Chapter 20: Return to London/Whatever Happened to Wickham?
Friday, 22 May 1812
London – the Darcy townhouse
After breakfast, Darcy and Richard retired to the study in private while Georgiana escorted Elizabeth to their wing to prepare for their day.
"How is your life at Rosings Park?"
Looking up, Darcy replied cautiously. "The days can be quite tedious, but the rest seems to be going well."
Laughing, Richard responded, "That is good to know. We are all awaiting news of"—he cleared his throat with a hand to his mouth—"progress."
Darcy rolled his eyes. "Enough. I am tired of being asked about it. If I know something, you will know right away so you can report to your father."
"You are lucky."
"What do you mean?"
"Miss Bennet. She's a charming young lady. After this, she will be quite wealthy. None will know the truth of the child but us, so her doing this will be of no consequence. My brother now has a child, and I see how it is for him," Richard sighed.
Darcy raised his brow, not following the direction his cousin was taking their conversation.
"Robert loves his little girl like nothing I've ever seen. In public, he puts on the indifferent Viscount face that is expected of him, but at home he happily makes a fool of himself to entertain her." Looking up with a grin, he added, "I do it too. Those joyous little giggles are worth every bit of foolishness. I stay at home when I can, and have frequently been around Robert's little girl. I believe I would like one of my own. A little girl with curly brown hair and shiny eyes who will take good care of me when I get old," Richard decided. "You need not look at me like that. You will have one of your own to play with inside of a year. Then where will I be?"
Darcy snorted at the idea of his free-spirited cousin as both a husband and a father. Then thinking of his words at Rosings Park as well as seeing him kissing Elizabeth's hand earlier, he started to understand the direction Richard was taking. "You should find someone who can accept what you have to offer."
"What does that mean?"
"You have a history of drawing women in only to become either bored or disillusioned with them after a time," Darcy reminded him. "Then you move on to the next one. Women of the ton expect such. Women of the country do not."
"My history is no worse than Bingley's, and look at the angel he's found to create his own version of heaven with," Richard reminded him. "Miss Bennet is not boring, and she does not present herself as someone she is not," Richard stated absolutely. "I agree with Anne on this, she is an alliance our family needs to maintain. She is a means of bringing more health into our future and more happiness into our present."
Darcy scowled at him.
Richard, as usual, was not impressed. "What took you so long in coming to the library this morning?"
Confused at the subject change, Darcy told him, "I needed to ask Mrs. Glenn a few questions. Why?"
"Because I had to wait to time it right and I think I might have offended her."
"What are you talking about?"
"My gallantry! Kissing her hand as you walked in. I heard you come in and then walking in the hall. I thought I timed it perfectly, but you stopped so I had to wait a moment before I could do it."
"Why?"
"To see your response. To see what you are thinking about her so I may know what to do."
Slowly closing his eyes in frustration, Darcy opened them again to stare down his cousin. "What did you decide?" he asked slowly.
"We need to keep her in our family in some way. You would do well to keep her contented during your time with her, both for the child's sake and for your own. You are in an unusual position: you know your wife will die before you turn thirty and you will have your heir. You will be free. Use this time to determine what you want to happen afterward. Once you decide what you covet, work toward making it happen."
"Has Anne sent you?" Darcy inquired.
"She asked me to speak with you, yes, but my words are my own. Her concern is with having a healthy child as soon as she can."
"Elizabeth and I are doing what needs to be done. It is not a chore, I will allow that, but I will not discuss anything further," Darcy stated soundly.
Richard smiled. "So you do not need any suggestions?"
"No." Then Darcy smirked, considering whether he should tell Richard or not. Deciding now would be a good time for him to tease his reprobate cousin, Darcy put on a satisfied look. "I have been given a letter with much better information than any you could give."
Richard, still thinking he was about to tease his cousin about Miss Bennet, dropped the ebullient look from his face into a quizzical one. "Letter. What letter? From whom?"
Hah! Let's see what you will do for a copy, Darcy thought. "It is a letter a lady sent upon her niece's marriage. It gives very specific information to help improve not only her wedding night but each night beyond."
Still confused, Richard asked, "Help her?" As recognition dawned, Darcy struggled to maintain his look of disinterest as Richard's countenance contorted into an expression of shocked amazement. Richard was struck silent—something rarely seen. His countenance again contorting, this time into one of excitement, Richard asked with boyish enthusiasm, "I've never heard of such a thing! What does it say?" as he jumped from his seat. "Where is it? Show it to me," he demanded as he started looking around Darcy's desk.
