The Deception At Lyme m&mdm-6

by Carrie Bebris

  Darcy silently contemplated her words, frowning in thought.

  “Have you a different impression?” Elizabeth asked.

  He did, but it was not fully formed. “I wonder what business brought him to the Cobb on such a morning. He was not in uniform, and therefore not performing any official duty.”

  “What business brought us? Or Sir Laurence? Or any of the other people we saw promenading before the weather turned so suddenly?”

  “We thought it turned suddenly. Lieutenant St. Clair is an experienced sea officer. While aboard ship, it is his job to monitor the weather, because his life and that of the entire crew depend upon it. If he is worth his epaulette, he knew that storm was coming before we did.”

  “Will you next accuse him of conjuring the storm himself?”

  “He was not on the Cobb for leisure.”

  “Does it matter? As you say, he is a mariner. Any number of reasons could have brought him to the Cobb. Mrs. Harville told me that the new peace has forced many in the navy to seek other work.”

  That much, Darcy knew to be true. They had seen solicitation notices posted throughout Lyme by masters of private vessels offering prime wages for able seamen. Officers were also in demand, promised recompense more attractive than the half-pay they received if not actively employed by the navy.

  Elizabeth set aside her work. “You have just finished reading Lieutenant Fitzwilliam’s diary, yet it is Lieutenant St. Clair who occupies your thoughts. Why? Did your cousin write ill of him?”

  “Not directly.” Darcy was troubled by Gerard’s account of the gold figurines he had discovered—and Lieutenant St. Clair’s response. Perhaps the last two entries would not have bothered him so much had they appeared earlier in the diary. But falling as they did, as the final scenes in a narrative—a life—cut short, invested them with significance, real or imagined. “They had a difference of opinion over a protocol matter shortly before Gerard’s death.”

  “Well, that is hardly something to hold against him.” She fixed Darcy with a penetrating stare. “I think you dislike him because of the way he looks at your sister.”

  His first instinct was to refute her accusation—but it held a grain of truth, and he could not deny her perceptiveness.

  “Georgiana can do better than a naval lieutenant,” he said.

  “Her own cousin was a naval lieutenant.”

  “Between Gerard’s determination and his family’s connexions, he would have been promoted to captain in due course. Once he made post, advancing to admiral is merely a matter of seniority. However, even had he remained a lieutenant, he would have come into the same inheritance—modest though it may be—that Colonel Fitzwilliam received when their father died, which enabled him to betroth himself to Miss Wright knowing they could live respectably. St. Clair, by contrast, has had many years in which to rise to captain, yet he has not so much as achieved the rank of commander. He is still a lieutenant, and with England now at peace, is likely to remain so indefinitely, with an income of a mere one hundred pounds a year—less, if not on active duty.”

  “You assume that Lieutenant St. Clair’s income is limited to his naval earnings, when in fact we know little about the man beyond the fact that he served with your cousin. However, I expect any discussion of his fortune, or lack thereof, is irrelevant in regard to Georgiana, as her thoughts seem to be occupied by Sir Laurence Ashford since our arrival in Lyme. Did you observe how much more interested she became in attending last night’s public ball after Sir Laurence enquired whether she was going? I believe she would have danced every dance with him, had decorum allowed. And I am begun to think he might have asked her to, could he have done so. As it was, they spent a considerable portion of the evening in conversation with each other, not dancing with anybody.”

  “Georgiana does appear to have become the object of Sir Laurence’s particular attention—and to be receptive to it,” Darcy said.

  “Are you?”

  “An object of the baronet’s distinguished notice? No. He did not ask me to dance even once. Which is just as well. I would not want to compete with my sister for his regard.”

  Elizabeth laughed at his unexpected jest. “Did I just hear my husband approve of a gentleman—any gentleman—courting his sister?”

  He would not give her the satisfaction of a firm reply. “Perhaps.”

  “Perhaps? The Darcy I know is more decisive than that.”

