AN: With two children ten years apart, it's natural that Lady Anne's story would contain difficult elements regarding children. Readers should be aware that this starts within this chapter and includes miscarriage, stillbirth, and child death.
Chapter 29
After the revelations regarding Lady Catherine's actions, Elizabeth was reluctant to return to the journals the next day. Eventually, however, she began to reconcile herself to the notion that there could hardly be a worse event than what she had already read, and following another quiet dinner in the Darcys's sitting-room, she picked up the journal. Lady Anne was still troubled by what had happened, but it appeared that by the time the Darcys returned to Pemberley, it pressed less upon her mind.
"June 30, 1781
"Back at Pemberley, and mostly grateful to be here. There is something I adore about travelling with George, just the two of us. Yet it is nice to be back in a finer space than the coaching inns of our journey, and I am ever so grateful to be putting the events at Stradbroke behind us, to be here at Pemberley with my new family, my honourable family.
"I just wish George's father was kinder towards me. It is not that he has been cruel, of course. He is just very stern – proper in his manners, but not kind. George says Mr. Darcy does like me, he is just a man not much given toward outward affections. Still, I do wonder sometimes if he would rather George had married someone with a larger dowry instead of me, or perhaps he wanted a woman who was less shy for his son."
Lady Anne was not troubled by her father-in-law for long, Elizabeth read, for once again George Darcy proposed they go to the Lakes, just the two of them. Although not usually one to write of such mundane details as packing, this time Lady Anne did note she was bringing Sir Charles Grandison so as to read it again. It had always been a favourite of hers but was now even more beloved, for the titular Sir Charles reminded Anne of her husband.
"July 7, 1781
"I no longer have reason to be jealous of Lady Ellen, for it has been long enough now without my courses coming that I can safely say I am with child, finally! George and I are to go for a walk around the grounds this afternoon, and I shall tell him then.
"O! How happy George was when I told him. My Dear Heart did not want to say anything of it, for he did not want me to feel pressured to bear a child, but he has been longing for one every bit as much as I, and he is overjoyed that now we shall have one. I hope it is a boy, to grow up to be like his father, a boy to be an heir to Pemberley, but I would be very happy with a girl, too, a dear little girl."
Elizabeth read this entry with a sinking feeling in her stomach, for her husband had been born in 1784, and yet she realised she would need to grow accustomed to reading of miscarriage and perhaps even stillbirth. It could not be otherwise, within the journal of a woman who had borne two children with more than ten years between them. She read on, and the younger Darcys returned to Pemberley, where even Mr. Darcy seemed very pleased with the news, while Mrs. Darcy responded with the warmth of a future grandmother. Elizabeth read of Lady Anne's happiness, her hopes for her child, and then, simply written in a tremulous hand:
"August 21, 1781"
"The child is lost. My heart is broken."
There were no more entries until the 27th, which read:
"August 27, 1781
"Were it not for George, I am not sure I would have survived this loss. He is truly the kindest, dearest man, and reminds me whenever I am low – which is still most of the time – that if I can become pregnant, we can hope that in the future I will carry another child to birth. Still, tho, my heart aches for this one, this child we might have held, and raised, and loved.
"He is going to take me back to the Lakes, where we can mourn our loss quietly."
The entries were sparse, during their time in the Lake District, until yet another that made Elizabeth's stomach sink.
"October 25, 1781
"I believe I am with child again. I am afraid to hope, but I do pray that I shall not lose this baby. I shall tell George soon, but I know it will not be such a joyous moment as it was before."
Silently, Elizabeth closed the journal, and murmured to her husband that she intended to go up to the nursery. It was earlier than she usually went up – better than an hour before Charles's evening feeding – but he accepted this without question and said he would follow her up soon. She climbed the stairs with heavy steps, and paused in her disquieted state in the doorway to the nursery, gazing at the children. It had taken Elizabeth much longer than she had expected to become with child, but then she had borne twins, and Charles had followed as soon as could be reasonably expected after James and George. "How have I been so blessed as to have one more child than she ever did, and at my present age?" Elizabeth thought, feeling intensely that she had been blessed, and thinking of her sister Georgiana, who had suffered two miscarriages that Elizabeth was aware of. Yet even Georgiana had already borne a girl and a boy – was already apace with her mother – and Elizabeth thought of Lady Anne with deep sympathy and more than a little trepidation as to what she would read in future journal entries.