"You will not find it, it's not here. It was a wedding gift, given to Anne that Anne gifted to me."
"Who would give something like that to Anne?" Richard asked, turning back from the desk.
Darcy had not meant to give so much information. "A concerned resident of the estate."
Richard looked skeptical but focused on what he really wanted to know, "What does it say?"
Darcy donned a sly grin. "It gives very specific directions on how to please a woman, it even includes drawings for cretins such as yourself. There are things on how both can enjoy the act more."
Richard slowly turned around, his jaw-dropping and eyebrows moving into his hair. "Ladies write such things to one another?"
"Apparently." Darcy quipped as he reveled in Richard's obvious shock, gratifying to see in a gentleman who took pleasure in shocking others.
"So what, exactly, does it say?" Richard asked slowly.
"Too much for me to recount here, although I must say she gives excellent advice," Darcy answered casually.
Peering closely at Darcy, Richard suddenly relaxed, leaned back against the desk and laughed. "I must admit, you had me for a moment. A lady would never write such a thing, and no one would ever give Anne such a letter." He laughed at his serious cousin trapping him with a joke. "Besides, if such a letter existed, I would have seen it long before you. You would know of it after I added it to my collection."
Darcy did not doubt his cousin had almost unlimited access to and copies of the licentious material passed around the barracks. "Oh, upon my honor, is a real letter from a real lady to her real niece. It is nothing like the dog-eared travel journals you gave me in school," Darcy assured his cousin. "You pride yourself on being such a wealth of information, thus I felt you would have no need for it. Bingley, however, has a copy." More precisely, Mrs. Bingley has a copy, but if she has it, he has it.
Once again believing, but now offended. "How could you give a copy to Bingley without giving one to me?"
"Bingley just got married. You have met his sisters. That gentleman needs all the help he can get."
Conceding the point, he proclaimed, "So you made one copy, you can make another. I expect to receive it in a se'nnight or your honor is besmirched."
"I will copy it for you, but there is no way for you to receive it in a se'nnight. I refuse to send it written in my hand by post, posts may be misdirected," Darcy said.
Richard stared, dumbfounded for a moment. Realizing his staid cousin was getting the better of him, he decided to revert to his usual course, relaxing and deflecting his discomfort back to Darcy. "So does it help?"
The cocky grin on Darcy's smug face was answer enough, "Immensely."
"You will not tell me anything? Does it make her more receptive?" he asked with his brows raised.
"Richard," Darcy finished. "I have no wish for you in my bed."
Realizing he would not get Darcy to speak further, Richard sighed and moved on to discussing Rosings Park and the curtailing of Lady Catherine's expenditures until it was time for him to return to the earl's townhome. Knowing it would be some time before he would see his cousin again, Richard bid Darcy a heartfelt farewell and safe journey.
Richard left knowing Anne would be pleased but was more interested in knowing how soon he could get his hands on that letter.
~~~oo0oo~~~
Later that day at dinner, Darcy listened to Georgiana and Elizabeth laugh over their day's shopping journey. He was required to contribute little as they discussed the variety of wares they viewed, the odors from the different shops and patrons, and the absurdities of some of their fellow shoppers.
As he and Elizabeth would be departing early the next morning, Darcy insisted upon a short evening. Bidding his sister farewell in anticipation of her being asleep when they left, he was surprised when she clung to him with tears in her eyes. "Brother, please allow me to return to Rosings Park before the summer is complete. I love Aunt Eleanor, but I do miss you so," she begged. "And it will allow me to spend more time with Anne before …"
Looking down at his sister, he embraced her. He feared her visiting lest she discover his duplicity, but how could he reject her when she wanted to spend more time with him?
"You would not deny me a chance to spend time with my sister while she is ill? And when she becomes with child, I dearly want to be a part of your family. To know my little nephew or niece as soon as it is born," she again begged.
Sister. Anne is now Georgiana's sister and cousin. Darcy cursed himself for forgetting. He always seemed to forget his marriage was to Anne. He looked over toward Elizabeth. She gave him no help, not meeting his eyes. "Dear Sister, you will be returning to Aunt Eleanor's when you wake in the morning. They expect you to accompany them to Matlock for the summer. I daresay you will enjoy staying with the Fitzwilliams and all of their entertainments much more than being confined to Rosings Park with a sickly Anne and her mother."