  He met his wife’s gaze, held it a moment … and conceded. “It is time Georgiana considered marriage. Probably past time.” He returned Gerard’s diary to the sea chest and went to sit beside her. “Sir Laurence possesses tangible assets—a title, fortune, property, family, connexions—along with his intelligence and pleasing manners. If he is her choice, she has made a sensible one.”

  “Sensible—now there is a romantic word, from a man whose own choice defied the expectations of his entire acquaintance, not to mention his own judgment. I hope your preference for a sensible match for Georgiana does not mean you regret our experiment.”

  “Indeed not.” He spoke softly, and she moved closer to hear him. “In fact—” He brought his hand to her cheek and bent his head toward hers. “I would say it has worked out rather well.”

  Twelve

  “I am quite convinced that, with very few exceptions, the sea-air always does good. There can be no doubt of its having been of the greatest service to Dr. Shirley, after his illness.… He declares himself, that coming to Lyme for a month did him more good than all the medicine he took; and that being by the sea always makes him feel young again.”

  —Miss Henrietta Musgrove, Persuasion

  Although the weather had cleared and the morning dawned sunny, evidence of the storm three days past yet cluttered the shore as Elizabeth and Georgiana walked down to the beach. Splintered wood and other pieces of the foundered ship lay strewn amidst the shingle, left by the tide like an offering. Occasionally a barrel washed up, exciting great interest—the merchantman had been returning from the West Indies—but most of the cargo had been lost or destroyed by the lightning bolt that claimed the ship.

  The two ladies had reserved a bathing machine, one of the curious vehicles lined up on the sand like hackney cabs in Covent Garden following a theatre performance. Essentially small wooden huts on four wheels, they were designed to go where no ordinary carriage ought—straight into the water. This was to be Elizabeth’s first experience seabathing, and she looked forward to it with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She wondered what it would feel like to completely immerse herself in the water, but also doubted the wisdom of doing so. After all, neither she nor Georgiana knew how to swim. She did not want to drown, of course, but she was almost equally fearful of making a public spectacle of herself.

  Georgiana, who had bathed at other seaside resorts, assured her she had nothing to dread. “The whole process is quite safe and civilized. We will climb steps to enter the machine, and once inside, change into our bathing costumes. Then a horse will pull the machine into the water to the proper depth. The dipper—our attendant—will assist us into the water.”

  “Will the water be very cold?”

  “Compared to the indoor baths, yes, though it is August, so the sea will not be as cold as at other times of year. I have also gone in November and February, as physicians advise winter seabathing as most efficacious, but I could not bear to stay in the water above ten minutes. I much prefer the hot baths in winter.”

  “What does one do once in the sea?”

  “I mostly move around trying to keep warm.”

  “Even in summer?”

  “Even in summer. Depend upon it, by the time the machine takes us back to the sands, you will be grateful for this morning’s sun.”

  Their machine was not yet ready for them, it being still in use by another patron who, the attendant informed them, was changing out of her bathing costume. At last she emerged, dressed in a modest but neat gown, a heavy shawl draped round her shoulders. She w
as a thin woman, with an angular face that looked to have been pretty once, before illness etched premature lines upon it. Her untied bonnet strings fluttered in the light breeze. Small hands gripped a cane, which she used to cautiously negotiate the steps.

  She was accompanied by a plump woman of middle years, who attended her with warm solicitude. The two were in high spirits as the large woman helped the frail one down to the sand. They had apparently enjoyed their morning’s bathing, for they laughed and chattered almost girlishly, and thanked the dipper for a fine outing. “I was happy to immerse myself in the water again after the recent days of rain,” the slender woman said. “Provided the weather remains fair, we will return at our usual time tomorrow.”

  They walked a few steps away from the machine, so that the next patrons could enter it, but the woman with the cane moved so slowly that Elizabeth and Georgiana held back so as not to make her feel rushed.

