This is a completely new chapter, which I just wrote today. Enjoy.
Chapter 31: Uncle Judge, Abby and Sam
On Thursday, I was up with the sun and saw Edwin off while my sister still slumbered. I spent much of my time after that reviewing what I wished to talk with my uncle, the judge, about. I wanted to raise the issue of Georgiana's guardianship, ask whether there was any way that the Earl could challenge my competency or take her and Pemberley away from me. I wished to request his support, if not for our sakes, then for the sake of his brother.
An hour before we needed to leave to see Judge Darcy, I began to grow anxious as Georgiana had not yet appeared. I recalled how she had delayed our departure from Rosings. I had wished to talk with her about what our strategy should be with this uncle, but this was seeming to be less likely of an option the later it grew. I sent a servant to check on her, and when Mrs. Annesley appeared without her, sent her to check on Georgiana also.
I had long ago eaten, refreshed myself and despaired of distracting myself with what should have been a most engaging book regarding early maps of the new world, when she finally came down. By then I knew the carriage would already be awaiting her and my horse likewise would be saddled and ready (my staff knows full well that I require promptness in all things). Additionally, in anticipation of her late arrival, I had filled a basket with some of the less messy breakfast items that I knew she favored and had arranged that it would be waiting in the carriage.
Therefore, I had hardly greeted her when I instructed, "We must leave now. I had wished to talk to about this all, but the hour is too late." I almost dragged her from our home.
When we left the house, I was a bit surprised to see that the open carriage awaited my sister, but she merely said "Cannot you ride in the carriage? Then we can talk on the way." I did not like even this slight alteration in my plans, and it was on my lips to refuse, but I forced myself to quickly weigh the merits and agreed.
It was indeed well to discuss our plans and I thought it not an unproductive fifteen minutes upon the road. However, I also found myself a bit distracted in recalling the street children I had spied with Edwin the last time I rode in this carriage.
Judge Darcy had a fine row house in somewhat less fashionable part of London that was not too far removed from Cheapside, likely only a four-minute ride from where the Gardiners lived. When we arrived, I was already tracing in my mind what would be the best route connecting the two residences.
Judge Darcy had a well-dressed butler with a powdered wig, who showed us into a pleasant sitting room done up in shades of greys and blues with large, glazed windows which faced a fine aspect in the rear of the house, a deep garden framed by box hedges which was far larger than I would have expected in town, was larger than my own.
Judge Darcy was not within and we crossed to the windows and spent a few minutes gazing outside. Georgiana pointed out a maze hedge, told me, "Were this merely a social call, I would hope I might be invited to visit the garden for I would like to see how quickly I could navigate that maze." Georgiana kept pointing out other aspects of the vegetation, I believe to distract me from the fact that our uncle had still failed to appear.
However, there was only so much time we could be occupied with that. Then Georgiana bid me sit and related her memories about when she was in London with our parents when I had been in school and they had visited this house together. "Imagine my surprise at dinner, when I had been doing my best to eat with dignity and all propriety, understanding the boon that had been granted me to eat with the adults, to see a large wolfhound trotting into the dining room. He came right up to my uncle and immediately Judge Darcy began to feed him scraps of meat and potato."
As she wove her tale, she rubbed my arm and spoke in soothing tones as if I were an impatient child. The picture she painted with her words helped to shape a kinder image of the man that I barely knew. The last time I had been in his presence, had been when he visited Pemberley for my father's funeral. I had done my best to speak not a word in his presence, fearful about not appearing as the man my father wished me to be. His visit had only lasted two- and one-half days and I remember him saying that he had a full court schedule, could not visit as long as he wished, but would return some day, should he be invited. I had never invited him again, left it to my mother to answer the correspondence he sent to all of us.
Perhaps my sister's thoughts had traveled in a similar direction for she mentioned, "When Judge Darcy came to stay for Papa's funeral, he helped distract me by telling me about how when he was a child, there was a cat who became adept at catching milk in his mouth when the milk maid squirted it from the cow in his direction."
