How Lady Catherine became a “witch”, by Jack Caldwell

Greetings, everyone. Jack Caldwell here.

The monthly theme “Which Witch: Magic and Malevolence in Austen” was a little tough for me. I don’t write fantasy (at least yet), so how was I going to come up with a post this month? Then I thought about the most “malevolent” character in Pride and Prejudice, (a novel without true villains in it, but I digress)–Lady Catherine de Bourgh. A “witch” if there ever was one.

How did she get that way? Was she always unpleasant?  In my novel, ROSINGS PARK: A Story of Jane Austen’s Fighting Men, my muse came up with this scene out of her past. Might it be a clue?

It goes like this:

1797, Rosings Park

“Mr. Kendrick, milady,” announced the butler.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh pursed her lips at the intrusion by the husband of Sir Lewis’s sister but followed propriety and rose at his entrance. At five and thirty, the former Lady Catherine Fitzwilliam had lost little of the brilliance of her earlier years. Then, she had been a tall, curvaceous society beauty. Now, she was the handsome mistress of Rosings Park. Her gown was the latest style with a full skirt featuring a high empire waist to emphasize her breasts. Her hair was piled high, left in its natural color of soft brown, powdered hair being no longer fashionable. She dismissed the custom of a wife’s cap, for she was exceedingly proud of her tresses.

Cecil Kendrick was a man of average height, but his riding clothes were stressed to their limits by his stocky build. Except for his wig, the man could have been mistaken for a merchant or solicitor. He certainly did not possess the pleasing elegance of Sir Lewis de Bourgh.

Her visitor made his leg. “Good afternoon, Lady Catherine.”

“I am afraid my husband is unavailable. He is occupied with the steward.”

Mr. Kendrick smiled. “I came to visit with my family, milady.”

Trapped, Lady Catherine could either dismiss the man or invite him in. She chose to be gracious and offered the gentleman a seat and refreshments. The first he accepted, closing the door, taking a chair next to the couch she occupied, and making himself comfortable. The second he refused. Mr. Kendrick offered no conversation but examined Lady Catherine closely.

The mistress of Rosings Park refused to be intimidated. “What news of Glendale Farm, sir? I trust Mrs. Kendrick is well?” She declined to use a more familiar address with him, even though he was married to Sir Lewis’s only sibling.

“Unfortunately, no. Her health remains poor.” His melancholy voice was contradicted by his relaxed features. Lady Catherine was certain he owned little concern over the fate of his wife. “My son, Reginald, however, is in excellent health. And how does my niece fare, may I ask?”

“Anne remains above stairs. Other than a slight cold, she is well.”

“Ah.” Mr. Kendrick sat back and crossed his legs, gazing about the parlor. The white walls were covered with gold leaf and landscape paintings. Clawfoot furniture and an oriental carpet graced the parquet floor. The room was Lady Catherine’s pride and joy. She had spent much time and many pounds to bring it to the pinnacle of French Baroque elegance.

Mr. Kendrick sat forward. “It has occurred to me that our children are of an age. It is as though they were formed for each other.”

Eyes wide in disbelief and revulsion, Lady Catherine recoiled. “Mr. Kendrick, surely you are not proposing a union between our houses!”

“Why not? We are what remains of the noble de Bourgh line. Would it not be wise to keep the estate in the family?”

“The de Bourghs are not the only noble lineage in my family,” Lady Catherine said icily. “The Fitzwilliams, for example—”

“The Fitzwilliams!” Mr. Kendrick cried. “A bunch of jumped-up farmers! The de Bourghs came over with the Conquest.”

“And lost most of their lands and titles,” she retorted. “My family earned much favor and many honors from our sovereigns. My father is an earl. My sister’s family, the Darcys, is of Norman stock, and they have increased their holdings. The only title left for the de Bourghs is a hereditary baronetcy, which is my husband’s province.”

“Reginald can take the de Bourgh name.”

Lady Catherine waved her hand. “The de Bourgh baronetcy is of the usual kind: it can descend only through heirs male of the body of the grantee. It cannot be assumed either by the son of a daughter or husband of a daughter.”

