There were a great many dishes and toasts before the dinner could wind to its end and they could all be deposited on the barges which would return them to the Caroline, for Georgiana and Matthew, and shore, for the embassy. After settling into the Caroline’s barge, she overheard Captain Bazeley call out to the men of his barge that they should row dry, and as the men of the Caroline began rowing, she asked Matthew, “Why do you not tell your men to row dry?”
“Because I have a first-rate coxswain, who knows without my telling him so that if my wife is on board my barge, my crew should row dry. Is that not so, Cooke?”
“‘Tis true, Captain-Sir. Ain’t no time since I or Bowden ‘afore me has been cox’un that the captain’s lady wife nor the captain hisself has got splashed, and we ain’t ta start ta’night.”
+++
The next morning, Georgiana found Matthew working furiously with pencil and paper at the breakfast table. She asked him what he was about, and he said, “Do you recall how many gentlemen were introduced to you, last night? Do you have any notion of where all of them are to sleep, on a frigate of this size? For if you do, I should greatly value your thoughts.”
“I cannot say that I have had any thoughts on it,” Georgiana said.
“I shall give the day cabin over to Lord Amherst, and I am of hopes that his son can share the space with him. We shall all treat the great cabin as our drawing-room, where anyone who wishes to may sit, during the day. That does, however, mean I may need to have a private conference in our sleeping cabin with one of my officers on occasion.”
“If you need to do so, just inform me, and I shall go to the great cabin or on deck,” Georgiana said.
“Thank you, dearest – that does away with one of my concerns,” he said. “My next is that I do not believe I can continue to keep your maid in a private cabin.”
“Where would she sleep?” Georgiana asked, in a tone of deep concern. “Not amongst the men!”
“No, of course not. I thought we might sling a cot for her in the great cabin, in the evenings. It would be a safe place for her, and she must rise early to attend to you, anyway.”
“I cannot say she would not be disappointed at losing her privacy, but I think she would consider it an acceptable trade, to see so much of the world as she will see on this journey.”
“That would leave me with four cabins, for the highest-ranking men in the embassy. I believe we can construct some manner of temporary bulkhead before the wardroom, and those who do not have cabins may sleep there. Normally it is the space of the marines, but they shall have to move forward.”
“How can the marines move forward?” Georgiana asked. “I thought the ship was at her full complement.”
“You have come to the crux of my problem, dearest. I need to create more space on my mess deck, where there is none. We shall have to have men sleep on the gun-deck, and I think it possible that I should have to get rid of a few guns, at least, to create more space there.”
“You do not like that,” Georgiana stated, for it was clear upon his countenance.
“No, I do not. I know we are at peace, now, but we were at peace not so long ago, and then returned to war. I do not like the thought of removing some of the teeth from the wolf, so to speak.”
“What about carronades?”
“You think exactly as I do.” He looked at her fondly and reached across the table to grasp her hand. “Georgiana, I cannot say how glad I am that you are to come with me on this voyage. This is not the sort of thing I can discuss with anyone else – even to my officers, I must appear infallible, and confident in all matters – and I am so very glad to have one with whom I may speak of my concerns and receive such an intelligent contribution in return.”
“Thank you,” Georgiana whispered, blushing, for while she had always known herself to be deeply loved, it is no small thing for a lady to be so deeply valued, and she had been unprepared for such a response to what had seemed to her a simple question.
Matthew seemed to sense he had overwhelmed her, and continued speaking of the carronades and what number of men would need to be shifted where, until she had recovered a little and they were interrupted by Hawke’s delivery of a note to Matthew. This note turned out to be an invitation from Lord Amherst to dine at his lodgings on shore, which Matthew immediately wrote to accept.
This began a cycle of invitations between Admiral Penrose, Lord Amherst, and the Stantons, so that not a night passed until their final night at Gibraltar without all of the parties dining on the Caroline, the Bombay, or at the house Lord Amherst had taken. Only on their final night in Gibraltar, with the Blue Peter flapping gently in the breeze and making clear the ship was to depart with the morning’s ebb tide, did Georgiana and Matthew dine quietly by themselves in the great cabin. The day cabin had already been made over for Lord Amherst’s and his son’s particular use, with a very narrow hallway created by Mr. Randall between that cabin and the sleeping cabin, so that those who required access to the great cabin should be able to get there without disturbing the privacy of the two smaller cabins, although they would be required to squeeze around the mizzenmast as they did so.
The ship itself was quiet, as well, half of the crew having been allowed shore leave – the other half had been allowed their run on shore the evening before. Among the half out on this evening were Moll Kelly and Rebecca McClare, the former having asked her employer in as nervous a manner as she was capable of if she could go out that evening with Mrs. McClare and her husband, promising she would be back in time to change Georgiana.
