Page 11 of Aunt Felicity
1791 – 1810
S ince Bethie’s birth, Felicity felt like she was floating on a cloud of happiness. So when a letter from Jenny Müller arrived in July 1791, she expected it contained some good news about Jenny, perhaps she had birthed another child and was informing her friend of the happy occurrence.
Reggie was greatly concerned for her when he saw the anguish on his wife’s beautiful face. She started wailing as if her world was ending. He picked up the letter which had fallen to the floor and read the terrible news of the accident which had claimed both of Felicity’s parents. He carried his wife up to their shared bed and entreated her maid to watch over her.
Next, Reggie sent a footman to summon his sons who had been riding with William and George Wickham. He had no time for the steward’s son, not because of his birth, but because even at the age of seven, Reggie saw a grasping and conniving boy emerging. Due to his brother-in-law’s blind spot as far as the Wickham boy went, Reggie tolerated his presence at Snowhaven. As soon as the man had gone to find the boys, he wrote a note to ask Anne and Robert to make all haste to Snowhaven. He knew his Felicity would need her best friend with her.
Even though he had only asked that his nephew William come to see him along with his sons, George Wickham entered the study with the three cousins. “Young Wickham, go wait at the stables. You will be conveyed back to your house. This is a family matter,” Reggie barked.
Knowing he could not gainsay the Earl, and that the man was immune to his charm, George turned and made his way out of the study. He was careful not to allow the other boys to see his scowl as he walked away.
Reggie looked at his sons. Andrew was thirteen and would commence at Eton the following year; at nine Richard was almost as big and as strong as Andrew. William, who was two months younger than Richard, was the tallest of the three, but he was not as muscular as Richard was becoming.
“As sad as I am to tell you this, there was a carriage accident and Grandmama Beth is now in heaven. I tell you as well William, seeing you had become close to Aunt Beth as you called her.” It broke his heart to see his sons weeping unashamedly. William had tears running down his cheeks, but he was far more restrained in displaying his emotions.
Lord Matlock hoped his younger sister would arrive soon. In the meanwhile, after seeing the boys to their chambers, he made his way back to his wife to offer her whatever succour he was able.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
When Thomas Bennet was informed that his parents had perished, he was sad, but his main concern was the added work he would need to expend on the estate.
He had yet to move Fanny’s dowry of five thousand pounds to his brother-in-law Edward Gardiner’s control. Gardiner claimed he would return dividends of more than double the returns produced by the four percents, but Bennet had not motivated himself to take the time. With all the added responsibilities he had just taken on, worrying about investments was not on the list of tasks he knew he would need to achieve.
Even before his father was buried there had been trouble with Fanny. She refused to perform the duties of mistress beyond the duties of a hostess. She would not agree, under any circumstances, to follow her mother-in-law in visiting and caring for the tenants. As was his wont, Bennet had capitulated so the tenant visits would cease.
His father’s will was simple. Bennet was the new lifetime tenant. In addition, everything his father and mother had owned outside of what was included in the entail, was his. There was an undated letter from his father. Bennet guessed his father wrote it to him soon after they had returned after trying to stop Felicity eloping in ’77.
In it his father had commanded him to make sure that Felicity was never mentioned and that his son would have no contact with her and her family. Bennet decided following his father’s edict was simpler than attempting to find Felicity. It was not hard, Fanny never mentioned her anyway because it had been so many years since she had seen Felicity. It helped that Fanny did not have the capacity to think of things not commanding her immediate attention. He was so used to not thinking of or speaking of his sister, it was easy to carry on in the same vein.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Regardless of Fanny claiming the next child would be the son and heir needed to break the entail, on the twentieth day of August 1792, she bore another daughter who was named Mary. Next, on the nineteenth day of June 1794, Catherine, called Kitty by Fanny, was born. In November 1796, again sure that she was carrying the heir to Longbourn, Fanny entered her lying in a little before midnight on the thirteenth of the month, five hours later another daughter was born.
This was the hardest and most painful of all of the times Fanny had delivered a child. Lydia, as she was named, was far bigger than any of her sisters and the midwife and Mr Jones, the apothecary, both opined that Fanny would not be able to bear any more children after Lydia.
With each daughter she bore, Fannys fears of being evicted from Longbourn, and that she and unmarried daughters would end up in the hedgerows, increased exponentially.
While his wife was crying over her failure to produce a male child with each birth, Bennet’s resentment of his sister’s selfishness at not marrying Clem Collins built. He irrationally blamed her for his late father’s prediction coming true. He ignored the voice which told him that was stuff and nonsense.
