and little Andy the new Lord Hilldale, she will have an apoplexy. She is pregnant with a grandchild of mine and after it took her so long, we need to protect her from herself.”

“I will send an express to de Bourgh. Although I doubt Catherine would feel the need to read the papers, as she already knows all, I will suggest he keep them from her to make sure she does not know about my elevation until after she delivers safely,” Reggie insisted.

“What do I know of being a countess?” Felicity asked no one in particular.

“Felicity Rose Fitzwilliam, are you not the one who says nothing intimidates her?” Beth demanded.

“Your mother has the right of it, Felicity. There is nothing you set your mind to that you cannot do,” Lady Anne agreed. “In the eight years you have been my sister, I have never seen you shy away from a challenge.”

“You have an added advantage, my dear…me. I will teach you whatever you need to know. As long as I am alive, I will support you. Beth knows that you are as dear to me as Anne,” Lady Angeline stated. “As you were not born to a noble, you will be called Lady Matlock, even though in my opinion it is stuff and nonsense.”

“You will also have my support,” the Dowager Mrs Darcy added. “Angeline knows how many friends I have in society.”

“This means we will have to be part of the Ton ,” Reggie realised distastefully. “We will not change who we are to gratify the cats of the so-called upper ten thousand.”

“I would be disappointed in you if you did change,” Anne assured her brother. “Reggie, you are an Earl. There are few in society who will comment on how you act.” She looked at her sister. “You will have to be presented to Queen Charlotte in one of those hooped monstrosities Her Majesty insists upon.”

All Felicity could do was groan.

Later that evening when they were alone in their suite, Reggie told his wife about the housekeeper and butler who needed to be pensioned. She agreed that it needed to occur forthwith. Together they decided the two would receive a cottage and a stipend for life.

When they thought of replacements, they both agreed that the Dodsleys would be perfect in the roles, if they were willing to take the post. The loving couple eventually fell asleep in one another’s arms.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Less than a month subsequent to the death of her brother and his wife, Lady de Bourgh suffered a miscarriage. After allowing his wife a fortnight to recover, Sir Lewis informed her of her brother’s death and the elevation of her younger brother to the earldom.

To say that she had a tantrum of epic proportions was an extreme understatement. Knowing her brother and the usurper he married would not be in Town so soon after her brother’s passing, she ordered a coach readied and without telling her husband, Catherine de Bourgh struck out towards Snowhaven.

Making sure the coachman pushed his team as much as possible with frequent swapping of the horses at inns along the way, the conveyance passed Snowhaven’s gate posts in the middle of the third day since she had departed Rosings Park.

She stormed out of the equipage and ignoring the black wreath hanging below the knocker, Lady de Bourgh banged on the door for all she was worth. Not soon enough for her, the door was opened by a man in a butler’s uniform, a man she did not recognise.

“Where is Jefferson’s butler?” she screeched.

“I am Mr Dodsley, Madam. How may I be of assistance?” the butler asked calmly, his unflappable nature in the forefront.

Frustratingly, the unknown man stood in the doorway barring her entry into the house, which only incensed the lady even more. She lifted her walking stick and made to strike the nobody before her.

The butler deftly caught the stick on the downswing and pulled it from the loud lady’s hand.

“Never have I been treated in this manner. As soon as I take over the duties of Countess, you will be the first to be sacked. Do you know who I am?” Catherine de Bourgh demanded.

The new Earl and Countess had been in a public receiving room accepting insincere condolences from neighbours—it was no secret the late Jefferson Fitzwilliam had been disliked by all in the area, and most who met him—when they heard the caterwauling from the entrance hall. Reggie identified whose voice it was, as did the neighbours who had had the displeasure of making the then Lady Catherine Fitzwilliam’s acquaintance.

“My sister Catherine has been made aware of Jefferson’s death,” he told his beloved wife as they walked towards the front door.

On arriving they saw the back of Mr Dodsley as well as two burley footmen ready to assist him. They heard Catherine screech out her last.

“Catherine, as the head of the Fitzwilliam family I order you to cease this unseemly display instantly,” Reggie barked at his sister. “I always thought you well suited to be a fishmonger’s wife, and now you have proved me correct.” The Earl stood and waited for his sister to desist and close her mouth.

The last thing she had expected was her younger brother to stand up to her. She had conveniently pushed from her mind that Reggie had never been one to defer to her. Seeing the steely look in his eyes, Lady de Bourgh realised she needed to use a different strategy than the one she had planned to carry her point. “Excuse me Reggie, I was overset with emotion. I recently lost the babe I was carrying, and then my useless husband told me of Jefferson’s death as well as the passing of my sister-in-law. I was overwrought when I arrived.”