  “The sedan chair is late,” the plump woman said to her companion. “If you wait here, I shall engage another.” She departed, walking as quickly as one can over shifting sand. In a few minutes, she had left the beach and disappeared from sight, headed toward Broad Street.

  The breeze strengthened. The gust lasted only a moment, but in that moment it caught the thin woman’s bonnet. As the wind carried it off, she tried to recapture it, but the effort upset her already precarious balance on the unstable sand, and she fell.

  Elizabeth and Georgiana rushed to her.

  “Are you all right?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes, yes.” The woman laughed self-consciously. “Merely clumsy.”

  The bathing attendant retrieved a stool from inside the machine, and Elizabeth and Georgiana helped the woman onto it. She thanked them profusely, rubbing one of her calves through the fabric of her gown.

  “Are you certain you are not injured?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I will be fine. I suffer from rheumatic fever in my legs,” she explained. “Earlier this year I could not even walk, but having benefited from the hot waters in Bath, I have come to Lyme in hopes that the sea will advance my recovery still more. I try to bathe every morning, but with the recent rain, I have missed several days, and I suppose I overexerted myself.” She sighed. “I think when my nurse returns, I shall tell her I wish to go directly home. Usually after bathing we sit a while looking upon the harbor, simply inhaling the saline air. Both my doctor and Nurse Rooke claim it is quite medicinal.”

  “Apparently, it can also be quite strong,” Elizabeth said.

  The woman laughed. “That, it can. I do love to feel it on my face, though. It reminds me that despite ill health and other difficulties, I am yet fairly young, and among the living, and that is something to be grateful for.”

  Her bonnet lay on the sand several yards away, and Georgiana went to retrieve it. When she returned, the woman thanked them again for their assistance. “Do not allow me to trouble you further—I am keeping you from your own seabathing.”

  “You are no trouble,” Elizabeth said. “We will wait with you until your nurse comes back.”

  “You have both been so kind. May I ask your names?”

  “Mrs. and Miss Darcy.”

  “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Mrs. Smith.”

  Tendrils of fine brown hair had come loose when her hat took flight, and they now blew round Mrs. Smith’s face as she put the bonnet back on her head. She tried to tuck them beneath, but they defied her.

  “Would you like some assistance?” Elizabeth asked.

  “If you do not mind. My hands are sometimes stiff after bathing, and the water was cold this morning.”

  “We do not mind in the least,” Elizabeth said. Georgiana removed Mrs. Smith’s bonnet and held it while Elizabeth used Mrs. Smith’s hairpins to secure the wayward locks. When she had done, she put Mrs. Smith’s bonnet back on her head and tied the ribbons for her.

  “I am much obliged to you, Mrs. Darcy. Nurse Rooke should return soon with the chair to take me home.”

  “Is your house very far?”

  “It is not my house, actually, but that of my friends the Wentworths—the most thoughtful, generous friends one could wish for! Mrs. Wentworth is a former schoolmate of mine. We fell out of communication for many years, but last winter we discovered ourselves both in Bath at the same time and renewed our friendship. She has been very good to me. When my physician advised me to try seabathing, she and Captain Wentworth invited me to come to Lyme and stay with them, despite their being recently married and just establishing their home.” She laughed. “I told them that newlyweds did not need a poor widow intruding on their privacy, but they so kindly insisted that I could not decline.”

  “They sound like very good friends, indeed,” Elizabeth said.

  “Oh! There is the chair now.”

  Nurse Rooke approached, leading two bearers carrying a sedan chair. The conveyance—a windowed box with a seat inside, borne on two long poles—was as common a sight in Lyme as it was in Bath, for it offered advantages over horse-drawn carriages. Often, the chair men could negotiate the town’s narrow lanes and steep hills more easily than drivers of wheeled vehicles, and they could collect and deliver their passengers in places such as sandy beaches or inside buildings. Elizabeth found the chairs confining and generally used them only in the rain, but for a debilitated person such as Mrs. Smith, they were an ideal form of transport.

