What Jane Austen Didn't Tell Us!. Austen Alliance
Georgie leaped to try and catch the sword, but his effort was too late. The point landed heavily in the fleshy part of his hand, near the thumb.
Georgie’s howl of pain drowned out the weapon’s clatter on the floor. He cupped his hands together, a flow of red beginning to fill them.
Darcy sprang to help his friend, the steward’s son, pulling out a handkerchief to try and stanch the flow. Better to lose a piece of linen than to allow bloodstains on the gallery rug. “Get help,” he called to the other boys, who ran in all directions.
Luck attended their actions, as the hostler’s son quickly returned with an upstairs maid.
“Master Fitzwilliam, whatever are you—” She broke off as she saw the bloody cloth, taking Georgie’s hand in hers. With the arrival of a grown-up person, the injured boy’s eyes filled with tears. At seven years of age, there is only so much bravery to be found in a young lad.
The maid pressed the linen tightly, raising Georgie’s hand. “You did well with this, Master Fitzwilliam, but we must get this hand washed and bandaged.”
She paused for a moment as she took in the sight of the old sword on the gallery floor. Quickly replacing the blade to a safe haven, she hastened Georgie along to tend his wound.
The result of the adventure was that ever after, George Wickham bore a curiously hooked scar on his hand ... and the beloved sword was moved to a higher place on the wall.
“Our son is proud of his heritage,” George Darcy told his wife as they discussed the incident. “How else is he to learn?”
“Preferably by not injuring any more of the staff,” Lady Anne Darcy said, but she knew argument on this score was useless. Once her husband cited his heritage, the matter was closed.
The master of Pemberley was pleased to see his ailing wife show some spirit when she answered. It gave him hope that she was healing from recent illness.
Always, heritage ruled the very soul of Pemberley and the Darcy family. Great tapestries and portraits, even furnishings and weapons, relics of past generations could be found in every corner of the great house.
Had not an ancestor received baronies from the hand of William the Conqueror himself?
Had not a Darcy returned with news of Edward III’s victory at Crécy 280 years later?
For young Fitzwilliam, the ancestor who stirred his greatest excitement could be found in a large portrait near the sword he had tried to command. Sir Giles Darcy had led the Parliamentarian forces in Derbyshire.
The portrait of the grim-faced Sir Giles, dressed in half-armor from the great Civil War between King and Parliament, took up considerable space in the gallery—and in his descendant’s mind.
His father recounted the campaigns and battles of a gallant knight to young Fitzwilliam. But from the servants, the boy heard local tales where Sir Giles’s behavior was questionable. These stories always ended with the same refrain: “High-handed old Sir Giles might be, but canny as a fox was he.”
One thing the boy knew—those exploits, good and bad, had created the essence of the Pemberley estate, though later descendants turned the manor into the showplace it became. Young Fitzwilliam spent many afternoons impersonating the great Sir Giles, with a stick for a sword and a regiment composed of Georgie Wickham and various boys from the estate, under the complaisant eye of Mr. Darcy.
Perhaps it was the experience of portraying such a proud, high-handed figure that so marked the boy’s character. Or, perhaps it was his father’s taking him to a place where the lands of Pemberley spread as far as the eye could see, pronouncing, “A Darcy has held this land for more generations than you have fingers and toes. It is a great thing to be a Darcy of Pemberley, but a tremendous responsibility as well. You are the guardian of a great treasure and must keep Pemberley safe for the next generation.”
Young Darcy’s voice was fervent: “I shall, Papa,” he swore. “I will.”
Fitzwilliam Darcy was born in 1785, a difficult delivery that left his mother convalescent afterwards. He was a strong, active baby, large for his years, and capable of causing considerable chaos in the nursery. But he had a sweet nature and could be brought to behave if appealed to by someone he liked.
For some years he was the only child in the family. Young Darcy relished opportunities to escape the nursery and explore the great house, staring in awe at the portraits in the gallery, the elaborate staircases, the fine tapestries of battles and historical events involving his forebears.
Lady Anne’s father was an Earl, and while her husband’s branch of the Darcy family did not bear a title, they were known throughout Derbyshire for their wealth and property.
During his childhood, Master Fitzwilliam usually saw his father only once daily. Before George Darcy dressed for dinner, he had his son brought to him and then sent off to bed. In normal times, young Darcy spent breakfast or luncheon with his mother, but often she was not present due to illness. On occasion he was allowed to visit in her bedchamber, a dim place lit by her kindly maternal presence.
Most of his day was spent with servants. Cook could always be depended upon to present a sweet if the boy managed to make his way to her domain, and at both lessons and at play his constant companion was Georgie Wickham.
The boys were close, a pair of allies against their tutor and the upper servants. Together they learned their numbers and letters, history and geography, the rudiments of Latin and Greek necessary for higher education, and a little French.
Darcy disliked the rote aspects of learning but suffered through them for the ability to read. Georgie was bright but lazy. As the subjects became more difficult, he invented ingenious ways to avoid study.
After the ill-fated episode with the sword, Mr. Darcy engaged a fencing master for his son: “Having discovered which is the pointed end, it is better you learn how to inflict a wound by some other means than accident.” Young Fitzwilliam took to his lessons very seriously, quickly outdistancing Wickham.
Riding was another passion. Quickly the boy graduated from a docile pony to stronger mounts. He loved to ride around the estate with his father and the steward, James Wickham. While Wickham handled the business affairs of Pemberley, young Fitzwilliam explored the estate with his father and Georgie.
During the spring before he was to go to school, Darcy’s mother took to her bed for much longer periods than usual. Initially, the boy thought Lady Anne was ill again, but after a month he learned the truth—his mother was expecting another child.
The summer passed in considerable suspense, between hopes for a new brother or sister and worry about his lady mother’s precarious health. Fitzwilliam applied to his father to delay his departure for school, but George Darcy would hear none of it. “You will be in Derby, a short journey from home in case—” he broke off.
Thus, young Darcy took his place at the Derby School, as generations of the family had done before him.
Mr. Darcy had often expounded upon the traditions of the school—and the reasons for them. “It is a fine thing to run around with local boys and give orders, but there will be a time when you must rule this little kingdom. Derby will teach you to lead—but first you will learn how to follow.”
Young Darcy did his best to fit in as the term began, but with an anxious heart over the events at home. Then came the news that a baby, Georgiana, had joined the family.
The celebration was short-lived, however. Lady Anne’s strength had been severely depleted by childbirth, and she did not recover during the term of her confinement after the birth. Fitzwilliam returned home immediately.
Despite the most devoted nursing, Lady Anne grew steadily weaker. Young Fitzwilliam himself would bring her a bowl of broth, and thanks to his coaxing the ailing lady took more nourishment from him than the servants or even Darcy Senior could persuade her. But all efforts were in vain. Lady Anne passed to her reward before the infant Georgiana was two months old.
The loss of