Page 10 of Mr. Darcy’s Diamonds

Thomas was too overwrought to argue more that day. In days to come, he wondered whether he should attempt to contact Rowe’s mother, but when he had almost decided to tell her the child lived, he read another item of interest in the newspaper. The duchess, Lady Eva Rowe, had died February 12th, two days after he had received confirmation from the solicitor of Rowe’s and Susannah’s deaths. The newspaper reported that her only living relative was her husband, Alfred Rowe, the Duke of Malmesbury. He saved this article with the others in the box he had prepared for Elizabeth.

He would go to London soon to meet with the solicitor and unburden his heavy heart to his young brother-in-law, Edward Gardiner. It may be too soon to tell him the whole truth, but Thomas needed someone to share his load if not his secret.

Perhaps while he was there, he could find a special gift for Elizabeth’s first birthday, which was fast approaching. Was she too young for a charm bracelet, he wondered? He wanted to add to it each year, and he would start with a very small diamond, or perhaps glass cut to look like one. He would tell her it was because she was of great value to him. When she was much older and he could reveal her parentage, he could tell her of its other significance.

Chapter Six

Alfred Rowe, Duke of Malmesbury, paced his late wife’s sitting room, as he frequently did in the months since she had died.

“I heard back from your solicitor today, Oliver,” he said as he walked.

He often sat for hours in front of the eight-foot-by-five-foot portrait of his son and his small family, but sometimes when he spoke to him, he liked to pretend Oliver was still alive and full of energy, which was easier if he himself moved. His wife had visited Oliver in December and commissioned this painting of their son with his beautiful wife and angelic child. The artist had delivered his finished painting in January, and the duchess insisted it be hung in her sitting room. One look at the image and he had been filled with regret for the rift he had caused with his son. He had written to him that very day, but he now understood Oliver had never received his letter of apology.

When he and Eva had received news of their son’s death, his wife had taken ill and died shortly after. He had begged her to tell Oliver in heaven of his change of heart. She had promised. But his pig-headedness had come too late for him to meet his daughter-by-marriage and granddaughter.

“The solicitor said your aunt’s estate now belongs to someone else,” he said to his deceased son. “I thought perhaps I could find your dear Susannah’s family if I looked into your will and marriage articles, but the solicitor claimed privacy had been of utmost importance to you and would divulge nothing—even to me. I do not remember Susannah’s family name, as your mother referred to her only by her Christian name when we looked at your portrait together.”

He stopped in front of the painting to take in the amiable expression on the lovely woman’s face. He sighed heavily and continued his pacing.

“I suppose you spent your mother’s fortune on those diamonds that got you killed. Did you lose your estate to pay for them as well? What a waste…The diamonds were said to be stolen, so it was all for naught. Why, Oliver? I know I was not a good father to you the past few years, but you were always an upright, dutiful man. Why would you risk everything for diamonds? Did you not understand the danger? I wish I had known, so I could have dissuaded you. I wish I had remained the father you could confide in.”

The duke slowed and gazed at the painting once more with a longing he could not overcome, though it was too late.

“I wish I could have known Elizabeth. Your mother and I were not blessed with daughters, as you know, but I had a granddaughter for a short time. I am sorry, Oliver. I am so sor⁠—”

He could express his feelings with words no longer but crumpled to the chaise and mourned his loss.

In the ensuing years, the portrait commissioned by the duchess would bring the duke great comfort, as well as periods of extreme dejection. He had the painting relocated to his study, where he could view it from his desk. For the most part, he considered the work of art his most cherished possession, along with a smaller painting of Eva that hung beside Oliver’s family. These paintings kept his family alive to him. He sat before them and imagined little Elizabeth growing up. He considered how old she would have been then, thought of how she might have looked more and more like her mother and father, what she might have said, and how he could have read her stories and taken her horseback riding.

Fanny bore Thomas another daughter the summer after Elizabeth and Mary turned two years old. Thomas had continued exploring the estate with Elizabeth almost daily, and sometimes he took Jane or Mary along, but it would be some time before baby Catherine would join them on their walks or be attentive to their nightly stories.

The following year, when Jane was nearing six years old, Fanny began to teach her to read. Elizabeth tried to learn, as well, but when she called out the letters and their sounds before Jane could respond, Fanny sent her away. Thus it was that Thomas taught Elizabeth to read before she turned four. He realized he needed to hire a governess as Susannah had advised, but it was not until the following summer, when their fourth daughter was born, that he searched for one in earnest.

That autumn, Miss Moran came to Longbourn. She was of a prickly nature, but he felt she would be good for the girls. Over the next decade, Miss Moran would be joined by masters, as needed, to teach all five girls reading, writing, mathematics, embroidery, pianoforte, drawing, French, Italian, history, and nature study. Eventually, dancing, painting, and voice lessons were added. Each girl excelled at varying levels in each subject or dropped them entirely. Only Elizabeth was required to gain a moderate level of proficiency in all areas before choosing to learn no more. It was Elizabeth, however, who wanted to learn all she could about everything. She excelled at most subjects because she approached each with curiosity, determination, and patience.

Fanny did not understand the need for some of the topics he insisted on introducing, but she was thrilled when he told her these accomplishments would make the girls more marriageable, which had become of greater importance the longer he went without a male heir to inherit his entailed estate.

Thomas added horseback riding lessons for any of the girls who chose to learn. Only Elizabeth and Jane were skilled riders, but the other girls were young yet. He also spent additional time teaching Elizabeth subjects he thought may be of added benefit to a duke’s granddaughter. He knew nobody who could tell him what those were, so he taught her Latin, Greek, logic, the basics of the natural sciences, and later, rhetoric. He enlisted Miss Moran to teach the girls to behave like proper young ladies, and he was impressed when Fanny took a few of the lessons to heart herself.

Fanny also angered him more than once during those years, however. He came upon her several times berating Elizabeth for some small offence, such as dirtying her petticoats while playing outside with her cousins or dropping a biscuit crumb on the floor. She did not use the experiences as opportunities to teach Elizabeth but as more evidence of her low birth. Thomas had told Fanny not to bring up the girl’s father in such a way, but he realized it was an ongoing injustice.

One day, after a particularly harsh scolding from Fanny, he found five-year-old Elizabeth crying in the garden.

“Why does Aunt detest me so much?” she asked him through her tears.

“Oh, my darling Lizzy. It is only that your aunt does not understand you,” he said. “I am sorry she does not always treat you as well as she should.”

“But she is always kind to Jane and Mary and Kitty and baby Lydia,” Elizabeth continued. “What is different about me? Is it because I am the only one with dark hair? It could never be golden like Jane’s and Lydia’s, but could I not color it to be a lighter brown, like Mary’s and Kitty’s? Maybe then my aunt would like me.”

“It is not only your hair that sets you apart, Lizzy,” Thomas said. “You do understand what ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’ mean, do you not? And that they are not the same as ‘mama’ and ‘papa’?”

“Yes. I forgot, though. Aunt does not like me because I am not her real daughter. But you like me, even though you are not my real papa.”

“Yes, Lizzy, I like you. I love you, my sweet child. You are my sister’s daughter, and before she died, I promised I would always take care of you.”

Elizabeth scrunched up her nose as she sometimes did when trying hard to solve a problem.

“If you are not my real papa, am I a real Bennet?”