Georgiana had encouraged her to go, so long as she stayed with Mrs. McClare, and Moll did return as promised. It was immediately clear that Moll was drunk – exceedingly so – for she was silent for once and made every attempt to control her deportment. Almost as immediately, Georgiana decided that Moll should not be punished for it: nothing in her present actions could be called improper, and in truth, she was rather more proper than she usually was. Beyond this, Moll had been very soothing to Georgiana in that time after the loss of the baby, and despite Moll’s wildness, Georgiana felt a good deal of affection for her maid.
Chapter 9
Darcy was a particularly early riser, and so it was more often than not that Elizabeth awoke to find herself alone in his bed. On this morning, however, she found he had not gone far, for he was standing before the window, gazing outside. The greyness of the morning could immediately be told by the light within the room, but even if it could not, a distinct pattering on the window informed Elizabeth that they were experiencing more sleet. This, clearly, was the cause for Darcy’s current attitude, for everything about him, from the set of his shoulders to his silence – even after Elizabeth rose from the bed – indicated a tremendous worry.
This worry of his pulled at her heart, and she approached him and wrapped her arms around his chest, resting her cheek against his shoulder and hoping her presence was a comfort. The weather worried her, too – it had been so poor as to require her parents to curtail their visit, so Mr. Bennet could attend to his own estate – but she felt she must not contribute to Darcy’s worries by adding her own.
“I have never known an April such as this,” he said, softly.
“It is only the eighth of April. This may delay the spring planting, but there is still time.”
“There is still time for the spring planting, but the winter wheat sits in mud, and I am not certain it can take much more of this. I cannot believe it is hardly spring and I am already thinking on what we should do about a bad harvest.”
“Even if we do have a bad harvest, we shall be fine,” Elizabeth said, soothingly. “We do not spend anything near our income, and if it is necessary, we shall cut back on our entertainments and expenditures.”
“It is not us I am worried about. I appreciate that you have always been willing to make do with less income, my darling Elizabeth, but if our income is reduced it is because my farmers cannot make their rents. They are, perhaps, in better situ
ations than those on other estates, but some of them cannot afford a failed harvest, even if their rents are forgiven.”
“Then we will do whatever we can for them, although perhaps in a few days the weather will clear, and our concerns will be entirely forgotten.”
“There is nothing I hope for more,” he said, although it was not in an hopeful tone.
+++
Elizabeth had not entirely understood the state of the winter wheat, but a few days after that morning, when the weather was finally clear enough to ride, they went out – Darcy on Kingfisher and Elizabeth on Spartan. Darcy set out as though to meet the road to Kympton, and soon enough they joined that road.
Thus far, Elizabeth had not possessed the skill to take anything beyond the numerous private paths that crossed Pemberley’s grounds, and she might have held some enthusiasm at this indication of confidence in her progress as an equestrienne, if it had not become rapidly clear to her that their purpose for taking the road was one of necessity. Darcy was both a highly accomplished horseman and a conscientious landowner, and he often went out on long rides across his grounds – usually with his steward, Richardson – to assess the state of his fields. This seemed to be one of the routes he took on these rides, and any pleasure Elizabeth might have felt in finally being qualified to ride it was rapidly eliminated by the state of the fields on either side of the road, which were wholly waterlogged in places. He did glance at her quite often, to ensure she was comfortable, but upon seeing his wife was still well in control of her cob, he was free to return his mind to what clearly occupied it, which was the state of the fields.
At one point, he reined Kingfisher to a halt beside one of the fields, comprised mostly of patches of mud and standing water, and looked upon it with a grim face, saying, “This was planted with winter wheat, and look at it. How are we to expect anything to grow in such a state?”
“Darcy,” she said, laying one hand upon his thigh, for that was all she trusted herself to do upon horseback, and even this was an action she would not have undertaken until recently, “I hardly know how I could ever have regarded you as selfish. Even now, when you are out for a ride with your wife, you cannot stop worrying over the winter wheat.”
“I am sorry, Elizabeth, it is just that this presses upon my mind – ”
“I understand that it does, and it does you much honour that it is so, but I believe you must put it behind you for now – for there is nothing you can do to change the weather – and focus on more positive things. Your sons, for example – they are a subject upon which nothing but positive thoughts may be focused.”
“They are indeed,” he said, “and yet it is in part for James that I worry so over the estate. It is to be his legacy, and I wish it to be a good one.”
“Darcy, it will be a wonderful legacy, regardless of whatever happens in the course of this year.”
“Next you shall be reminding me of how George has no such legacy.”
“It appears I need not do so,” Elizabeth said. Hopefully, she continued, “Perhaps George shall be a clergyman or a barrister, and have no worries beyond his next sermon or case.”
“I suspect clergymen and barristers have their own things to worry over.”
“Then perhaps that is what we should keep in mind, Darcy – we all have things to worry us. The question is whether we allow them to dominate our lives. Why do we not return home, and see our sons? I am hopeful they may cheer us.”
