by Meg Osborne
Chapter Ten
Some days later, it was remembered over the breakfast table the party’s intent to visit poor Captain Martin, who was at present housed with his brother and sister-in-law at the edge of the Rosings estate. That particular day being a quiet one, it was decided that the visit should take place that very afternoon, and Elizabeth and Mary hurried to fashion together some notions that might prove cheering to the household, if not to the gentleman himself.
“Do you have any idea what sailors find interesting, Lizzy?” Mary asked, with a laugh, as they bundled their supplies together.
“Not a one!” Elizabeth admitted. “Although I am quite sure stolen boughs and half-dead flowers are not among them.” She grimaced at the unhappy bunches she had managed to extract from the gardener that morning. She tied an old hair ribbon around them and tried, listlessly, to make them more than what they were.
“They will please his sister-in-law, at least, I am sure,” Mary said, with more confidence than she felt.
“Indeed!” Elizabeth said, laying the posy in the top of the basket that contained two books, a jar of jam, and a few vegetables from the larder that Anne had insisted on including. “I am sure Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Darcy will be better able to entertain their friend. And no gentleman can ever despise freshly made blackberry jam, I am certain!”
“Oh, but Mr Darcy is not coming with us after all!” Mary explained. “He mentioned his absence to Colonel Fitzwilliam this morning. Apparently, he had some business to attend to.”
“Business?” Elizabeth asked, sharply.
Mary nodded, glancing up at her, and wondering why Mr Darcy’s absence should spark such irritation in her sister. When she looked at Elizabeth's face, however, she determined it was disappointment, and not irritation, that caused her outburst.
“It is of no great import, I am sure,”
“And yet he chooses to see to it at the expense of visiting his friend,” Elizabeth said, with a shrug of her shoulders. “What a pity.” She picked up the basket and hurried towards the door.
“I merely meant,” Mary said, hurrying after her. “That it would be of little consequence that Mr Darcy does not accompany us on this visit. I am sure he will make time to call on his friend another day, and the poor gentleman’s mood lifted by two visits, instead of everyone all at once.”
“I dare say.” Elizabeth did not sound convinced.
“Ah, Elizabeth, Mary, are you ready?” Anne was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs, clasping an armful of papers. “Look at what Mr Darcy has found - some shipping manifestos and maps that once belonged to my father. I am sure these will offer some entertainment to poor Captain Martin.”
Mary nodded, smiling encouragingly at Anne, although privately she wondered if these notions, whilst kindly meant, might not serve merely to remind the poor captain what he had left behind. She would not say as much, though, for surely Anne knew the man better than she did. Whilst she had often had reason to visit the poor in Hertfordshire - for she had followed Fordyce’s sermons to the letter and felt the value of charity to be very important - those people had most often been ailing elderly folk, mothers, and children. That a young, otherwise healthy man might be in need of such sympathetic visiting was a new concern for her, and she did not wish to set a foot wrong and cause some offence. She also could not help but acknowledge the injuries the man had sustained as a result of being in the Navy were surely not unlike those her own Colonel Fitzwilliam had risked during his time in the regiment. He had confessed as much: that he had seen friends cut down, or struck by illness, and he himself had had an unhappily lengthy period of convalescence to recover from some “trouble with his lungs”. He did not say any more, but Mary noticed he sometimes sounded a little breathless, and worried that he might not be as well as he maintained.
“Mary!” Elizabeth prompted, with a merry laugh. “What is the matter, dear? You looked quite serious there for a moment.” A stricken expression crossed her face. “You are not rethinking our gifts? Perhaps you are right. The books are a little trite, and flowers - who can really want such trifles?”
“Nonsense!” Anne said, forestalling their removal. “Everything is just right. Now, where is my errant cousin? We shall want to set off without him, if he does not come soon!”
Happily, Richard appeared just a moment or two later and greeted the ladies with an extravagant bow.
“Are we ready to go a-visiting?”
