by Kay Bea
Elizabeth sent her children inside and signalled a servant to fetch her husband. By the time Darcy arrived, the wagon was gone, and in its place were five little girls—Olivia, Hannah, Lucy, Frances, and Maria Wickham. Olivia was ten and Maria only one. They were all filthy and far too thin, and wore threadbare clothes Elizabeth would not have kept for rags. Mr and Mrs Wickham had abandoned their children, and brave little Olivia decided it was up to her to save them all. The Darcys eventually learned that Mr and Mrs Wickham were both overly fond of drink and had long since abandoned the Black Anvil in Northumbria. They moved from one bad situation to the next, and the last time the couple relocated, they did so without their children.
Though they could not rejoice in the circumstances, Mr and Mrs Darcy were thankful for their new daughters. It took little money and even less effort to legally make the Wickham girls Darcy wards. They were raised with the Darcy name and as the years passed, Elizabeth liked to think no one remembered she had not borne all her children. Each time the family returned from seeing one of the boys off to school, or from the end of a successful Season for one of their girls, Darcy would turn to his wife and whisper, “Welcome home, Elizabeth.”
The End
The Adventures of Miss Olivia Wickham
An Excerpt from a Companion Story to
Love Unsought
Olivia’s Decision
Ten-year-old Olivia Wickham sat at a rickety table covered in cooking grease and fine ash and looked around the filthy one-room cottage her family currently called home. Her four younger sisters lay huddled together on the floor atop a straw mat in the corner furthest from the door. In the faint moonlight, she could see the floor covered in the dust that came easily through the chinks in the wall. The window was cracked, and the door barely fulfilled its office. Above the cold fireplace to her right, was a shelf holding a few fractured bowls and several spoons. Finally, her gaze settled back on her sisters. Like their chemises and the ragged curtain on the lone window, the thin blanket covering them was an indeterminate shade of grey. She thought it might once have been white.
Olivia was grateful that winter was yet a month or two away. When it came, this place would be unbearably cold, and she had no doubt there would rarely be sufficient funds for wood or coal. Even now, the wood box was as empty as the shelves were bare of food. Whatever she found for breakfast would have to be eaten cold.
Her parents had been gone for almost a se’nnight. They had left before, but never for this long. Usually it was only a day or two, and while there was never much to eat, there was at least a little bread or cheese to be had. Every few months, her father would disappear for several days. When that happened, her mother would stop drinking long enough to make a few preparations before leaving the younger children in Olivia’s care. A day or two later, husband and wife would return, and the cycle would begin again. Both parents would drink, her father would leave, and her mother would go fetch him.
The last time her father left, it was Thursday. Her mother was gone the following day. Now it was Tuesday night. The last of the meagre food in the house was eaten at breakfast, and she put her siblings to bed with empty stomachs, still hoping their parents might return by morning. She knew they could not wait much longer.
From her earliest memories, Olivia could recall her mother speaking of aunts and uncles who lived far to the south. There was Aunt Darcy who lived in Derbyshire and Aunt Bennet who travelled the world. Of her Aunt Simons and Aunt Bingley, she knew very little. According to her mother, all her aunts were kind and beautiful and very rich, though none so rich as Aunt Darcy.
“You remind me of her, love. You remind me of your Aunt Darcy. Always running about vexing your mama, always with a pert opinion, and never quite a lady. You have her eyes too, full of mischief they are.”
Olivia asked whether being rich meant they always had enough to eat. Her mother laughed her sad laugh and said that where her aunts lived, even the poorest tenants had enough to eat. Why then, Olivia asked, if her aunts and uncles were so very rich would they not share with her family. It seemed terribly unfair that she and her sisters should so often go hungry if there were people who might help.
“Before you were born, I did a shameful thing, and I hurt my family with my words and deeds,” her mother replied after a long pause. “Although I have no doubt they would not let you go hungry if they knew of our circumstances, I cannot bring myself to tell them. I cannot ask anything of my sisters. They are lost to me.” Her mother took another deep drink from the amber bottle that seemed always to be near at hand.
Olivia’s eyes grew wide. “What did you do, Mama?”
“That is a tale for another time, when you are older. Now, go mind your sisters while I see to your papa.” Her mother pushed herself roughly back from the table and stumbled out the door.
There were many variations on that conversation over the years. Her mother told stories about Aunt Darcy most of all, who married a prince and lived in a castle called Pemberley, near Lambton in Derbyshire. She spoke most often of Pemberley when there was a new baby coming or when her father was away. “Of course, I have never visited; it is much too far to travel. But your papa grew up there, and he spoke of it often enough. ‘Tis as large as any castle you could hope to see and twice as lovely. ”
“It sounds like a fairy tale, Mama!”
“Perhaps it is a fairy tale, because I have heard that at Pemberley even the servants dine like kings every day and they always have wood for the fire and nice warm clothes.”