Mr. Kendrick grew thoughtful. “Then, unless you produce an heir, the title dies with your husband, and the lands forfeit to the Crown.”

Lady Catherine shrugged. “So be it. There is no land left of the original grant due to the extravagance of your noble de Bourgh family,” she scoffed. “Rosings Park is another matter. Sir Lewis purchased it himself. It is apart from the baronetcy.”

“Still, it would be pleasant to keep the title, would it not? All you need is a son, but I doubt you will get one from Lewis.”

The man’s boorishness knew no bounds. “Sir! You speak of matters that are outside of polite conversation! You will desist at once!”

“Come, Catherine, you know as well as I that pompous scarecrow is no man for you. I doubt he is able to arise to the occasion these days.” His eyes raked over her form, a hungry smile on his fat lips. “You are lovely and need a gentleman who can take advantage of it.”

Deeply offended and a little frightened, she rose from her chair. “Mr. Kendrick, you will leave this instant!”

“Now, you do not mean that,” he said with a hearty laugh as he got to his feet. “How long has it been since a man touched you, my girl?”

Lady Catherine, realizing her danger, turned to flee, but Mr. Kendrick was too quick for her. She found herself pinned against the mantelpiece, Mr. Kendrick trying to kiss her. “Help! Help me!”

“Stop fighting, Catherine! It will be so much nicer if you cooperate. Besides, I locked the door.”

“Then, it is well that there is a servants’ entrance,” came a languid, almost bored voice.

The two looked over to see Sir Lewis de Bourgh, still in his riding costume, ebony walking stick in hand, just inside the hidden servants’ door, wearing an amused expression.

“Lewis, thank Heavens!” cried his wife.

“You are interrupting private business, Brother.” Mr. Kendrick released Lady Catherine and stepped away. She took the opportunity to flee to her husband’s side.

“Lewis, he is lying!” Her voice was high and disjointed. “It is not what you think!”

“Nonsense, my dear,” Sir Lewis responded in the same half-amused voice. “It is exactly what I think. Pray excuse me.” With that, the baronet disengaged himself from his wife’s grasp and walked over to his sister’s husband.

“Every time I take your measure, Cecil, you manage to surprise me. As little as I respect you, even in my darkest dreams, I did not think you would stoop to rape and incest.” Sir Lewis shook his head. “My poor sister. I warned Marie off you, you know, but she would have you, no matter what.” He sniffed. “You should be exterminated.”

“What are you about, you popinjay?” Mr. Kendrick crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Are you to call me out?”

“I would not dirty my hands on you.” Sir Lewis’s response was a bark of a laugh. “Leave now, Cecil, and do not return.”

Mr. Kendrick raised an eyebrow. “And if I refuse?”

Just then, there was the noise of a key in a lock, and the parlor door opened to reveal the steward and two burly footmen. Sir Lewis indicated them with his chin. “There is more than one key in this house. These gentlemen will escort you off Rosings property. Goodbye, Cecil.”

Mr. Kendrick turned to Lady Catherine. “Until we meet again, my lady.” He affected a slight bow, and therefore did not see Sir Lewis rear back with his walking stick. With a vicious blow to the back of Kendrick’s head, he laid his wife’s attacker nearly insensible on the floor.

The servants dashed forward to the prone figure while Sir Lewis leaned over him on the self-same walking stick. The hard, ebony-painted walnut cane was unblemished. “Still with us, Cecil? Excellent! Then there will be no misunderstanding. Leave Rosings and never return.” The baronet faced his steward. “Perkins, see this man off the grounds, and let the word be spread throughout the estate and Hunsford that Cecil Kendrick is not to step foot on Rosings. Should he be found here after today, he is to be shot on sight. Are my instructions clear?”

“Aye, sir.” Perkins turned his attention to Mr. Kendrick. “You heard the master. Get up, and mark what he says. Take him out, lads.”

“Very good, Perkins. Oh—” Sir Lewis turned to the butler. “Apparently, Mr. Kendrick has bloodied the carpet. Pray have a maid clean it up.”

By now, Mr. Kendrick had found his voice. “I-I will have you taken up for this, de Bourgh!”

