The Ruin of Elizabeth Bennet: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Darcie Rochester

  "No. No I . . . I have other things I need to do."

  A sudden summer downpour ruined her plans for a picnic so Lizzy took her luncheon in the nursery that afternoon. Mrs. Butner, the nurse and Lewis were pleased as ever by her presence. As usual Mrs. Butner babbled without pause, telling Lizzy all Lewis had done that day. It was amazing a child barely out of infancy could accomplish enough in a few hours to justify such a lengthy report, but according to Mrs. Butner Lewis was no ordinary child. The nurse doted on her charge as if he were her own child, a fact for which Lizzy was deeply grateful. It saddened her that Lewis had gone so long without any semblance of a parent, but at least he had Mrs. Butner, to whom he was the most important person in the world.

  As Mrs. Butner continued her effusions on Lewis's progress, Lewis busied himself by arranging his toys for the upcoming game. It was a game whose rules Lizzy did not understand but that did not seem to matter to Lewis who was always elated with her contributions.

  Lizzy studied the boy as he toddled about the room. In the most superficial sense he resembled Darcy—his hair was dark, his eyes blue. Such a slight likeness might have been enough to convince the world he was Darcy's child had not the truth been so widely known. But it was widely known. And Lewis looked like Lord Linton. Markedly so. Which Lizzy supposed in some ways was fortunate as Miss de Bourgh had been no great beauty. However later on when Lewis went off to school this resemblance would make him the object of gossip.

  But, Lizzy thought, we have no need to worry about that yet. The current concern was Darcy's continued avoidance of the boy. Darcy still believed he was as culpable for Anne's death as if he had taken up a knife and stabbed her and thus could not face her child.

  Lizzy needed to find a way to convince him of the damage he was doing Lewis by shunning him. She did not expect him to spend every day throughout with the child, indeed she knew most gentlemen rarely took much interest in their own children much less wards who had been foisted upon them by tragedy. But even an occasional visit by the man who would be as close to a father as he would ever have would make a wonderful difference in Lewis's life.

  When he found out the truth of his parentage—and he most certainly would, there could be no hope of hiding it from him forever—knowing Darcy had taken an interest in him would give him security of his place in the world.

  Lewis interrupted her ruminations as he handed her another toy. "Here," he said, his words were still babyish and indistinct.

  Lizzy picked up the little tin solider he had placed in her lap. The child already had enough self control to wait until the end of his nurse's speech to begin his game, but that was not to say he endured it with complete forbearance. He gave Lizzy a look that said, "She does go on, doesn't she?"

  Out of the corner of her eye Lizzy noticed movement. Glancing furtively over as not to make Mrs. Butner think she was anything less than attentive, she saw Darcy. This was not the first time she had caught him lurking about as she played with Lewis. She wanted to beckon him in, but was unsure how he would respond to being put on the spot.

  Then Lewis's voice rang out, clear as she had ever heard it, "Papa!"

  Darcy stood as if frozen. Then he stepped out of view. Lizzy's heart sank, however a moment later Darcy reappeared.

  With a look of determination he stepped into the room. He paused as if that step had cost him all his strength.

  "Fitzwilliam, come sit with us," Lizzy said, patting the spot on the floor next to her.

  Mrs. Butner, understanding the gravity of the master's appearance in the nursery, curtsied and then made some excuse as to give this momentous meeting privacy.

  Darcy lowered himself to the floor. Lewis crawled away from him, suddenly shy.

  "Lewis, you know your papa?" Lizzy asked. The child nodded.

  "How do you do?" Darcy said very solemnly.

  Lewis turned to Lizzy with another of his communicative expressions, this one asked, "Is he always this odd?"

  "Yes, always."

  Darcy gave her a bemuse glance, but Lewis found her reply sufficient. He returned to his earlier task of passing out his toys. To Darcy he handed an impressively detailed replica of a ship.

  Lizzy gasped. With mock jealousy she said, "It took me a week complete before he gave me the honor of playing with the boat."