+++
Changed from their riding clothes, they found James and George both awake and very amenable to a visit from their parents. Darcy took up George, and Elizabeth James, and they sat quietly until James emitted a squeal of laughter that seemed designed to make at least his mama forget the day’s worries. This was followed, almost immediately, by a coo of laughter from his brother. They continued in this manner for some time, and Elizabeth felt certain they were laughing together, that they must each be pleased to have someone else who understood what they wished to communicate.
She found herself hoping they should always remain so close despite the difference in their expectations, but was utterly distracted from this thought when she looked over at Darcy and found his countenance bore the signs – for the first time in quite a while – of being pleased.
“You were right, Elizabeth, to make me focus on a future beyond this harvest,” he said, when he caught that her attention was on him. “These boys are the true legacy of Pemberley.”
“Indeed they are, and we shall have far better influence on them than we do the weather, although at present they seem to have the best influence on each other.”
“So they do – I wonder what they could be laughing over.”
“Perhaps they are not laughing over anything – perhaps they are simply pleased to be in existence with each other,” Elizabeth said. “Or perhaps they are pleased that there appears to be silence from Bess’s quarter. I would wonder that she can sleep through our presence, but she does seem to prefer rather a lot of noise in her life. I suppose we are quiet by comparison.”
For this, she was rewarded with a chuckle from Darcy, which was more of a relief, compared to the pleasure she got from the continuing laughter between the boys. Eventually they were interrupted by Henry, the first footman, who entered and informed them of the day’s post – several letters of business for Darcy, which had been left in his study, and one from Mr. Bennet, which Henry held in his hand, asking if Mrs. Darcy wished to read it now or have it placed in her apartment. Elizabeth did not wish to interrupt her time with her husband and sons, and indicated her preference for the latter.
When she went thither, she became particularly glad she had waited to read the letter. Mr. Bennet wrote of the weather in Hertfordshire, which appeared to be just as bad as that of Derbyshire, and Elizabeth could detect in her father’s writing a true concern over Longbourn’s harvest. That Mr. Bennet was actually worried enough to write of it told her it must be truly bad. While Elizabeth knew she must now add a measure of worry for Longbourn to her thoughts, she was glad she had not read the letter in Darcy’s presence, where she would have been asked of its contents and felt compelled to relate her father’s concerns. As she read on, she found these concerns had been enough for him to halt her mother’s plans to refurnish the drawing-room, at least until they had a better sense of how the harvest was to come through.
She determined if she was asked about the letter, she would share only that her mother desired to refurnish the drawing-room, and her father was hesitant. This sounded wholly typical of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet – Mr. Bennet’s hesitation over the updating of the room might just as easily have been over his desire to avoid hearing of the fabric involved in upholstery as it was over concern about his income for the year. There was no reason to add to Darcy’s worries when she had only just managed to distract him from them. Yet she wondered what would happen to Longbourn if the poor weather was to continue through the spring, for that estate could never have been said to be as well-maintained as Pemberley, and yet even Pemberley was suffering.
A knock came at the door, startling her from her thoughts. Elizabeth bade whomever it was to enter, hastily refolding the letter even though it would not be Darcy, entering through the door to the hallway. No, it was Jane, holding a letter of her own.
“Lizzy, did papa write to you, too?” Jane asked, glancing at the letter Elizabeth held, and surely knowing the answer to her question by the handwriting of the direction.
Elizabeth responded that her father had written to her of his worries for Longbourn, and invited Jane to sit with her on the ostentatiously carved and gilded object that lived at the foot of the mistress’s bed.
“Poor papa, to have what should be his years of comfort taken up instead with such worries, particularly after how ill he was during the winter,” said Jane, tremulously.
Elizabeth loved her father deeply, and understood herself to be his favourite among his daughters, and yet still she could see him more objectively than Jane, c
ould think that every year of his life had been a year of comfort for Mr. Bennet, by his own choice. This, of course, was not what she said to Jane, which was, “I know, Jane, but even if their income is drastically reduced this year, they shall get through. Papa no longer has daughters at home, to feed and clothe and send to assemblies. Surely their expenses must be much less – and it is not as though they are without support in the world.”
“You are right, of course, Lizzy, but how strange it is to hear you say they, and not we. You and I have been married for two years, now, and yet sometimes it seems as though we just left Longbourn.”
“I cannot agree with you there, Jane. We have had three children between us, and you will soon add a fourth, and two of our sisters have married – actually, three for each of us, counting Georgiana and Caroline. Much has happened in those years.”
Jane smiled. “I know, but do you not ever wake and expect you shall still be in our bedroom back at home?”
“Every once in a while, yes, but my expectations tend to dissipate rather rapidly upon finding it is not you I have been sharing a bed with.”
“Lizzy!” Jane attempted to look censorious, but was betrayed by a giggle.
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