“Sea-bathing alone could not have brought about such benefit.”
“No, indeed it could not. It has come with being away from Dr. Gibson and his physic, and from you and Mrs. Jenkinson: from all those who conspired to keep me sick.”
“Anne, how could you say such a thing? Conspire to keep you sick? I could never do so. You are my daughter – I love you.” Lady Catherine’s eyes filled with tears, and Anne, feeling them to be sincere, willed herself to be strong.
“You may love me, but you do not respect me,” said Anne, relieved to feel the carriage drawing to a halt, for there were only a few things left that she needed to say. “I am going to take up my place as mistress of Rosings. You will vacate it by Michaelmas, or I will turn to the law. You may have your choice of the London house or the dower house as your residence. And you will have to begin living on your jointure.”
Her uncle’s footman had long since drawn down the stairs, and Anne shoved her aunt’s dress through the doorway and stepped out. She fled toward the door of the house and heard her mother behind her, pleading – yes, pleading, which Anne had never heard from her mother – that Anne should stop, that she had only ever wanted what was best for Anne. However, Anne did not stop until she reached the door, where she rapped violently on the knocker. As the door opened, Anne heard her mother’s tone change to anger, which was directed at poor Darcy, who had the misfortune to be alighting his carriage just then and was made to hear Lady Catherine’s opinion that his wife must somehow be to blame for all of this, that Anne had never been so intractable until she had gone off to the seaside with Mrs. Darcy.
“I am not intractable – I am healthy!” shouted Anne, and then she leapt inside the house in a tremendous swish of brocade.
Darcy did not come in as quickly as Anne had, and he entered with something less than his usual dignity, looking rather red in the face. His countenance shifted when he saw Anne, leaning against the wall in the entrance-hall and gasping in relief.
“Anne, here, come and sit down,” he said, steering her toward the drawing-room and then a seat within.
“I am well,” said Anne. “Shaken, perhaps, but well. It is done. I have done it.”
Anne spoke with pride. She had not thought she possessed the courage to stand up to her mother in such a fashion – she had thought the message she had just given would have to be delivered with him present, if not delivered by his attorneys. He said as much – apparently, some of his business that day had been his first overtures on the matter with them. He spoke no more of it, though, for then the rest of the family entered, everyone surrounding Anne in their concern until Lady Ellen bade them all to leave, for they were overwhelming her poor niece.
Lady Ellen sat quietly beside Anne and took up her hand, and it was only now, when presented with such solicitous female company, that Anne broke down. She reached for her reticule, recalled she did not have one, and fumbled in the pockets of her dress until she found her handkerchief, wiping at her eyes.
“Why must I have such a mother?” she asked. “Why can I not have a mother like you?”
“We have the happiness of choosing our friends, but we cannot choose our family. Them, we must live with, unless their actions truly merit cutting them from our lives.”
“Do you believe my mother’s actions have?”
“It is not for me to say, Anne.”
“She has ruined years of my life – years,” said Anne, tremulously, “but she is my mother.”
“You need not make a decision now,” said Lady Ellen. “You do know that whatever you decide, we shall support you.”
“I know you shall, and it does you credit – I know you and she were never favourites.”
“No, we were not,” said Lady Ellen. “And after she has grievously insulted my daughter-in-law, I am not inclined to heal the breach – not with her.”
“What did she do to you, in the past? She must have done something. I have never known you to be unfair in your judgments of others.”
“What she did was not done to me,” said Lady Ellen, more curt and guarded than Anne had ever known her to be.
Anne did not come away from this conversation more inclined to offer an olive branch to her mother. She was ashamed of the embarrassment her mother had caused them that day, ashamed of the awkwardness that comprised what should have been a celebratory dinner.
Feeling despondent when it was completed, Anne went to sit by herself in the drawing-room and was glad Lady Ellen and Marguerite left her alone there. She was allowed solitude until the gentlemen came through, when to her surprise she found herself joined there by Edward.
“How are you, cos?” he asked, quietly.
“Ashamed, to have such a mother.”
“Why are you ashamed?” he asked. “You are not she, and none of us thinks the worse of you for it. Certainly Prinny did not notice.”
“No, I believe his attentions were elsewhere,” said Anne, glancing across the room to where Marguerite sat, surrounded by the rest of the family. Edward followed her gaze, and then gave her a particular look.
“You and I have not spoken since – since my parents broke off discussions of our betrothal,” he said, haltingly.
“You said all you needed to in your letter, and in truth, I am glad they did. I think now that I would not have liked to marry you while you were in love with another, although when I was sick, I would not have minded so much, so long as you allowed me more freedom than my mother would have.”
“That was my only regret – that I was leaving you under her control.”
“I was not under her control, though. I was never under her control. I should have stood up to her long ago.”
“You were not well enough to do so, and for that, both Darcy and I have our regrets. If we had known such a change could be wrought in your health, we would have taken measures to do so long ago.”