  In a stunning display of patience for a child so young, Lewis attempted to teach Darcy to play. The boy's frequent exasperated glances at Lizzy told her it was hard work. After about a quarter of an hour the poor child was thoroughly exhausted. He crawled into Darcy's lap and made as if to take a nap there.

  Panic returned to Darcy's features. He looked to his wife for guidance and Lizzy responded by folding her arms around herself, mimicking an embrace. Following her instructions, Darcy put his arms around the child. Lewis relaxed and closed his eyes. Darcy continued to appear terrified.

  "I make a rather awful playmate do I not?" Darcy said some minutes later after the nurse had returned and put Lewis to bed.

  Lizzy smiled. "Yes, but I think you will make for a good father."

  "It will be a very poor lesson to Lewis if you fall in and drown," Lizzy warned Darcy teasingly, her amusement tempered with concern.

  She sat on the ground near the edge of the lake her skirts fanned out around her covering most of the blanket on which they had taken their picnic. Lewis was in her lap sniffling pitiably as he strained to be free from her arms which prevented him from following Darcy along the steeply sloping bank. The child had accidentally released the string on his toy ship and it had sailed away from him. Now nothing would console him but its safe return.

  "If I fall in I will not drown. Merely make a fool of myself," replied Darcy. He was wading in the lake now, stretching to reach the runaway boat with a stick.

  "Got it!" Darcy cried triumphantly. Lewis instantly ceased his whimpering and cheered. Lizzy loosened her grip on the boy allowing him to toddle towards Darcy.

  Darcy and Lewis returned to their earlier amusement. Lewis held onto the string and Darcy held onto Lewis. Darcy's tallness required him to bend in half and waddle along in order to accompany him.

  Lizzy remained seated. She had been relegated to a secondary position in Lewis's affections and she did not mind. Darcy had made much progress these last several weeks. He was now comfortable with the child. No longer did he flinch when Lewis called him "Papa." She hoped he would soon come to forgive himself for his past.

  Their outing was interrupted by the rumble of a carriage. The entire party turned towards the lane mystified; they had not expected anyone. A few moments later a stately carriage passed, bearing a crest Lizzy did not recognize.

  "Who could it be?" she asked.

  "I'm not certain," Darcy replied, but his tone told her he had some clue.

  "We should return to the house." Darcy had hardly finished speaking before two burly footmen who had been standing discreetly among the trees came forward, ready as ever to assist. Kip and Danny had been found and appointed at Lizzy's insistence. She knew Darcy was not happy to be employing her former kidnappers, but he could not deny they were efficient; they had the picnic packed in a trice. Darcy also could not contest the usefulness of their menacing appearance. No highwayman would think to rob a carriage whose outriders were Kip and Danny.

  "The Duke of Edgecombe has arrived, sir," the butler announced upon their return.

  Darcy who was better versed in heraldry than Lizzy, did not appear surprised. Lizzy was shocked enough for the both of them.

  "What reason did he give for his visit?" she asked.

  The butler glanced uncomfortably at the child in Darcy's arms, "He has come to see Master Lewis, ma'am."

  Lizzy's shock was only furthered by this revelation. The Duke was Lewis's great-grandfather by blood of course, but all she had ever heard of the man indicated he was a stickler for propriety, thus it seemed unlikely he would wish to visit with a relative conceived of an illicit union.

  "I suppose there can be no
harm in it?" she said uncertainly.

  Darcy appeared equally uncertain. "I will speak to him first," he said gingerly handing over Lewis.

  Lizzy entertained Lewis in the library while Darcy met with the Duke in the west drawing room. Only a few minutes had passed before a servant came to fetch them both.

  The Duke of Edgecombe was frail and bent, crumbling in upon himself as the elderly sometimes did.

  "Some part of me had hoped perhaps the rumors were not true, but he is Blake's child there is no doubt of it," Lord Edgecombe said once introductions were made. His eyes had not left Lewis since Lizzy had carried him into the room.

  "Well, I suppose we must pray he will not turn out to be a fool and a wastrel as his sire was."