Sighing, Georgiana agreed Matlock would be much more lively, "But you will not be there. Please consider letting me visit Kent again soon." She lowered her voice, almost in shame, admitting, "I want to be a part of the family you are making with Anne. I fear being left behind."
Embracing her again, Darcy smiled upon his little sister. "You will always be a part of my family." Unable to crush her desire to spend time with him, he offered a prevarication, "Let us see the state at Rosings Park when you return from Matlock. We may decide then."
Georgiana glowed, now bidding him a good night and farewell. She gathered Elizabeth, and the two went to their rooms.
Darcy's heart warmed as he watched them walk up the stairs, heads close in shared confidences. He followed to his own suite soon after, anticipating a short wait before fetching his nighttime companion.
~~~oo0oo~~~
Georgiana spent the whole of the walk to their wing telling Elizabeth how much she wanted to return to Kent. To be there while Anne carried the child would give her a greater connection to the child and give her a more prominent role in its life, something she dearly wanted. To hold the child once it was first born! Georgiana adored babies but rarely was allowed around them. It was considered beneath her as a gentlewoman, nurses were the ones who were supposed to attend babies.
She confided to Elizabeth that with Anne not living to raise the babe, Georgiana was hoping to act as a mother to her brother's child, just as her brother had acted as a father to her. For all her brother had sacrificed to care for her, she would happily do the same for his child.
Georgiana was reluctant to separate once they reached their doors. She still had much to say about Kent, Rosings Park, Anne, and her soon-to-be title of "aunt". Elizabeth, though quite exhausted, could not send her away, so they stood outside their doors while Georgiana poured out her heart.
Not realizing the time, both women were surprised when Darcy appeared in their hallway wearing his slippers and banyan. Shocked at finding the two women still standing in the hall, he re-schooled his countenance into one of sternness. "Madams. It is past time for you both to retire."
Georgiana, embarrassed at her faux pas, quickly bid Elizabeth goodnight and farewell, telling her she greatly hoped to see her again in Kent in a few months, before entering her room.
Darcy did not move. Elizabeth's heart raced in nervousness. Not sure what he expected her to do, she moved toward her own door when he unexpectedly took her arm and quietly directed her to the servant stairs. "You need nothing from that room. Come. Before Georgiana calls her maid."
He led her quietly to his wing. Elizabeth's heart continued to race as she heard Georgiana's maid enter the stairway below them just before they silently exited.
Entering his chambers, Darcy quickly wrapped his arms around her and let out a deep breath. Putting his cheek on her head, he rocked with her from side to side a few moments. "I could not believe you were standing in the hall with my sister!" he said, kissing the top of her head. "I thought surely Georgiana would call me to task, but the only response I could think of was scolding you both for being up so late." He pulled away from her grinning. "I was relieved Georgiana did not think to question me."
He led her to his dressing table where he started unbuttoning her robe. Looking at her in the mirror, he asked what the two ladies had been speaking of for so long.
"She is greatly concerned about seeing you again. She wishes to be more a part of your family, and was hoping to help you as you helped her," she told him.
"How would she do that?" he asked as he helped her out of her robe, neatly hanging it over the chair then moved to remove her stays.
"As Anne is not likely to live, she would like to be a mother to your child as you were a father to her. She feels she owes it to you."
Darcy froze a moment, his brows knit. "She said that?" he asked, his voice full of emotion.
She nodded.
He wrapped his arms around her, bending to drop his forehead to her shoulder. Taking a few moments to compose himself, he rose again as he continued to undress her. "She owes me nothing. I have been a poor substitute for Father," he choked. "I have her live with our aunt and uncle too much of the time. She wishes nothing more than to be close to me, yet I send her away again."
Elizabeth looked at his sad reflection. Not knowing what to say, she commented on what she had witnessed. "All I have seen of you has shown you to be a most attentive brother. You are not her father, so could not be expected to act in the same way." Catching his eye in the mirror, she continued. "You have assured that when she can not be with you, she is with people who love her and will give her proper guidance. What more could you do?" Her hair now fell around her shoulders. She turned toward him, looking up to see his face.