Anne smiled wryly. “I am glad both of you have still been so helpful to me, after my mother’s attempts at tying you to me in matrimony.”
He looked at her carefully. “Did you ever truly desire either match, Anne?”
“Not truly – only so far as they would have let me escape my mother. But now I have done that on my own. I am glad, too, that both of you had a chance to marry for love – I think it must be wonderful, to do so.”
“You are still free to do that yourself.” Anne blushed, and he continued: “Indeed, if you truly want to vex your mother, if you truly want to have your revenge on her, marry for love. She cannot stand it when people do so.”
“Perhaps I shall,” said Anne.
Chapter 8
Georgiana sighed and offered a smile to her dinner companion, Mrs. Travis. She still liked Mrs. Travis very much, but their evening dining together had often suffered from lulls in the conversation; it could not be helped, when they had already spent so much time together over the past months. They were dining together in the great cabin because all of the officers, save the officer of the watch, had gone ashore to dine on the island of Grand Lewchew. It was impossible to begrudge Matthew or any of the other men for responding to such hospitality as the islanders had shown, not only in fêting them with banquets, but also in merely allowing the Caroline and her consorts safe anchorage and the opportunity to trade for grocery.
Such things had at times seemed in doubt as the Caroline had made her way along the coasts of China and Corea, surveying and seeking to replenish her water and purchase fresh beef. These efforts had largely been unsuccessful: at one port the villagers had been unquestionably rude; at the next, they had brought out beef, but from animals long since dead and in such a state that no Englishman would eat it; and at the third, those on the Caroline had come to understand that intercourse with all foreigners was forbidden, not just that with women. Matthew had begun to worry about the ship’s supply of food, and he had been very glad to find his efforts to navigate the ship through the dangerous shoals surrounding this island rewarded in all that he sought.
She nodded to Hawke and Bowden to come in and clear what remained of their little dinner, and suggested to Mrs. Travis that they go and sit on the sofa. This they did companionably, Georgiana taking up a book and Mrs. Travis needlework, Georgiana occasionally rising to have a look at the torch-lit shore to see if the boats were returning. They had not returned when Mrs. Travis said she would retire, and Georgiana saw her to the door of the cabin, intending to retire herself. Moll was where she should have been, waiting near the entrance to the cabin for her mistress’s signal that she wished to change. However, Moll was not alone. With her, seeming to be in the process of explaining something about the gun nearest them, was Taylor.
Georgiana watched them with a wry smile. Matthew had questioned her condoning the romance, but Georgiana had long since felt that it was inevitable, even if the two principals did not yet see it to be so, and Georgiana could only hope that its outcome still allowed her to retain her maid. She was distracted, then, by a strange feeling in her stomach, and she thought back to everything she had ordered for dinner, wondering what among it could be prompting such sensations. By now, Moll had noticed the presence of her mistress, and the maid was hastening over to the doorway.
“Beg pardon, milady, I didn’t notice you was standin’ there.”
“Oh, it is nothing. I was just seeing Mrs. Travis out.”
“D’ye wish to change for bed?”
“Yes, I think I shall. I do not intend to wait up until Commodore Stanton returns; it seems they may have a late night of it on shore.”
Georgiana seated herself in the sleeping cabin, and Moll began quietly removing the pins from her hair.
“Did you know the captain – I mean Commodore Stanton – fitted all of the guns with special sights?” Moll, who could never remain silent for long, asked. “A modification of Broke’s design, Taylor said.”
Georgiana did know this, and so she said, “Is that what he was explaining to you?”
In the looking-glass, Moll’s blush could be seen to overspread her freckled countenance very thoroughly. “Yes, milady. He was tellin’ me about when he was captain of a gun crew, ‘fore his days as carpenter’s mate.”
“He has risen quite far in the navy, hasn’t he?” asked Georgiana. “He would make a fine husband.”
Moll’s blush deepened, and she averted her eyes, focusing on Georgiana’s hair. “He would, but not for the likes o’ me.”
“The likes of you? Moll, I cannot say that I did not think you a little wild when you began in my employ, but that has improved substantially. You are a hard worker, and a pretty girl – I cannot see what Taylor could find to dislike in you.”
“I’m a flirt, milady. You saw it yourself, and you spoke to me on it, and if I had better heeded your warnin’ the – the thing that happened might not’a happened.” Moll’s countenance turned even more crimson.
“I have told you, Moll – a little flirting is no justification for the way Holmes behaved. All the dishonour in that event must be laid upon him, and not you. I am certain Taylor would agree.”
“I think he does,” Moll said. “Only – only I wish it wasn’t him that came across us.”
“I cannot share that wish. I am not so certain that every man on the ship would have been willing to take the risk Taylor did, in striking an officer.”
“True – he’s such an hon’rable man.”
“I do not know him so well as you do, but I believe you are right. I am not sure honour formed all of his motivation, however.”
Moll averted her eyes again; she had long since ceased to do any of her duties in changing Georgiana, and Georgiana had no desire to recall her to them.
