Mr. Darcy's Little Sister (31 page)

The wedding went off very calmly at eleven o’clock yesterday morning, without any demonstrations of acrimony but also without any great joy, excepting that of Lady Catherine. Cousin Anne wore a magnificent cream-coloured satin dress covered with Venetian lace, and, although her gown fitted her well, she seemed to disappear into all of that elaborate lace and become almost invisible. She stood up next to Lord St. George and looked like a child playing at dress-up, or possibly a doll. Lord St. George had a smug but defiant look on his face as he watched his bride walk up the aisle on the arm of his father, who gave her away. His eyes met those of his father, and they briefly locked in a visible struggle until St. George dropped his gaze. The other guests, of whom there were few, naturally did not realise that this was occurring, as my aunt and uncle and the colonel all maintained a dignified façade in front of them.

Lady Catherine had a wedding breakfast for the newlyweds after the ceremony so that the guests could congratulate the couple and, although St. George took Anne around on his arm to accept the best wishes of the guests, not once did I see her smile. Some of the guests, especially St. George’s friends, looked rather shocked when they saw how tiny and ill-looking the bride was, and most gave their muted congratulations and faded away. The breakfast was over in just under an hour. Lady Catherine had a lavish supper laid on for the family that evening, but Lady Anne left halfway through the meal as she was exhausted by the exertions of the day. St. George stayed until we were finished, drinking a great deal of wine and talking to his mother-in-law with determined jollity while she preened herself over capturing a lord for her daughter, both seeming insensible of Anne’s departure.

The gentlemen spent very little time over their port, as you might imagine, and they rejoined us in the drawing-room with faces like stone. We all retired very soon after they came in. I pray that Lady Anne will be well taken care of by her husband, but I continue to have grave doubts. The one minuscule piece of good news is that with all of St. George’s greater sins to think about, I completely forgot to feel self-conscious in his presence, although this was the first time that I had seen him since we had our argument before the ball.—With my dearest affection, etc.

Darcy sat for a moment staring at the rain beating on the long windows of the salon then seemed to shake himself and opened the colonel’s letter. After he read it he handed it to Elizabeth, saying, “I am not sure that I should let you read this, since I would like to preserve some sense of dignity for my family. However, you already know so much of it that I suppose it cannot be made any worse.”

She took the letter curiously and read,

Darcy,—

Well, the wedding farce has concluded and St. George and Anne are married. As you know, I arrived in Kent two days before the wedding in the hope that I could drive some sense into my dear brother. He managed to evade me until the day of the wedding, when I bearded him in his lair before he was dressed. He continues to be as intransigent and defiant as ever and, although I spoke to him very calmly (much more calmly than I felt, I am sure you can believe), he would not listen. He admits that having an invalid wife will be a bore but says that he will not need to spend much time in Kent. He scorns Anne’s weakness and frailty and does not respect his mother-in-law. I am ashamed to be associated with this deed, but we all held up our heads and behaved with as much honour as the situation would allow us. We are leaving this morning after breakfast and will be back at Pemberley as soon as we are able. Lady Catherine will be coming with us, as well as my parents, so tell Mr. Woodson to have his surplice at hand, because Georgiana and I are not waiting any longer. To my happiness at marrying Georgiana is added the immeasurable bliss of having an irrefutable excuse for leaving the presence of Lady Catherine as soon as we are married.—

Fitzwilliam

These communications left them both subdued and thoughtful, and they did not discuss them but quietly went about their business, making sure that all the wedding preparations were finished by the time Georgiana and their guests returned.

Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.

For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.

—Song of Solomon, 2:10–11

The wedding took place two days later, but it was not until late in the afternoon of the wedding day that Elizabeth had time to sit down and write to Jane about it:

My dearest Jane,—

Well, this morning Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam were married in the Pemberley chapel. Lord and Lady Whitwell and Lady Catherine came directly to Pemberley after the wedding in Kent, so all of the closest family members on both sides were present, excepting only Lord and Lady St. George. Lambert and I helped Georgiana dress, as we had done so many times in London. Her maid is coming along very well, but she did not feel that she could take all of the responsibility for such an important occasion. Georgiana told me that she would have liked to be married in her sea-green or her gold gown, since she feels that the occasions on which she previously wore those gowns were the turning points in her (as she puts it) “pursuit of the colonel’s heart.” Since those gowns would be somewhat unconventional and she does not want to give Lady Catherine anything more to talk about, she chose instead to wear a beautiful creamy white silk gown with no lace or other adornment. The skirt was made of several layers of the sheerest silk that you can imagine, and it floated around her as she came down the aisle like gossamer. Her hair was curled around her face, and she wore a white bonnet with a short veil and her pearls and the bracelet that the colonel had given her for her birthday and she looked like an angel come to earth.