"I wish I knew," he answered, now stroking her hair. "I have failed her in the past, causing her great suffering."
Elizabeth rose, indicating for him to sit in the chair at the dressing table. Standing behind him, she rested her chin on his head, watching their reflection while she carefully untied his banyan. He leaned back to rest his head on her chest as he closed his eyes. The poor man looked exhausted with so many trials weighing on his mind. Elizabeth moved her hands inside of his now exposed nightshirt, running her fingers through the fur on his chest. Moving her head slightly, she gently kissed his forehead as he so often did hers. "You have done your best. There is no more you can do," she assured him as she kissed his nose.
Reaching back and guiding her around the chair, he pulled her into his lap. Engulfing her with his arms, he buried his face in her shoulder, turning his head to run his unshaven chin along her neck to her ear. Whispering in that ear, he told her, "You are too kind, but when you learn the truth you may not feel so charitable."
Without moving his head from her shoulder, he told her the story about Wickham's seduction the previous summer. How it had been his fault, how he had hired a companion who was Wickham's accomplice, and how he had neglected his sister thus giving Wickham an opportunity. "So you see, I failed my sister and my father who charged me with her care."
Anne had already told Elizabeth about what a miscreant Wickham was, so hearing what he did to her young friend was not as shocking as it otherwise would have been. Horrified for Georgiana's mistreatment, Elizabeth was not disappointed to remember Lydia's tale of Wickham crossing the Meryton blacksmith rather than a more civilized gentleman. The blacksmith would leave a permanent impression. A man full-grown taking advantage of girls so young deserved it, she thought.
She put her hands on each of his cheeks, pushing his head off her shoulder as she pulled away, and forced him to face her. "I see only that you did your best with what you knew at the time."
He looked into her eyes as she slid her arms around his neck. In Hertfordshire, she never would have believed this gentleman carried such guilt with him, guilt for events beyond his control. At the moment, he looked lost. She gave him a gentle kiss as she moved her head to his shoulder and tightened her embrace. He pulled her tighter.
"You cannot change what has been done," Elizabeth told him quietly, remembering her father's morality lessons from her girlhood. "Georgiana is an admirable person and does you credit, but you cannot shelter her from every storm, nor should you. Weathering storms will strengthen her. They teach her how to fortify the defenses she will need to get through life, yet she still needs your guidance to ensure that she is building defenses that will serve her rather than isolate her. She will always need your love."
She heard him swallow hard. His only movements were of his hand stroking her hair and the deep controlled rise and fall of his chest. Elizabeth did not move. If he was not ready to face her, she had no wish to force him.
They stayed entwined in the chair for some time. How long, Elizabeth could not know. Still fatigued from her lack of sleep at Longbourn, she found herself drifting into slumber on his shoulder. She woke when he shifted his weight to stand, moving an arm under her to bring her with him. She moved to slide to the floor so he would not need to carry her, but he kept his hold. The moonlight was bright that night, allowing her to see him fully. His face betrayed no emotion, but he did not look at her. She had no way of knowing what he was feeling.
When he placed her on the bed, she ducked between the bedclothes and moved to allow room for him. He climbed in beside her, wrapping himself around her once again. "Go back to sleep," he gently commanded. "We both need it." As she snuggled deeper into his embrace, he quietly thanked her for her compassion and comfort before both fell asleep.
~~~oo0oo~~~
Saturday, 22 May 1812
London – the Darcy townhouse
Elizabeth awoke to see Mr. Darcy looking at her with a huge grin spread across his face. She drew back in surprise, then yawned and stretched as he laughed. Indignantly she asked, "What amuses you, sir?"
He placed his finger upon the tip of her nose. "You snoring," he laughed as he removed his finger.
Affronted, she corrected him. "I do not snore. I may inhale quite deeply at times, but that is not snoring as Jane has assured me."
He smiled, moving his face so his nose now touched hers. He whispered, "Such a kind sister. You were snoring," he teased before he kissed her.
Piqued, she started to pull away from the offensive rascal. Really, who wishes to wake up to insults!
Darcy continued, "It sounded like a little bee buzzing around. Quite adorable once I realized I would not be stung," he added with a raised brow before she had a chance to become too angry. Kissing her once again, he smiled. "I would ask if you slept well, but I believe your snoring answered for you."
Elizabeth crinkled her nose at him. "You snore too," she informed him. "But it sounds more like thunder rolling through the sky," she smirked.