Olivia thought of her mother’s stories as she waited for the night to pass. As the first strains of dawn began to break and her parents still had not returned, she slipped silently from the little house. She was depending on her sisters keeping to their usual sleeping habits. Her only real concern was that baby, Maria, who was only a year old, would wake before she returned. Maria would cry and wake the others. Six-year-old Hannah would panic, and her distress would make five-year-old Lucy and three-year-old Frances start wailing, and all the noise might alert the neighbours to their situation. Olivia did not know for certain what would happen then, but she thought it was something to do with the church and the girls never being together again. She hesitated a moment longer before deciding the reward of food was well worth the risk of discovery.
Moving as quickly and quietly as she could, Olivia walked to the inn where her parents sometimes worked for Mr Davies. She hoped rather than believed she might find them nearby. She did not. But she did find the large pot of mutton stew that had been left out, presumably for the innkeeper’s dog. She wondered whether it was stealing when the food was obviously meant to be thrown out. She reasoned it was not, so long as she returned the kettle later. Olivia tiptoed up the steps and had just reached to heft the pot to her shoulder when the back door swung open.
“’Hey! You dere! Ain’t you one o’ dem Wickham brats?” Mr Davies was looking especially fierce.
Olivia’s eyes widened, and she stuttered an unintelligible answer.
“Wha’s that? Ya are. I know ya are. Yer de oldest one. Yer da’s all-ays talkin’ ‘bout how yer too smart fer yer own good. Whaddya doin’ sneakin’ round back ‘ere?”
“I-I,” Olivia stammered.
Mr Davies looked closely at the child before him then at the pot of stew. “You was gonna steal dat stew pot! Just like yer da. Takin’ what ain’t yers to take!”
Olivia grew incensed. “You were only going to feed it to that fat, lazy dog of yours! My sisters are hungry, and your dog could stand to miss a meal or two!”
For a moment she thought she might have said too much. Then Mr Davies burst out in a jovial laugh. He wiped tears of mirth from his eyes and said, “Ya got me dere lassie! Ya got me dere. Now, c’mon inside, and let’s get you somethin’ proper like to eat. Mind you tell yer da it’s comin’ outta his pay!”
Olivia made a sound she hoped would be taken for agreement. She did not think she would see her father again soon, but she was not inc
lined to share that information with Mr Davies. She perched on a chair in the kitchen and watched as the rotund man gathered old bread, a block of cheese, and scraps of cold meat. He put them all in a basket and turned back to his guest. “Now, take dis back to yer sisters and tell yer da iffin ‘e don’ come in t’day ‘e’ll fin’ hisself wifout work.” Olivia assured Mr Davies she would pass his message as soon as she saw her father.
“Alright den, off wit’ ya. I gots a delivery all da way from Derbyshire comin’ dis mornin’ an I don’ need any little gu’ersnipes in da way.”
Olivia’s hopes soared, and she sprinted home. She had already been gone much longer than she had planned, and now she had much to do in little time. A delivery from Derbyshire! Olivia was determined to learn all she could about this mysterious delivery and whether the driver would be returning from whence he came. She arrived at the shabby cottage she called home just as her sisters were beginning to wake. Hannah and Lucy met her at the door.
“Ollie! I thought you had left us too!” Hannah exclaimed.
“And we are very hungry,” added Lucy solemnly. “Will there be any breakfast today?”
“I would never leave you, silly. And yes, I have brought some lovely treats for breakfast. Look! We have bread and cheese and even a little meat. Why, it is almost a feast!” Olivia laughed and hugged her younger sisters. “Now, I need your help. Hannah, you go fetch some water, and Lucy, you must help me wake the babies.”
Soon the Wickham sisters were gathered on the floor to enjoy their breakfast. Afterwards, they returned the leftover food to Mr Davies’s basket and Olivia told them her plans. Hannah and Lucy listened, Frances explored the cottage, and Maria played with a stick, alternately waving it about, banging it on the floor, and chewing on it.
“I do not think Mama and Papa are coming back.” This was the most important point. Her sisters must be made to understand that their parents were not returning or they would not wish to leave themselves. Hannah and Lucy’s eyes grew wide when Olivia added, “They have never been gone so long before, and even Mr Davies has not seen them. They are not at the inn or the tavern.”
Hannah’s eyes filled with tears. “But what shall we do? They have to come back. They have to!”
Lucy seemed unable to speak. She chewed her bottom lip and tears spilled silently down her cheeks. Olivia sat between her sisters and placed an arm around each of them. “We shall go to Pemberley and our Aunt Darcy.”
“B…b…but she does not know us!” Hannah cried.
“We can work for her. She does not have to know us. Mama said even the servants at Pemberley have plenty of food and nice clothes.”