After she was dressed, I went down to the chapel and found that Lady Catherine had planted herself in the first pew. Since there was not room for the entire family in front, I sat in the second pew, and when Lord and Lady Whitwell came in a moment later they sat with me, leaving Lady Catherine in solitary splendour. Mrs. Reynolds and Smithfield, and a few of the other upper servants, sat in the back pew. When the organist started the processional, Lady Whitwell reached over and took my hand. I looked up at her and she smiled at me, but she had tears in her eyes, as did I.

Georgiana glided down the aisle like a ship with all her flags flying and her eyes only for the colonel. I have never seen a bride more unwavering than Georgiana. Although she never showed the slightest loss of temper after the initial upset of their plans, when they returned from Kent I believe that any difficulties put in her way would have fallen before her determination like straw before a flame.

Mr. Darcy tells me that the colonel was fidgeting in the library all morning until it was time for him to dress for the wedding—he almost drove my poor husband mad—for fear that the wedding would be put off again, but of course it was not. We had a lovely wedding breakfast, and the bride and groom left at one o’clock for Bellamy. The colonel was able to push the workmen to make the house liveable for them by finishing enough rooms for the comfort of themselves and their few servants. They will stay only a few days and then travel back to London, where they will stay at Longford House; the colonel will finish turning over his duties and then resign his commission. They expect to be back in Derbyshire within a month.

The one sad note for Georgiana was when Mrs. Annesley told her on the way home from Rosings Park that now that Georgiana did not need her she wished to take a position with Sir Robert Blake as a companion for his sister. It is an excellent plan since Georgiana will be able to visit Mrs. Annesley and not feel as if she has abandoned the friend who helped her so much over the past two years. Dear girl that she is, she does not want anyone to lose by her happiness.

Our guests left not long ago and already the house seems empty without Georgiana. I am glad that she will be close once they have settled all of their business in London. I hope that your search for an estate near Pemberley goes well, my dear sister, for I long to have you near me as well. I must go now; Mr. Darcy and I are going for a short walk—the weather has finally cleared after almost a fortnight of rain and we both feel the need to breathe some fresh air out-of-doors (and breathing is about the only part of a walk that I can manage at the moment!). Love to Mr. Bingley and my dear little Lizzy and, of course, to you, my dearest Jane.—Your Loving Sister,

Elizabeth

She folded her letter and sealed it with a melancholy sigh.

***

At Bellamy, Georgiana was at the pianoforte, her husband sitting in a chair next to her, while she played the Italian love songs which she had performed for Elizabeth and Jane in London the previous year. The colonel watched her hands as they fluttered over the keys, her long fingers stroking the keys tenderly or pounding them passionately. Her hands fascinated him. They looked slender and delicate at rest, yet strong and sure when she played. When she neared the finale of the piece, Fitzwilliam noticed the ringlets at the side of her hair dancing as she reached a crescendo, and suddenly felt the desire to keep them dancing, so he softly blew on them, pleased with their swaying. When she finished, Georgiana turned on her bench to face him.

“Is there some reason that you are blowing on my neck, Cousin?” she asked dryly. “Are you bored with the music?”

“Not at all, but I confess that I am more interested in the musician at the moment.” A mischievous grin spread over his face. “And I suddenly recall that you had an extremely ticklish neck as a child.”

“Oh no… do not even think about tickling my neck,” she said, giving him a dangerous look.

“Why not, little cousin? Do you not want to play?” his tone was ingenuous, but she was stern.

“I commented to Elizabeth at one time that I desired to slap your face when you called me ‘little cousin.’”

Fitzwilliam smiled blandly for a moment, in apparent surrender and then, without warning, grabbed her waist. She gasped as he effortlessly swung her around onto his lap and cradled her in his arms like a baby. He offered his cheek to her and said, “Here it is, little cousin, do with it what you will.”

She abruptly reached up and ran her fingers across his cheek, making him flinch at her sudden movement, but she merely laughed and walked her fingers up the side of his face and into his hair then grasped his head with both hands and turned it to face her.

“I can see that I must educate my husband in the properly respectful manner to treat his wife.”

Still holding her, he put his hand on his heart and declaimed, “If I may paraphrase, my lady: ‘Georgiana, love on and I will tame my wild heart to thy loving hand.’” In his normal voice he added, “And you thought that I had wasted all my youth tormenting my tutors instead of studying my books.” He offered his cheek to her again. “So what is your verdict, little cousin?”