It did not help that with the birth of each daughter he would receive a mocking letter from Clem Collins—his father had passed away in 1784—extolling the fact he had been blessed with a son, William, who had been born two years prior to Jane. Bennet knew the illiterate oaf dictated the letters to his local clergyman, but regardless of who wrote them, they highlighted his inability to sire a son.
With all of the blame he heaped on Felicity and off his own narrow shoulders, the reasons to never mention his sister only added up.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
It took Felicity a full two years to recover from her sadness at losing her mother. During that time the Darcys had practically lived at Snowhaven to support her. Robert had only gone to Pemberley for short periods when there was no other option, the rest of the time instructions were communicated to Mr Wickham by courier.
Reggie absented himself from the Lords. Until Felicity was ready to return to London with him, he would remain at home and give her whatever assistance she needed. Until his mother passed away in May 1792, and the Dowager Mrs Darcy a month later, the two dowagers had been a great comfort to Felicity.
The one bright spot for Felicity was each time she fed Bethie; it was a balm to her soul. When both Grandmother Fitzwilliam and then Grandmother Darcy passed away, it was a turning point for Felicity who realised that she had to begin living life again. Another year passed before she was feeling like her old self. Reggie worried that the deaths of the two matriarchs would add more sadness to his wife and set her recovery back, but his worry had been for nought.
It was then she had asked Reggie if there had been any contact with her brother. When he reported there had been nothing, Felicity accepted that her brother was blindly continuing to follow his father’s edicts, so she still never mentioned the name Bennet.
Once they were sure Felicity was well, the Darcys returned to Pemberley. It was during the two years living together while Andy was at Eton for much of the time that Richard and William became more like brothers than cousins.
In the summer of 1794, Robert Darcy’s eyes were finally opened to the realities of George Wickham. The master of Pemberley had been warned so many times that George was devious and would do things to get William into trouble while hiding the fact it was him.
Darcy and Reggie had been riding when they crested a hill and watched as William dismounted, opened a gate, led his cob through, and waited while Richard rode through the gate, and then he closed and latched it. William mounted and the two rode away. Darcy was about to follow the boys when his brother-in-law placed a restraining hand on his shoulder and put his finger to his lips calling for quiet.
While Robert had not seen him, Reggie had seen George Wickham hiding in the long grass near the gate. As soon as their sons were out of sight, the steward’s son opened the gate and then doubled back to start chasing some of the sheep in the field towards the open gate. Reggie was not shy about giving Robert an ‘I told you so’ look. The two men urged their horses into a gallop and arrived at the gate just before the first sheep could escape.
Knowing he would be caught red-handed, George Wickham melted into the bush, praying Mr Darcy had not seen him. He hoped he would still be able to lay the blame on that prig William by saying he saw him not latch the gate or noticing it had swung open.
When he wanted to ride young Wickham down, Reggie restrained Robert again. “I guarantee you he will come to you to try to blame William for this. That late mother of his made him covetous, devious, avaricious, and very resentful of the fact William is heir to all of this.”
“I have been blind,” Darcy admitted.
Reggie did not argue.
An hour later, as Reggie had predicted, George Wickham was shown into the master’s study at Pemberley, and as had been foretold, he spun a yarn blaming William for what he had attempted to do himself.
When his father, the Earl, William, and Richard all appeared from a recess to the side of the desk, young George, who was ten, was surprised. When he heard that Lord Matlock and Mr Darcy had seen everything he had done, he felt real fear. The menacing look in the much stronger Richard’s eye did not make him feel better.
Mr Darcy withdrew as his godfather, he was no longer allowed to interact with William and his cousins, and if that were not enough, he was banished from the manor house and the park. Lastly Mr Darcy would only subsidise the education Mr Wickham chose for his son, but there would be no gentleman’s education. In fact, he was to be sent to a school for problem boys in the wilds, somewhere in the middle of Cumberland.
A few months later that year, Reggie received a letter from the Duke of Hertfordshire. It was from Lord Joshua Winston, who had ascended to the title when his father had succumbed to an apoplexy a month or so previously. Lord Hertfordshire assured Matlock that he would not continue with his father’s grudges, and he hoped they could meet when he and Lord Matlock were both next in Town.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
In September of 1793 a black edged letter arrived at Pemberley from Rosings Park. In her own unique way, Catherine de Bourgh announced the death of her husband from a weak heart while at the same time referring to the engagement between her daughter, and as she called him, Fitzwilliam. The rest of the letter was not read as no one was interested in a betrothal that existed only in the head of Lady de Bourgh.
