The Illegitimate Heir; A Pride and Prejudice Variation

Few things could call the Prince Regent out of the palace at ungodly hours of the night. Fine women and old friends were the chief reasons for such clandestine nocturnal outings, and as he stood before the door of the Duke of Blachedone’s sickroom, he fervently wished the former rather than the latter awaited inside.

Prinny, as he was called by friends and subjects alike, experienced a moment of confusion when a pretty young woman answered his knock. The moment passed when he recognised her as his old friend’s only daughter, Lady Amalie. When he last saw Amalie, she was a gangly, awkward child, unsure of how to manage her long arms and legs. Now she moved with grace, like her mother, God rest her soul, and had inherited her round face and lithe figure. She also shared her father’s fair hair and prominent green eyes, though hers were presently more sorrowful than he had ever seen them.

“Your Royal Highness,” Amalie murmured, dropping into a curtsey.

“Dear girl, I come at the request of your father. Show me to him.”

Lady Amalie stepped back and motioned for Prinny to follow her inside. Upon entering, the oppressive heat and the taint of sickness nearly overcame Prinny. He brought a scented handkerchief to his nose and approached the bedside of his old friend. Drake Adwell, the Duke of Blachedone, lay lifeless upon the oversized canopy bed in a sea of quilts and pillows. His greying hair and ashen face gave him a truly spectral appearance, and Prinny shivered at the thought that Drake may have already shed his mortal coil.

“Papa, His Royal Highness is here to see you,” Lady Amalie said softly as she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Do you feel equal to speaking with him?”

Drake’s eyes fluttered open after what seemed a colossal inner struggle. His voice shook and his words came slowly. “Prinny, what caused the delay in your coming?”

Lady Amalie moved away to allow Prinny to take her place. Sitting in a nearby chair, she began her needlework, providing the men privacy while remaining readily available if needed.

Prinny settled into the indigo wing-backed chair near the head of the bed and crossed his plump legs, leaning over the armrest in an almost conspiratorial manner. “You know how it is. The wars with France and America have significantly limited my leisure time. I scarcely have time to remark upon the latest fashions. What think you of my new cravat? Splendid, is it not?” He spoke to Drake as if they were sitting down to drinks at White’s rather than in a sickroom where Death waited patiently in the shadows.

“Favour…”

Prinny momentarily showed a dark expression, but promptly returned to his nonsensical antics. “It favours me? Quite right. Another man couldn’t pull it off half so well.”

“No,” Drake’s firm voice brought back a hint of his old self as Prinny let out a dramatic sigh.

“You cannot blame a man for trying to misunderstand, can you? Upon hearing about your illness, I questioned whether I would be required to repay my debt in this life or the next. Honestly, I would rather repay it now. There is no limit to what you may request in the afterlife. Though I could argue I owe you nothing since our plan did not work and my father still forced me to marry my cousin. Can you believe how unsuited she and I are for one another? After eighteen years of marriage, I still despise the woman.”

Lady Amalie’s fingers hesitated in her needlework and her mouth dropped open at the Regent’s words.

“Ah! Your lovely daughter hears us. I think I shocked her with my cavalier attitude towards Princess Caroline.” Prinny studied Lady Amalie, who tried to hide her discomfort by applying herself to her embroidery.

“You still owe me,” Drake rasped.

“Yes, yes, I know I do. What shall it be? Place your heir in parliament? Find someone to marry your daughter? Being one of England’s wealthiest dukes, I can’t imagine you desire more land and titles.”

“My son.”

Prinny’s eyes widened, and he darted a fleeting glance at Lady Amalie.

“She knows.” Drake waved a weak, dismissive hand.
Prinny eased up slightly, but remained vigilant. “What of your son?”

“Make him my heir.”

Unable to help himself, Prinny laughed aloud. “A thousand pardons for my outburst, but I thought you just asked me to make your son, born under the name of another man, your heir.”

“I did.”
Turning serious, Prinny slumped into the chair and massaged his forehead and temple as he looked into the tired eyes of his long-time friend. “Drake, you know I cannot make your son your heir. He is illegitimate.”

“There is a way.”