“Perhaps, Cousin, I have changed my mind,” she said softly then tugged his head down and kissed him.

Although Mr. Darcy’s covert adventure in Paris rescuing the Prince Regent’s letters is fiction, the secret marriage of the Prince of Wales to Mrs. Fitzherbert, a young Catholic widow, is fact. As Prince of Wales, Prince George was subject to the Acts of Settlement of 1701 and the Royal Marriages Act of 1772, which required that he obtain the approval of his father, King George III, to marry. For Prince George to marry without his permission would make him ineligible to inherit the throne, and the king would never consent to his marrying a Catholic. This was a prejudice that was codified in the law and was the result of a long history of strained relations between Catholic and Protestant Christians in England that began with Henry VIII and his break with the Pope over his divorce of Catherine of Aragon in 1532.

In 1784, when Mrs. Fitzherbert was first introduced to Prince George, she had been twice widowed and had lost an infant son to the many infectious diseases prevalent in the day. The prince was immediately transfixed by her attractive face and demure nature, which contrasted greatly with the sophisticated and scheming ladies of the court. Her refusal to bow to his wishes and become his mistress or, later, his wife inflamed the desire of the prince and he pressured her indefatigably until she finally decided to flee to the Continent to escape his importunities. The prince fought this move, even up to the point of stabbing himself in the leg and claiming that he had attempted suicide over his despair at her pending departure. In order to calm him, she agreed to marry him but instead left for the Continent at daylight the next morning.

After almost a year and a half of the prince’s passionate letters urging her to marry him, Mrs. Fitzherbert finally agreed and they were wed with the utmost secrecy on December 15, 1785, by a Church of England minister; he had been languishing in debtors prison and was willing to commit a felony (for the illegal marriage was considered such under the law) for financial relief and promises of future preferment.

Unfortunately for the cause of true love, the prince continued his dissolute lifestyle and frequent philandering after his marriage and finally, in 1793, his relationship with his wife had deteriorated seriously. The prince’s advisors strongly urged him to take a royal Protestant wife to quiet the rumours about his marriage to Mrs. Fitzherbert, trusting that this would convince Parliament of his desire to do his duty to his country and they would then vote to give him some relief from his debts. He finally agreed to marry his cousin, Princess Caroline of Brunswick. The prince, however, was repulsed by the princess’s looks and personal hygiene when they met, and he lived with her for only a very short period before he could tolerate her no longer. The princess conceived during this brief period of cohabitation and bore the prince a daughter, Charlotte, who lived twenty-one years before dying in childbirth, leaving the prince without a legitimate heir. The Prince and Princess of Wales spent the greater part of their married life separated.

Prince George became Prince Regent of England in 1811 when King George III was declared permanently insane. The king had suffered from a similar fit of madness in 1788 to 1789—most likely, according to modern medical historians, the effect of porphyria, an inherited disorder of haemoglobin metabolism—and Parliament had subsequently passed laws allowing for a regency in case of a recurrence of his disorder, primarily because Parliament needed the king’s permission to sit and when the king’s first bout of insanity began Parliament was not in session and could not meet because their ruler was thus unable to give them that permission. King George III’s insanity indeed did recur in late 1810 and the prince was declared regent in early 1811. The king did not recover, and the Prince of Wales continued as regent until his father’s death in 1820, when he became King George IV, ruling until 1830.

***

During the Regency period and the years preceding it, England was a member of various coalitions formed with other European countries to oppose Napoleon’s efforts to conquer most of the countries of Europe and bring them into his empire. On March 31, 1814, the Sixth Coalition forces occupied Paris and on April 6 Napoleon abdicated in favour of his son; then, at the insistence of the Coalition, he unconditionally surrendered on April 11, 1814. He was exiled to Elba, an island in the Mediterranean off the coast of Italy, and remained there until February 26, 1815, when he escaped and rejoined what remained of his army. He was finally defeated by the Duke of Wellington at Waterloo on June 18, 1815, and was exiled to the remote island of St. Helena in the southern Atlantic Ocean. He remained there for the six years until his death.

***

George Gordon Byron, Sixth Baron Byron, was one of the major poets of the Romantic period, which included the years of the Regency, and from his name is coined the phrase “the Byronic hero,” of which he was the epitome. In spite of his slight stature and a limp caused by a birth defect, he was notorious for his dissolute lifestyle and numerous affairs; some historians number them in the hundreds, and many were the wives of prominent men. One of these well-known affairs was with Lady Caroline Lamb in 1812, who famously described him after their breakup as “mad, bad, and dangerous to know.” His poetry was popular during his life, but he was compelled to flee England in 1816 after the breakup of his marriage because of rampant rumours of incest and homosexuality (which were by most accounts quite true)—rumours assisted by the jealous Lady Caroline Lamb, who had lasted only a few months in his affections but who continued to be obsessed with her former lover, stalking him through London (often in the guise of a young man) for months after he rejected her. After his flight, Byron became involved in the Greek struggle for independence from Turkey and he died at Messalonghi of a putrid fever in 1824. He is considered to be a great national hero by the Greeks because of his support, including almost single-handedly making the Greek navy an important force in the conflict.