Since her birth eight years previously, the Darcys and Fitzwilliams had never met Anne de Bourgh. They would not go to Rosings Park or have Catherine in any of their homes. Catherine refused to allow Anne to visit the family without her accompanying her daughter. She had not even relented when she had been told her mother was fading. Catherine did, however, still post many letters to both Snowhaven and Pemberley, but none of them were read. With the death of her husband, there was nothing Catherine could do to stop some of the men in the family meeting Anne de Bourgh.
As they were executors of Sir Lewis’s will, Reggie and Darcy would have to visit Rosings Park every now and again to make sure a certain uneducated woman did not run her daughter’s inheritance into the ground. As distasteful as it would be to spend any time near Catherine, it had to be done. Reggie drew the short straw and had to make the first visit. It was the first time he met his sickly niece who that year was eight.
At long last, by the end of September 1794, Lady Anne Darcy felt the quickening of a second child. She did not tell anyone, not even Felicity, that she felt rather weak.
Rather than join Reggie in travelling to London in November of that year, Felicity remained at Pemberley to be with Anne. Richard and William did not object, they were quite willing to live under the same roof once again. Bethie, who was four, was very excited she would be gaining another cousin, and she hoped for a girl so she was not the only one.
By the end of January 1795, Anne looked far too wan in Felicity’s opinion. Rather than return to London after Twelfth Night, Reggie remained in Derbyshire. On the morning of the first day of March, Anne began her labours. It was only on the third of March, almost a full two days later, that a squalling girl entered the world. She was named Georgiana Angeline, the first name after her father’s late sister and the second for her late maternal grandmother.
Lady Anne Darcy bled far too much after the birth, and it was by a miracle that Mr Harrison, Pemberley’s physician, managed to stop the bleeding almost two days later.
It became apparent that Lady Anne Darcy would never leave the bed alive, so she used the time she had left to be with her husband, son, and the Fitzwilliams. Andrew had returned home from Eton, almost a full month before the end of the school year.
On the sixteenth day of March when it was clear that Anne’s life force would not flicker for much longer, she had Felicity come sit next to her. “I know it is not much longer before I join Mama and Mother Darcy in God’s Kingdom,” Anne stated.
“No Annie, do not say that,” Felicity begged as the tears fell freely.
After a deep breath, Anne continued. “We can both see the reality. I need you to promise me you will act in my stead. Anna will need all of the love and warmth of a mother and I want you…” Anne coughed and then took a sip of water before soldiering on. “You know how taciturn my William can be. You, Reggie, and your children will have to assist him, so he does not take himself too seriously.”
“You did not have to ask. Of course, I will love your children as if they were my own,” Felicity vowed.
Lady Anne was tired out, so she fell asleep just as her friend and sister was leaving her bedchamber. When she woke, Anne had her maid summon her brother. Her charge to him was to make sure Robert did not wallow and never withheld his love from Anna. It was not their daughter’s fault God wanted her with him. Anne wanted Robert to keep living and not lock himself in his study, away from his family and the world.
The last two people Anne spoke to on the seventeenth of March before the end, were first William and then Robert. By seven that morning, Lady Anne Darcy was with God.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Over the following years as Anna grew, she and Bethie became almost inseparable. Bethie had her mother’s face, but her father’s hair and eye colour. Anna looked very much like a younger version of her late mother. The only Fitzwilliam who had his mother’s colouring was Richard. Not only did he have the same wavy, raven coloured hair, but he had his mother’s emerald-green eye colour as well.
By the school year of 1796, Richard and William commenced their studies at Eton and Andrew was in his first year at Cambridge. In May 1798, Andrew graduated with distinction from the university while Richard and William completed their penultimate year at Eton.
A month later, Andrew left with a group of friends for his grand tour. By the time he returned a year and a half later in early December of 1799, Richard and William were at Cambridge, and there were rumblings of a coming war on the continent.
During their second year at Cambridge, Richard and William saved a first-year student from a beating by some lordlings. Charles Bingley’s only crime was having a father in trade. Even though William would not have thought he would befriend the son of a tradesman, they became close during his final two years, and in the end, he and Bingley were closer friends than Richard and Bingley. Richard found him too easily led.
Bingley had done them a service and warned them off meeting his two sisters, especially the younger who he told them was a social climber and fortune hunter who did anything she could to hide her father’s occupation and her connections to trade. William, who was already experiencing the huntresses of the Ton as the heir to Pemberley, was grateful for the warning and avoided the introductions like the plague.