  Lizzy catching the Duke's use of the past tense sent a questioning glance her husband's way.

  "Lord Linton has died," Darcy explained succinctly.

  Immediately Lizzy said, "I am so sorry, your grace."

  "No need for sorry. I am not sorry. Blake was an embarrassment to the title. A racing accident! Ha! He was so inebriated he fell out of his curricle and was ran down by the next man's horses, they say. That is not the death of a gentleman.

  "If only my eldest son had lived! He was a man of honor. My younger son's branch of the family brought me nothing but shame," he paused, sighing soulfully. "And now it is all that is left. He is all that is left," he finished, gesturing at Lewis.

  "Lord Linton left a wife and a legitimate child I believe," said Darcy.

  "The child is female. She cannot carry on the title," the Duke said dismissively. He continued to stare at Lewis, his gaze not loving but critical, Lizzy fought the urge to turn away in order to block Lewis from it.

  "This boy—what will you do with him?"

  Darcy's forehead creased in response to the Duke's oddly worded question. "Lewis is my son by name and he will be raised as such. He will have every advantage I can afford him, I promise you."

  "What will he inherit?" the Duke asked.

  Darcy shifted uneasily. This was a topic that still troubled him. "Rosings has been in the de Bourgh family for generations and it will certainly go to Lewis."

  "Rosings is a fine estate I'm told, but I think it must be paltry in comparison to Pemberley."

  "The future of Pemberley has yet to be decided," replied Darcy evasively. It was difficult for Darcy now he had become attached to Lewis to deny the child his right as eldest son to the inheritance of all his father's property. Yet the fact remained that Lewis was not a Darcy by blood and to leave the boy Pemberley was to deny any future son of himself and Elizabeth his birthright.

  "You want your estate for your eldest son. It is only natural that you should prefer a child of your own body to a cuckoo's hatchling."

  Darcy winced at the Duke's harsh words. "It is not preference so much as principle," he amended.

  "There is no need to talk around it, Darcy, the fact remains he is not your son. You have promised to raise him as your own for which I am grateful, but it is the responsibility of his progenitor to look after his future and I shall not fail him."

  There was a tinkling of laughter barely audible over the din of the pianoforte on which a halting tune was being played. The performer stopped abruptly obviously put out by the interruption though he tried to appear undaunted.

  "Is this how your music instructors were with you? It is a wonder you ever mastered anything with these constant interruptions," Darcy scolded his sister with mock furor.

  "I could not help it," said Georgiana still trying to suppress her laughter. "It is your expression. You are so serious. One would think your life depended on this performance. No one will laugh if you play the wrong note, you know."

  "No, you will laugh no matter what I do it seems."

  "It is hardly surprising that she should laugh," Lizzy chimed in from her position at the writing desk in the far corner of the room. "When you are in deep concentration you stick your tongue out."

  "I most certainly do not."

  "You do."

  "You do," seconded Georgiana.

  Darcy crossed his arms before his chest, wearing a petulant mien very similar to the one Lewis wore right before he went into a temper. "I think we ought to leave my instruction for later. We are disturbing Elizabeth," he said.

  "You are not disturbing me at all. I came here particularly to hear you play. I merely brought my letters as a pretense so you could not accuse me of of having no reason to be in this room intruding upon your lesson," said Lizzy, smiling fondly towards the pair at the pianoforte. Darcy had been receiving lessons from his sister since her return from Brighton some weeks ago. It made Lizzy so happy that her husband was taking time for things that gave him pleasure, things he had previously deemed frivolous distractions from duty.

  "Did you receive the letter you were waiting for from your eldest sister?" Georgiana asked.

  "Yes. Jane was married to Mr. Mumford eight days ago. The wedding was everything she wanted it to be."

  "How lovely," then, noting Lizzy's wistful expression, Georgiana continued, "Oh, but you must wish you could have been there."