What Elizabeth read, however, was not what she had expected. She had thought this second pregnancy would end in miscarriage, as had the first, but as weeks and months passed in Lady Anne's journal, still she had cause for hope, and after the child quickened, Anne and her husband began to prepare for the birth. Days passed in Elizabeth's life, during this time, and it was on a rainy morning that she finally read:
"May 30, 1782
"We are arrived in London, all of us, and tomorrow I am going to an appointment with one of these man-midwife accoucheurs, Dr. Barrett. I hope he might ease George's worries about my small hips, for I fear otherwise George will fret until it is time for me to give birth. He tries to keep his concern from me, but I can see it come through at times."
"May 31, 1782
"Dr. Barrett said it was less the size of the hips that caused success in childbirth, and more whether they were malformed or not. He sees no evidence of malformation in me, but said he will not be completely sure until it is time for the birth without a much more invasive examination. I was discomfited enough by the examination he did, even with a monthly nurse present as chaperone, so I said I would rather wait.
"What he said did seem to calm George's worries, tho, so I am glad of it. Soon enough, I pray, George's worries will be alleviated, and we will have a chance to hold our child.
"June 3, 1782
"I had a letter from Cathy today to inform us she is engaged to Sir Lewis de Bourgh. I believe she had no other options and followed Andrew's ultimatum. I feel badly for Sir Lewis that he was her last choice, and that he marries such a woman, but I suppose since he has wanted to marry her for so long he is himself happy, at least for now.
"I have been feeling so tired of late, and I suppose I shall continue to feel thus until the baby is born. I can feel the baby move more frequently, now, and it is so wonderful, to know I am carrying life within me, a son or daughter for us to love.
"June 9, 1782
"We have a son! A fine, healthy son! The pain was so awful, but I hardly remember it now, so happy am I. George is quite as over the moon as I am, although he begs me to rest and so I must set this aside soon. We intend to name the baby after him."
"Oh dear," whispered Elizabeth, who had been certain she was going to read of a stillbirth. Darcy had never mentioned the existence of an older brother to her, although she could not yet be certain the child had lived for any length of time. She read on to learn that little George Darcy had been christened and his mother churched, but almost immediately following this, they had been required to flee to Pemberley for the health of the baby: Mrs. Darcy had fallen ill, and the doctor thought it to be typhoid. Whatever it was, it had ultimately killed her.
"July 12, 1782
"Mrs. Darcy is gone. She passed six days ago, but we only had my father's letter yesterday. Poor George is deeply saddened, and although I did not know her for so long I feel her death deeply as well. She was always so kind to me, so helpful. Her death will leave a hole here at Pemberley that I fear I shall never be able to fill. I am only glad she had a chance to see her grandson before the end. I hope it gave her comfort. I wish I could have been there to help nurse her, and so George and I could say good-bye, but I know we did the right thing in bringing little George away. He is quite healthy and is the dearest little child, and having him here with me has made the pain of our loss so much easier. There is nothing I adore more than to suckle him, to know I give him sustenance as his mother, to hold him close and smell his sweet scent. He is stirring and will wake soon, so I must go."
After this entry, Elizabeth decided to leave off reading for the rest of the morning. She still had no idea when little George Darcy would die, and reading of one death had already saddened her; she was not ready for a second, still more heart-breaking one. She did, though, ask Darcy of it during dinner that evening, in an exceedingly cautious fashion.
"My love, did you – were you aware – did you know at all of an older brother, of yours?"
He nodded, once. "Yes – George. He lived less than a year."
"I am glad you knew, for it would have been very strange intelligence for me to deliver," Elizabeth said. "Yet you have never mentioned him."
"He was little spoken of, in our family. My father told me of him, once, and occasionally there would be some mention, some indication they were speaking of him, but I believe the wound was always a deep one," Darcy said. "As to my never mentioning him to you – well, I thought the death of an elder son a topic that might be very troubling to you."
"I believe you are right," said Elizabeth, contemplative.
"I fear it shall sound callous to say so, but it had little impact on me – it was not as though he lived and I knew him and then he died and I gained the inheritance. From the moment I entered this world, I was the only living son, and so my expectations were always thus."
What sort of man would he have been, Elizabeth wondered, if his elder brother had lived. It was difficult to imagine, for she had always known him as the master of Pemberley, as the designated custodian for his generation, and his status as such seemed inseparable from his character.
"If he had lived, what would you have done?" she asked. "What profession would you have chosen?"
