“I do not see Miss Ashford,” Georgiana said. “She told me that she planned to come.”
“Perhaps she is watching from the other side of the ship,” Elizabeth said. She speculated that Georgiana’s disappointment more likely derived from the absence of the brother who would accompany Miss Ashford, but she kept the thought to herself as Georgiana continued to survey the spectators.
“Mr. Elliot has secured himself a position close to the proceedings,” Darcy observed.
Elizabeth followed his gaze to the ship. Mr. Elliot stood near the bow, the end farthest from the water. Between him and the vessel, a cluster of yard workers made some sort of preparation to the wooden rails alongside the cradle on which the long hull rested, its bow higher than its stern. At the moment, his back was to the ship as he scanned the crowd.
“Though not quite close enough to be mistaken for, say, one of the owners,” she replied. “I wonder if he is seeking someone in particular. Captain Tourner, perhaps?”
“No—that is Tourner over there.”
Darcy directed her gaze toward a corpulent, weathered man dressed in civilian attire that nevertheless created a naval impression; perhaps it was the gold lace on his cuffs. He stood not far from Mr. Elliot, who surely would have seen him by now were he the individual he sought. The captain was engaged in conversation with the man who appeared to be directing the proceedings.
Mr. Elliot’s gaze traveled until it reached the Darcys. Recognition crossed his countenance, and Elizabeth felt obliged to nod in acknowledgment. “Oh, dear,” she said. “I hope he was not seeking us.”
As Mr. Elliot made a nod of his own, an “Oh!” from Georgiana drew Elizabeth’s attention.
“Here comes Miss Ashford,” Georgiana said, “and Sir Laurence.”
Elizabeth turned round to see the pair not approaching, but already upon them. The baronet greeted them—including Lily-Anne—with his usual congeniality. Elizabeth expected her daughter to flirt with Sir Laurence again, as she so often did when he came to call at the cottage, but apparently she had decided to leave the baronet to her aunt. She burrowed her face into the crook of Darcy’s neck.
Elizabeth apologized to the baronet. “I think she is overwhelmed by all the people.”
“Do not give it another moment’s thought. I am overwhelmed by the number of people here this morning,” Sir Laurence assured her. “We were fortunate to identify your party in the crush.”
“This is indeed quite a crowd,” Georgiana said.
“It is quite a ship,” Sir Laurence replied. “Two years in the building. A thirty-two-gun is not a vessel Lyme sees launched every day.”
“But where are the guns?” Georgiana turned toward the ship. “I do not see any.”
“That is because the ship is not fully fitted out yet,” he said. “She is like a young lady preparing for her coming-out ball. She may already have put on her gown, but her hair must still be arranged, her headdress secured, her gloves, shoes, and jewels donned. Right now she is but half dressed.”
Sir Laurence’s manner toward Georgiana had grown warmer upon each meeting—more attentive, more eager to please. In creating his image of a woman getting dressed, the baronet doubtless had a particular young lady in mind.
The comparison brought a slight flush to Georgiana’s cheeks. She understood him. But instead of demurely changing the subject, as she might have done during their early acquaintance, she looked him straight in the eye. “If she is but half dressed, then why is she going out in public?”
Sir Laurence laughed. “Because she is a very solidly built young lady, and it will be difficult enough to get her out of her chamber without the added weight of all her accessories. She is already wearing some of them, such as her coppering, but imagine the struggle of moving her with a gundeck full of twelve-pounders.”
“She has two gundecks, does she not?” Georgiana turned toward the ship. “Is that not what all those square openings on the sides are? For the cannons to fire through?”
Sir Laurence placed one hand on her shoulder and pointed with the other. “If you look closely, Miss Darcy,” he said softly, “you will notice that she is a clever lady who knows how to dress herself to advantage. The lower row of square doors are not true gun ports, but the work of a skilled painter, creating the illusion of a second deck to discourage rogues who might take inappropriate interest in her.”
