Page 45 of The Next Mrs Bennet
L ady Elizabeth Rose Chamberlain, Duchess of Hertfordshire, Marchioness of Hertford Heights, looked around her suite at Hertfordshire House. There was no denying her husband was rich, but that made not a whit of difference to Elizabeth.
What she had seen of the house when they had arrived at his home—to her it was a prison, a gilded one, but a prison nonetheless—was ostentation, gaudiness, and uncomfortable furniture which was purchased for form and not function. She had been led up to her chambers by the housekeeper who had introduced Her Grace to the maid who would act as her lady’s maid. If the Duchess did not approve of her, another could be employed in her place.
The maid’s name was Loretta Jennings, and the housekeeper informed her in his households His Grace insisted personal servants be called by their family names. That of course meant Elizabeth would address her as Loretta whenever in private.
Knowing how her husband was, Elizabeth had no doubt he would punish the maid for being called by her familiar name. She wanted to show the Duke he would never rule over her, but that did not include innocents being blamed for decisions she made. The maid was barely twenty if she was a day and was rather timid. Based on what she knew of the man who had forced her to marry him, Elizabeth suspected all of his servants were cowed in this way.
The man had guided her into an ornate dining parlour where the midday meal, far too much food for just the two of them, had been served. Not only had there been an overabundance of food—to Elizabeth a waste—with each course, but there had been five of the latter. If the man was trying to impress her, he was failing spectacularly.
She had only pushed food around on her plate, not eating anything. At least she had sat at opposite ends of the long table to him so she had not been forced to be near him like she had been in the coach from St. Paul’s to Berkeley Square.
All the way to his house—she would never think of it as her house—she had recited the mantra: she had subjected herself to this living hell to protect Janey, for a love which knew no limit.
She spent the afternoon in his library, a library where Elizabeth was sure he had not read any of the books on the shelves—based on the dust on the tomes. She also spent some time in the music room which boasted a Broadwood Grand pianoforte, a harp, and some sundry instruments.
At six, she found her way to her chambers to change for dinner. It was another meal with too much overly rich food, most of it drowning in sauces which did not appeal to her.
After the meal, at which if she had eaten a single bite it would have been a lot, the man told her he would come to her in an hour. She had requested an hour and a half, to which he had condescended.
Loretta had assisted her to undress and then she had soaked in the enormous—one of the few things Elizabeth liked in his house—bathtub in steaming water. Then her maid had assisted her to wash her hair. After Elizabeth had been dried with very large and warm towels, which was another luxury she quite enjoyed.
Once she was dry, she donned a plain, thick, cotton night rail. Then she had Loretta plait her hair. After that was done she dismissed the maid.
She knew what she needed to do, but even though Aunt Maddie had explained how it would relieve some of the pain she would experience if she was not prepared for her husband to enter her, Elizabeth balked at the thought of actually doing the deed. She was in the privacy of her own suite, but that did not make it easier to do what she had been told to do.
‘ Come now Elizabeth Rose, you are not a coward and your courage always rises at every turn when others would shrink back !’ Elizabeth remonstrated with herself silently. She laid back on her bed and began to prepare herself.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Not too long after she had completed what she needed to do; the disgusting brute entered her chambers from the door leading to the shared sitting room without so much as a knock.
Thankfully, Elizabeth remembered what Aunt Maddie had told her to do to mitigate his weight pushing down on her, and other than the pain when her maidenly barrier was breached, the instructions had borne fruit. She appreciated the fact the enormous and deplorable man lifted her nightgown and did not expect her to bare the whole of her body to him. She did as she had said she would, her eyes were tightly shut until he left the chamber.
Some minutes after he had left the same way he had entered; Elizabeth rang the bell for her maid. As soon as possible she was soaking in a freshly filled tub and Loretta was directing a chambermaid to change the sheets on the bed. Elizabeth scrubbed herself to remove any remaining odour of her husband which still clung to her.
An hour later, she was in bed, and cried herself to sleep, something she suspected would become regular in her life.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Normally the gossip sheets had no place at the Darcys’ house, but there was a morbid interest regarding the young lady who had married the Duke of Hertfordshire the previous day. Lady Anne opened the rag and began to read the column.
The Tatler
1 May 1806
The D of H marries a girl young enough to be his granddaughter !
If this observer had not been there to see it herself, she would not have believed the depraved D of H would have sunk so low as to marry a girl, this reporter estimates is no more than 15 or 16 summers!
The new D’ess of H is a very pretty girl with striking emerald-green eyes. My question, however, is how could any decent person have agreed to marry a daughter to such a man regardless of his wealth and rank?
As would be expected, besides myself and some other purveyors of this kind of information, St. Paul’s was all but empty.
The E and C of C were in attendance, why they continue to support the reviled D of H, is beyond my understanding.
As were some of Miss E B’s family, it seemed she was attended by an uncle (who is a tradesman and gave her away), aunt, and 4 of her sisters including the one who was her bridesmaid. Of her parents there was no trace.
Most interesting of all was while she was still Miss E B, the new D’ess of H was not paying attention to the liturgy causing the Bishop to have to repeat part of the ceremony which required a response from her. The lady’s ‘I will’ was not at all enthusiastic.