"I hardly know," he replied, looking thoughtful. "I never had to turn my mind to it, and so I never did. "I could not have liked cultivating so many relationships as are required for success in the law, and nor can I imagine being so decided in my path as to wish to go to sea as young as Matthew did. So I suppose either I would have followed Edward into the army, or gone into the church. I think the latter most likely – it would have allowed me to remain in the country, and I would have had advowsons readily available to me. The livings at Lambton and Kympton are near enough to each other that I might have served both in good conscience, and I think my father would have allowed me to do so. I cannot say I would have liked speaking in front of everyone during services, but I believe I would have found satisfaction in my other duties within the parishes."
"I wonder if we would have met, if you had become a country clergyman. I might still have travelled with my aunt and uncle to Lambton, I suppose, and perhaps become acquainted with you in that way."
"I would hope so. Perhaps if I had been in a humbler position, we might have come to an understanding faster."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps we would not have met at all – we can never know. But we did meet, and even if we took the longer path to an understanding, we did still get there in the end. Which I am glad of: I am awfully fond of Pemberley."
He chuckled and reached over to clasp her hand. "And I am exceedingly fond of its mistress."
Elizabeth took up the journal the next morning, afraid as she began each entry that tragedy would be within. Yet she found Lady Anne's only concerns were trivial and domestic. The elder Mr. Darcy had returned home with his wife's body and seemed sterner than ever in his grief.
"September 30, 1782
"Mr. Darcy wishes for me to take over the running of the household now that little George is beginning on pap. He says it will be better to start now before we are entertaining, but the thought even of just managing the servants fills me with dread. I do not think Mrs. Harlow likes me – I suspect she compares me to Mrs. Darcy and rightfully finds me wanting."
Reading this, Elizabeth thought affectionately of Mrs. Reynolds, who had deferred quite readily to a new mistress after so many years of running a house without one, whose worst transgression was a tendency to coddle Mrs. Darcy when she was with child. Lady Anne Darcy had struggled far more with Mrs. Harlow, who seemed constantly dismissive of her new mistress. Matters even reached the point where George Darcy had gone to his father, but Mr. Darcy had been equally dismissive and said the young lady should not be afraid of a housekeeper. Through all of this, little George Darcy was Lady Anne's comfort, her hope, and it broke Elizabeth's heart to read of this. Then, finally:
"November 28, 1782
"It gets so cold here in Derbyshire – I fear I shall never grow used to it. George says there's an outbreak of the measles on the Smith farm – I pray it will all be well.
"Little George has been rather listless for the past few days. I think he just has another tooth coming in but we sent word to Dr. Pratt in Derby and he is to come tomorrow to have a look at him.
"I should go and speak to Mrs. Harlow about dinner, but I find it hard to bring myself to do so. She will only talk me out of what I wish to put on the table, so I wonder if it is even worth the effort. When she is constantly saying, 'Well, Mrs. Darcy never…' I wish I was of a different temperament. I ought to be firm or even yell at her like Cathy would, but thinking of Mrs. Darcy just makes me sad, and I am not in spirits for a confrontation. Sometimes I think I should just give Mrs. Harlow leave to run the house as she wishes, for that is what she always does anyway.
"November 29, 1781
"A little bit of George's tooth had broken through this morning and he seems much more his usual self. Dr. Pratt still saw him and said he is a fine, healthy boy.
"I think I am going to ask Mrs. Harlow to have Cook attend our conference today. She is always saying Cook should not be troubled to learn these new dishes I ask for, but I would like to hear what Cook has to say of it.
"November 30, 1782
"My conversation with Mrs. Harlow and Cook went better than my usual conversations with just Mrs. Harlow. Cook was quite open to trying new dishes, so long as she had a chance to practise them before any big dinners, and it was understood that sometimes they might not come out right and would need to be held back. I told her that I understood, and it was settled. She is to attempt a veal ragout for dinner tonight and roast widgeon and a Solomon's Temple once she has all the ingredients.
"I was feeling tired after such a conversation, so I went up to see little George. He was still asleep, and so I just sat with him until he woke, enjoying the quiet. When he did wake he wished to cuddle with me. O! my darling boy, what peace you bring me!"
"Oh, just a tooth," whispered Elizabeth. She recalled that awful night in Margate when she had feared her own George was afflicted with scarlet fever, and it had turned out to be mere teething. Yet her George had lived, and even if it was not the measles to kill this little George Darcy, something – something within a year of his birth – was going to kill him. And after Elizabeth passed through more entries on the detente between Lady Anne, Mrs. Harlow, and her Cook, she had reason to fear it was the measles. She turned the page to find the paper mottled with what she feared were teardrops, and read:
"December 8, 1782
"Little George is a trifle feverish and listless. I hope it is just another tooth coming in. The poor little dear, he bears his discomfort so quietly. A snuggle with me seems to give him so much comfort."