Sir Lewis, unconcerned, gazed at his angry brother. With blood running down his neck, Mr. Kendrick was held up by his arms by the footmen. “Ah, Cecil, you still have not thought things through. I am the magistrate for this district. It is well known I have standing orders to shoot trespassers. As of now, you are a trespasser.” Sir Lewis shrugged. “I could have you killed now for attacking Catherine, and that would be an end to it. Could I not, Perkins?”

“Aye, milord.”

“Fortunately for you, I am a Christian man, and for my sister’s sake I give you your life—this time.” To the footmen, he ordered, “Take him away.” Once a protesting Mr. Kendrick was frog-marched out of the room, Sir Lewis shut the door.

Lady Catherine, frightened and shocked by the sudden violence, slowly approached her husband.

Sir Lewis swung around. “Did I not decree that you should not entertain gentlemen without my presence?”

Lady Catherine stopped short, her hand to her throat. “I am mistress of the house, Lewis! It is my duty—”

“It was my will that you not entertain gentlemen outside of my presence. You will do as I say.” His voice was like a whip.

“You…you cannot mean…you think I would—” She was horrified. “Lewis, I would never dishonor myself in such a manner!”

Sir Lewis smirked. “Of course not—not intentionally. You hardly dishonor yourself privately with your husband.”

Lady Catherine flushed with shame.

“However, my dear,” he continued, “you are far too handsome and far too trusting in your suspect judgment to be left to your own devices. This incident proves my point. You never should have received Cecil alone.” He shook his head. “It shall not happen again. I shall so inform the butler and housekeeper.”

By now, Lady Catherine had recovered a bit of her Fitzwilliam temper. “So, you do not believe I am capable of managing your house? Must you diminish me?”

“I do not diminish you, Catherine. In essentials, you are much as you were the day we married.”

“Hateful, hateful man!”

Regret washed over Sir Lewis’s face. “No, Catherine, you can never accuse me of hating you. No matter how you treat me, I shall protect you as I promised your father and brother.”

The aggrieved matron seized upon that word. “Protection—yes! We must speak of that! That terrible man suggested we pledge Anne to his horrid son! We must make sure that never happens!”

“Of course not,” Sir Lewis assured her. “Kendrick’s son will never receive my permission.”

“But we must prepare for any eventuality!” Lady Catherine put a hand to her head. “If we pledged Anne to someone else—someone noble—inside the family.” Eyes aglow, she looked at her husband. “Anne and George’s Fitzwilliam! He would be ideal!”

Sir Lewis was incredulous. “Arrange a match between your sister’s son and our daughter? What mad idea is this? We are not of the peerage. We have no title to defend.”

“Fitzwilliam would be perfect!” she continued, not heeding his assertion. “We would unite our great estates! We would improve the standings of three noble families. Anne would be protected by the Darcy name as well as ours!”

He dismissed her idea with a wave of his snuff-stained hand. “Anne is my heir. She need look to no one for protection unless it is her choice. I shall give her the ability to marry for affection.”

“Affection? Only fools marry for affection!” she cried thoughtlessly.

“The greater fool marries without it, as I have cause to know,” he responded sadly.

Insulted, Lady Catherine shot back. “I must wonder why you married me!”

The baronet sighed. “I often wonder about that myself. As the pretty daughter of an earl with a sizable dowry, one would think you would have a brain in your head and a heart in your breast. Either one would be welcome. Pray, inform me when you acquire one or the other.” He bowed. “I am off to visit my daughter. Until dinner, madam.” With that, he opened the door and left her.

Aghast, Lady Catherine could only stare at the opened door before she broke down in tears.

You can read more on how the above affects Lady Catherine’s life in ROSINGS PARK: A Story of Jane Austen’s Fighting Men.

By the way, the HUGE LOUISIANA BOOK FESTIVAL will be held on the grounds of the Louisiana State Capital in Baton Rouge on OCTOBER 29! I’ll be there selling and signing books, including ROSINGS PARK!

COME SEE ME!

Until next time, this has been the Cajun Cheesehead Chronicles.

It takes a real man to write historical romance, so let me tell you a story…