Listening to Georgiana's recollections helped me and when those were complete, she asked me to tell her about what I recalled of my interactions with our uncle. If Georgiana had not been there, I should have been beside myself in my frustration, but even so I found the wait maddening. All told, I believe we waited more than twenty minutes beyond our appointed meeting time (and had been a few minutes early besides that). If not for Georgiana calmly rubbing my arm and speaking with me, I would have been up, pacing, perhaps for this entire interval, might have quite worn out the fine rug with my feet, and perhaps flubbed the whole meeting.
When the door finally opened, we both rose to await his entry. I am not sure what I expected, perhaps seeing Judge Darcy in full regalia, in his robe with its ermine border, and his wig covering his hair. Instead, while the face was familiar, and indeed he looked more like my father than ever, although his mostly dark hair was longer and he had stubble upon his face, indicating his man had not yet shaved him that morning, he was dressed simply, in worn woolen breaches which might have once been black but were now an uneven shade of grey and dotted with what appeared to be silvery dog hair, a lawn shirt which had yellowed and had several ink stains, and tobacco colored leather slippers upon his bare feet.
I did not know what to think of this man, who was dressed with less dignity than I would have ever expected. I felt comfortable in all the layers of my clothes, with my knotted neck cloth, my waistcoat, coat, stockings and all the rest. In my household when my clothes were half as old, I would have given them away to my valet, Jeffrey, and then when they worsened further, he would have passed them to someone else in the household. By the time they were this worn, they likely would have made their way to a rag picker.
I wondered if Judge Darcy's finances were poor, but almost immediately discounted this thought from what I had seen of the rest of his house. Too, as a judge he had a good income and had inherited a few thousand pounds both from his father and then later my own.
"I regret keeping you waiting," my uncle said. "As this is an off day, I lingered in bed but as you are family, I thought it was better to come now than make you wait longer."
I said nothing and it was left to Georgiana to initiate proper greetings, curtseying. Following her lead, I quickly gave a bow. She said, "Good morning Judge Darcy."
"What, no Uncle Judge anymore?" He asked her with a familiarity I had not expected.
"I was but eleven when I used to call you that," she told him.
"Still, I liked it. I wish you would call me that still."
"I will," she allowed, "but only if Brother can call you Uncle Judge, too."
"And, yet you still call him Brother and not Fitz or Darcy?" He quirked an eyebrow at her. The expression on his face was very like one of my father's. My father had typically directed it toward George Wickham when he said something amusing, and I had seen in occasionally directed to my sister or mother, but not toward me that I could recall, never toward me.
I felt a sudden sadness but perhaps what might have also been anger. I did not like thinking about my father, but here was his 'doppelgänger' (as the German termed it). I wondered if he would continue to ignore me in favor of my sister.
"I do," Georgiana responded.
Judge Darcy turned toward me, and I mumbled out a quick good morning.
"And what say you, nephew? Shall you like to call me Uncle Judge?" He quirked his eyebrow at me then before adding, "And shall I call you Darcy, Fitz, Fitzwilliam or perhaps . . . Curdled-Milk-Face?"
I was not sure how to react to this, but Georgiana laughed and then my uncle did, too, and I found myself laughing as well. The tension I had anticipated with this meeting was largely dissipated then.
Georgiana commented, "If you could have seen your face just then, Brother, for you had on your most serious and solemn visage from the moment when Uncle Judge entered the room."
"Yes," my uncle added, "you looked like one being taken from the gaol on the way to his own trining at Newman's Lift. Am I truly so fearsome? You are not a defendant here. Indeed, I shall do whatever it is in my power to do to aid you if need be, for from your note, this is no mere social call. For you, the two of you," he looked first at Georgiana and then at me, "are all the family I have in this world, save for my dear sister Matilda Skeffington," he curled his lower lip then, "and a couple of distant cousins, one a ship captain in the West Indies and another who is settled in the former colonies."
Judge Darcy's next words were directed at me. "You know, Darcy, that I heard about what happened with Matilda. She wrote me to complain, to try to get me to get you to change your mind." He laughed then, the same rich deep sound as before.
"It put me in a glorious, good mood for the rest of the day. Good riddance if you ask me. And to see that you had some backbone, that you could stand up to her. I knew that all would be well with you then, no matter what my brother's worries had been.