"December 9, 1782
George's fever is worse. I am so worried for him, my little darling boy."
Then nothing. Awful, heart-breaking nothing, until another simple entry:
"December 25, 1782
"Christmas. George encouraged me to look toward the future, but he was not very convincing. How can we look to the future when our hearts have been cleaved in two?"
She wept, upon reading this. Wept for her own first-born son and her own George, and the thought of losing either of them. Wept for little Charles, as well, for the bedside vigil that had ended in relief for her and tragedy for poor Lady Anne. Elizabeth was glad of the secret room, glad she could hide away here and cry. She wept with her conversation with Fitzwilliam Darcy in mind, knowing that if this child had lived, her husband's life would have been very different, and it was very possible he would not even be her husband. Even knowing this, still she wept, for the pain of a woman she had never known, a woman she would have liked to have known.
In time, she recovered, and finding the rain had lessened to the lightest mist she changed and left the house without breaking her fast. The cemetery was an easy walk, in the direction of the old house but before Pemberley Woods. Elizabeth had walked or ridden past it many times before, but never stopped for any length of time; without knowing their stories, the dead held little interest for her.
The cemetery was in good condition, kept tidy by Pemberley's gardeners and bordered with a trim stone fence, beside which the foundations of the old church could just be seen. Elizabeth had been learning new things about the estate from Lady Anne's writings, and one of these was that in Norman times the Lambton parish church and village had been situated here, but for reasons unknown it had been moved. Elizabeth had always found it a little strange that the family continued to be buried here, rather than in a vault within one of the churches, and she supposed no generation had ever thought to break with tradition. There was something comforting in that, she thought, something venerable in the fact that every single generation of Darcys and D'Arcys to be buried on English soil were buried right here, all together.
Admission was gained by an iron gate, which might have been in the poorest repair of the space, for it gave a long creaking protest as Elizabeth entered. She left it open to return the cemetery to respectful silence, the mist feathering her face as she walked along. Although kept clean of moss, many of the stones were exceedingly worn, and so it was easy enough to find those of the more recent generations. Elizabeth ignored the Wickhams, presuming George Darcy's respect for his steward had driven their place here, and quickly found the headstone she most cared about:
"George Darcy,
"1756 – 1807
"benevolent master of this estate
"and
"his beloved wife
"Lady Anne
"1761 – 1801
"gentlest and sweetest of souls
"and son George
"1782
"and three children who did not live to be named"
Elizabeth found herself in tears again, exclaiming in sympathetic grief, "And this is what I have ahead of me! Three children who do not live to be named!" Her tears were barely distinguishable from the mist as they came, but she felt them, she felt the pain of poor Lady Anne, and yet she knew she would keep reading the journals, for those two children who had lived: Fitzwilliam and Georgiana.
"I thought I would find you here at some point," said Darcy, who had approached without her hearing him on such a soft, damp morning.
"He died – measles," said Elizabeth, seeking his embrace and letting her cheek rest on the damp wool of his coat. She gazed up at him. "May we take the children out for a ride today, my love? May we be together as a family?"
"If this mists clears – and I believe it shall – then of course we will."
The weather did improve, and the Darcys and George Nichols went for several days' worth of rides before Elizabeth returned to the journals, aware that eventually her husband would be born and would survive, yet also aware that she had a great many entries to read through before this should come to be. Lady Ellen wrote of being pregnant again – this would be Edward, Elizabeth thought – and poor Anne suffered yet another miscarriage. Elizabeth wished, upon reading such painful moments, that she could go back and comfort her mother-in-law, that she could embrace a woman for a loss that had occurred well before she herself had even been born.
While she could sympathize with the loss of a son, still she could not fathom what it would truly feel like, nor what it would feel like to find that loss eventually followed by a son who lived – who lived still – and so that evening she returned to Lady Anne's journal and read on, eventually reaching,
"July 25, 1783
"We are finally arrived at Stradbroke. It has been so long since I have seen Ellen and Andrew, and they have been so kind in their sympathy. I could not bring myself to go up and see little Andrew, and they understood this.
"Mama is looking well. I think not having to mind papa has been good for her. Yet it has been George who has comforted me, as he always has. My dearest George, I could not have survived all of this without him. Last year was the most awful year of my life, to lose both a mother and a son. Sometimes I think perhaps God took poor Mrs. Darcy because He knew someone would need to watch after George in Heaven, and thinking of the two of them there together gives me a little comfort."