“Sometimes I think that – that he has a liking for me.”
“I believe he has more than a liking for you, Moll,” Georgiana said, thinking back to the uncertain days of her courtship with Matthew. “Sometimes men can have a great liking – even a deep love – without showing it. If they do not receive sufficient encouragement, they may never declare it, but it does not mean the love is not there. I suspect that since the attack, you have not been very forward with Taylor.”
“True, milady.”
“Yet he continues to spend a great amount of time with you.”
“I understand what you’re sayin’, milady, I do. I never thought of it like such,” Moll said, thoughtfully. “Milady, would you support my marryin’ him, if what you say is right? I mean, would you let me keep my position if I did?”
“I would like for you to do so, if we can arrange things. So long as Taylor continues to be assigned to the same ship as Commodore Stanton, that does not seem as though it would be difficult to do.”
“Oh, thank you, milady. ‘Tis helpful to know that, in chance – in chance he does ask.”
“I believe he will; perhaps you merely need to act a bit more as though you wish to be asked.”
Moll nodded, and then turned her attention to the buttons on Georgiana’s dress, working quietly again. When Moll had set the stays down on the nearby chest and Georgiana was standing there in her shift, the strange sensation returned to her stomach, and she put her hand there. Moll caught the mild grimace upon her countenance and asked, “Are you well, milady?”
“I am not sure. I believe I ate something at dinner that did not sit right – I have this strange little fluttering in my belly.”
“Might be the quickening,” Moll said. “‘Tis time for it, and my ma said it felt like she had a bee in her belly, every time she had it.”
“A bee,” Georgiana stated. “Yes, perhaps it is.”
She contemplated this as she donned her nightgown and Moll left the cabin. This strangeness could very well be described as a bee in her belly, and when Georgiana gave herself leave to think of it as the quickening, to think of it as the feeling of her child moving – a sensation she had yet to feel, despite her prior pregnancies – she sank heavily into a chair and wept.
The most intense of her emotions passed after some time, and then she was able to focus on the sensation, to think of it as her child, alive within her, and to vow fiercely that she would do everything she could to protect that child, to see it into the world. Her intention had been to retire for bed, but she knew now that she would not be able to sleep until she had told Matthew of what had happened, and she made to return to her book, reading distractedly for what seemed like hours.
Finally, after seven bells, he entered, seeming very surprised to find her still awake. “Georgiana, is something the matter? I knew I should not have left you here alone – I should have insisted they allow my wife to accompany me.”
“No – no – nothing is the matter. I would not want you to require them to go against their customs,” she said. “The baby quickened. I knew I would not be able to sleep until I told you.”
“Oh, Georgiana,” he said, holding out his arms to her. She rushed into his embrace, breathing in the strange scent of his uniform coat, a certain foreign spiciness. “If we were in London – if we were anywhere in England – I would have been overjoyed to hear it, but now – ”
“I know, Matthew, but tonight, let us be hopeful,” she said, tearfully. “Hopeful, and happy, and determined. I am going to bring this child into the world. I am.”
Chapter 9
Although a month had passed since Amelia’s birth, Jane had held no interest in being churched, and continued to hold to a simple regime of visiting the nursery twice a day to see Bess and nurse her youngest daughter, spending the remainder of her time within her bedchamber, re
sting or reading. This could have been seen as perfectly normal – Elizabeth knew some women took months, to heal from birth – but Jane’s health was as good as it had ever been. It was her mind that was still often troubled, agitated with reminiscences that could not be wholly supplanted by her imaginary birth, although she and Elizabeth often revisited that topic. Jane still had nightmares more nights than she did not, and Elizabeth had begun endeavouring to provide her with more to occupy her days, in the hopes that distractions would prevent Jane from dwelling on the worst of her memories. Whenever the weather held its rain, she convinced Jane to join her for a little walk about the gardens, and when it did not, to go to the library and look through Darcy’s father’s collections.
It was fine enough on this day that they were preparing to go out, when Charles knocked and entered Jane’s bedchamber, hesitantly saying, “The weather seems as though it shall hold for most of the day. Jane, what do you say to driving out to Clareborne? Do you not think more air would do you good?”
“It is too far,” said Jane.
“Of course. I’m sorry I asked,” said Charles, who then left the room.
Elizabeth crossed her arms and stared at her sister, determined now to use all the trust she had won back and speak. If Jane resented her for it, she might have to begin again, but Jane could not live a life where she was thus with her partner: Jane was formed to love and be loved, and Elizabeth feared she would wither away, over time, if she remained estranged from Charles.
“Jane, why is it that I have been forgiven, and Charles has not?”
Jane’s eyes filled with tears, and they spilled over before she could speak. “Because you did not give the command.”
“I would have, though, if I had been in his place. We all panicked in that moment, Jane. Are you to punish Charles – and yourself – for the rest of your life over one mistake, no matter how horrible it was?”
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