"You must understand, I would like to think well of my own sister, but she was unkind to me even when we were children, had been in my brown books since then for she never did apologize or seek to do better by me. It was a good thing the Skeffingtons never had children for I cannot imagine her being the kind of mother that all children deserve. Do you know, your grandfather had quite a time finding any man who wanted to marry her, kept propping up Mr. Skeffington's estate over the years, a task your father was not keen to continue. Rather than just giving them money, he made it a loan.
"And then when she began living at Pemberley, well your father tried to get me to take her. Naturally, I refused. He had made his own bed after all, and Pemberley has much more space than my home here. I would have left her to the ruin of their poor choices."
"Would you have truly done nothing to aide her?" Georgiana asked.
He considered then, scratching the stubble upon his chin. "Perhaps not. But whatever I did would have been done from afar and far less than Matilda might desire."
Given such an opening, I gathered my courage, took a deep breath, and said, "Uncle Judge, if you would be truly willing to aide us, we are currently facing a potential threat from the Earl of Matlock."
Judge Darcy listened, a wrinkle forming on his brow as I explained about the threat to Georgiana and what my solicitor had told me about that. However, after he reviewed my father's papers (which I had brought with me), he advised me "The Earl is all bluster. Truly, there is little that can be done to remove you or to make her marry one of his sons. Too, no judge would look favorably upon a guardian trying to match his ward to his son. And just in case anyone might have thoughts in this direction, I can assure you that I will make sure that the whole of the court is made to know that any hint of challenge to my family would be an affront to me. I may not have the coffers you have, but I have the ear of the Lord Chancellor, am one of his personal favorites for I take on the work he would rather not (unlike some of the judges that simply wish the honor of the position without the responsibility). Truly, you could not be better positioned to have me safeguard you than if I were the Prince Regent himself."
I thanked him and Georgiana enthused, "Truly, I feel so much better, Uncle Judge. We thought the Earl was more bluster than substance on this, that the Countess wished to make me think they had more power than they did. But still . . ."
"Still, you worried. It is most understandable. There are many who use their power to get their own way, but there are limits to what can truly be accomplished, particularly in your case. However, if the son of an earl is not good enough for you, why you might have to set your eyes to a duke or prince."
"I need no husband of title," Georgiana replied, "simply that he be a good man. Like all women, I dream of a love match, like the one my brother has found. I have no desire to leave my brother's house anytime soon, should like to have some time with my new sister."
"What's this? Have you lately married?" He directed his gaze back at me.
"No, my beloved has accepted, but her father is proving obstreperous."
Georgiana explained, "It is not truly her father's fault, for the Earl of Matlock does not seek to only control my matrimonial future, but my brother's as well. And as my brother has proven stubborn," here she paused and grinned at me, "the Earl decided it would be far easier to work against Miss Bennet's father. He sent someone to make threats against Mr. Bennet's family. We believe the Earl thinks that if Brother does not marry, I would eventually inherit Pemberley and should I marry one of his sons, that great estate would go to the Fitzwilliams."
Judge Darcy shook his head and gave a sigh. "That man is truly a thorn in your side. How dare the Earl seek to take what rightfully belongs to the Darcys? While I knew that Pemberley would never be mine unless some great tragedy befell you all, and I should have never wished for that, am happy with my position in life, it certainly should never go to the Fitzwilliams. It is not your fault that they bred five sons.
"Should you like me to have a little talk with the Earl of Matlock? He may be my better, but he will not be ignorant of the power I wield in my own bailiwick."
Georgiana and I exchanged a glance. I was not sure what exactly she was trying to tell me.
"Perhaps in time," I commented, "but ideally I wish to deal with the Earl myself. I have no desire to have him at your throat and I fear that even if he backed down, a lingering threat would remain. But could you tell me, know you anything of how my father handled him? I have reviewed some writings from my parents, Georgiana, too, and I thought if I could learn how he managed to marry Mother, that perhaps it would help me know how best to deal with the Earl."
"Now that is a story that has never fully been told to me," Judge Darcy responded. "It is a strange matter that the decision came down to her brother and not her father. I have pieced together bits of what took place, but the image it forms . . . well I may be mistaken. George would never tell me more than he managed to convince her brother that it would be in the best interests of all of the Fitzwilliams that they be allowed to marry.