Of course, Lady Ellen bore Edward successfully, and poor Anne was both happy for her sister-in-law and painfully jealous. Elizabeth was certain George Darcy still felt the pain of losing his children, but he seemed to be burying it in activity, going off to see the famous agricultural improvements made at Holkham and speaking to his wife of what might be done someday for Pemberley. It was the most animated either of the couple seemed to be about anything, for even a trip to the Lakes failed to cheer poor Anne. 1784 was coming, though, and Elizabeth was thankful for the reassurance of chronology, of knowing poor Anne was soon to bear the son that lived, and she read in a quick and distracted fashion those entries from the latter half of 1783, eventually passing into the new year and:
"January 13, 1784
"We are returned to town. I do not wish to be here, but as we are supposed to be out of mourning, there is no excuse to miss the season. At least I have all of the Darcy family jewels, now reset as to be appropriate for the daughter of an Earl. I am to be fitted for a dress or two of the new closed robe styles tomorrow. Yet I find it hard to bring myself to care about such things, not when my poor little baby George lies cold in the ground. I will carry on because I must, and I thank God that I have George to help me through.
"January 16, 1784
"God bless George – I do not deserve him. Today a lovely new Broadwood pianoforte was delivered, for even though the old one was perfectly fine, it was a lease, and George thought the purchase of a new one would cheer me. He has also subscribed to a set of private concerts given at Chesterfield Street by the brother of that man who has so popularised Methodism. I would be reluctant to attend on the basis of that for I do not want to be thought a Dissenter, but George says these concerts are attended by the best true lovers of music in high society.
"If nothing else this is a reminder to me to return to playing, for there is nothing which gives me such comfort as playing the pianoforte or even the harpsichord.
"January 21, 1784
"The concert last night was absolutely delightful. George was right that there were many members of high society there and Lady Southam was very kind and complimentary towards me, saying she remembered my playing from the house party at Tremont, and she was glad someone with my musical talents was a subscriber to such concerts. She invited me to call on her.
"I wish I could be completely content but at breakfast this morning, Mr. Darcy said he intended to hold a dinner party next week and asked me if there would be sufficient time to prepare. It is my duty to act as hostess, and yet the thought of it fills me with so much dread. At least I get on better with Mrs. Patterson and Cook here at the London house, but the thought of having to greet all of these people, to stand before them as hostess and make all manner of chit-chat with them makes me feel terribly anxious.
Lady Anne's anxious preparations for the dinner filled a great many entries, and Elizabeth was beginning to feel exasperated – not with poor Lady Anne, but with old Mr. Darcy for putting the poor creature in a position where she must fret over such things – when finally the dinner arrived and passed as a seeming success:
"January 30, 1784
"Well, I have survived the dinner. I cannot say that I felt it a success because I felt so awkward the entire time, but George said it was not noticeable and I did wonderfully. I suspect he would say thus no matter how badly I did, tho. Dearest George, I do not think I could have managed at all if not for him. I was so anxious yesterday afternoon that I felt as tho a great weight had settled on my chest, but he held me and soothed me and said I would do just fine and no matter what happened, he would always love me. I am exhausted today and would like nothing more than to just stay in and read a book, but we have Lady Southam's dinner and then the theatre tonight."
Lady Anne's discomfort with hostessing never seemed to pass, but her growing friendship with Lady Southam and well-established sisterly bond with Lady Ellen gave her causes for cheer, and when her spirits were lowest, George Darcy would take her to Ranelagh or Vauxhall and they would go about as a reminder of their days of courtship. Usually it was just the two of them, but occasionally Andrew and Ellen would accompany them, and the foursome would make their way about in happy spirits, spirits which were further lightened when Anne began to suspect herself to be with child again. Her suspicions grew stronger and stronger, and then finally,
"March 18, 1784
"I told George this morning. He immediately began making plans for us to return North, first to Pemberley and then to the Lakes. There I can be spared all of my anxieties and he hopes that means I can bring the child to bear.
"Mr. Darcy merely said he understood when George informed him he would be deprived of his hostess for the remainder of the season. I am dubious that I can carry this child to bear and worried that if I do we shall just lose it, as we did poor little George. But if there is even the chance that this helps, I agree with George that it must be done, and at least I can escape this social whirl, and go to be alone with George for some months in the place that brings us both such peace. We shall return to Pemberley in the middle of the summer, when hopefully the child will have grown large enough in my belly to stay.