He dropped his hand but remained close to her. The contact had been brief—just long enough to direct Georgiana’s attention, ended before Darcy could even intervene—but it had revealed more about the baronet’s intentions toward Georgiana than the baronet had revealed about the gun ports.
Elizabeth glanced at her husband—and in his answering look saw resignation. If Georgiana was receptive to Sir Laurence’s addresses, he was, too.
Sir Laurence was remarkably well informed on the subject of ships, and took obvious pleasure in sharing his knowledge with Georgiana—who took equally obvious delight in receiving it. In fact, he seemed in elevated spirits today as he pointed out additional features of the Black Cormorant to his captivated listener.
Soon, the initiation of the launch drew their collective attention. A few dignitaries said a few words, then the dockworkers moved into position. At the master shipbuilder’s command, the props supporting the stern were knocked away, and amid the cheers of the crowd, the Black Cormorant slid down the rails and into the water. Lily-Anne clapped her hands at the spectacle—as did everybody else assembled.
“What will happen to the ship now?” Georgiana asked.
“That smaller vessel over there will tow her to the quay, where they will finish fitting her out,” Sir Laurence replied. “She is such a large ship, however, that once she has anchors and other necessities, she might moor outside the Cobb at times if the harbor is particularly busy.”
As the crowd began to disband, Elizabeth looked for Mr. Elliot, wondering whether he would simply depart along with everybody else. Apparently, he had. She did, however, sight Lieutenant St. Clair, whom she had not previously seen at the launch. He was speaking to Captain Tourner, who was shaking his head.
She stepped closer to Darcy. “I wish we could hear that conversation. It does not appear to be going well.”
Tourner shook his head again and started to walk away. St. Clair said something that caused him to turn around. He shrugged, said something back, and walked off. St. Clair did not follow.
Meanwhile, Georgiana and Sir Laurence apparently at last had become aware that there were other people around them, for Miss Ashford was now participating in their conversation.
“Never?” Miss Ashford looked at Georgiana with an incredulous expression.
“Never.”
“Well, we must correct that posthaste,” Sir Laurence declared. “Mr. Darcy, your sister is telling us that she has never in her life been in a boat of any kind. I at first thought she was jesting. Are you similarly deprived?”
“I have crossed the Channel, and raced friends on occasion during my Cambridge years.”
“Very good. And you, Mrs. Darcy?”
“The closest I have ever come to being upon the water are the bathing machines here in Lyme.”
“Oh, dear. Then you must allow me to engage a boat to take us all out on a pleasure excursion—not far, just enough for you to see the coast of Lyme Bay from the water. What do you say?”
Elizabeth hesitated. She had never felt a particularly intense longing to experience sailing. But since meeting the Harvilles and the Wentworths and others whose lives revolved around the sea, since reading Gerard’s descriptions of shipboard life in the early parts of his journal, she had developed a curiosity about how it feels to leave the land.
Darcy looked at Elizabeth. “Would you like to go?”
Georgiana positively radiated her desire to accept the invitation. Elizabeth could not deny her.
“Thank you, Sir Laurence,” Elizabeth replied. “We happily accept.”
“Splendid. I
shall make all the arrangements. Business takes me out of Lyme for a few days, but we shall go as soon as I return.”
The beach from which the ship had been launched lay adjacent to Cobb Hamlet, into which the Darcys and Ashfords walked together, then parted company. Sir Laurence’s house, high on the cliff, was more directly reached by a road that led north from the hamlet, while the Darcys headed east toward the familiar Walk that would lead to Broad Street.
The hamlet, however, was flooded by a sea of dispersing spectators, many of them stopping in the middle of roads to greet neighbors and exclaim over what an exciting event they had all just witnessed. Lily-Anne clung to Darcy as he, Elizabeth, and Georgiana moved through all the people. They met with so much congestion that they found their progress utterly halted a few yards away from the entrance of the Sheet Anchor. The lane was blocked not only by pedestrians like themselves, but two coaches and a curricle whose drivers had for some inexplicable reason decided that this would be a good time to try to navigate the narrow road. Their party moved aside in order to give the vehicles as much space as possible in which to maneuver, and wound up flush against the building’s wall.