“We have been ready for some time already,” Anne chided. “Now come, and take your bride’s arm like a sensible fellow. I will walk with Elizabeth.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam first of all reached for the basket that Mary had been clutching, and, freed of her burden, she happily fell into step beside him, a little nervous, now that their hour was upon them.
“Is something the matter?” Richard asked after they had walked a little way in silence.
“I am not quite sure how one ought to speak to a Captain in the Navy,” Mary confessed, with a laugh that sounded forced, even to her. “I am certain we shall have nothing in common!”
Richard thought on this for a moment.
“You both know me! And, Mary, dear, you managed excellently to converse with a Colonel from the Regiment, even before we had been properly introduced.”
She smiled, acknowledging his point.
“That was a little different, though,” she protested.
“Indeed!” Richard said, cheerfully. “I shall hope you do not speak the same way to Captain Martin, for if you do the fellow is bound and liable to fall in love with you, and I shall certainly not want that.” He laughed, and Mary nudged him in the side.
“You are ridiculous.”
“Quite probably.” They walked a few steps. “In all honesty, my dear, you need not worry at all. It has been quite some years since I last saw Captain Martin, but I remember him to be a jolly, sensible sort of a fellow. No doubt his ill health might have sobered him a bit - which is likely no bad thing, for I recall more than one occasion -” He glanced down at his soon-to-be wife and evidently rethought the wisdom of his candour. “But at any rate, he is not a bad sort. He will be pleased to see us, and we need not stay long. I think it fine that you and Elizabeth have taken the idea so to heart.”
“We are not strangers to charity, Richard!” Mary scolded him. “I often took baskets to the less fortunate around Meryton.”
“I am not surprised.”
“It’s just that...the less fortunate in Meryton were people I had known all my life.”
“Well, Mary, this is the danger,” Richard began. “Of leaving home behind and forging life anew. Do you regret it?” He asked the question with an affectation of lightness, but Mary fancied he was listening carefully for her reply, wondering at length if she did, in fact, regret it.
“No,” she said, calmly. “Now, come along. I do not wish for Anne and Elizabeth to arrive a full half an hour before us!”
THE DOVECOTE, as Mrs Sally Martin referred to her house, was as charming as its name might suggest, and despite its small size and lack of elegance, Elizabeth could not help but think it a far cosier home than Rosings.
Her husband, John, was out working, she said, so it was just she and her brother-in-law, and a passel of children, who gawped at the new arrivals, before running off to play.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam?” A thin, male voice carried, as Captain Martin hobbled close enough to greet the guests.
“You ought to be sitting, George,” Mrs Martin said, affectionately, but firmly, and Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped aside to let the Captain through ahead of them, that he might seat himself without an audience.
“I hardly recognise you, Richard!” he said, as everyone found a place, and Mrs Martin hurried to prepare some tea. “And I must congratulate you on your news.” He beamed first at Elizabeth, then at Mary. “This must be the young lady.”
Mary nodded, smiling and blushing, but said nothing. Lizzy was pleased to see her sister so welcomed, bu
t wished she were braver and more able to speak for herself.
“And this elegant lady cannot possibly be Miss Anne,” Captain Martin said, at length, when he lifted his eyes to Anne de Bourgh, who was sitting next to Elizabeth, patiently waiting to be acknowledged. “I ought to have recognised you first, I do not doubt, for we are such close neighbours.”
“And yet I have not been to call on you, for which I can only apologise,” Anne said, ducking her head.
“No apologies,” Captain Martin waved her words away. “I've not been fit for visitors much ‘afore today, anyway, and I’d not have wished you to see me when I was so bad tempered.”
“Who is bad tempered?” Mrs Martin asked, hurrying into the room with the tea things.
“I was, Sally,” Captain Martin said, without a trace of embarrassment. “I am sure you’ll have no trouble of assuring our guests what a brute your brother-in-law was when he came back from the sea.” He fixed his gaze on Colonel Fitzwilliam. “No doubt if you were here I’d have come out of it sooner. As it was, it took coming to blows with John to set me right.”
Mrs Martin sucked in a breath.
