Chapter Fourteen
Darcy shuffled through the morning’s post, examining the mail while he ate his breakfast. Every day brought the same routine. After checking each piece of correspondence, he divided the letters and invitations into separate piles, letters of urgent nature in one stack, and the rest set aside for later consideration. The mail presented to him did not include everything; his secretary separated out the unimportant and less urgent mail and placed those on his desk in the study. They consisted of requests for money for a charity, or other pleas for help. While the wealthy received this type of request daily, Darcy was sent more than most Londoners. His family had supported many charities, and the newest master had become well known as the most generous of all.
Piled next to her plate, the servant had organized Georgiana’s correspondence with the letters not from family members placed on top. She, having been tutored her whole life, was without any friends of her age to share a young girl’s dreams; therefore, she rarely received any correspondence except from family.
The habit of the siblings was to open her letters first and share the contents. Her mail included invitations needing a response and letters from relatives, most recently her cousin. At three and twenty, Victoria was her closest female relative in years, but their age difference still created a slight chasm between them. Georgia, at sixteen, was just entering into the grown up world, whereby Lady Victoria had several years of experience and held different opinions. What was giggly and romantic to Georgiana was boring and dull to Victoria. At Lord and Lady Cheswick’s insistence, however, the two young ladies spent more time together.
This morning Darcy was so distracted by a particular letter sitting on top of his own stack, that he did react when Georgiana slyly slip a piece of correspondence in her lap and hid it under her napkin. Although he witnessed it, his concentration was focused on his own letter. He vowed to ask her about the letter later.
Both brother and sister were preoccupied with wanting to go off to read their own interesting letters, the two ate quickly and agreed to delay opening their other mail until later that afternoon. Georgiana remained seated when Darcy grabbed his messages and left for the study.
He settled into his favorite reading chair, the one located close to the window beside a cloth-covered round table where the servants had just placed his morning coffee next to the stack of books and journals. He picked up his cup and sipped before he opened up the letter that had caught his attention. He was anxious to hear what Rawlings had to say.
Darcy,
We have arrived in America, although the British Navy was so kind as to escort our ship to Boston instead of New York City. I had always wanted to visit this provincial little town, and they were pleased to accommodate my wishes.
Darcy stopped reading, and grew pale at the thought the Lively had been boarded and Rawlings and Logan might have been abused in any way. His muscles tightened, although he realized Rawlings had arrived safely, otherwise there would be no letter. He returned his attention to the handwritten words.
I have learned on the crossing how to be a valet. Our Mr. Logan learned how to lean over the railings and not make a mess of everything. Had it not been for the most polite British navy seaman that helped hold Logan ever so tightly, he would have made a complete untidiness of the deck one cold night. Being a well-bred gentleman, I immediately boarded the HMS Whiting, a beautiful sloop of war with its three masts and eighteen oversized guns, and profusely thanked the Lieutenant in Command for his men’s kind attention to my friends. He told me not to thank him, but he had received orders to divert our journey. Apparently, they left England a week before we did, and had been patiently waiting for us.
Darcy shuddered. He gingerly rubbed the letter as he realized Rawlings had been taken to the British ship. He and Rawlings had spoken several times about the possibility of the Lively being boarded. He returned to reading the letter.
The lieutenant was cordial in the usual way. You know how young, ambitious upstarts are with a presumed wayward British subject. He offered to return me to my homeland, and to secure a wonderful room at the Newgate Inn. I assured him the hotel was not up to my standards, and we revisit Eton, in order to complete my thrashing of a particular new student.
Darcy laughed as he remembered the boy assigned to Rawlings as his fag. In addition to making the boy clean, cook, and run his errands, Rawlings had whipped the boy to remove his supercilious attitude. Afterwards, Rawlings took him under his wing and ensured his success. They became great friends, even after Eton. If it were not for Rawlings, the boy would not have been able to do so well. He recalled the young man did join the Navy. A more relaxed Darcy again picked up the letter.
Of course, the fag has learned how to tease since school, and I did compliment him on his attempt to do so. I advised him, quite loudly too, given that he appeared to be growing deaf, my friends were enjoying the warmth of sailors hugging them close in the chilly evening air, the warmth of their cabins would be preferable at this time of night. I suggested my concern that others would misread the kind actions of his men, thinking perhaps they had been at sea too long, and were looking for a special type of warmth themselves.
Darcy laughed aloud, shook his head, and then continued to read.
Needless to say, he signaled to another young upstart to have his men return to the HMS Whiting without any new companions. After agreeing to dine the next day with him, of course, not without a cost, so I provided a little of my wealth for the privilege of eating without restraints. I returned to find my friends telling the British sailors such funny stories, and in such animated ways.