"I believe that Lady Anne was complicit in some kind of compromise they arranged, was willing to be seen as ruined rather than marry where her brother bid. George was more than happy to play the hero to win the hand of the fair maiden who he had come to love. I think he fancied himself a knight to her princess in a high tower, hoped to win both her heart and her hand by being her deliverer.
"Never let it be said that the Darcys do not pursue the women that they love with everything they have. If indeed this woman who is not yet truly engaged to you is worth all this effort, then I am confident you will see it through. I have never married because I have never met a woman that I felt half as strongly for as your father did your mother. And I am happy enough in my bachelor ways."
"Yes, Miss Elizabeth is worth all this effort and more," I told him, seeing my love as clearly as if she were standing before me.
"Well then, I wish for an invitation to the wedding, hope that someday I may visit my childhood home again." Naturally, I assured him that I would welcome his presence in Hertfordshire and at Pemberley.
We took our leave of Judge Darcy soon afterwards. I felt so good as we climbed back in the carriage, as if I were a bird who had just learned to fly. I directed the coachman to take us back a different way. While I would not call on the Gardiners, I was curious as to just how far apart the two homes were.
It was as we were coming back from having passed their home (which I had pointed out to Georgiana, with the promise that she would meet them another time), that it came to me that we were rather near the spot I had been accosted for money from the beggar girl. I began training my eyes on the sides of the streets, going from one to the other.
"What are you looking for, Brother?"
I quickly began explaining to her about the children, about the boy who I fancied was like me. It was as if my words conjured them, for just as we reached the costermonger I saw the girl, still dressed in the same dirty and ripped frock, although it was perhaps worse than before. While I had thought Uncle Judge's clothing poor, it was nothing to hers.
She must have spotted me, too, or perhaps recognized the carriage. I shouted at the coachman to stop and she ran within a few yards of me. I saw beyond her, her brother who was sitting cross legged against the side of a building, sucking upon his thumb.
"Please, good sir, please some coins. I know you meant well last time, but I was only able to keep one."
I made a sudden decision, "Should you like employment, for you and your brother? Come with me, to my home and you shall have a position given to you."
The girl had been trotting nearer to the carriage but stopped suddenly. "I am not for sale," she raised her chin and I saw that her neck was particularly grimy. The confusion I had over her words vanished when she added, "You will not be frigging me. It hurts."
My coachman yelled, "You shall not be speaking of the master that way, child." And then he turned back to me and asked, "Should we not continue on our way? There are some that prefer to wallow in their filth."
I was simultaneously flummoxed, horrified and sad. I did not know what to do. Fortunately, Georgiana did. She leaned past me and addressed the girl. "We would find you work in the kitchen, for your brother, perhaps, the stables. I am Georgiana Darcy and this is my brother, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire. We care for each other as you care for your brother. Neither of us mean you any harm."
Georgiana picked up the basket of her breakfast that had laid forgotten on the floor of the carriage. "Do you see this basket? It is filled with food, for my brother was worried I had missed my breakfast and we had an appointment this morning. He is a kind master. Everyone in our homes, from a new scullery to the butler, always has ample food. At minimum, all workers begin with two sets of clothing provided, have a cot to sleep upon with a warm blanket and bathes at least once a week. In addition to this, they have their wages. Truly, my brother and I just wish to help you."
"Why should you wish to help me?" The girl asked.
I was uncertain what my sister's reply would be. She glanced at me, and rather than explaining to the girl how I thought her brother might be like me, said "God tells us to serve the poor."
Georgiana dipped into the basket and held forth a roll. She made a throwing motion, and the girl (perhaps worried that the roll would end up in the dirt if thrown) came around behind the carriage to where Georgiana was seated and took the roll from her hand. I could smell her odor as she neared; she smelled of night soil and rotten cabbage. I expected her to start eating the roll right then, but she said, "I need something for my brother, too."
Georgiana retrieved two dried figs, which she placed within the cloth that held a sausage. She handed the bundle to the girl. "Take this. While you eat, think about my brother's offer. When you are finished, decide if you wish to come with us now. You may have the rest then, there is a piece of ham, another roll and two hard boiled eggs left, whatever you decide."