“Whether you are invited into the house is up to Lady Matlock.” Reggie did not miss the outraged look from his sister when he mentioned his wife as his Countess.

Lady de Bourgh was about to unleash her vitriol. This nothing chit, the Countess of Matlock? Not while she drew breath! However, she stopped the words she so very much desired to say and knew she had to act in a conciliatory way if she was to gain entry to the house. She schooled her features and said nothing.

Felicity was not fooled for an instant, but she decided better to have the termagant come into the house than continue on while standing in the entrance hall. “Reggie, we can go to the blue parlour as none of our guests are there, and it is distant enough that we will not be overheard, just in case anyone is overcome with emotions and not able to regulate their voices. When we arrive there, will you introduce your sister to me?”

“Well I never…” Catherine began to say, but stopped when she saw the look from her brother daring her to say what she had started to say. She closed her mouth.

“Allow my husband’s sister entrance, Dodsley,” Felicity instructed. “Have these two men posted outside of the blue parlour. I have a feeling they will need to escort our guest out,” she instructed in sotto voce .

The butler stood aside and allowed the woman entry. As soon as she began to follow the master and mistress, he signalled for the two footmen to follow.

“Firstly, Felicity, this lady is my sister Catherine. Catherine, my wife Felicity Rose Fitzwilliam, the Countess of Matlock, who you will address as Lady Matlock.” His sister looked outraged, but he ignored her. “Now Catherine, why are you here?” Reggie asked as soon as the door was closed. “We have never liked one another, and I am well aware of your sentiments regarding my marriage to my Countess . So please explain what you mean by arriving unannounced and uninvited.”

She had to fight to maintain her equanimity. That nothing, Lady Matlock? Indeed. It was her title and no other’s. She spoke in what she believed was a cajoling way, “Come now, Reggie, you must see that even though you were not raised to ascend to the title one day, you were brought up in a noble house. What of this woman? She is the daughter of some country squire, and as such she can only pollute Snowhaven and the noble Matlock title. I will act as countess and make sure everything is done…” Whatever she had expected, laughter was not it. “What is so funny?” she demanded arms akimbo.

“You, Catherine. Do you really think for one second, I would ever allow a pretentious, uneducated, tone deaf, unintelligent woman to fill the role which belongs to my beloved wife who is everything you are not and so much more? As I said, you will address her by her title or not at all! That being said, go back to your knight at his estate in Kent and hope he does not almost bankrupt it again like he did when he married you for your double dowry to save it,” Reggie commanded.

“It is mine, I am the eldest, I should have the title!” Lady de Bourgh screeched.

“And yet I am the one who, as Lord Matlock’s wife, holds it,” Felicity stated evenly. She turned to her husband. “Reggie, I think your sister is unstable, should we have her committed to Bedlam?”

“ You would not, you could not !” Lady de Bourgh screamed.

“I very much can, and if you arrive here again without a written invitation from Lady Matlock, I will have you committed to Bedlam. Do not test me. Now go home, Catherine, and I recommend that your stay in Kent be of long duration seeing you are not welcome at any house in Derbyshire. My warning includes any estate or house tied to the Earldom or any property we own outside of it. I dare you to test my resolve.”

As much as she did not want to own it, Catherine knew her brother was not making an idle threat. Without another word she turned and walked to her coach, her head held high, and soon departed for the south.

“That was interesting,” Felicity observed while she and Reggie stood and watched the retreating de Bourgh conveyance. “Anne and I will have much to speak of when the Darcys arrive in two days. I am very grateful we have the wise guidance of trusted loved ones as we embrace these new responsibilities.”

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Over the subsequent years, during the months she was at Longbourn, Beth was itching to tell Henry Bennet that he had grandsons, and the daughter he had banished was now a countess. As much satisfaction as she would have received from imparting such knowledge to her husband—whose actions had caused any love she used to feel for him to die a slow death— she was not certain that he would not make sure she never saw Felicity and her family again.

Each year the charade of her travelling to Ramsgate was maintained. Depending on when she departed, Beth actually travelled to Snowhaven or London. If it was London, she would join the Fitzwilliams and Darcys to spend a few weeks at either the house in Ramsgate or the one near Brighton, which Robert had purchased for Anne.