“I don’t want nice clothes, and I don’t wanna go to Pemmerly!” Hannah shouted. “I want Mama!” Of the five girls, Hannah was her mother’s clear favourite. The idea that her beloved mama might never return was not at all acceptable to the little girl.
Olivia wanted to cry too. She wanted to laugh and play with her sisters. She wanted to climb trees and vex her mama. Instead, she had to determine how she was to feed and care for herself and her sisters. She did not cry; she forced herself to smile and said, “I know. I want Mama as well. But she has been away too long this time. We cannot stay here without her. We must leave. It is the only way.”
“What if Mama comes back? What if she cannot find us?” pleaded Hannah.
Olivia took Hannah and Lucy’s hands in her own. “It was Mama who told me about Pemberley and Aunt Darcy. She will know to look for us there. If she comes back, she will know. I promise.” She thought it unlikely that her mother would ever return. If she did, Olivia thought it likely she would be too foxed to consider where her children had gone.
Lucy finally spoke. “But how shall we get there?”
Here, Olivia told what she hoped would be the only lie of their coming journey. “Don’t worry. I have it all planned out…”
The Adventures of Miss Olivia Wickham is available at Amazon.
Acknowledgments
I have a sign in my dining room that says ‘If you knew my family, you’d understand’. The statement has never been truer than it was during the final stages of writing and editing this book.
The hardest work on this story was done during the COVID-19 pandemic when we were all on lockdown. My youngest son and his family came up from Georgia and our household went from three adults and our assorted pets, to five adults, one toddler, five dogs, two fish, and a rather annoyed cat. In the midst of all that insanity, my son Chris, his wife, Ashelie, and my incredible husband, Larry, teamed up to make sure I had plenty of dedicated writing time. They cooked meals, cleaned house, wrangled the dogs, and entertained the amazing Miss Lailah. But that’s my family. We’re crazy, loud, often inappropriate, and occasionally over-the-top. We also love and support each other with fierce determination. Without them, you would not have these pages.
Ardent Artist Book Design…that cover! It perfectly captures one of my favorite scenes in Love Unsought.
Finally, I am incredibly lucky to have the team at Quills & Quartos Publishing, especially my incredible editor, Christina. She pushed and pulled and finessed and persuaded me to create a story that was better than I thought it could be. Thank you. Jan and Amy, you two rock. From first read to being available for every oddball conversation I started on Facebook Messenger, your encouragement and support are invaluable.
About the Author
Kay Bea is an administrative assistant and Jane Austen lover living in Kansas City with her husband of 25 years, her mother-in-law, and her fur kids. She has written several short stories and drabbles on fanfiction.net as I Found My Mr. Darcy and on A Happy Assembly as MrsDarcy2032.
Kay grew up in Wyoming, enjoyed a two-year adventure in Maryland, and now calls Missouri home. When she isn’t writing, Kay enjoys photography, cooking, and spending time with her adult children and three granddaughters.
Love Unsought is Kay’s second novel.
For more information about new releases, sales and promotions on books by Kay and other great authors, please visit www.QuillsAndQuartos.com.
Also by Kay Bea
The Adventures of Miss Olivia Wickham
The eldest daughter of George and Lydia Wickham has grown used to her parents’ neglect and occasional disappearances. But as days pass and her four sisters’ hunger grows, Olivia Wickham takes matters into her own hands and determines that a journey to Derbyshire to seek help from Aunt Darcy is their only hope. The Adventures of Olivia Wickham takes up where Love Unsought leaves off, as the girls make their way south to seek a new life at Pemberley.
Letters from the Heart
The death of one’s spirit should come with a great deal of noise: weeping and wailing, if not thunder or the roar of a fire. Elizabeth could not have imagined a spirit forced into darkness by something so mundane as the scratch of pen on paper.
Elizabeth Bennet has been certain of many things in her life; her place in society, the love of her family, her ability to choose her own future, and her ability to accurately judge the character of those she meets. Three days after the Netherfield Ball, a near tragedy shakes that foundation and in the weeks that follow, Elizabeth learns that nothing is certain. Compelled by circumstance and her mother’s will, Elizabeth is condemned to marry her father’s heir, Mr William Collins. Isolated from everyone she knows and loves, Elizabeth is faced with a dark and difficult future.
Unaware of the changes that have occurred in his absence, Fitzwilliam Darcy returns to Hertfordshire determined to right his wrongs and prove himself worthy of Elizabeth’s love. When he learns he is too late to secure his happiness, Darcy determines he will express his love for Elizabeth the only way he can – by protecting her younger sisters as well as he would his own. Old bonds are strengthened, family ties are severed, and unlikely allies emerge as each of them struggles to make sense of the changes they face.
Can happiness be found when it seems all hope is lost?
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Kay Bea, Love Unsought