“Oh, don’t fret, Sally. I fought with Richard enough as boys that he well knows what a block-head I can be at times.” His eyes crinkling, he turned to smile at the ladies. “And I hope you’ll not be too shocked to hear me speak so frankly, ladies. War is a terrible business, and it’s hard for a man to be cut down when he is so used to doing just as he pleases, minding his own way and being active.” He gestured to his leg. “I’ve had all of that taken away from me and it took more time than I’d like to admit for me to accept my fate with relatively good grace.”
Lizzy reached gratefully for the tea that Mrs Martin handed her.
“I hope you are not struggling too much with your confinement, Captain Martin,” she said.
“Not now.” He beamed around the room. “'Tis good to have guests. And my brother sees that I am well entertained. He brings me papers and things to read from town just as often as he might. And then there are the children. You cannot know, Miss Bennet, what a blessing it is to have nieces and nephews. They keep life interesting.”
“They certainly give their uncle more trouble than they ought,” Mrs Martin said, spying one of the offending children lurking in the doorway and shooing them away with a smile.
“And how are you settled, Mrs Martin?” Anne asked, taking on the mantel that was rightfully hers, as daughter of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and responsible for all of Rosings’ tenants. “I hope you have everything you need? You must not hesitate to send to the house if there is any problem.”
“Oh, la! I’d not bother Lady Catherine or any of the household for our little trials,” Mrs Martin said, with a smile. “This one is firmly in line, now, and I can manage my children just as well as ever I could.”
Captain Martin did not seem at all embarrassed to be spoken of in the same breath as the children, although Elizabeth fancied some weeks earlier it would have stung his pride sorely.
Elizabeth’s eyes lit on a desk strewn with papers, within reach of Captain Martin’s chair, and her mind put the clues together.
“Do you write, Captain Martin?”
“He’s scarcely without his pen,” Mrs Martin put in.
“Only letters.” He smiled, sadly. “I have many friends, Miss Bennet, but not so many of them local to me, or that I am able to converse with freely.” He coughed, and Elizabeth wondered at his choice of words. His eyes lifted to Anne’s. “And how is Lady Catherine faring with guests and news of a wedding?”
This was Colonel Fitzwilliam's cue to speak, and he did, filling Captain Martin in on all the particulars of his and Mary’s plans. Mrs Martin took Mary aside and quizzed her about her own preparations for the wedding, and even Elizabeth found herself drawn into a lively conversation about the merits of ribbons and lace.
The visit drew to a close far quicker than anybody anticipated, and at the chime of the clock, Colonel Fitzwilliam stood.
“We do not wish to tire you out, George. Mrs Martin, thank you so much for allowing us to call. I hope you’ll allow us to do it again while we are here?” He reached out to shake Captain Martin’s hand. “I’ll bring Darcy with me next time.”
“Mr Darcy?” Captain Martin’s lips raised in a smile. “Goodness, is he with you too? What a gathering. Yes, do give him my best regards. I hope he is well?”
“Quite well,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “Only called away on business today, or he’d have accompanied us.”
Lizzy felt her own lips turn down. She still did not think it entirely respectable that Mr Darcy should choose business over his friend, whatever Mary had said on the matter.
The party made their goodbyes and began the short walk back towards Rosings. Elizabeth once more found herself in step with Anne, and the two fell to conversing.
“What a pity Mr Darcy could not join us, when he and Captain Martin were friends as children,” she remarked.
“Yes,” Anne sighed. “It is a shame. They were not close, I do not think, but played together on occasion when they were here. It is such a shame that when one grows up one cannot associate precisely as one chooses.”
She sounded a little melancholy, and when Elizabeth glanced at her, her expression was unreadable. A memory jabbed at Elizabeth's mind; the note she had discovered in the library. Her breath quickened. Had that not been signed G? G - for George? Surely she had just met the very man who authored the note: Captain George Martin, who had confessed freely to writing letters to friends, and those he was unable to converse with freely. Elizabeth could scarcely keep a smile from her lips. She had discovered the mystery! Her heart sank. And yet, how could she ever help her friend in this dilemma? There was no way Anne de Bourgh, daughter of Lady Catherine, could ever have a future with a penniless, invalid Captain.
