I am Lady Catherine Read online

  Mercifully, Lady Cat’s prediction of bedroom perversions had not materialized; Sir Lewis’s courtly manner remained the same in private as in public. Lady Cat was of the opinion that if their activities in that regard were more thorough, they would yield better results, a notion which she never failed to mention in her letters, punctually arriving once a week.

  As the chaise bowled along towards Hunsford, the small parish bordering Rosings Park, Lady Catherine removed the latest of these missives from her pocket. She had not yet read it in its entirety, being fairly certain it contained the customary contents. A quick scan had revealed the typical accounts of household affairs and raptures over the countess’s three grandsons, a subject that inevitably led to the exhortations that she and Sir Lewis increase this brood. Yet it must be replied to, so it likewise must be fully read. What Lady Catherine discovered within its lines was not happy news. The earl was ill, a subject snuck into the letter’s closing. Though the countess made little of it, it was clear that he was quite unwell, having taken to his bed some days previously with a respiratory ailment. Before the carriage arrived at its next destination, Lady Catherine had already formulated a plan to visit her parents and undertake his care herself.

  Alighting at the parsonage, she was warmly greeted by the rector: a middle-aged, single man of gentlemanly manners and good sense, who had proved to be a great aid in learning the names and needs of his parishioners. Lady Catherine valued Mr. Weatherspoon’s guidance, though she sometimes felt he was a trifle too at ease providing it. A greater display of deference for her position would perfect the man. At least asking her in to tea would be appreciated before he pursued his parishioners’ concerns, which he immediately delved into on this occasion.

  “Lady Catherine! A pleasure to see you on this fine day, ma’am. May I presume you come from the Colbert farm? A sad business, Mr. Colbert’s state. What shall we do for him?”

  Lady Catherine frowned. “I did not know he was ill. I come from Swanson Cottage. The family there said nothing of Mr. Colbert.”

  Mr. Weatherspoon bestowed upon her one of his indulgent smiles that grated on her nerves, as they appeared so heavily laden with condescension. “No, they would not have. Mrs. Swanson is forever more concerned with her garden than the events of the broader neighborhood. Visit any other house hereabouts, and you would have already heard about this morning’s accident. Mr. Colbert’s left leg was crushed beneath the new millstone the men were installing. The apothecary tells me it is broken in two places.”

  “The poor man! I will go to him upon leaving here and see what can be done for him and his family.”

  “I was certain you would take an interest in his plight. His wife and children will be much consoled by your attentions. But where are my manners? I ought not keep you here standing in the drive. Do come in and join me for tea.”

  Lady Catherine allowed herself to be belatedly ushered into the parsonage, which she never entered without lamenting its state. Here was one house within her purview that might benefit from some of the more elegant improvements implemented at Rosings, but Mr. Weatherspoon would not heed a word of her advice on the matter, insisting he was an old bachelor, set in his ways, quite comfortable as presently situated, and not to be burdened with even the slightest innovation.

  “Is there any other family requiring my attention today?” she asked after being seated and offered refreshment. “I plan to depart shortly for a visit to my family’s seat. The arrangements have not yet been made, but I may be gone for some time. I should like to attend to anyone in need before my departure.”

  “I trust all is well with the earl and countess?” he asked with sincere concern. “This seems a rather sudden journey.”

  “I hope so. Lady Cat’s latest missive includes indications that the earl is unwell. I should be comforted to assess the situation myself.”

  “Always busy on behalf of others! You take too much upon yourself, though I am sure your mother will be pleased with your company. I do hope you find the earl much recovered by the time of your arrival.”

  “If I do, I will not linger in Derbyshire. My presence is more valued here.”

  “And we are quite grateful for it. Now then, let me see … the Crandles' youngest child is sick, Mr. Mason’s rheumatism is acting up, and old Mrs. Johnson is similarly afflicted.”

  “I will visit the Crandles upon departing the Colberts’ cottage. They are a worthy family, hardworking and diligent. As for Mrs. Johnson, I will send a basket should I not have time to visit personally, but Mr. Mason …”

  “He is not a gracious man, I know,” Mr. Weatherspoon interjected, “and you get little thanks for any kindness bestowed upon him, but he is, nevertheless, a member of my flock and suffering. I do hope you will give him as much sympathy as you spare to any other.”

  Lady Catherine’s back stiffened. Upon her last visit to Mr. Mason, he refused to bow to her and was most inhospitable, even surly in his demeanor. “I am unaccustomed to brooking such treatment as Mr. Mason has seen fit to bestow upon me. I see no reason to reward his behavior by even the slightest attention. To do so only encourages similar insolence in others.”