It was May 1802, when Richard and William graduated from Cambridge. Thanks to the adventures of the Corsican Tyrant and his French Army, the two had to content themselves with a tour within the borders of the United Kingdom.
It was the actions of the self-styled Emperor Napoleon which decided Richard’s career path. Unlike Andrew, who was Viscount Hilldale, as a second son he felt he needed to shift for himself, so he intended to join the army, the regulars, not the militia. His parents tried to direct him to the law, pointing out that the house in Ramsgate and the fortune attached to it would be his, but Richard was adamant in his desire to become an officer. Hence, they relented, pushed their fears for him to the side, and kept to their promise not to force their own decision regarding one of their children’s futures on them.
So it was in September 1803, not long after Bethie had turned thirteen, that Richard Fitzwilliam joined the Royal Dragoons. He only agreed to have his father purchase him the rank of second lieutenant. He was determined to earn any subsequent promotions on his own merits.
While Richard began his service in the army, William was being trained to manage his inheritance by his father and Pemberley’s steward, Mr Wickham. He attended the season each year, and the more he experienced the Ton , the more aloof William became and the Darcy mask of disdain was born.
During those years, Anna practically grew up with Bethie, and much to Robert Darcy’s relief, Felicity filled the role of mother to his daughter admirably. He forced himself to spend time with Anna even though looking at her was seeing a younger version of his beloved late Anne. Thanks to his sister-in-law’s influence, Anna was much more outgoing than most Darcys, especially her older brother.
When Anna was thirteen, she sat with her governess at the top of the stairs and watched as Bethie, who was eighteen, was escorted down the stairs by her proud father, resplendent in her ball gown for her coming out. Anna felt sorry for the men who wanted to dance a set with her cousin, best friend, and sister in one person.
Richard was in full dress uniform, a Captain already, and he was assisted by Andrew and William who would act to intimidate any known rakes who attempted to approach Bethie. Of course, they suspected any man who tried to dance with Bethie of being a rake or having rakish tendencies. No matter how much Bethie glared at her brothers—William was considered one as well—there was always one, or more of them, close by.
In April of 1807 there was a great celebration in the family. Andrew married Marie Kingston, the daughter of the master of Pembroke, a small estate in Staffordshire, less than six miles from Andrew’s estate of Hilldale.
The two had met in the town of Hilldale Heights a little more than a year previously. After being thoroughly unimpressed by the debutants in London, Andrew had not thought he would find his match until he met Miss Kingston. She was not swayed by his title or wealth, and Andrew had had to work to convince her he was serious about her and not trifling with one so far below him.
William had made a comment that Andrew should have picked from the Ton , but from his own father to his aunt and uncle, to all three Fitzwilliam offspring he had been roundly criticised for his Lady de Bourgh type attitude. He had never said another word against her, and at the wedding from Pembroke, he had been as happy as the rest of the family for his cousins.
A letter had arrived from Rosings Park shortly after the engagement was announced in the papers. Like all of her other letters, that one ended up being consumed by flames.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
As his daughters grew, Thomas Bennet kept away from their upbringing as much as possible. The only exception was Lizzy, and to a lesser extent Jane and Mary. The former had his intelligence and a very quick wit, and looked like a younger version of his mother, and if he allowed himself to think of her, his sister as well. There was a painting taken of his mother just after her wedding, and if one were made of Lizzy now as she approached the age of twenty, it would be hard to tell them apart. The latter two were both quite intelligent, but more than that, while Lizzy assisted him in managing Longbourn—she did so almost on her own by now—Jane and Mary visited and kept the tenants happy. Another thing he had in common with Lizzy, and to a lesser extent with Mary, was a love of the written word. In addition, the former had become a formidable chess player who routinely beat him now.
At times he felt guilty he had not saved for their futures, but it was too hard to curtail his wife’s spending, and that would have meant he would have had to both exert himself and cut back on the money he spent on books and port. Fanny would get them married, and all would be well.
He knew his youngest two were wild, flirtatious, and wholly improper. Lydia had become her mother’s favourite as Fanny saw herself in the girl, and to garner attention, Kitty followed Lydia in all things.
He ignored the fact that Fanny’s vulgar effusions and her way of pushing her daughters at any eligible men, ran men off rather than making matches for them. Even Jane at two and twenty with her great beauty and serenity had not kept a man interested in her once her mother got involved.
If he ever had to admit his and his wife’s failings to himself, he would have to do something about them, and Thomas Bennet was not about to change the status quo.