Laurence Bolton
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| Portrayed by Richard Armitage | |
| Full Name | Lorenzo Bolton |
|---|---|
| Title | Sir Laurence Bolton, Bt |
| Associated Noble House(s) | None |
| Date of Birth | 4 March 1773 |
| Father | Linley Bolton, b. 1741 d. 1794 |
| Father's Rank | Baronet |
| Mother | Rosamond, Lady Bolton, née Walthorpe, b. 1756 d. 1790 |
| Mother's Rank | Lady |
| Town Residence | |
| Income | |
| School | Eton |
| University | Cambridge |
Sir Laurence Bolton is a baronet, one of two surviving sons of Sir Linley and Lady Bolton.
Laurence is played by Emily
Family
- Father: Sir Linley Bolton, b. 1741 d. 1794
- Mother: Lady Rosamond Bolton, née Walthorpe, b. 1756 d. 1790
- Brother: Valancourt Bolton, b. 21 August 1778
Background
The first child and heir of Sir Linley Bolton was born on a gloomy day in what the optimistic would have called early spring. Most of the late snow had finally begun to melt away, and in the icy floods which followed, the roads in much of the country became impassable with thick black mud, if not washed away entirely. Lady Bolton was brought to bed earlier than expected, and so Sir Linley was away on some business at the time. Being of a delicate nature, and fond of novels, and rather deeply hating her tyrannical husband, the beautiful Rosamond had her son brought before the baptismal font before Sir Linley could make his return, and with there being some fears for the life and health of the mother and child, no-one thought to prevent her, perhaps imagining that a little Sir Linley would be the natural result.
Little Sir Linley, as it turned out, was to be Little Sir Lorenzo.
Large Sir Linley was enraged when he found out what had been done--and only his wife's confinement perhaps prevented him from unleashing more than the wrath of his words, alone. He insisted the boy be known as Laurence, and none of the servants dared disobey. Only Rosamond would insist on affectionately calling the boy by his true name--and whether it was in her husband's hearing or not would depend on if she meant to provoke him, for it surely did. The only power Lady Bolton seemed to possess was to infuriate her husband, and at times she would almost seem to relish her ability in that regard, though it brought her nothing but pain at his hands. The tattered remains of her pride and idealism pushed her to feed her own sense of martyrdom, for surely she had been tragically wronged. So the child became a weapon to be used against his father.
When he was not being used by one parent to threaten or lash out at the other, Laurence was kept in the nursery, cared for by the servants. When he was five years old, a small, squalling infant joined him--his brother, he was told. Laurence was fascinated by the little child, and took it upon himself to act as tutor and protector for the only member of his family with whom he had anything like real contact.
He did all he could for his brother, even after he was sent away to school - Eton, and then Cambridge. There, he learned more of how the real world generally seemed to work, though the contrast with the gloom of life at home made the misery caused by his parents more pronounced. Sir Linley's habits plunged the family into greater difficulties, and only the old respect for what had once been a great family kept the estate limping along until Laurence could reach his majority. Poor Lady Bolton had died when Laurence was 17, and Laurence pressed his father to include him in managing the estate. Sir Linley continued to do much as he liked, as he had always done, but he did not forbid his son taking an interest. As Sir Linley's drinking had only increased following his wife's demise, it did not surprise anyone when the old sot, grown corpulent with his years of excess and indulgence, fell drunk from his horse one night and was found with his neck broken the following morning.
Laurence stepped into his place as Sir Laurence, and swiftly set to work to mend the damage done by his father--the financial damages, at least. The wounds inflicted upon the hearts and minds of the broken Bolton sons were never to completely heal.
His childhood experiences tore Laurence between pity and contempt for his mother, when she lived. Even he could see that his father's cruelty went too far, at times, but then his father's relentless disdain and Lady Bolton's periods of apathy and frantic, masochistic rebellion made him believe his mother must be mad--and if she was mad, perhaps she was also everything his father said she was...stupid, vain, selfish, unfaithful, immoral...
It was difficult to know anything of his mother except what his father allowed him to hear, once he was gone away to school and his mother could no longer creep into the nursery to provide any kind of counterbalance in the argument.