“No, there is not,” Prinny objected. “The country is predominantly Protestant, and even if we were Catholic, appealing to the Pope wouldn’t change the fact that you would need to marry his mother. If I recall correctly, she is already married. Has her status changed? Is she a widow now?” Drake shook his head. “Then there is no way. What about your nephew? I thought he was to inherit.”

“The boy is a rake.”

Prinny sat back and regarded Drake with a sardonic expression. “We can’t judge a man for being a rake. God knows the both of us have bastards. Me more than you.”

“I am not speaking solely of his manner with women.” The Duke gathered all of his strength into his voice. It briefly regained its former power. “My nephew, Mr Calvin Adwell, is a man without morals. His opinions are shocking and he hasn’t an ounce of respect for the common decencies of civilised society. When I refused to remarry after my dear wife’s death and my brother’s atrocious widow realised her son would inherit, she raised my nephew understanding that one day he would be duke. She spoilt his character with unrealistic expectations instead of instilling in him the importance of hard work and conducting himself with integrity. He expects everything to be handed to him on a silver platter.” With a Herculean effort, Drake lifted his head off the bed to implore his friend. “He must not inherit. He has no familial pride and he will bring the duchy to ruin in his pursuit of empty pleasures. That cannot happen. Too many people depend on the continued prosperity of Blachedone.” Exhausted by his speech, Drake succumbed to a coughing spell, his head falling back against the pillow.

Lady Amalie hastened to her father’s side with a glass of water and tried to help him drink. He waved her away, and she resumed her seat, still holding the glass.

Prinny, deeply uncomfortable in any sickroom, tried his best to mask his desire to flee. “Who is to say your son will be any better than your nephew?” he asked, dabbing his upper lip with his scented handkerchief.

“My son is honourable,” Drake insisted.

Prinny sighed before saying, “If he is, he might be the last honourable man in England.”

“Help me sit.” Drake struggled to push himself upright with weak and shaking arms. Another coughing fit seized him and he fell back again.

Lady Amalie was there in an instant, propping a generous number of pillows behind him as Prinny, ashamed of his disgust, helped pull him into a sitting position.

Drake’s coughs wracked his frail body and soon produced a quantity of grotesque phlegm. Lady Amalie reached for the silver basin that lay on the bedside table. Removing the white linen from the top, she held it under her father’s chin while he spat. Drake, having dispelled the offending substance, settled against the pillows and closed his eyes. After taking a few deep, restorative breaths, he opened his eyes again and, in a voice so quiet Prinny had to lean forward to hear him, he avowed, “My son is a good man. An honourable man. You can make him my heir. You must!”

“An illegitimate child cannot be heir to a title. Change your will, give him all of your wealth and every estate and asset not entailed. Make it so your nephew will receive nothing but a ducal shell. He would have to take matters into his own hands. It would ensure a lifetime of security for your son. If you want to protect Lady Amalie, place her under her brother’s guardianship rather than her cousin’s. She could easily adjust to living on one of your other estates with her brother, leaving Blachedone Castle behind. Trust me, old friend, this is the best way. Would you like me to call for your solicitor?”

“There is a method for him to gain the title.”

“If there is, it is eluding me. Come, let me help you arrange a new will. I will oversee the changes myself and make sure everything is in perfect order before you sign.”

“Strip me of my titles, my lands and my wealth, and then bestow them upon my son for his service to the Crown. He has distinguished himself as a worthy and honourable soldier. His actions during the Fourth Coalition alone merit the most extravagant of rewards. Inferior men have been given titles for far less. He is deserving.”

Prinny sat forward in his seat and stared aghast at Drake as a sudden coldness consumed his core. “You cannot be in your right mind. You realise that if I strip you of everything, it will destroy your reputation and taint the dukedom. Not only will your son be shunned, but so will Lady Amalie. She would lose her position in society. No good can be expected from such drastic action.”

“I am completely in my right mind.” Drake’s eyes turned cold and hard as he levelled a withering glare at Prinny. Drake rarely became angry, but when he did, Prinny knew he meant business. “Now, will you honour my last request or not?”

“Drake, calm yourself. This cannot be good for you.”

“George, I need to know my affairs are in order. I cannot die in peace knowing my despicable rake of a nephew is ruining everything I held dear and worked for my entire life. You are right, the duchy and my children would suffer in the beginning, but I am confident my son will recover and the duchy will prosper under his management. I’ve done you countless favours, and this is the only thing I’ve ever asked in return. You must realise how important this is to me.”