  “Here we are at last!” the nurse called out cheerfully. “I am sorry to have taken so long—a chair was not immediately to be had. Are you ready to go to the Cobb?”

  “No, let us simply return home today.”

  “Very well.” The nurse picked up Mrs. Smith’s cane, which lay forgotten behind the stool she had been sitting on. “Here—I will help you into the chair.”

  As the nurse handed Mrs. Smith her cane, Elizabeth realized that she herself might have seen Mrs. Smith once before. There had been a woman on a bench on the lower Cobb the morning of Lady Elliot’s accident. Elizabeth’s party had been on the upper wall, looking down from an angle, so the woman’s bonnet had prevented a clear view of her face, and even had it not, Elizabeth had no reason at the time to closely observe her. But the woman had possessed a cane.

  Mrs. Smith rose. Leaning on her cane with one hand, she extended her other toward Elizabeth, which Elizabeth took. The widow’s hand was bony, her knuckles swollen.

  “I feel so fortunate to have met you, Mrs. Darcy—and you, too, Miss Darcy. Thank you once more for your assistance. I hope our paths cross again while you are in Lyme.”

  Elizabeth hoped so, too.

  Thirteen

  “No one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages … a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions.…”

  —Caroline Bingley, Pride and Prejudice

  Elizabeth found that she enjoyed seabathing. Though shockingly brisk upon entry, the water temperature was not unpleasant after one became accustomed to it, and the dipper’s advice to immerse one’s whole self immediately rather than ease in proved sound. The water reached their shoulders, alleviating any modesty concerns Elizabeth had harbored, and the two sisters—though Georgiana was her sister by marriage, Elizabeth loved her like a sister of blood—conversed freely and cheerfully on all manner of subjects, their discourse drifting as unconsciously as the tide.

  Boats dotted the waves farther out to sea. Most of them were small fishing vessels, but a larger passenger ship caught Georgiana’s attention.

  “Do you think my brother is seriously contemplating a tour abroad for us all?”

  “You know your brother—he would not have voiced the possibility aloud unless he were sincerely entertaining it.”

  She smiled. “I am simply so delighted by the prospect that I can hardly believe he said it.”

  “You are that
eager to travel?” Elizabeth was pleased by the prospect herself, but Georgiana’s enthusiasm was palpable.

  “I would like to see something of the world beyond Pemberley and London. I have wondered what it might be like to hear Mozart performed in Vienna, or see the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Sir Laurence has traveled a great deal. He has mentioned a few of his trips, and Miss Ashford has shown me some of the gifts he has brought home for her. Did you notice the diamond ear-bobs she wore to the ball?”

  “I did. They were lovely.” Elizabeth also noticed how animated Georgiana had become. Journeying abroad seemed a subject that had been in her thoughts for some time.

  “Even if I do not travel, however, I am eager for some sort of alteration in my life. I enjoy my musical studies, our visits to London, the society of my friends. I adore my niece. I am blessed with an excellent brother, and you, Elizabeth—you have brought me the happiness of at last having a sister.” She looked at Elizabeth with such genuine affection that Elizabeth would have hugged her were she not expending so much energy simply keeping her head above water as the tide moved toward shore. “But I cannot exist forever in the manner I have been. I need more to occupy my mind and hours.” She looked out toward the sea again. “Whether that is the novelty of travel, or a home of my own of which to be mistress, or something else I have not yet discovered.”

  Elizabeth understood. For all that polite society praised an “accomplished” woman, it offered few outlets for one to employ those accomplishments in a meaningful manner. Georgiana was fluent in four languages, but when did she ever have opportunity to use them? As it was, she was fortunate that her father, and in turn, her brother, had valued women’s education enough to encourage her to cultivate her mind as well as her manners. There were many ladies of richer birth with poorer intellects.