Lily-Anne, who had behaved very well all morning considering the crush of people, grew impatient in Darcy’s hold and expressed her wish to transfer to her mother’s. Elizabeth took her, but before long the child was clamoring to stand and stretch her cramped legs. Elizabeth could not fault her, and, after extracting a promise from Lily to remain at her side, lowered her daughter to the ground—whereupon Lily giggled and bolted into the crowd.
Before either Elizabeth or Darcy could react, a passer-by scooped her up. “I think not, young lady.” It was Lieutenant St. Clair.
He delivered Lily-Anne back to Elizabeth and greeted them all affably. Elizabeth and Darcy thanked him for intercepting Lily’s flight.
“Were I small enough to dodge through everybody’s legs and escape this crowd sooner, I would be tempted, too,” St. Clair replied.
Given all the conjecture they had engaged in regarding St. Clair, Elizabeth and Darcy were not as easy in their manner toward him as was Georgiana, who, ignorant of their suspicions, was as agreeable as ever. Lily-Anne, however, seemed to take the most delight in St. Clair’s joining them. As the adults talked, she repeatedly raised her head from Elizabeth’s shoulder to smile at the sea officer.
Apparently, her daughter was a flirt after all. And a fickle one at that.
Darcy’s obvious displeasure at Lily-Anne’s disobedience was compounded by her playful attention toward Lieutenant St. Clair. “Give her to me,” he said to Elizabeth. She transferred their daughter to him, and he excused himself to take her several feet away, where he could admonish their child without being overheard by St. Clair. Darcy was not given to public reprimands, particularly before a person they had cause to mistrust.
“Did you enjoy the launch?” Lieutenant St. Clair asked Georgiana and Elizabeth.
“Very much,” Georgiana replied.
“Had I seen you there, I would have joined you to explain what was happening.”
“That is most thoughtful of you,” Georgiana said, “but Sir Laurence and his sister were with us, and he told us all about the Black Cormorant as she was launched. Sir Laurence knows a great deal about ships.”
“Does he?” St. Clair’s expression was equally curious and bemused.
“Well, not as much as you do, of course. But enough to narrate today’s event and describe different parts of the vessel.”
“So you now know a jib from a topsail?” he asked sportively. “A yardarm from a boom?”
St. Clair had such a disarming manner that Elizabeth found it much easier to speculate about his involvement in Gerard’s death from a distance than in person. She glanced at Darcy, who, though still engaged with Lily-Anne, observed St. Clair. He did not appear overjoyed that the suspicious officer conversed with his sister. Elizabeth remained close to them, to monitor their discussion.
“He did not go into that much detail,” Georgiana said. “Though what I did learn about ships made me want to know more. If you are going to tutor me, however, I hope we will start with something simpler than jibs and booms.”
“We can start with whatever you wish. Though jibs and booms are not themselves difficult to comprehend—it is how to use them effectively that requires training and experience.”
As the coaches and curricle still had pedestrian traffic halted, their party would not be advancing homeward anytime soon. Georgiana said, “All right, then. What is a jib?”
“A triangular sail at the front of the ship.”
“And a boom?”
“A long pole run out to extend the foot of a sail.” He smiled. “Were we on a ship, I would point them out to you, of course. But see? This is not so hard. What next?”
She glanced beyond his head, at the sign hanging above the tavern door. “What is a sheet anchor?”
His expression became more serious. “A sheet anchor is the largest and heaviest of a ship’s anchors—the one every sailor hopes will never be used.”
At his sober reply, her manner became more serious, as well. “Why is that?” she asked.
“Because it is the one whose strength is relied upon in the most dire crisis,” he said. “The last hope when all else has failed.”