You are a clever fellow. Did you wonder at the word ‘friends?’
Darcy leaned back in his chair. He knew Rawlings would not wait to tell him about this new person or persons.
We are fortunate to have journeyed with a young Bostonian. He and Logan were sharing space at the railing when I first met him. After spending time in England, visiting near Derbyshire, studying milling, he now plans to open a cotton mill in Massachusetts. He is ambitious, and reminds me of another friend of mine. His father is a powerful man in Boston and, he is well established in the import and export business. I believe he may be the China connection we have been seeking.
I am thankful I was the one that took this journey, for I had no trouble sharing the blanket with what appeared at the time to be a person of decidedly lesser status.
Darcy reread the sentence and placed the letter down. He rose from the chair and rekindled the fire. Once the flames were licking merrily against the logs, he paced about the room until he stopped at the window. He looked back several times to the letter lying upon the table.
Georgiana knocked and entered the study. “William. Come and hear my newest sonata. I need you to tell me if it is worthy to play for Mr. Kent. He will be here later.”
Darcy forgot about the mail, and left with Georgiana for the music room. While she played, he vowed to have a word with Kent. He worried Georgiana was letting her innocent heart rule her actions again. With the possible scenarios completely engaging his thoughts, he did not remember Rawlings’ letter until much later that night.
***
“My compliments to your beautiful wife, Lowell,” Rawlings said. “My ability to express my thankfulness is beyond my meager capabilities. The trip would have seemed empty, had I not had your family activities to enjoy. I am sorry Mrs. Lowell was needed elsewhere this morning. Please convey my thanks, and share with her it has been a most wonderful and rewarding experience.”
“We have all enjoyed your visit, even the children. One day you should have your own houseful. You were most entertaining.” Lowell noticed Rawlings placing letters inside his coat pocket. “Has Logan gone?”
“He is overseeing the arrangements for the trip to New York. This reminds me, I must thank you for the letters of introduction.” Rawlings patted the coat. “They will be most helpful. I cannot thank you enough.”
“Well, Rawling
s, it is little repayment for my freedom. I cannot imagine how my family would have endured my captivity. Instead, they can now think kind thoughts of our neighbors across the ocean; although I do not think the good feelings will last.”
“Nor do I. Let us hope then it is merely a hiccup in the eventual friendship involving two great nations.”
The two men continued to discuss the possibility of war and the ramifications that were sure to follow. They had agreed to remain correspondents, and provide any help they could during any hostilities between their countries.
“I wish you well with your cotton mill,” Rawlings said. “I wrote to my friend, Mr. Darcy, who I believe will provide assistance with anything you may need. It is my desire for the alliance to conduct business with you in the future, and I hope you desire the same.”
“Yes, I do, as does my family.”
Rawlings and Lowell had entered into a financial agreement. Lowell had determined the preferred way to raise funds for his cotton mill was to sell stock in the company. Both Rawlings and Logan purchased a significant amount of shares. If Lowell was successful, they would realize an enormous profit. Rawlings had also asked Lowell to put aside shares for the Alliance. He must obtain his partner’s permission before making a purchase for them.
“I understand my father has offered to provide trade assistance?” Lowell asked.
“He has, and I am most grateful. Your neighbor, John Forbes, offered his help with the Chinese Houqua. Without these connections, I doubt we could be successful in our trading in that part of the world.”
The two new friends stood silently as Lowell’s servant helped Rawlings with his outdoor wear, and just as he turned to step outside, a young girl came running into the foyer, crying openly.
“My dear Mr. Rawlings, please do not go.”
Miss Marie Lowell rushed in behind the youngster, catching her breath while Rawlings gave his attention to her young niece.
“I must, my little Countess.” Rawlings turned and smiled at the precocious eleven-year-old beauty staring at him with a large tear streaming down her cheek. He pulled a kerchief from his pocket. “Remember what I taught you about keeping your emotions in control.” Rawlings lifted her chin up, wiped her tear-streaked cheek and said softly, “It is not proper to cry so in front of others. When you cry, they believe you to be weak, and we both know you are a strong girl.”
She stood a little taller and wiped the falling tears with the back of her hand, even though Rawlings handed her the handkerchief. She clutched the linen cloth to her chest with her other hand before hiding it behind her back.
As she smoothed her dress, Rawlings turned to Lowell and whispered, “You should be relieved she has another few years to go before she is out. Otherwise, you will need that modified Baker rifle I told you about to keep the hunters away.”
“I do not dread that day. In fact, I am impatient for it, for I enjoy all forms of entertainment.” Lowell lowered his head and whispered, “I have planned many surprises for any man that comes to call.” Lowell glanced over to his sister, and suddenly smiled widely. “Including men calling from across the ocean.”