"My only disappointment is that we shall miss the commemorative concert for Handel, but in truth it sounds as tho it shall be such a squeeze that I would not have enjoyed it anyway. Mr. Wesley's concerts have been much more to my liking and I am so grateful to George for having found them."
Elizabeth felt a swelling of tenderness towards George Darcy, who had in turn shown such tenderness towards his wife as to take her away to that place where she had felt most comfortable, who had acted so swiftly and so strongly to protect his wife. Elizabeth had never required such actions, but still she recognised the stance of the father in that of the son, that helplessness in understanding that his wife must bear the burden of carrying their child, and that desire to do all that was possible in ensuring she was safe, protected, able to bring the child to bear successfully.
"And she will," thought Elizabeth. "She will bear him, and you will call him Fitzwilliam, and he will live and love and have children of his own, grandchildren I wish you could have known."
George and Anne remained at the lake cottage long enough to feel her past a miscarriage, and only then returned to Pemberley. A few days after this, Anne wrote:
"August 3, 1784
"George went out for a long ride on that mare he's so happy about having purchased when we were in town – Teasel, is her name – and after he had gone out, Mr. Darcy asked if he could speak with me. I suppose he had been waiting for some days to talk without George around. He said he needed to get back to entertaining at the pace the neighbourhood expected of Pemberley, but he understood George's concerns for my health and that I found it distressing to be a hostess. The way he said it made me feel so ashamed, as tho I was failing in my responsibilities. He said he understood too that I found running the household difficult. I apologised and said I was sorry it was not in my nature to be more authoritative. And he said something I shall never forget, which was – 'Child, you are the daughter of an Earl. You outrank everyone in this house and everyone in this neighbourhood. Act like it, and they will regard you with the authority you deserve.'
"I said that was very good advice and I would endeavour to follow it. He said it was my choice whether I wished to try to do so before the child was born or after. He has a distant cousin who is a widow and lives in Bath and he said he could write to her and see if she was willing to come and act as a hostess for some months if I wished, but I said no, I wanted to try now. I think he was pleased by this, and that he is acting out of concern for George's interests, for George does deserve a wife who can act as a capable hostess, but he does also deserve an heir. Then Mr. Darcy told me he wanted me to redecorate the mistress's rooms in a manner that was befitting of my station, and when they were complete he would give up his rooms to George so we could live in those apartments. I protested that it was too much for him to give up the master's rooms, but he said it was getting to be time to think of the next generation, of ensuring we were ready to be the guardians of Pemberley and the Darcy name."
Early in the entry, Elizabeth had been on the verge of exclaiming that Lady Anne was delicate, and of fragile feelings even before the death of her son, and therefore old Mr. Darcy ought to leave her alone. She was required to set aside her protective feelings towards her mother-in-law, however, upon reading that the old patriarch had given the young lady advice that had challenged her and yet seemed well worth following. It seemed to bear fruit, as well.
"August 6, 1784
"I had a conference this morning with Mrs. Harlow and Cook and I tried the whole time to remember what Mr. Darcy had said. I gave them what I wished to be the menu for next week's dinner and when Mrs. Harlow tried to protest I asked if there were concerns about the kitchen's being able to do as I asked, or the footmen being able to serve it, and I hardly recognised my own voice as I did so. Cook was quick to say the kitchen could handle it although she'd rather change out one of the flummeries for something that could be made further in advance. I said she could and asked her to think on it and propose something that complemented the rest of the meal. Mrs. Harlow said nothing but then I told her I wanted to mind the household accounts more closely and she looked very affronted. But I used that same tone, what I shall call my Daughter Of An Earl tone, and asked her to have them moved back into the mistress's study within the hour and she made no other protest."
"August 13, 1784
"The dinner went as well as I could have hoped. As we were forming the receiving line, Mr. Darcy murmured to me that I need not endeavour to chit-chat if it discomfited me, that so long as my look and bearing showed me to be a great lady I could be a little aloof. He could not have given me better advice, I think, for I did not feel the need to be constantly mingling in conversations and felt much more at ease because of it.
"The food came out perfectly and I wore my white and blue silk with the sapphires. Mrs. Houlton said I was a great beauty and if Mrs. Sinclair made a critical comment to Miss Houlton, at least I did not hear it.
"George said I had done wonderfully and he was very proud of me, and even Mr. Darcy said it was very well done. I am very tired, tho, and glad we have no engagements tonight so that I can read quietly as I have wanted to do so often in town."
