Generation One: Chapter 2 - Bitter Freedom

Chapter 2 - Bitter Freedom

Grief and guilt entered my life hand in hand. The grief was monumental for my mother, less so for Father, with none remaining for Priscilla. The guilt though, that was for her. Guilt because I was relived I no longer had a loveless forever ahead of me.

The fire that killed them began in kitchens.  Priscilla was there reviewing the menu for the large party we would be holding to formally announce our betrothal. The initial explosion of flame caught Priscilla in its fiery grasp and she had no chance. Servants ran for the Master, who led the effort to put it out while Mother got as many servants out before she succumbed to the smoke. The fire which Father had tried to extinguish trapped him, and he too left this life for the next.

Alexa took the deaths hard. She and Andrew were living with Caroline and I for the present, and Mr. Davenpore was all but a resident of the manor. Alexa had been close to Mother; they had shared the same heart for all Alexa looked so much like Father, and Caro was a younger version of our mother.

 

Alexa spent most of the time in her rooms, curled on the bed. She hardly ate, and when she did she could hardly keep the food down, even food specially prepared for her by the staff. Andrew worried terribly about her in the first weeks after the tragedy.

 

We buried them in the cemetery were all the ancestors lay in the ground, one week after their deaths. Priscilla was buried in the same cemetery, even though she was not truly a Darcy, though she had almost been one.  Mr. Davenpore was so grateful that she was laid to rest in a dignified place, as the resting place of his wife and son had been destroyed in a terrible storm a few years ago.

 

Gathered around the graves, we said goodbye to our departed family. Andrew comforted the distraught Alexa, before taking her home to Pemberly. I followed them back to the manor. Even on the day of a funeral estate business would not wait.

 

It was a few hours later, as I worked in what had once been Father’s private study but was now my own, that Alfred Davenpore came in, an anxious expression upon his face.

 “I have done something very grave.” The old man began. “I have ruined your sister Caroline.”

~~~~~Caroline~~~~~~

What possess a young woman that would lead her willingly into the arms of a man who was old enough to be her father?

Desperation.

I am desperate. I am still young, but I am considered to be “on the shelf” or without prospects of marriage. After my first husband’s untimely demise, untimely only in that he neglected to write me into his will or give me the child that would have given me access to all his money.  If he had, then I could have not cared less at his death. He was weak and good only for stroking my ego.

With my parents’ death and Miss Davenpore’s, the Darcy family is vulnerable. We are by no means at risk for financial ruin, but what we had stood to gain by intermarrying with the Davenpores is now lost. If I am not to marry, then I must watch out for my family’s status and wellbeing, which brings me back to Mr. Alfred Davenpore.

He is no longer young, a widower and no remaining children. If I could convince him to ruin me enough that he must marry me or betray his honor, I will protect the Darcy name and secure wealth for myself. He is old. He will die in a few years, months if I am lucky. I will have him write me into his will, as “payment” for my ruining. And if our marriage, hopefully a short one, produces an heir than I will have it written that until they are of age I will run the Davenpore estate.  That man, as old as he is, could make all my heart’s desires into reality.

 

It was almost too easy.  Alfred stood at my mother’s gravestone, weeping. I knew from careful manipulation that Alfred had once loved the then Miss Clara Long, and he had been wishful of marriage to her but before he could propose, her parents had engaged her to Alexander Darcy, Alfred’s best friend. 

I walked over to him and spun a tale worthy of a romance novel. I told the absent minded elderly, grieving man that I was his long lost love born again to be his wife in his old age. That was easy, as I am the picture of my mother at my age. 

 

The senile Alfred soaked it up. I had him entranced. I worked my magic until he could no longer help himself and he sufficiently, in his eyes, ruined me with a kiss. 

 

The kiss brought him back to himself. He was mortified and in short order was down on one knee, proposing to me to protect my honor from harm.

I accepted, of course, and told him that he must inform Charles of what he had done and ask for my hand and that Charles would never believe the “miracle” that had occurred and so Alfred must tell him that it was Caroline he wished to wed. I had no doubt Charles would consent and I would have all I wished.

~~~~~~Charles~~~~~~

Needless to say, Alfred’s tale was startling. He had fallen in love with Caroline, and in his love had ruined her and desired to marry her. I was further confused by his occasional insertion of “Clara” instead of “Caroline” but I chalked it up to his advanced age. 

 

I questioned him carefully. I may not be much fond of my eldest sister, but I still have a responsibility to her has the head of the family now. 

 

I gave my consent. I know the bitterness Caroline had after her first marriage. Perhaps now she will be at peace. Somehow I doubt it.

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At last, news has come to life some of the dark pallor that has hung over Pemberly these past two months. Not even the news of the impending marriage of Caroline has been enough to ease the shadows.

Alexa is pregnant.

Andrew is thrilled. He, like my dear sister, hopes for a large family and a full house. He has ordered renovations to their manor, so they will remain with us to protect Alexa and the child from the dangers of construction.  I am pleased as well, I believe they will make wonderful parents and having a niece or nephew in this old place will only serve to lighten the atmosphere. Her expectant state, the doctor has explained, is the cause of her lethargy and inability to keep food down.

Even though the formal period of mourning will last the eight months left in the year of mourning,  life has returned to Pemberly and the Darcys.