Page 91 of Lizzie’s Spirit
“Oh, dear, Mr. Bent. Do you not recognise me? She who cared for, and nurtured your children during that long, long seven month journey from England to New South Wales. Who cared for your Eliza, Mrs. Bent, when both she and you succumbed to illness from Rio de Janeiro to the Cape? Surely you remember the dinner at Woolloomooloo given by the Commissary General, Mr. Palmer, when my dear Darcy announced our courtship, and the celebration at Government House for our official engagement? ‘Tis a pity that you had already left the colony when Mr. Darcy and I took our vows in St. Phillip’s Church—where three hundred people joined us, where His Excellency, the Governor-in-Chief, Colonel—now General—Macquarie, and his wife witnessed the ceremony?”
Bent spluttered. “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
“Indeed, sir, but I am Mrs. Darcy these past four years.” She nodded to a liveried footman who stepped up and passed her a parchment. She turned to the judge.
“I have here, my lord, a deposition by Governor Macquarie that Mr. Darcy and I were legally married under the laws of New South Wales on the 15th day of May in the year ‘10.” She passed the document to Mr. Bent. Taking it, he carefully perused the wording, noting the Royal Seal, the signatures of Macquarie, Mrs. Macquarie, Captain Antill, and other officers of the colony. He then passed it to the judge who, without even glancing at it, passed it to his clerk for copying. Bent looked to Lord Matlock. He shook his head—there was nothing to be done. Miss Bennet, as was, now Darcy’s lawful wife.
Elizabeth felt her trembles begin. She had awoken, oh so early, stealing out of Lord Rushton’s house and onto the road from Buxton to Pemberley. She clutched the rail of the witness box for support.
“My story, my lord, is not unusual, but there are some elements worth noting.” Elizabeth summarised her journey to India and then the voyage of the Grosvenor down the Madagascar coast to southern Africa.
She laughed ruefully. “Perhaps, in my eagerness to reach England, I should not have let a great wave sweep me and a young girl of eight years, the Honourable Miss Eleanor Needham, into the maelstrom.” She looked to her dear Darcy; he was gazing at her, tears in his eyes.
“But we were not drowned, but swept onto the wild African coast.”
She had the attention of the whole court.
“Perhaps our journey down that Caliban shore would have been easier, but I had been carrying for seven months. The whole took some four months to reach an English settlement. During this time, I birthed Mr. Darcy’s child, our sweet Bennet.”
“Alone, Mrs. Darcy, in the wilderness?” The judge looked at her with bewilderment and compassion. What strength of will.
“Oh, Eleanor and Bumper, my dog, accompanied me,” said she carelessly, “so I was not entirely alone.”
Bent threw caution to the wind, risking censure from the judge, but Matlock was becoming increasingly angry that Darcy had kept his marriage a secret, made him look the fool.
“My lord, while we accept that Mrs. Darcy is wed, the birth of the child comes just nine months after Mr. Darcy departed Sydney—so very convenient.”
“Oh my,” said Elizabeth sweetly, though there was venom behind her words. “Another attempt to claim I am a cuckold.” She looked out over the hall and beckoned to an older lady. “Mrs. Reynolds, can you please step forward?”
Darcy watched his housekeeper walk calmly to the floor and stand before the judge. In her hands, she held a sleeping child of some eight months. His. Oh, Lizzie, you wonderful woman.
Elizabeth looked to the judge. “Mrs. Reynolds is the housekeeper at Pemberley. Ma’am, do you have reason to believe the boy you hold is Mr. Darcy’s?”
Mrs. Reynolds looked to Mr. Darcy, tears filling her eyes. She spoke clearly, her voice rising above the murmurs that were, once again, filling the hall.
“I were nursemaid to Mr. Darcy some twenty-eight years ago. ‘Twas my first job in the Great House. As a babe, I knew him very well. Such a lovely child, he was always the sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted boy in the world.” She blushed. “Sorry, m’lord, just me remembering. There was a mark, shaped like a butterfly, on his left buttock. All of the Darcy men have it—the old Mr. Darcy and Mr. Frederick as have now passed.” She paused; emotion held her back.
The judge leant forward. “Please, ma’am, when you are ready.”
“The babe, as carried by Mrs. Darcy and fed at her breast, when I first saw him, dark eyes and hair, that proud forehead—I says to Mr. Winthrop, he’s a Darcy for sure. And there, on the left buttock, the butterfly, plain as maybe.”
Bent knew his case was slipping away. Just one last throw of the dice.