Obviously feeling quite playful this morning, Mr. Darcy rejoined, "Ahh, so that is why you no longer call me 'Jane' in your sleep." Wearing a devilish grin, he purred as he spoke. "It is good I make such a racket. I prefer your response to me. When you think me your sister, you keep a space between us."
With this wicked statement, Mr. Darcy pressed himself close against her, now there was no empty space. Elizabeth laughed at his silliness as she kissed him. "Maybe I should sting you now," she suggested with a nip to his neck. "Then you will not be so smug." This led to more frolicking, which led to passion. Afterward, both dozed some time before Elizabeth returned to her room.
She carefully carried her robe and corset down the stairs, laying the robe on a chair to keep it from wrinkling. She turned in confusion when she realized Mr. Darcy had followed her in the door and was quietly closing it behind him. She looked at him askance, but he again had that playful grin on his face. Speaking in barely a whisper lest they disturb Georgiana next door, she asked what he needed. His smile grew as he quickly lifted a brow. He obviously had devious designs!
She raised her own brow in challenge. "Here?" she whispered. "Are you not concerned your sister will hear?"
He looked around the room for a suitable spot. Removing his banyan, he pulled her onto his lap while he sat in one of the chairs. Lifting her slightly, he moved his nightshirt out of the way and pulled her chemise to her waist. He placed her legs so each leg was draped across an arm of the chair. (1) From behind her, he had a perfectly comfortable position for placing one hand between her legs to start his attentions while the other hand conveniently cupped her breast allowing his fingers to tease her nipple. Watching the neglected nipple harden in response to his other attentions, he felt her hips begin to oscillate along with his motions. When she groaned her indication of enjoyment, he impaled her, thrusting aggressively until both were satisfied.
After removing her legs from the arms of the chair, he leaned back and pulled her with him. As they both recovered, Mr. Darcy suddenly embraced her tightly. "I have decided I shall keep you here with me," he whispered in her ear.
Wondering at his continued silliness, she replied, "We may not stay any longer. They are expecting us back."
Sighing theatrically, Mr. Darcy whispered, "If we must." Changing to a purr, he continued, "But you shall come back with me."
Shocked but not quite catching his meaning, Elizabeth said nothing as she reclined against his chest until Mr. Darcy had to return to his rooms.
~~~oo0oo~~~
Darcy cursed his impulsivity. How could he have told her he was going to bring her back with him? He was married to Anne. He had no right to raise expectations in Elizabeth until after Anne had passed.
What kind of a deviant did that make him? To hope for his cousin's death so he could untangle his desires for some type of future with Elizabeth.
It was done, however, and could not be undone. He would have to watch her on the return trip to better assess her response to his invitation. If she was affronted by his implication, he could claim it was a mistake in the heat of passion. If she seemed receptive, he would make arrangements before she left Rosings Park.
~~~oo0oo~~~
A Flashback: 1 April 1812 (Whatever Happened to Wickham?)
Meryton
Who would have believed such a beautiful and dainty bit of muslin would have such a monstrous father? he thought as he threw a hastily packed bag over his shoulder to find a safer location.
Denny had been right. Ladies love gentlemen in regimentals. But the cad had conveniently failed to mention the sparse opportunities to take advantage of that love in the small town the unit was quartered in for the winter.
Unlike the ladies in Town, these people believed all that moral nonsense taught by the pastors. The young gentlewomen he so coveted would flirt, but no more, and the small-town widows were too concerned about their reputations to open their legs for his relief.
On that night, he had been frustrated once again by the Bennets. The family could not offer him the rewards he was looking for, but the youngest was an attractive and forward young bit he heartily wanted to sample.
Compromising Miss Lydia Bennet could potentially offer him greater rewards than her family could afford. George Wickham was no fool. He had known Darcy too many years to not recognize the well-hidden look of admiration when that man looked at Miss Lydia's sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. His acquaintances in London laughed with him over ale while repeating the latest gossip over the man's further withdrawal from society since his return to Town. Speculation was rampant as to which maiden caused it.
Wickham would laugh loudest and longest. He knew who the maiden was, not that he blamed Darcy for his admiration. If Darcy was pining for her as the gossip indicated, his wealthy friend could well afford to come back and offer for her. Meaning there was still a chance that by compromising the youngest, Wickham may still have a way to connect himself as a brother to Darcy, allowing himself an endless supply from that overfilled teat.