The girl took them and hurried back to her brother. We stayed where we were as other carriages and horses passed around us. We watched as she broke off pieces of the roll and sausage. Most of these she placed in her brother's hand and he ate each piece as soon as she gave it to him. As for her, I think she only ate two bites of bread and one chunk of sausage. Her brother appeared to have no interest in the figs, shaking his head "no" and closing his mouth tightly. I then watched as she ate the figs, skin and all (while Georgiana usually peeled the skin).
When they finished, I could tell that the girl was talking to her brother, but it was too far away to hear what she was saying. Whatever it was, he stood up but did not seem to want to come toward us. She stood only as high as his shoulder, yet I saw her rubbing his arm, seemingly trying to reassure him.
"She cares for him as you care for me," I noted to Georgiana.
"Yes, but I believe he needs far more help than you ever did. What shall you do if he is not capable of work?"
"I have no need for either of their work, you know this. However, I imagine there is something he can do. Whatever that thing is, we shall endeavor to discover it. I have a feeling that if they accept, she will make a fine worker, will do the work for two if only they both may remain."
Georgiana nodded. "What luck that today I did not eat my breakfast, but tell me, Brother, how did you expect me to eat all of that?"
I shrugged.
By now I could see the girl leading her brother by the hand. He was moving slowly and gave darting glances in our direction. His shoulders were tucked in and his back hunched forward. I thought he might be afraid.
The girl took her brother around to Georgiana's side of the carriage, even though the door of the carriage was not over there. Their combined smell was truly awful, with her brother having a strong odor of urine upon him.
I held a handkerchief over my nose and mouth and barely avoided gagging. While I wanted them to come with me, I was already thinking about how bad the stench would be and wondering if I could tolerate it. I was not sure that if they came within that I might need to have the carriage reupholstered afterwards. But then I had the happy thought that I could hire Bingley's new business to do it or could perhaps purchase a newer conveyance from him.
The girl told Georgiana, "We should like to have that employment, but my brother needs my help. He must remain with me."
"Of course," Georgiana reassured. She had no visible reaction to their smell.
"We shall find something suitable for you both," I told them through the handkerchief.
The girl nodded and dragged her brother around to my side. I opened the door and got out. I held the door open. I wished to help them get in but could not bear to touch them. The girl did not seem to notice and scrambled in, pulling her brother along with her. Georgiana gestured for them to sit in the forward-facing seat, while she took the backwards facing seat. The boy made a sort of hooting sound of distress that was too loud by half.
I had intended to get back in and sit beside my sister, but instead I closed the door and scrambled up next to the coachman. Then we were away. The stench lessened as the carriage gained speed, but still I clutched the handkerchief against my nose and mouth, tried not to smell. I had a brief thought as we went along as to what a strange sight we made, the master in his fine dress sitting beside the coachmen, and filthy street urchins riding in luxury.
When we arrived in front of the house, Georgiana told me, "I will remain here, Brother. Perhaps you can send Mrs. Grotburn out to sort them out and direct what must be done.
I was happy to flee to the house and find Mrs. Grotburn. Once she grasped the situation, I left it to her and my sister's capable hands. Whereas before, I had been anxious to start on our way to Rosings as soon as we had finished our meeting with Judge Darcy, my mind was much occupied with the children and how they might be getting on. However, I had our trunks loaded in the carriage, made sure our servants would be ready to depart when she was ready. Even with the late start, I was confident we could reach Rosings by the evening.
Perhaps two hours later, Georgiana joined me in the library. I noticed that she was wearing a new dress and her hair was yet damp. "Are they well, our new employees, or rather, our young guests? What have you learned about them? Have Mrs. Grotburn or Mr. Smith any notion of what position might work for them?"
"They are as well as can be expected, I suppose. Abby told me a little of her life as we rode in the carriage. Up until about a year ago, she, her mother and her brother, Sam, lived with a man named Mr. Smith. She does not believe he was her father, for she said they lived somewhere else before then. She does not know her own surname but knows that Abby is short for Abigail.