  “My dear Lady Catherine, I ask you to recall the words from Deuteronomy, ‘Thou shalt open thine hand wide unto him, and shalt surely lend him sufficient for his need.’ Who better to set the example of true benevolence in the neighborhood than you?”

  It was precisely such preachy exhortations from Mr. Weatherspoon that irritated Lady Catherine. She felt it was beyond his sphere to so lecture her, yet she would not be found wanting in her position, by him or anyone else, so she reluctantly conceded, “I will see that he receives a bottle of cod-liver oil.”

  “A joint of ham and a wholesome jelly would also serve him well.”

  Lady Catherine nodded in seeming acquiescence to this suggestion though verbally confirmed nothing. She would send the cod-liver oil and perhaps some dried pork, if her housekeeper’s supplies were plentiful. “I must be on my way if I am to visit both the Crandles and Colberts before needed back at Rosings,” she said as she rose. “I must write to the countess and inform her to expect me by week’s end.”

  “I will keep the earl in my thoughts. May you find him well-recovered.”

  “I sincerely hope so, Mr. Weatherspoon. Thank you.”

  Three days later, Sir Lewis and Lady Catherine were ensconced in a guest suite at Ecclestone Court. The earl’s health had improved from its initial deterioration, though the attending physician remained concerned by continued inflammation in his lungs. As suspected, Lady Cat had not done full justice to the severity of his condition. Lady Catherine quickly undertook the supervision of his recovery, spending the bulk of her days by his side. She had always been more comfortable in her father’s company than her mother’s. Not that theirs was a particularly warm relationship, but the comfortable silence in which they often sat over the years was much more to her liking than the regular lectures doled out by Lady Cat. Now, he often took her hand and held it, and the sense that her presence and care brought him solace made her feel appreciated in a way she was unaccustomed to experiencing in her childhood home.

  The De Bourghs spent three weeks in Derbyshire, during which the earl’s health made only slight progress. By then autumn was advancing, and Sir Lewis wished to return to Rosings to oversee preparations for the harvest. Shortly before their departure, the couple spent a fine afternoon strolling the arbor in which their courtship had evolved.

  “If you wish to remain here to care for your father, I perfectly understand.”

  “I think not. While my concern for his health remains, Lady Cat would surely not approve of our separation at this time.”

  “She continues to hound you for grandchildren?” He smiled.

  She could not return the expression. “Every time she finds me alone.”

  “You know I do not blame you at all. ‘Tis but the natural course of things. We will be blessed in time, or not. What will be will be.�
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  “You are very philosophical.”

  “My estate is unencumbered by an entail, so it matters little.”

  She stopped walking to face him. “How can you say that? Surely your intention for Rosings is to leave it to the next generation.”

  “Have you not read that new poem by the Scottish bard, Robert Burns? There is, I think, a great deal of truth in the lines:

  ‘But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,

  In proving foresight may be vain:

  The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men

  Gang aft agley,

  An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,

  For promis’d joy!’”

  “You recite well.”

  “My father spent a great deal of time and money overseeing my education,” he chuckled. “I must have something to show for it.”

  “Nevertheless, I think it better that I return to Kent with you.”

  He kissed her hand. “I much prefer to have you by my side.”

  **********

  Though Lady Catherine left her father in stable health, it further deteriorated as the winter pressed on. By spring he was laid to rest, and his son was established as the new earl. Lady Cat forsook her claim to the Dower House and retired to London, where she looked forward to making her formidable aspect a fixture of society. From there, she often made excursions to Rosings Park, during which she continued her exhortations to her daughter to produce an heir. Finally, the following summer, the dowager countess’s efforts showed fruition: Lady Catherine produced a daughter. All the family descended on Rosings to celebrate the eagerly awaited occasion. If some disappointment was initially felt regarding the child’s gender, it was soon turned by the tenacious Lady Cat into an advantage.

  “You should name her Anne.”

  “Whatever for? Surely if Anne should have a daughter one day, she will want to use the name herself. Sir Lewis wants to name her Catherine.”

  “You gain little by so honoring me,” said Lady Cat, not recognizing the new mother as the true namesake, “but consider what might be obtained by so distinguishing your sister.”

  “Excuse me for being quite dull, but I am afraid I do not follow your intentions, Mother.”

  “Only think! Should you not produce a male heir, Anne will inherit Rosings Park. If she should one day marry her cousin, Fitzwilliam, thus combining the Rosings and Pemberley estates, their family will be amongst the most influential in the land.”

  Lady Catherine laughed in weary disbelief. “The child is but two hours old and already you plan her marriage!”

  “It is an alliance too natural and advantageous to ignore. Name the child Anne, and I shall manage the rest.”

  Lady Cat was quick to make good on her word. Lady Anne came to visit her sister just a few hours later, beaming at the notion. “Just imagine! My little Fitzy and your Annie! What a handsome couple they shall make!”