That particular evening, Miss Bennet and Miss Mary Bennet saw their younger sister as she was leaving to stroll the garden with him. Both joined the couple to maintain propriety, thus denying him the opportunity to kiss the wild young thing and persuade her to touch him.
As he returned to the barracks once again to have to relieve himself, he saw the adorable little working-class girl—curvy, overflowing her gown, and with a head full of wild, unrestrained curls. She looked like she was on her way home from an earlier rendezvous. He flirted and cajoled until he persuaded her to step behind the blacksmith's shop and lift her skirts.
Just as he was about to enter her, the blacksmith himself stormed out to order his daughter back in the house. Always having been a quick one, George Wickham managed to barely escape capture, running to the barracks while re-buttoning his flap once he was a safe distance away.
When that half-wit Colonel came around asking, Wickham reported having still been at the Philips' card party. Chamberlayne must have been the rat. (2) He was the only one who saw Wickham return early, even pointing out the several mismatched buttons on his breeches.
There was no choice for it now, he must desert. Fortunately, he had enough funds to get him to the continent, maybe even the former colonies, so he could start anew without his reputation following him.
As he slipped out the back door of the inn, an iron fist grabbed him from behind. The man pulling him to the alleyway was large and strong, but not as large and strong as the blacksmith. "I've got him!" his captor's deep voice called.
George looked up and saw the blacksmith before him. In his usual manly way, George Wickham cowered and started begging for forgiveness. "Sir, please, have mercy on me. I never meant to go so far. You must know your daughter is most lovely, the most lovely woman in this town … "
The blacksmith's hand closed around his throat. "She ain't no woman. Amy's not but twelve."
Twelve! He admitted to preferring his ladies young, but usually at that age, they looked more like young boys. "Sir, I humbly beg your forgiveness. Miss Amy so resembles a full-grown lady, I had no way to know her youth … "
But then George's world went black as the massive fist, so used to pounding metal, pounded his face.
When George woke a few hours later, his eyes were blurry, and his head throbbed. His whole body ached. Clearing the haze from his eyes, he pulled himself to a sitting position and looked around.
He had been left in a field, his bag by his side. Looking through it, George saw the contents as he packed them, his money undisturbed. He sighed with relief as he began to realize his body would need another type of relief.
Groaning, he lifted himself up to find a tree. His groin throbbed in pain. Damn beasts, must have kicked me there after they knocked me out, he thought.
He staggered to the tree, releasing his fall to relieve himself as he regained more of his senses. Something seemed odd, unexpected. He moved his thighs around a bit, something was not right.
It was then he realized who the second man was—the groom!
No. Those men would never do such a thing to another man! It violated all dignity!
But when he reached down, he realized they had done such a thing.
"My ballocks!" he cried.
He had been gelded. (3)
~~~oo0oo~~~
(1) The position described is illustrated in the book "School of Venus". It's available on Google Books.
(2) Rat used to mean a betrayer was first documented in 1812, which means it was likely in common use before that time.
(3) For those who enjoy this section, it is included thanks to a comment from ODCODG (in 2016) who wanted Wickham to appear again. I despise Wickham—anyone else think of the Matthew McConaughey character in Dazed and Confused: "That's what I love about these high school girls, man. I get older, they stay the same age"? Ick, Ick, Ick— so I wanted to write him out with only implications the blacksmith beat the tar out of him, but then I thought about him compromising a blacksmith's daughter.
If you don't already know, gelding is removing the testicles from a male animal. I've mostly seen it used for horses. On dogs it's neutering, on humans it's castration. (There is also full castration of men where they take everything off.)
I have no idea how they did geldings back in Regency England or who it was that did them, but it's something commonly done on male horses to make them more manageable. I involved the groom, considering he is the one responsible for the horses. It seems reasonable that he would be the one responsible for gelding them, though I couldn't find anything detailing the job of a groom or confirming who would be responsible for it.
The blacksmith's daughter was inspired by what I read of Lady Emma Hamilton—birth name Amy Lyons—who was the daughter of a blacksmith, Henry Lyons. Lady Hamilton was best known as the mistress of Lord Nelson, but lived earlier than this story, dying in 1815 at age forty-nine. In real life, her father died when she was only two months old.