Frederica Haverleigh
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| Portrayed by Keri Russell | |
| Full Name | Frederica Haverleigh |
|---|---|
| Associated Noble House(s) | None |
| Date of Birth | 4 May, 1778 |
| Father | Sir Arthur Bexley |
| Father's Rank | {{{fatherrank}}} |
| Mother | Catherine, Lady Bexley |
| Mother's Rank | Lady |
| Town Residence | 18 St James Square |
| Year of Debut | 1795 |
| Dowry | £15, 000 |
| Year of Marriage | 1799 |
| Spouse | George Haverleigh |
| Spouse's Rank | Gentleman |
| Issue | George Arthur, Margaret, Elizabeth, Henry, Catherine |
Frederica Haverleigh is a consummate socialite and hostess, very much in love with her husband George.
Frederica is played by Emily
Family
- Father: Sir Arthur Bexley
- Mother: Catherine, Lady Bexley
- Brother: Peregrine 'Perry' Bexley
- Husband: George Haverlaigh
- Children: George Arthur (b. 1799); Margaret (b. 1802); Elizabeth (b. 1805); Henry (b. 1808); Catherine (b. 1810)
Background
Freddie was born on a fine day in May, but her birth was not heralded with much joy. Her father shrugged when the red-faced daughter was presented to him, and her poor, weary mother never quite recovered, though she spent the spring and summer in the open air and sun as much as possible, and took spa cures that winter. Freddie seemed to have all the vitality her mother had lacked or lost, and thrived in the care of her nurse and the servants--bodily, at least. Her mother then gave the last of her strength to the birth of Peregrine a few years later, and quietly passed out of this world. Freddie has always felt that her mother was more of an idea, a sense of what might have been, rather than a real person. At least their father was an inarguable presence in his study--taking meals and having his clothes laundered, his quiet directions to the servants murmured behind doors or around corners in the dim corridors of the house.
Freddie occupied herself in the nursery, the schoolroom, and the library, with Perry always at her side. It was not so bad--there were always friends to be found in books. Their neighbours, the Haverleighs, also provided a wider circle of acquaintance and playmates for the two Bexley children, and Mrs. Haverleigh was Freddie's truest notion of what a mother ought to be, and a figure she quietly idolised as a child.
Freddie's earliest favourite books were, rather naturally, fairy-tales. She found an odd sort of affinity with the notion of being a princess in a tower or a gloomy fortress, and yet something was not quite right. Whether they spun or sang or slept, they all seemed to spend their time waiting. Freddie was a patient person by nature, but she could only bide her time in waiting for something to come to her if she knew what it was. The princesses seemed to have no notion of anything, nor any idea that they even could be rescued until their knightly prince arrived.
Freddie's knightly prince was George Haverleigh. The eldest child of their nearest neighbours, he led their childhood games, and yet was always considerate of the smallest in the brood, never bullying anyone just because he could have gotten away with it. Freddie's bountiful affection found another attachment besides her brother in the Haverleigh family, and George's little kindnesses had completely won poor little Fred's heart before either of them could have known what that meant.
Eight years her senior, George was off to school while Fred was still quite small, but the holidays when she saw him were beacons of light in the quiet life she lived. She decided that she did not want to aimlessly wait without knowing, and made up her mind (aged ten) that she was going to marry George Haverleigh. Of course she didn't tell anyone this--she knew no one would take her seriously, and it might cause trouble. George was off to university and quite a young gentleman, while no-one ever called Freddie a lady unless it was teasing or condescension. Freddie knew there were balls and parties for the grown-ups, where there might be dancing and music and elegant conversation. These things were not for Freddie, but she could wait--she knew, someday, she would leave her tower, and she had to be ready for that day.
Still a great reader, she practiced 'accomplishments' as best she could. Mrs. Haverleigh had had a word with Sir Arthur, impressing upon him the need for the girl to have a proper governess, and in this, at least, her father was quite easily worked upon, and provided a woman for the post. With not much to distract her, Freddie's sewing and playing came on well enough, but it was her dancing that she truly devoted herself to. (Poor Perry being pressed into service as her partner when he was home from school, with Freddie's argument that he, as a gentleman, would need to not disgrace himself on a dance-floor, and so it was beneficial for him to learn, as well.) Freddie knew George Haverleigh was a jolly, energetic person, and she would not impress him by sitting in a corner thinking critically about Rousseau.