This entry cut through Elizabeth most sharply, not for the losses and experiences of the prior generation, but instead for how easily she saw the son in the mother, for how relieved she was to see Lady Anne adopt a panacea that had ultimately caused Elizabeth and all of Meryton to judge poor Lady Anne's son. To feel relieved that Lady Anne had found some mitigation for her shyness was to understand what it was to judge Fitzwilliam Darcy for seeking the same. Of course, he had insulted Elizabeth in and amongst doing so, and at the time she had felt the insult fully, yet now she knew enough of his thoughts and motivations of that time as to fully acquit him of any wrongdoing – or at least any wrongdoing that he had not already profusely apologised to his wife over.
Lady Anne's reward for establishing some manner of firmness with her staff was, Elizabeth learned, to be the departure of her housekeeper.
"September 2, 1784
"Mrs. Harlow asked for a conference with me this morning and said she had found a place as housekeeper at Halton Hall in Lancashire, and would be leaving at Michaelmas. I think she expected I would entreat her to stay but I was quite happy at the prospect of choosing a new housekeeper who will better respect me and be easier to work with, and merely said I wished her well in her new place.
"After we spoke George and I went for a little walk – just along the stream and back, now that I am growing larger. I am ever so glad for these chemise dresses – I feel far more comfortable than I did when I was carrying poor little George. I hope they may be better for the baby, as well, for they restrict my belly so much less when I wear them with my new stays."
"Good riddance, Mrs. Harlow," muttered Elizabeth. She presumed and was correct that Mrs. Reynolds' predecessor, Mrs. Woburn, had followed Mrs. Harlow in the position, and found Lady Anne pleased that her own hire performed so much more to her expectations. She was more ambivalent to finding that both Lady Ellen and Lady Catherine were with child, with all the inherent hopes and expectations that must attend their states, states Elizabeth knew had only seen one child live to adulthood between the two of them, and thus knowing as she read along that she was going to meet with more tragic pain, although at least she knew Anne's child would live.
"October 15, 1784
"We have another son. I am so relieved I feel like weeping when I look at him, my darling little boy. George and I had intended to name him Henry, after his grandfather, but when we put it to him, Mr. Darcy proposed he be Fitzwilliam Henry Darcy, in honour of his maternal lineage. I understood his proposal and was grateful to him for giving me one more reminder of my status. And I am glad Andrew and Ellen's efforts to restore the Fitzwilliam family name have borne such fruit that it can once again be considered a source of pride. There is one awful stain on the Earldom that Mr. Darcy does not know about, of course, but I cannot think of the shades of Stradbroke at such a happy time.
"He is sleeping now, my little Fitzwilliam. O, my little boy, may the future bring you nothing but health and happiness!"
"It has not been all happiness," whispered Elizabeth, "but he has had a goodly measure of it, and more still to come, I hope. I wish you could have lived to see it."
Anne recovered, and her little Fitzwilliam remained healthy, to her great relief. By the time she felt herself ready to go shopping for furniture in town, however, Lady Ellen's pregnancy had progressed too far for her to accompany her sister-in-law. Knowing her aunt-in-law's impeccable taste, Elizabeth thought the mistress's chambers would not have needed to be redone if Lady Ellen had been available. Anne purchased as much in gilt as she possibly could, following the elder Mr. Darcy's advice, writing that "I should awaken every morning and immediately be reminded of who I am and feel myself deserving of everything I must command in the course of the day." Lady Ellen had her daughter, who was also called Ellen; the season ended, and the Darcys returned to Pemberley, where Anne felt confused as to how to proceed with her chambers. Mr. Darcy recommended they hire an architect to see to things: Adam was written to, but would not be available for some time, and so Mr. Darcy decided they should try James Wyatt, which Anne was pleased with, having admired his work at the Pantheon. Yet Wyatt proved dilatory as the months passed, and so no progress was made on the rooms. In June, Anne received a letter from Lady Catherine, that she had borne a daughter and named her after her sister, intelligence Anne regarded with wariness: "I suppose I should be honoured, but in truth I am suspicious of what she is about. I shall always be suspicious when it comes to Cathy, I think. It cannot be otherwise." And Fitzwilliam, of course, continued to grow, adored by both of his parents. Thus did a year pass in Lady Anne's life, until the sweet little entry that delighted Elizabeth.
"October 14, 1785
"My dearest little Fitzwilliam is one year old today, and I continue to thank God that he is healthy. He is such a serious little child even at his age and holds his father in awe, no matter how warm and amiable George is with him. It is still more with his grandfather, who I could never describe as warm, even as I know him better.