“And why would Mr. Darcy not tell of his marriage—perchance you were estranged, or some other matter that should be before the court? It will, after all, fall on you, ma’am, to educate and bring the infant Miss Darcy into society. ”
Elizabeth looked at him, her countenance scathing and contemptuous.
“My, oh my, Mr. Bent. Mr. Darcy and I have been apart these past sixteen months—he thought me lost. I daresay he could not share his grief with any apart from close family. Ours is a love match—to lose love is grievous indeed. Perchance, you should ask his sister, the infant Miss Darcy, if she was aware of his marriage, for then you will find it was not a secret to those he cared for, and those who cared for him.”
A tall, fair-haired young woman sitting in the front row of the gallery was nodding emphatically—Georgiana! Oh, sweetling, how I’ve longed to meet you.
“And, as for introducing my sister to society? You forget, sir, that in the colony, and also here in England, I have vice-regal rank, being the wife of the Lieutenant Governor of New South Wales. His Excellency and I entertained ambassadors, captains, and merchants whose great wealth exceeds any in this hall. Be gone, sir, away with your cheap insinuations.”
A spontaneous cheer erupted throughout the court, those seated in the gallery stamping their feet.
The judge allowed the crowd to have their day.
But then, a hush as a sombre, well-dressed gentleman made his way towards the bench.
Whispers of Lord Eldon, Lord High Chancellor, followed him as he came up to Lord Rushton.
They exchanged friendly words, the judge nodding in agreement, a surprised expression lightening his countenance.
“All stand.” The throng quieted; most were standing already. Reluctantly, Lord Matlock stood; he nodded to Rushton—there was nothing further to gain here.
“The case is dismissed. Talis est curiae dignitas et eius condescendentia.” Lord Rushton stepped down from the bench. “Mr. Darcy, Lord Eldon wishes a moment of your time. Now, if you please.”
***
Elizabeth was near exhausted. To be reunited with William! Yet she could not see him. Mrs. Reynolds took little Ben back to the carriage—all this time, he had remained fast asleep.
“Mrs. Darcy, let me introduce myself.”
“Ma’am?”
“I am Lady Matlock, Darcy’s aunt.”
“My pleasure, my lady.”
“Of course. Darcy was taken away by Rushton, Eldon, and my husband, Matlock. Thus, there is an opportunity for us to talk. Much has gone on while you were away, and we should clear the air—start afresh, as it were.”
Elizabeth was gently led outside the court. Bewildered by all that was happening, she let herself be guided down the street. Her footmen followed discreetly behind.
“There is a lovely tea room with a cool courtyard, out of the crowd.” They entered; indeed, stone walls with ferns and other lush plants pleasing to the eye and cooling the space.
“So, my dear, you and Darcy were married in the year ‘10?”
“Indeed, ma’am. ‘Twas the 15th of May. A very fine day, as I recall.”
“Most wedding days are fine, but I must admit that there was a persistent drizzle for mine. Now, I suspect you know more of my family than I know of yours. Your father has an estate?”
“Longbourn, near Meryton in Hertfordshire. Oh, come now, my lady. Your asking questions and my answering them will take a very long time for us to become well acquainted. Let me provide a precis—in fact, I should have a copy printed, which would save repeating myself time and again.”
“Upon my word,” said her ladyship, “you are very impertinent for one so young—pray, what is your age?”
Elizabeth was saved from answering when a lady of similar years to Lady Matlock approached.
“Why, Alice,” said she, “Bathurst thought he saw Matlock and Eldon in the court. And now he has gone off with them. May I sit with you?”
“Lucinda, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you to Derby? A long way from Cirencester.”
“We are visiting a cousin. Please introduce me to this young lady. We were too far to the rear of the gallery, as we arrived late, but she seems to have made quite an impression.”
Elizabeth stood and gave a perfect curtsey to Lady Bathurst—ah, the wife of Lord Bathurst, with whom William had much correspondence from New South Wales.
“My dear, delighted to meet you. This may be crass, but what a magnificent sapphire.” Elizabeth blushed; she knew nothing of its history or value. ‘Tis a Darcy jewel, ma’am.”
“And your dress. Why, it is the height of fashion, so finely embroidered.”
Elizabeth blushed again, but she could not dissemble. Lady Matlock was observing her most closely.
“You are too kind, my lady. A little out of fashion, for I have not worn this for some four years, since my wedding. Sewn for me by the girls of the orphanage. At the time, I was Matron—but now, as the wife of the lieutenant governor, I am Patroness.”
“Très bien, Mme. Darcy, c’est très seyant.”
“Toutes nos excuses, nous sommes allés à l’école ensemble et parlons souvent francais— our apologies, we went to school together and often speak French .