"Everything changed for them when her mother sickened and then died. I think it was likely consumption from how she described it. Mr. Smith told her that she and her brother had to leave. They stayed with a neighbor a few days. The neighbor was willing to keep Abby, to help her tend the baby and toddler, but had no use for Sam. Abby would not stay without him, so they have been finding their way on the streets since then. A few took pity on them during the coldest of the weather, let them sleep in a stable and in a shed. She is fiercely protective of Sam, does not want him out of her sight. She seems fearful of men. I do not know whether someone imposed on her, or if she simply fears the worst. I fancy that Mr. Smith was not a kind man."
"But as we know no other name for them, shall they be called Smith?"
"Mrs. Grotburn thinks not, for our Mr. Smith would not wish for anyone to think that he is their father, that they be his outside of a marriage. We shall have to find a new name for them. As for employment, Mrs Grotburn has declared Abby far too young and Sam, well he is certainly not ready for any gainful employment now and may never be. We decided they should be housed in the nursery for at least a few months. I fear you now have wards rather than employees.
"All that has been accomplished for now is getting them bathed and changed, and indeed that required a monumental effort. Sam was fearful of the bath and Abby had to climb in the bath with him. You should have seen the color the water turned; it was most foul indeed. We had to make them bathe twice, the second time without their clothes. Mrs. Grotburn and Martha managed it all. Do not fear, brother, I turned my back to them then, until it was all managed.
"Afterwards, when they were dressed in clean clothes, I ordered their clothes thrown out. Likely they should be burned, but as they were wet that was not an option. Fortunately, another maid found some of our childhood clothes in the attics. They were some finer things that perhaps our mother intended for her grandchildren, but I am well satisfied with this use for them. And once they were settled, I felt the need to bathe again myself." She wrinkled her nose, perhaps remembering their stench.
"Abby has insisted that she will work, must work, that she promised the master that she would. Mrs. Grotburn told her that her task now is to learn some skills, so that she may be an asset to the household someday, may perhaps become a good lady's maid. She made Abby promise to learn everything she is taught, has assigned Martha to begin teaching her to sew tomorrow, told her that when she learns the basics, she may assist with the mending. I believe Mrs. Grotburn plans to assign various members of the household staff to tend to them, each of whom can teach Abby something new. Mrs. Grotburn has said that with us spending so little time in residence that we have far too large a staff and this will give them something productive to do."
"And Sam?"
"Mrs. Grotburn is most anxious to make sure he learns to use the chamber pot, to dress himself and the like. She is not sure what he may be able to do. Abby said he helped with the sweeping and mopping, would wipe down the windows when they lived with Mr. Smith, but I think Mrs. Grotburn fears he may be more hinderance than help if she should set him to any task now."
"All of this is well and good," I told my sister, "but I should hope that they can be taught their letters and numbers, too. Even if Sam cannot speak, perhaps he can still learn to read a bit, point to a written word for what he wishes to say. Too, they should also have time to play. Abby's life should not revolve solely in providing for Sam. She should have the opportunity to be a child. I have a feeling that Sam may enjoy learning how to spin a top. Do you think I should hire a governess for them?"
Georgiana considered, "Perhaps in time. I think we should let Mrs. Grotburn try to manage things with the staff we have. I do not know how to tell you this, brother, but I fear I cannot accompany you to Rosings, for I am needed here. I wish to help these children, to authorize and direct when Mrs. Grotburn has a question, make certain that all the staff treat them well."
I did not like the thought of leaving my sister there, unprotected. Judge Darcy might think nothing untoward might be done toward her, but I imagined the Earl seizing her and forcing her to marry one of his sons. Such a notion was outlandish, but if there was the barest possibility it might occur . . . . No, I certainly could not leave my sister there with only the servants and her companion. I did not like the thought of my plans having to be altered, but still, in this case perhaps it was necessary.
I took a few deep breaths, tried to adjust my mind to this alteration. I am not sure I would have been able to do so, if not for the reassurance Judge Darcy had offered earlier. I told my sister after a few minutes, "I suppose I need not leave for Rosings today. Let us see how things are tomorrow. While it would be best to go see Lady Catherine at Rosings, perhaps she can be persuaded to come to London instead."