Fanny was with child once again, and hoped for a son, but would be happy as long as the babe was healthy. Elizabeth Rose Bennet had been born in March 1790, just a little more than two years after Jane. She had the same dark colouring as her Grandmama Beth. By the time Lizzy—as she was called by all—was five months old, her eyes had turned from blue to the vivid emerald-green like her namesake.
Mary arrived in August 1791; she was followed byCatherine—called Kitty—in May 1793. With each successive girl, Fanny offered profuse contrition to her husband for not birthing an heir. Each time, Bennet gently told his wife all he cared about was that she and the babe were healthy and reminded her of his provisions to make sure she and any daughters were always well cared for.
To emphasise his insistence all was well, between the births of Mary and Kitty, he had the neglected dower house restored as the entail stated the previous mistress and any of her unmarried daughters had lifetime rights to the house.
His action allowed Fanny to completely forget about the entail, as she would always have a home on Longbourn’s land, no matter what.
Both Bennet and Fanny loved their four daughters and with the aid of Beth Bennet, they made sure they were educated. As soon as Jane reached the age of six, a governess was employed. Even though Lizzy was only four at that point, she had insisted she wanted to begin lessons with herJaney.
Having identified a broad intelligence in their second daughter, her parents allowed her to join Jane in her lessons. By the time their fifth daughter, Lydia, was born in December 1795, Lizzy was reading as well as, if not better than, Jane. Like Lizzy before her, Mary had requested to join the classes before her fifth birthday and seemed to be almost as intelligent as Lizzy.
Sadly, less than a month before Lizzy turned seven in 1797, Beth Bennet was called home to her final reward to rejoin her beloved James in God’s Kingdom.
She was mourned as much by her daughter-in-law as she was by her son and granddaughters. Fanny thanked goodness each day for the fact she had learnt so much from her now late mother-in-law.
Chapter 1
Against her mother’s vociferous complaints, Sir Lewis took charge of his daughter’s care and education. He was horrified that Lady Catherine did not have a single maternal bone in her body.
His wife’s idea of education was to try indoctrinating Anne with the same nonsense about the distinction of rank Catherine held inviolate, while not having her educated at all. As she had never bothered to learn herself—mainly because she was tone deaf—she had insisted Anne was too delicate to learn to play an instrument.
Like he did with most of her ridiculous notions, Sir Lewis simply overruled his preposterous wife. He ignored her while she ranted and raved about how wrong it was for a father to take an interest in his daughter, because daughters were of no use to their fathers.
Before Anne turned five, Sir Lewis employed a nursemaid who would, when Anne reached the age to start learning, become her governess. The lady was Mrs. Mildred Jenkinson, a young widow who had been left destitute when her profligate husband had lost all of their money at the card tables. He had been shot for cheating in an attempt to recoup some of his losses.
Mrs. Jenkinson’s addition to the household was another thing that unleashed a stream of vitriol from Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Not only had she not been consulted, but the lady was young and pretty, so she was convinced her husband had brought a paramour into her household.
Regardless of how much Sir Lewis disdained his wife, his honour would never allow him to contravene the vows he had taken when he married the termagant. He was not a member of polite society who held the vows only applied to the wife. In addition, he felt nothing but scorn for men who imposed themselves on those they employed in their households.
Living with his wife year round had become unbearable. Her brother and sister and their families refused to visit Rosings Park any longer thanks to his wife’s continued campaign to engage either Andrew or William to their daughter. Further, they no longer desired to be around her while she tried to—as she put it—be useful.
What she considered useful was to try inserting herself into her siblings’ lives and making ridiculous pronouncements while she issued orders—which she calledsuggestions—without being asked to—about anything and everything.
Given Lady Catherine would never admit to her complete ignorance (even had she recognised it), in her mind, she should be obeyed as she was always right.
The only way Anne could visit with her cousins was if Sir Lewis took her to London or one of their estates—without Lady Catherine. As much as he disliked prevarication, when he and Anne travelled without her, Sir Lewis only told his wife it was for business.
On his last visit to Town in late 1794, Lady Anne and Robert Darcy had shared the former was with child again. They were ecstatic about this fact as over the more than ten years since William had been born, other than four miscarriages, there had been no more Darcy children. Sir Lewis had been sworn to secrecy as the last thing his sister-in-law wanted was nonsensical and unwanted advice from Lady Catherine in the form of a stream of imperious letters.
Knowing he needed a haven where he and Anne couldbe away from Lady Catherine, on some of their travels, Sir Lewis had been looking at estates for sale. He only considered ones in counties that were not adjacent to Kent. He had primarily been seeking possibilities in Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire, and Bedfordshire.
In February 1795, he found what he was looking for. So unbeknownst to his shrewish, overbearing wife, who claimed she knew all, a month after Anne turned five, Sir Lewis purchased a medium-sized estate, Oak Hollow in Bedfordshire.
By summer of 1796, Sir Lewis and Anne—with Mrs. Jenkinson—resided at Oak Hollow more than they did at Rosings Park.
Even though she had interrogated her husband relentlessly, Lady Catherine’s complaints had all but ceased due to the fact, in her mind, when her useless husband was away, she was the one managing Rosings Park.
What she was not aware of was the senior staff had been told to listen to her respectfully and then follow Sir Lewis’s orders regardless. That being the case, it was still necessary for Sir Lewis to spend some of his time at his estate in Kent to fix the issues caused by his wife and make sure his best tenants did not seek another situation.
Towards the end of 1796, Anne was struck with a serious case of scarlet fever which swept through Kent. It was pure bad luck Sir Lewis and his daughter were at Rosings Park at that time.
They were supposed to be at Oak Hollow but Rosings Park’s steward had written an urgent letter to the master informing him that Lady Catherine was causing much trouble with the largest of the tenants. She was demanding higher rents, to be paid directly to her to circumvent thepaltryallowance she was given. In her mind, three hundred pounds per quarter was not nearly enough for one of her rank.
Anne had teetered between life and death while SirLewis had experienced worry like he had never before. He prayed, multiple times a day, beseeching God to not take his daughter home. No expense was spared when it came to physicians.
As much as he would have liked to hear something else, each doctor told him it was just a matter of time. Sir Lewis spent most of his waking hours at Anne’s bedside.
The only thing Lady Catherine cared about was whether she would beimportunedif Anne passed away. With her daughter so very ill, her demands that Sir Lewis name her the benefactor of his will increased significantly.