All the debut Freddie expected or wanted was to be Out in the country society of their neighbourhood. The spring she turned seventeen saw many other young ladies going to London or Bath, but such an undertaking on his daughter's behalf did not cross Sir Arthur's mind at any time, and Freddie said nothing about it. The horror of it, if another gentleman should get ideas about marrying her before she'd had a chance to make George think of it! Her knight was still largely absent from home, but Freddie plucked up the courage to begin calling upon Mrs. Haverleigh, seeking her opinions and guidance in such girlish matters as a motherless girl of a certain age required. There was only so much reading could do--and, as her father's library did not tend to offer much written by women, it was an overwhelmingly male perspective offered upon the page. Mrs. Haverleigh was flattered to be sought out by the girl, who had always been such an agreeable, affectionate child, and now almost quite grown-up to be a sweet little woman.
Mrs. Haverleigh's influence in their little part of the country meant that those who had stayed away from the Season had their share of little parties in the months that followed, and Freddie rapidly grew more at-ease in company and carried herself well in conversations, and her practice in dancing paid off.
Freddie had the good fortune to be a remarkably pretty girl, or else the success of her plan might have been debatable. There was no difficulty in getting George Haverleigh to claim two of her dances at the great ball held to celebrate the end of the Season and everyone's return to the country, and their lifelong acquaintance meant there was no hesitancy nor holding-back in their conversation. Having not really seen or spoken to one another for so long, there was a great deal for them to catch up on, and little need to suffer awkward silences. Any quiet spaces in the moments when the motions of the dance parted them were filled with smiling glances (open and affectionate on Fred's part, increasingly admiring on George's.) Silences would come to them, as their new acquaintance with one another progressed, but they were of the comfortable sort that came and went with ease.
Though Freddie herself would eventually have to take the initiative in prompting George to propose, that Christmas saw the culmination of all her efforts when she agreed to become Mrs. Haverleigh.
Not yet eighteen, and engaged, Freddie had secured the love of her life, but knew there must be more waiting before she could be married. Her engagement was not kept secret, exactly, but the Haverleighs were aware of Sir Arthur's nature, and it was agreed that little harm would be done in waiting until Frederica might be free of any legal interferance. The baronet was not a bad man, but he was proud, in his way, and while he had as yet shown no interest in his daughter's prospects in theory, it would not prevent him from objecting to her making a match without consulting him in practice. Though the fact of his late wife's friendship with Mrs. Haverleigh was unlikely to sway his opinion, the Haverleighs were inarguably good people, well-respected, and George as the eldest was heir to a good fortune and a pretty estate, despite his lack of a title.
And so she spent the next few years steadily preparing her trousseau, and if Sir Arthur was not strictly informed, it was because he did not bother to ask. Perry was in on the not-secret, and most of the neighbourhood guessed--particularly when Mr. King departed, allegedly rejected, despite all his virtues. George spent a deal more time at home in the country, now, and the lovers only grew in their devotion to one another as they prepared to spend their lives together.
On the morning of her twenty-first birthday, Frederica knocked at the study-door and entered her father's inner sanctum, remaining standing before his desk as she calmly explained that she would be married to Mr. Haverleigh at midsummer. Sir Arthur was astonished at the development, but could blame no one but himself for his inattention to the matter of his daughter. What could be spared of his parental concern had been largely wrapped up in Perry's going to Cambridge, which Frederica had expected and understood. That she had made plans of her own was neither expected nor understood by Sir Arthur--but as she was twenty-one, there was little he could do to prevent it. As the business would be done with or without his approval, he felt it better not to appear grudging if it would serve no purpose, and perhaps in a fit of guilt in realising the extent of his disinterest in Frederica's entire life, he settled 15 000 pounds on her for her dowry, and left it at that, his fatherly responsibility absolved as of the moment she was joined to Mr. Haverleigh in holy wedlock.
While married life opened up Frederica's world in many ways, she did find a part of her missed the familiarity of her former life at home, with Perry's quiet company. She knew her brother was not of a social nature, and worried he would grow too lonesome, even at university. He had an open invitation to stay with her and George whenever he liked, of course, but Freddie was soon distracted by her new concerns and responsibilities. Her will and energy (and George's loving support) swiftly made her comfortable with housekeeping and hostessing, and besides all this Freddie was pregnant within weeks of getting married. She and George were delighted--George as his own upbringing in a large family was exactly what he thought a family ought to be, and Frederica because she knew her childhood had been rather the opposite. Her expansive affections had no difficulty in adoring every one of her babies--which have appeared at rather regular intervals over the last twelve years--and there are perhaps few women in England so happy and fulfilled as the young Mrs. Haverleigh. Her youth and inexperience are now behind her, and she has seen the world at George's side precisely as she wished to.
Now comfortably settled in a spacious London townhouse, George and Freddie are enjoying the diversions of town, with Freddie taking special care that Perry should find something to interest him which isn't some shade of green.