“Good Lord, you are feisty today. I have not seen you this way since that poacher mistook your prized Andalusian stallion for a deer and shot him. I thought your head would burst from rage as you cursed the man. Your face was so red.” Prinny laughed, but then cleared his throat and attempted to quell his mirth when Drake’s glare turned even harder. Clearly, Prinny’s attempt to change the subject did not amuse him.

“Oh, bother, you’re certainly no fun today. I’m curious if there’s more to the story. It would be easier if you just said your nephew was the bastard.”

“Alas, no. No one who sees Calvin can doubt his heredity. I heard my son bears an uncanny family resemblance as well. My man saw him a few years ago and claimed he resembles me. I confess it pleases me to hear it. I am not likely ever to see him myself.”

“Let me ask you this. Does your son even know of his true parentage?”

“No, he does not.”

“Does the woman’s husband know he is not his legitimate son?”

“I believe so.”

“But you do not know for certain?” Prinny could not conceal his exasperation. Rarely did he get headaches, but when he did, they were horrendous. He could feel one coming on now, and he rubbed the throbbing vein in his forehead to ward it off.

“Once, about twenty years ago, I chanced upon her and her husband in Mayfair. She was cordial, but her husband looked as if he wanted to kill me.”

“I’d wager he knows, then. I have been privy to those looks before. Have you considered all the consequences if I do this? People will wonder, ask questions, and tongues will wag. Your son’s parentage will be made public. All of London will ostracise the woman you once professed to love. None of her friends will welcome her. Her husband and children may renounce her. She could be left with nowhere to go and no money to live on. Moreover, your son will be branded a bastard and will probably be shunned by all of London, regardless of his wealth and title. Everyone will completely forget all of his honourable and heroic acts. They will conveniently fade from everyone’s memory. He will lose his good name. If he is half the man you seem to think he is, it may devastate him. Are you absolutely sure about your decision? I beg you to reconsider. It is not too late to change your will.”

“Her husband and children will not renounce her. Her husband will whisk her away to his northern estate for a year or two, and that will be the worst of it. Throughout all these years, he has remained loyal to her. He will not desert her now. My son is strong, and he has many friends who I am sure will stand by him. George, I cannot avoid this. I have given it much thought. Bastard though he is, we must make my son the Duke of Blachedone. I cannot allow my nephew to inherit. It is a matter of conscience. Amalie understands. She agrees it is for the best. I already moved her dowry, and the monies left to her by her mother, into a separate account with a trustee. It is no longer attached to me and she will have full access to it as soon as she turns twenty-one. She will receive an allowance and can seek small advances from the trustee if necessary. However you choose to act, she will be provided for.” Drake turned to look at his beautiful daughter, whom he had doted on since the moment she was born, giving her all the love he hadn’t been able to offer his son. “Yes, my Amalie will lose her position as the daughter of a duke, but she will rally. Won’t you, my girl?”

“Of course I will, Papa.” Lady Amalie came forward and clasped his hand, kissing it while tears filled her eyes.

“Amalie understands I am doing all this for her. Neither she nor I want Mr Adwell to be Duke. Amalie knows she will have a better life with her brother. She will receive love and experience happiness, something she would not have with her cousin.”

“Do you really feel this strongly about it?”

Drake said nothing, but closed his eyes and nodded his head.

“Very well. I need a few days to consider your request. I cannot in good conscience grant it now, but I promise I will think about it,” Prinny said.

“Make it quick,” Drake snapped. “I don’t have much time left. I’m dying. You must strip me of my title while I still live.”

“Do not press me!” Prinny said brusquely. "I’ll investigate your son and nephew’s characters to verify your claims. If it is, I will consider your request. That is the most I can promise.” Rising to his feet, Prinny took his friend’s hand and clasped it firmly. “I will miss you, Drake. What fun we had these past forty years!”

“We did have fun, did we not?”

“Indeed, we did.”

Prinny let go of his dear friend’s hand and walked to the door. On the threshold, he glanced back with sorrowful eyes. Lady Amalie wasn’t certain, but she thought she saw him wipe a tear from his eye as he departed.