* * *
To Georgiana’s disappointment, Sir Laurence’s business took him away from Lyme for a full se’nnight. She consoled herself during this period by enjoying the company of Miss Ashford, who again had been left behind in the care of her chaperone. Already friends, the two young ladies became close as sisters—a state each privately wished would soon be realized. Georgiana was so frequently at the Ashfords’ house during Sir Laurence’s absence that she knew their rooms almost as intimately as the Darcys’ own. Elizabeth was treated daily to descriptions of the baronet’s taste in furnishings, art, books, and anything else that reflected well on him.
“He truly is a most attentive brother,” Georgiana said to Elizabeth one day after returning from yet another afternoon spent with Miss Ashford, “like my own. Miss Ashford says he is always remembering her with small gifts, and will probably surprise her with something when he returns from his present trip. She showed me several lovely pieces of jewelry he has given her, as well as a few animal figurines—a gold turtle, a porcelain hare, and an ebony cat. She collects them, and whenever he sees an unusual one, he acquires it for her. She said the cat came from Egypt. Is that not a sign of good character in a man? Not the presents themselves, or the money spent—the thoughtfulness. I think how a man treats his sister or mother is a test of how he will treat a wife.”
Elizabeth agreed. The manner in which Darcy took care of his sister had influenced Elizabeth’s own affections for him. And still did. It was under his guardianship that Georgiana had developed into the remarkable young woman she had become, and Elizabeth trusted that under his influence, Lily-Anne would grow to be as accomplished and amiable as her aunt.
While Georgiana was enjoying the company of Miss Ashford, Elizabeth and Darcy occupied themselves by watching the Black Cormorant take form.
The ship appeared closer to completion each time Elizabeth saw her in the harbor. Masts, rigging, and sails gave it a more finished outward appearance to her untrained eye. The status of the lower decks was less apparent. Thus far no guns peeked through the gun ports—real or painted—but it seemed that something or other was being hoisted or lowered on the ship whenever she visited the Cobb. Captain Wentworth, lending his powers of observation, mentioned things like tillers, sweeps, and capstans, but to her this was a foreign language. He further observed that although the vessel looked to have plenty of seamen already hired and expediting the fitting out, only some of them appeared to be living aboard yet.
She believed that Captain Tourner had already moved into his cabin. As Sir Laurence had predicted, the ship spent part of its time moored outside the seawall, where it could better withstand the shifts of wind and tide th
an could the fishing vessels and other small watercraft that called the harbor home. She and Darcy had seen Tourner being rowed out to the ship one day in a boat whose cargo comprised assorted chests and furnishings, including a handsome desk and a large wardrobe. She found it amazing that many captains and admirals furnished their cabins as they would their homes, but Captain Wentworth had pointed out that, for most of a captain’s time, his cabin was his home, and that a man was better able to deal with the demands and crises of command if he were comfortable.
At last, to Georgiana’s happiness, Sir Laurence returned to Lyme. The Darcys’ cottage was his first call.
“Wish for fair weather on the morn, Miss Darcy. I came to you by way of the harbor, where I found a skipper delighted to take us out in his boat. At this time tomorrow afternoon, we shall be upon the water.”
“I have been looking forward to it all week,” Georgiana said.
“As have I.” He regarded her in great earnest. “There is something very particular I plan to ask you when we are away from shore.”
Georgiana fairly floated through the rest of the evening. As the sun set that night, she watched the sky for signs of clouds. Not one appeared on the horizon to trouble her.
Twenty-Eight
“Being lost in only a sloop, nobody would have thought about me.”
—Captain Wentworth, Persuasion
On the morning of the boat excursion, a heavy blanket stretched across the sky, creating a seascape so grey that the Portland lighthouse and other familiar landmarks of Lyme Bay disappeared from sight, and patches of fog enveloped parts of the harbor. At noon, the sun, grown impatient with this moodiness, attempted to dispel it by lancing the clouds. The resulting rays of light were rays of hope to Georgiana.
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