When Felicity was presented to Queen Charlotte a few months after the mourning period had ended, Beth had felt so proud to be able to witness the way her girl had acquitted herself. Evidently the Queen had been impressed with the new Countess of Matlock as she made it known that from that day on Felicity was to be known as Lady Felicity, and not just Lady Matlock.

In one of her letters, Felicity had told her that Lady de Bourgh, who had so far kept to her brother’s strictures, had given birth to a daughter in August 1786. She had named her daughter Anne Catherine in the hope that naming her after her younger sister would lead to a match between her Anne and her sister’s William, who she insisted on calling Fitzwilliam as he would have been named had his parents followed the silly tradition of the Fitzwilliam first born sons.

Her daughter said that as the virago’s letters were never opened, she had sent the letter regarding a betrothal in one from her husband. Robert Darcy had written back telling the de Bourghs in no uncertain terms that he and Anne would not engage their son to anyone until he was able to make his own choice, and they would never want him connected to her.

Her weak, indolent son’s wife, Fanny, was as bad as Beth had thought she would be, and worse. Until mid-1787, she had not become with child. Once it was confirmed she was in the family way, Fanny of course insisted it would be a son to break the entail, but in late-January 1788, Jane Fiona was born.

When Beth wrote to Felicity about her niece, her daughter had been happy that her mother had her first granddaughter, while trying to mask her sadness that other than a miscarriage two years earlier, she had not fallen with child again.

Then towards the end of 1791, the first year in many, her husband had denied his permission for her restorative journey to the coast, a letter arrived via Jenny Müller and Sarah Lucas in which Felicity was joyous that she had felt the quickening for a third time of being with child. She was very sad her mother had not been allowed to travel, but nothing would dampen her pleasure at the prospect of another child.

Felicity had told her mother that Anne Darcy was most supportive of her, but she could see in her sister by marriage a sadness at having no children after William. She had had three miscarriages in the intervening years. Felicity had expressed her worry for Anne, telling how she seemed to weaken with each failed attempt to have a child.

Beth agreed it was unfair, as Fanny Bennet was with child again. Fanny had felt the quickening a few months prior; Beth reported to Felicity that she had, like she had with Jane, claimed this was the son who would break the entail. Jane, who was approaching three years of age, was a very beautiful and serene girl. She had golden blonde straight hair with the deepest blue cerulean coloured eyes. Fanny claimed she looked just as she had at the same age. Beth was well pleased that Jane may have her mother’s looks, but prayed she would not have her mother’s character.

In March 1791, Fanny delivered a little girl who had the same colouring as her Grandmama Beth. Fanny was most put out that the girl was so wilful as to refuse to be born the son she was supposed to be. As Thomas hated confrontation, it was up to Beth to scold her daughter-in-law and point out how nonsensical her statements were. The babe was named Elizabeth Rose Bennet, after her grandmama.

Her husband saw his prediction that Thomas would not be able to sire a son coming true, and in his mind’s eye he could see the day the Collinses would possess his estate. Felicity’s failure to do as he wanted all those years ago looked larger and larger. For some years he had not been satisfied, and the birth of another granddaughter made him even more irascible. His mood was the reason he had refused to allow his wife to travel away for half a year any longer.

The last letter Beth read from Felicity was at the end of May 1791, announcing the birth of Bethanne Angeline Fitzwilliam. Her daughter explained how she had named her daughter for her beloved mother and best friend and sister as one name, and her mother-in-law with her daughter’s middle name. She told of how everyone called the new babe Bethie.

It was the last letter because a fortnight later her husband demanded, for some unknown reason, she accompany him to Hatfield. On the way there, they were approaching a sharp bend, with a rather steep drop on one side, when two young bucks came flying around the corner racing one another in curricles.

The two saw the carriage too late, and the curricle closest to the Bennet conveyance smashed into it, pushing it over the precipice.

When Beth came to, she was aware she would not be long for the mortal world. Her husband was in a worse way than she was. He was gasping for breath, which seemed to be an effort with each intake and exhale of air.

“Henry, I need…to go meet God…with a clear conscience,” Beth managed. She could see the confusion mixed with pain on her husband’s countenance. She forced herself to continue. “Each year I was away…I was with Felicity…and Reggie. They have…two sons…and a new…daughter. They are the…Earl and Countess…of Matlock.”

Bennet heard the words and tried to respond. “Sons…entail.” But he managed no more as his broken body breathed its last. Elizabeth Rose Bennet’s soul was carried home to God a few minutes later.