***

English property law was based on the concept of
primogeniture
, or inheritance by the eldest son. Most landholders left their entire estate to their eldest son to keep the property in one piece, because property that was divided each generation among all the sons would eventually be unable to support a family. Large estates also provided the family with power and influence because of the wealth they produced, and dividing the land also divided the power of the family. If a gentleman died intestate, his entire estate would legally go to the eldest son, as well. The
entail
was another method of protecting the property by making it into a single legal entity that would pass to the eldest male relative and could not be sold. If a family had no sons, as in the Bennet family, the nearest male relative might be a cousin, nephew, etc., whoever was the closest male relation. The entail prevented irresponsible sons from gambling away or selling their patrimony as they could raise money only on the income and not on the property itself. Entails lasted three generations but could be broken by two generations agreeing to do so (as Mr. Bennet had hoped to do if he had a son). After it expired, the current owner could renew the entail or leave it unencumbered. Rosings Park, Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s estate, was not entailed and her husband left it to Lady Catherine, who would then pass it to Miss Anne de Bourgh. This is the reason Anne was such a desirable match to Lord St. George—instead of only a dowry, she would be the owner of a vast estate and when she married, her husband would have complete control of her estate. Single women could own property, but if they married the ownership passed to their husbands.

***

The presentation at court of young men and women of the nobility and upper gentry as they reached adulthood was fraught with strict tradition and protocol. The young women were presented at court Drawing-rooms and the young men at Levees. A woman who had not been presented at court before her marriage and who qualified for presentation because of her husband’s status could be presented as well; and protocol required presentation before she could attend any court social functions.

The dress for a man when presented at court was not significantly different from his typical formal wear, except that he was required to wear a sword. The ladies, however, had an elaborate set of instructions for their dress, and until the Prince Regent became king and changed the requirements they were required to wear clothing much like what we normally picture Marie Antoinette and her French court wearing. This included a tight, fitted, low-cut bodice over a corset, with the mantua, or wide hoops, that had been fashionable in the mid-eighteenth century. They must also wear a train exactly three yards in length and an ostrich plume in their hair at the back of their head. Married women added a tiara to this costume. Those being presented were not allowed to wear any type of shawl or cloak; no matter how cold the weather they were required to leave their outdoor garments in their carriages before entering the palace, unless they had a physician’s certification stating that their health would not permit it.

When the Prince Regent became King George IV, he changed the court dress requirements to fit more into the then-current fashion (except for the requirement for an ostrich feather plume in the hair, which remained). This trend of having court dress reflect contemporary fashions continued until the mid-twentieth century, when Queen Elizabeth II dropped the court presentation ritual completely and substituted a less formal Garden Party, which relieved much stress for the young ladies of the gentry and nobility.

***

Hyde Park is located to the west of the posh Mayfair district in London. It was originally purchased by Henry VIII in 1536 and fenced as a royal hunting preserve. It became a public park in 1637, and in 1689 William III built a road along the south edge between his home at Kensington Palace and St. James Palace. The road was known as the
route de roi
(the king’s route), which was eventually corrupted into “Rotten Row,” the most popular location to see and be seen in the nineteenth century on horseback or in a carriage. The park has numerous walking paths and is divided by the meandering, shallow lake called the Serpentine.

***

Angelica Catalani, the soloist the Darcy party listened to at their first night at the theater, was an Italian soprano who came to England in 1806 and was for seven years the undisputed prima donna of English opera. She left to manage the Paris opera and continued to tour until her retirement in 1828. She eventually moved to Florence and started a singing school. She was notorious during her years in England for her sexual misbehaviour, including providing young women from the chorus for her male friends, including Lord Byron.

***

For further reading I would recommend the following:

David, Saul.
Prince of Pleasure.
New York: Grove Press, 1998. (A biography of the life and regency of Prince George.)

McGann, Jerome J.
Lord Byron: The Major Works.
Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986. (The introduction includes an extensive biography of Lord Byron.)

Orczy, Baroness Emmuska.
The Scarlet Pimpernel.
New York: Simon and Schuster, Inc., 2004. (The classic story, first published in 1905.)