Slowly, surely, Laurence's careful dedication to his work began to turn the family fortunes around. With little to distract him from his tasks, and good harvests, the estate recovered. Oakfield Manor at last saw the repairs it badly needed, after the tenants' cottages had been seen to. The people who depended upon the estate for their livelihoods thanked God (though it may seem heartless, they had their own skins to think of,) for Sir Linley's passing and the son's zealous care in undoing what neglect had wrought upon the place.
Laurence's only concerns, then, became his home and his brother. He still feels guilty that he was not present to help his brother with their difficulties at home, or Val's problems at school. What spare money can be found almost invariably goes to supporting Val's habits and pursuits...whether they bring Valancourt happiness is anyone's guess.
Four years ago, a spot of trouble Val found himself in in town made it necessary that Laurence come to London to help sort the matter out. There, he was obliged to attend some social events in the course of the Season which was then underway, and there he met Miss Jane Ashley, the pretty but penniless daughter of the good-humoured but poorly-financed Mr. and Mrs. Ashley. The family was of no particular note, neither good nor bad, and their daughter's beauty and the charm of her spirit were all that could recommend her.
Laurence soon found himself deeply in love with Miss Ashley, and he wasted no time in making his intentions clear. He had seen what disappointed expectations had done to his own parents' relationship, and believed that honesty was the best course. The estate was recovering itself, and certainly a baronet with nothing but reason to be hopeful for the future and an estate returning to robust health was exactly what the Ashleys might have dreamed of for their daughter. Jane saw the prudence of it, and Laurence's honest affection was flattering enough that Miss Ashley consented to give him her hand in marriage. She did like Sir Laurence, and there was nothing about his situation to dislike.
Laurence here entered what was then the happiest period of his life, planning not only a wedding, but his family's future with the shining creature he adored above all others.
He did not suspect anything until the morning of his wedding dawned, bringing with it a small note, folded and sealed with drips. In it, Jane apologized profusely for what she had already done--she had run away. She herself had found love, and it was not with Sir Laurence. She would be poor, but gloriously happy in knowing she had, at last, made the right decision for herself, though it was little consolation to her parents, who tried to understand, and loved their daughter, but were heartily ashamed of the whole business.
What, then, happens to the good-hearted prince who simply has the misfortune of not being The One Who is Meant for the fairytale's heroine?
This not being a fairytale, he turns to drink. Laurence feels deeply that his honesty was not returned by Jane Ashley, and feels her great principles could have surely asserted themselves in offering him a refusal when he first asked her to marry him, and not merely when it came to the day she was expected at the church. His hopes became hateful things, only memories of how he had been fooled, and made a fool of himself. Though aware of the Ashley's situation, he had let himself believe that Jane saw that there was more to him than his title and comparative wealth--for she had. And it still wasn't enough.
Laurence's disappointment turned itself to anger, and the old patterns he recalled from his childhood crept into his mind, reminding him how weak, how sly, how self-serving, how fickle, how careless his mother had been accused of being. Our memories being continually in flux, to serve the whimsy of our present circumstances, the pain of Laurence's thwarted love now fed the worst of his presumptions. From the examples of his hazy view of his own mother, and his anger at Miss Ashley, Laurence has sworn he will have no more such dealings with women. They may be bought and paid for, used as so many are used, but he will not be taken in and tied to one for the whole of his life, only for her to make him miserable. As for heirs, he knows there is some cousin who would inherit--and, honestly, once he and his brother have lived and died in their allotted time on earth, all the rest, as far as he is concerned, can go to the devil.
He continues his attention to the estate, if only because it is what he has always done, and all he has left to do. He has no hopes for its future, and only does his best with whatever each day brings. If his brother is determined to find his own happiness in a woman, Laurence cannot and will not deny him his chance, though he fears what may happen if Val is spurned, too. The estate will then presumably pass to Valancourt and his heirs, and that would be enough for Laurence's satisfaction. Whatever woman is Val's wife and the mother of his children, she remains a murky and featureless figure, and Laurence has no interest in her, and figures he will continue to have no interest in her once she is installed as mistress of Oakfield. She will be Val's business, and not his.