As no one in the Ton would stand up with him, the only one the D could get to be his witness was one of his lackeys who I have since learnt is a man named G W. He was rather young and handsome, but that did not change the fact the D needed to pay a man to stand up with him.
All we can do is pray the former Miss E of L in Hertfordshire will not suffer the same fate as his 2 former late wives.
“Surely not,” Lady Anne exclaimed.
“What has disturbed your equanimity, Anne?” Darcy asked as he placed the broadsheet he was reading on the table.
Both William and Anna looked at their mother with concern.
“Read this Robert,” Lady Anne instructed as she handed the gossip rag to her husband, the page open to the column regarding the new Duchess of Hertfordshire.
Darcy was aware why his wife, like many ladies in polite society this morning, was reading the smut in The Tatler . “Good gracious! A man of his age taking a bride of fifteen or sixteen. I always knew he was debauched, but even for him this is too far,” Darcy spat out loudly in disgust as he threw the page down.
“His wife is barely four or five years older than Anna!” William spat out.
“That is bad enough, but read on husband, you will know what it is I want you to see as soon as you read it,” Lady Anne insisted.
Not one to deny his wife anything it was in his power to give; he picked up the page again and continued to read.
“How can a young lady of that age agree to marry such a man?” William barked. “She must be quite a social climber and fortune hunter to agree to such.”
“That is an extremely harsh judgement to make when you know not all the facts,” Lady Anne admonished her son before her husband could speak. “It is more likely than not she was forced into the marriage by someone in her family.”
“I hate to disagree with you Mother, but you know not that,” William stated haughtily.
“Except, it is clearly intimated that the bride was not a willing participant!” Lady Anne pointed out. “What girl of fifteen or sixteen would want a husband of his age regardless of the incentives to marry him?”
“It is rather judgemental of you William,” Darcy added. “How can you decide such without meeting the woman or knowing the circumstances of her marriage?”
“You are correct, Sir,” William owned. “I had a vision of Anna in the same situation and it stoked my ire. As you and Mother said, without knowing all, I am making assumptions.”
“Robert, did you see what I wanted you to read?” Lady Anne enquired.
“I did, but we know not if the GW they mention in the column is George Wickham,” Darcy responded. “It is not like there is only one GW in the country.”
“True, but surely the ‘young’ and ‘handsome’ point to our steward’s son as the one working for the Duke,” Lady Anne opined.
“May I?” William requested of his father who handed the gossip rag to his son.
“You are both correct,” William stated once he had read the column. “Mother on two fronts. I made a rash judgement and if you can believe what is written, I am more than likely wrong. I think you both have some of the truth and although it may not be George, it could be.”
“Was he really so very bad?” Anna asked innocently.
Before his son could respond to his sister and knowing William would think he was protecting Anna by not telling her the truth, Darcy replied, “Yes, Anna dear, he was. George Wickham is not a good man, in fact he is quite the opposite, and I can only thank goodness I woke up to that fact before it was too late.”
“When you are a little older we will share more of the facts with you, but in the meanwhile do not forget that regardless of his ability to charm, George Wickham is not to be trusted,” Lady Anne added.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
When Hertfordshire was informed his wife had ordered a tray rather than coming to break her fast in the breakfast parlour, he allowed the disrespect to pass, for now at least.
As he sat and ate copious amounts of food, he began reading The Times of London . Other than the announcement of his wedding, there was nothing more on the subject. He thought it his right to have his marriage trumpeted for all to read about, but accepted it would not be so, unless he purchased the newspaper of course.
Wickham watched nervously as His Grace came to The Tatler . There was no doubt the reaction to the article in that and in other gossip rags would be an explosion of anger. He had predicted accurately.
When the Duke read the drivel in the gossip rag, he picked up his plate and flung it across the room.
As he had not anticipated this reaction, Wickham did not duck in time and the plate hit him on his lip, just below his nose. Blood started to pour out of his split upper lip, but for the moment all he could do was to dab it with his handkerchief. If he moved before His Grace gave him leave to do so, his punishment would be grave, especially in the mood the Duke was currently displaying.
“I will beat that impertinent wife of mine! No one makes me a laughing stock and survives to tell about it!” The Duke tried to stand up on his own—unsuccessfully.
As two footmen approached the raging man, Wickham knew he had to speak. “Your Grace, if you will allow me to remind you why you chose her and why, as you have stated many times, you need to wait for an heir before you take your pleasure with her,” Wickham stated as clearly as he could with the blood still dripping from his wound.
The Duke waved the footmen away. He hated to admit it, but Wickham had the right of it. He reread the column and saw there was much more scorn heaped on his head besides his wife’s inattentiveness.
He thought about possibly buying this and all the gossip rags. It was something to contemplate another time. As his fury receded, he noticed the blood on his man’s face and clothing.
“Why would you stand before me like that?” Hertfordshire demanded.
Knowing reminding the Duke why he looked the way he did would gain him nothing other than possible punishment, Wickham held his peace on that subject. “By your leave, Your Grace, I will go wash up and change. Please accept my abject apologies.”
With a dismissive wave of the Duke’s hand, Wickham left for his room to fix himself up.
‘ At some point, the money will not be worth the abuse I have to put up with from this man ,’ Wickham thought as he climbed the servants’ stairs to the sixth floor where his room was located.