Chapter Eleven
Darcy’s carriage clattered to a stop and he climbed down, glancing cautiously around the small coaching inn and wandering, absently, if his companion had arrived before him.
Was it a stalling tactic, as Richard had asserted, when he told him of his plans for the day? He had feigned ignorance, insisting that his visit to the Pale Horse had everything to do with escaping the confines of Rosings and that it was sheer coincidence that it would bring his path across a certain gentleman. His cousin had not been convinced, but he had at least taken the decision not to quiz him any further, but leave him to his folly, if indeed it was folly.
“Mr Darcy.”
His companion had not only arrived before him, but decided on a seat, ordered a drink and noticed his arrival before Darcy had chance to walk more than a few steps across the threshold of the quiet inn. He turned towards an older man, comfortably ensconced in a leather-backed chair in one comer of the room. Feeling a sudden flare of anxiety he did his best to swallow, Darcy crossed the room in a few long strides.
“Mr Bennet.” He greeted Elizabeth’s father with a warm handshake. “Thank you very much for agreeing to meet me.”
“You are welcome,” Mr Bennet said, gesturing to the empty seat beside him and indicating Darcy might take it. “I cannot pretend I am not glad of an excuse to leave Longbourn for half a day.” He glanced over the top of his spectacles. “Although I also cannot pretend I am not intrigued. Tell me, why the cloak and dagger? What was of such great importance it could not be spoken of in a week or more, when my family and I will join you in Kent for Mary’s wedding? Why the necessity of meeting on such neutral ground?”
“The inn does not displease you?”
“On the contrary.” Mr Bennet drained the contents of his glass and looked expectantly at Darcy, who took a moment to recognise the significance of the look and summon a serving girl to bring fresh drinks for the both of them.
“As I say, I am glad to escape Longbourn, where there is such weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth that even my study is no barrier to disturbance.”
Darcy blanched.
“I
hope your daughters...Mrs Bennet...I hope they are all well?”
“Well, yes,” Mr Bennet grimaced. “Well occupied with bemoaning their future if a certain marriage is not agreed upon before the month is out.”
Darcy paused before responding.
“I cannot speak for Mr Bingley, of course, but I believe him to be fond of Miss Bennet,” he began, striving to reassure the gentleman before him that, in this case at least, all might be well.
“I am not concerned about Mr Bingley!” Mr Bennet exclaimed. He took a sip of his drink. “I assure you, if my only concern was Jane and Mr Bingley’s future happiness I would be happy indeed! They are both as innocent as babes and may take a little cajoling to reach an agreement, but there can be no doubt of their affections for one another.” He paused. “No, my concern is for Elizabeth. Tell me, Mr Darcy, doe she fare well at Rosings?”
Mr Bennet’s voice had grown serious and sad and when Darcy looked at him it was as if the fellow had aged two decades in a moment.
“I believe her to be quite content,” Darcy said, in as gentle a tone of voice as he could manage. “She has formed a friendship with my cousin, Anne, and with Mary, of course. The three young ladies are often together.” He paused, before warming to his topic. “There is a fine library at Rosings, and many pleasant walks, which I have had the privilege of introducing Miss Elizabeth to. In a group, you understand -” he said, hurriedly, eager that Elizabeth's father might not misread some nefarious interest in this comment.”
“Good.” Mr Bennet nodded. “Good. The house is...quiet without her.” He seemed so bereft that Darcy felt a flash of sympathy for the older man.
They lapsed into semi-companionable silence, both men nursing their drinks and their thoughts without need of conversation. At length, Mr Bennet spoke again.
“Well, Mr Darcy, whilst I am fond of silence, I am sure you did not summon me here merely that we might ignore one another.” He looked expectantly at Darcy, and he knew he could delay the inevitable no longer.