Rawlings eyed Miss Lowell, and bowed deeply to her. “Miss Lowell, I cannot thank you sufficiently for the introduction to Boston. Your brother has been most kind to permit you to guide me. I have made many new friends and enjoyed all the parties and dinners this past fortnight. You made me miss my home considerably less.” Lifting her hand, he kissed it with the slightest touch, squeezed it, and chuckled at the younger girl pressing herself closer to him.
Rawlings noticed the small hand raised in the air. He leaned down and kissed the young girl’s hand. He smiled when she blushed and said quietly, “Remember, you shall be my little Countess for as long as there is a King of England.”
With misty eyes, he stood quickly, nodded to Lowell and was off.
***
Darcy slipped under the bed sheets and opened Rawlings' letter. Having first spent his morning with Georgiana, and then in conversation with Kent, Lady Victoria filled his afternoon when she called upon him and his sister, He was pleased to see a growing relationship between the two cousins. He wondered at Georgiana’s whispers to Victoria, and promised to speak to his cousin about their secrets. He would also ask her to help keep Georgiana from unworthy men seeking advancement, and then thinking about Kent, he decided to solicit Victoria’s aide in monitoring the growing friendship between his sister and his friend.
Now that night had arrived, it was the first private moment he had had to finish reading his friend’s letter. Feeling the letter in his hand, his thoughts returned to Rawlings. “Let me learn about his new friends.”
Darcy marveled at Rawlings way with words, wishing he were equally skilled. He pulled the candelabra closer to his bed until satisfied that enough light shone on his bed for reading. The Gas Light Company cannot launch themselves soon enough for me. I shall be their first paying customer, and the first lamp will be here in this room. Or the electric light. I care not which one wins the competition!
He leaned back into the pillow, and found the place he had earlier stopped reading. Ignoring the offending sentence and moved on to the next paragraph.
Boston proved a treasure trove of future business partners, the merchants agreeing to align with their alliance and assist with the China trade. Darcy released a long sigh. Even Kent had difficulty with this aspect of their plan. Rawlings was the perfect man to go. He comes from the best of families, and yet he is comfortable among those that are not. Britain had granted a monopoly on all trade with China to the Honorable East India Company, making it impossible for the alliance to trade directly. Rawlings’ new coalition of tradesmen would overcome that particular obstacle.
As he continued to read, he had to look away when his friend asked about Bingley. What would Rawlings think if he knew Miss Bennet visited Bingley’s house? He must agree Mrs. Bennet was desperate to send her there. Nevertheless, he will surely not be pleased about how Miss Bingley and I conspired to conceal her visit. Darcy finished the letter and laid it aside, but the offending sentence repeatedly whispered to him.
‘I am thankful I was the one that took this journey, for I had no trouble sharing the blanket with what appeared at the time to be a person of decidedly lesser status.’
In an attempt to block the thoughts invading his conscience, he focused on the next phase of Rawlings’ trip. I wonder if he found New York City just as rewarding as Boston? He blew out the lights.
***
The hired driver pulled the horses to a standstill in front of a four story red brick townhome. “This here is the Westchester. Used to be a home, but during the revolution, our great hero George Washington arrived here and set up his war office over there. Now, when Washington showed up, the owners of this house sold it, and they moved back to England. I will wager George Washington slept here.
“Are you sure?”
“No, sir. Just jesting. An American joke, I suppose, or else the man slept anywhere but his own house. Everyone claims he slept at their home.” After curtailing his laugh, the cabbie pointed to the street and the surrounding area. “Now, you can see that Bowrey Street is turning itself into a commercial boulevard. Only families lived here before. They are mostly gone, and the inns and business have taken over.”
“What changed?” Rawlings asked as he paid the fare.
“Fours years ago, the political bosses had mapped out new streets in this area into square boxes. That is what all the activity is around here: building streets and businesses and townhomes and look at the rubbish everywhere.”
“Boxes?”
All the roads will intersect into these perfect boxes. Square boxes! Organized it is. They call them things blocks. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”
“No, I have not.” Smiling, Rawlings tipped his hat to the cabbie as Logan assisted with the trunks. The carriage driver waved goodbye as he pulled away along a slightly crooked road. “Shall we register?”
“Sir, what exactly do you mean? We do have reservations for this hotel. Here is the written confirmation.” Rawlings stood defiantly and shoved the confirmation letter Mr. Cuffage had supplied him at the desk clerk, using his most intimidating stare, a mimic of Darcy successful glower.
A World of Expectations_Book 2_The Confrontation Page 23