"We had a little celebration and gave him raspberries, which are his favourite, and he ate them until his mouth was quite pink. Then I held him and kissed his head and felt him just melt up against me. My little quiet boy, I am so blessed to have had you for so long."
Elizabeth smiled, utterly charmed at the thought of her husband with his little face covered in raspberry juice, imagining he looked much like George had, at that age. They were still a favourite of his, she knew, and the boys enjoyed them as well, save Charles. She read on.
"October 24, 1785
"Mr. Darcy raised the topic over breakfast of our having a large house party this Christmas. He wants to have some friends of his and George's and all of my nearest relations – including Cathy. I have not been in the same house as her since those awful days at Stradbroke, but George and I looked at each other and understood that we could not very well ask Mr. Darcy to leave the de Bourghs out of his invitation without explaining why, and that we could not do.
"We talked later of it, and concluded that we shall always need to include the de Bourghs in our invitations for at least the largest events within our family, for we cannot ever be seen to shun them and give society – or even just poor Sir Lewis – a reason to wonder why we shun them. And while there is certainly something substantial lacking in Cathy's morals, to have been able to do what she did, I do not think she would take such a step again unless there was sufficient motivation. In that, I suppose Sir Lewis is at most risk, and I pray he never does anything to vex her too terribly."
Lady Anne and Lady Catherine's being together at Pemberley with their young children might, Elizabeth realised, give her Lady Anne's side of her sister's claim that a marriage between Darcy and Anne had been planned since their infancy. Based on Anne's opinion of Lady Catherine, Elizabeth suspected she had never wanted such a match, and when later that evening Elizabeth finally reached the Christmas house party, she had those suspicions confirmed.
"December 16, 1785
"The de Bourghs arrived today. They brought little Anne with them, and I was obliged to meet my namesake. She seems a nice, healthy little girl. Cathy was insistent that she be introduced to Fitzwilliam, but they are not yet of an age to care much for each others' existence, and I was glad Fitzwilliam has such a quiet demeanour, for I expect other children of his age might have made their boredom better-known.
"December 18, 1785
"Andrew and Ellen arrived yesterday, with mama and all of their children, and I was so happy to see them all. We all correspond so frequently but it is not the same as residing under the same roof as them. I helped Ellen get the children settled into the nursery and was pleased to see her Edward show some interest in his cousin, although again Fitzwilliam is still too young to return his cousin's attention. The difference in their ages is still too substantial for much beyond that, but as they grow older that should lessen. I should so like for Fitzwilliam to have friends within his family.
"And then there is little Ellen. Cathy talks of pairing Fitzwilliam with her Anne in matrimony, but in truth although I want my darling boy to have a chance to marry for love as I did, if we are considering matches within the family I would much rather he fall in love with little Ellen over Cathy's daughter, and given who shall mother each of the two girls, I think it more likely that little Ellen will grow up to be a young lady worth marrying."
"December 19, 1785
"I went to the nursery this morning to see Fitzwilliam, and Cathy came in while I was there. She kept talking about marrying her Anne to little Fitzwilliam and I said I did not wish to contemplate a match at their ages and that Fitzwilliam would be free to marry as he wished, as his father had. I regret that I looked over to little Ellen's cradle as I did so, for she saw this and said Fitzwilliam should marry her daughter and that I should be closer to her, for I was her flesh and blood. I said I could never be close to her, after all the things she had done. I very nearly said that I would rather Fitzwilliam marry anyone else over her daughter, but I did not wish to provoke her, and so I said nothing.
"Ellen came in, then, and Cathy left a little after this, so I felt much more comfortable. Ellen is truly the sister I have always wanted, and I think it would be quite wonderful if Fitzwilliam fell in love with little Lady Ellen. Lady Ellen Darcy – how nice that would sound, now that it is a different generation I contemplate."
This gave Elizabeth pause. Obviously little Lady Ellen had not lived, but if she had, it was very possible she and Darcy might have wed before he had opportunity to meet Elizabeth. A young woman raised by Lady Ellen stood a goodly chance of being as graceful, beautiful, and intelligent as her mother, and a union between the two cousins would have been given every encouragement by the family. Elizabeth found herself rather guiltily relieved the young girl had not survived. She said nothing of this when she gave over the entries to Darcy to read, and he did not comment on it aside from thanking her for showing him that his mother had always wanted him to do what he had done – marry for love – and then proceeding to give his wife a very convincing demonstration of that love.