  “Please do not label my daughter with such an infantile sobriquet.”

  Anne laughed jubilantly. “But she is an infant! When else in life can we disregard dignity and formality? Do not force her into adulthood before her time, Cathy. She will grow up fast enough. Fitzy is already quite the little gentleman. I can hardly believe how he has grown.”

  “He will be a fine man someday.”

  “Quite a catch for your little Annie.”

  Lady Catherine sighed. “I imagine that both she and Fitzwilliam will want to have some say in matter.”

  “Oh! We should never force a match upon them, but that does not mean we cannot dream of it and forward the notion. Anyway, Darcy does not really approve of marriages between cousins.”

  “Then how can we in good conscience promote one?”

  “Darcy will come around, especially if the children desire the match.”

  “That is a big if, Anne.”

  “You are too serious, Cathy! It is all good fun, after all: imagining our children’s futures. No one knows what time will actually bring.”

  “‘The best laid schemes ‘o Mice an’ Men …’” Lady Catherine whispered.

  “What is that?” Anne asked.

  “‘Tis nothing. Call the nurse, won’t you? I want to see my child.”

  Part Three – 1788-1808

  Miss Anne de Bourgh, coddled, rich, and with a comfortable home and complaisant disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence. She spent her first few years with very little to distress or vex her. No further children followed her to compete for the attention of her parents. She was the light of her father’s existence. No indulgence was too great for his little darling.

  But few lives continue long untouched by sorrow, and sorrow came to Miss de Bourgh rather earlier than later with the loss of her father, her great supporter and admirer.

  The tragedy was twofold, for not only did Anne lose her father, but her own health suffered great deterioration. The cause was an outbreak of consumption in Hunsford village. The first to succumb was cantankerous Mr. Mason. Lady Catherine was inclined to blame the entire epidemic on that sad soul despite Mr. Weatherspoon’s entreaties to the contrary.

  “I believe it was Sally Archer who first brought the illness to our environs, Lady Catherine. She had quite an alarming cough last winter upon returning from her visit to London. While she has been so fortunate as to overcome the ailment, recall that she was cleaning Mr. Mason’s cottage for him at the time, as his rheumatism was particularly acute.”

  “I recall that you asked me to fund this indulgence! You see what good came of your incessant coddling of that odious man.”

  “One ought not speak ill of the dead, Lady Catherine, and as I recall, you chose not to contribute to the expense.”

  “Spare me your lectures, Weatherspoon! My husband is dead, and my daughter and sole heir may soon follow! Save your breath to pray for their souls.”

  “I have enough prayers for all those so afflicted.”

  “If you were not so very focused on administering to the least deserving of your flock, they might not be required!”

  “Lady Catherine, you are understandably upset. The loss of Sir Lewis has been felt by the entire community, and your deep concern for your child is the natural reflection of your maternal disposition, but life in this world is frail, and disease knows no difference between the classes. Mortality is a great social equalizer.”

  “I shall bear no more of your revolutionary notions! My daughter requires my attention. If you have no more hollow solace to impart, I have no further use for your company.”

  Mr. Weatherspoon hung his head sadly. “And what of the other suffers? What is to be done for them?”

  “Let me make this perfectly clear so that we need not revisit the subject again,” the lady replied in chilling tones. “No one belonging to this household shall again set foot inside or near an infected cottage, no matter how worthy the occupants, if they wish to remain in my employ. Petition others for contribution to your charitable causes. Until this plague has passed, I shall have nothing more to do with them. And if you insist on exposing yourself to this infection, then you must keep away as well. Have I made myself understood?”

  “Perfectly, your ladyship,” Mr. Weatherspoon solemnly replied. “I bid you good day. I suspect it shall be some time before we meet again.”

  She did not return the pleasantry and silently watched him with angry eyes as he retreated from the room, after which she returned to her vigil beside Anne’s bed.

  The girl, formerly rosy and blooming, was now pale and lean. Lady Catherine, having seen Sir Lewis similarly waste away, could not deny what Anne’s symptoms portended, as impossible as the outcome was for her to contemplate. She was not an overtly affectionate woman, but she loved her daughter, had struggled hard to have her, and had continued to struggle in vain to produce yet another. Now all that effort might be laid to waste, and the prospect was devastating.

  She spent weeks nursing her daughter, only sleeping at the doctor’s insistence
. He was sent from London several weeks prior at Lady Cat’s direction, before Sir Lewis’s death. The same treatment prescribed to her late husband was also applied to Anne despite Lady Catherine’s concerns for its efficacy. The blood lettings, emetics, and doses of quinine all seemed to provide little or no relief. On her own volition, desperate for a cure, she ordered medical journals and began researching treatments.