  This was not the first wedding she wished she had not missed. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Madigan's wedding had come and gone without her and Darcy's attendance, though Georgiana had described it so diligently it was almost as if they had been there. At least Jane's wedding they had not missed because they feared their own scandalous union would damage the good name of the newlywed couple. This time they had stayed home because Elizabeth was now very visibly with child and it simply was not done to be seen in public in such a state.

  Darcy continued his practice for a few minutes before Georgiana's laughter rang out again.

  "My tongue is not sticking out."

  "No, but now you are holding your lips oddly. You do not need to concentrate so hard."

  "How is one to play if one does not concentrate on what one is playing?" he asked.

  "Your fingers already know where all the notes are. Now you must let your mind relax into it. Read the music. Do not think about where your fingers need to go. They will find their way on their own."

  "You are speaking madness."

  "Lizzy, tell him—" Upon observing her sister-in-laws face she halted her appeal at once and instead asked, "Bad news?"

  "Lady Matlock writes that the Duke of Edgecombe has died."

  "Not entirely unexpected given his advanced age," said Darcy.

  "Yes, but I cannot help but feel sorry for him. He did seem so miserably alone in the world. I wonder if he had anyone to comfort him at the end." Though, she thought, it would be his own fault if he did not.

  The Duke had stayed just four days at Pemberley during which time he had had no further conversations with either Darcy or Elizabeth. He had not even looked in on Lewis before he left.

  "I am certain he was surrounded by loyal retainers to the very last. From all I have heard of him, he would not want anyone else. The Duke was not a sentimental man," Darcy said before returning his attention to the instrument.

  The butler entered the drawing room suddenly, his expression a mixture of excitement and anxiety. "Sir, a messenger has arrived," he announced.

  Darcy jumped up from the bench. Though all the servants must know about his new hobby, he was still embarrassed, not because he thought music beneath him, but because he was still not as good as he would like to be.

  "He is waiting for you in your study, sir. He is a royal messenger."

  Lizzy and Georgie both gasped, their surprise echoing through the vast room.

  "I will see him immediately," Darcy said with remarkable composure.

  For several minutes after Darcy's departure the ladies discussed various theories on why Darcy would be receiving communications from a royal envoy. Though the Darcy name had—at one time at least—been highly respectable they had never been of the sort of importance that would attract royal attention. Lord Matlock was of course deeply involved in politics, but
they could think of no reason anything he might have done would involve his nephew. Once their theories were exhausted their conversation fizzled into anxious silence.

  Georgiana began to practice anew, playing uncharacteristically ill. Meanwhile Lizzy penned a rambling letter to Jane, that upon completion was found to be utter nonsense and was quickly disposed of.

  Finally Darcy returned. He held in his hand a piece of parchment upon the back of which was the rather ostentatious royal seal. The letter shook madly in his grasp. "I am the Duke of Edgecombe," he said quietly.

  "What?!"

  "The Duke was the last of his line. When he died the title and all the properties reverted to the Crown. Apparently he was a great friend of the king and he requested that the dukedom be given to me. The Prince, it seems, acquiesced.

  "I will have to go to court, there is to be a ceremony of some sort, but I am the Duke of Edgecombe and Lewis is the Earl of Linton just as he ought to have been."

  Epilogue

  Darcy's tolerance was waning. Lizzy could see that her poor husband was practically wilting under the continuous onslaught of their guests. Too bad they were only half way through the receiving line.

  Even Lizzy's ability to remain cheerful was being challenged. It had not evaded her notice that these people currently lined up and eagerly waiting to gain entry to their ballroom were the same people who had whispered about them so maliciously last season. Indeed, if they had not been the Duke and Duchess of Edgecombe they would still be far too scandalous to associate with. Lizzy remembered their former notoriety with something too much like longing.

  Being a respectable member of the ton was a wonderful thing, she reminded herself. Lewis and Thomas's lives would be so much easier if their parents were not social outcasts. Lewis was a doting older brother now, almost as fascinated with four-month-old Thomas as his parents were. Though the infant did little more than wail, soil himself, and eat, Darcy and Elizabeth were convinced he was a remarkable child.