A recounting of all that had occurred that night at Almack’s followed, in far greater detail than Elizabeth truly cared for, although she read it all out of gratitude for what had been imparted before. When finally the goings-on of that assembly had been exhausted, Lady Tonbridge continued, “Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you of how irritated the gentlemen of London are over the latest fashion. It seems every tailor in town has a wait list of work before him, for every lady wishes to have a caped pelisse made – there was already quite a riot of them in Hyde Park yesterday. I suspect your maid can expect at least a few more boxes to be sent her way next December.”
Elizabeth chuckled wryly and read the remainder of Lady Tonbridge’s letter, primarily best wishes for her and her family and the returning Stantons. She then opened her aunt’s letter, of which she had only good expectations, and found those expectations met. It was largely about Lady Ellen’s grandchildren, most particularly her new grandson, although it also included the intelligence that Marguerite was to be churched soon, and a few lines of greeting from that lady to close the note. Mrs. Gardiner’s letter was similarly focused on hearth, home, and children, and deepened Elizabeth’s smile as she read it.
Elizabeth carried all four letters over to the dressing-table, opening the wooden box that sat upon it. The box held all of the correspondence she had received since coming to London: three letters from Jane indicating her sister’s continued improvement, the good health of all of the Bingleys, and the very lovely fitting-up of the drawing-room at Clareborne; one from Anne indicating that the Smiths seemed to have been well-received by the neighbourhood, and frequently entertained Herbert Ramsey and Sir Robert Avery, although the latter had recently departed for town to attend to some business there; one in a rather light-hearted tone from Charlotte Collins, telling her that Sir William Lucas had determined it a good time to call upon St. James’s, and Sir William and Lady Lucas, as well as their daughter (who had just entered half-mourning), were to go there for a fortnight and considered it a shame they had just missed the Darcys; one from Mary informing her that Marianne still did well, and while the Stantons were still hesitant of hiring in a nurse, a local woman had agreed to look after the baby for part of each day for lesser wages, allowing Mary some return to her household and parish duties; one from Catherine to tell her the Ramseys had found a very suitable house in Bath, and were just beginning their plans for furnishing it; one from Mrs. Bennet, complaining that Mr. Bennet was immovable on the subject of immediately going to see the Ramseys’s new house in Bath; and one from Mrs. Sinclair, informing her of all the news of the neighbourhood, the most significant of which was Miss Houlton’s engagement to a young man with an estate near Derby.
Smiling fondly, Elizabeth slipped the newest letters inside and thought of the two women missing from the box. All of Georgiana’s last remained in Darcy’s possession, and even on the other side of the world and following a difficult birth, Georgiana had proven a far more diligent correspondent than Lydia. Elizabeth felt certain she would know how her sibling on the Caroline did before the one in America, although eventually, Lydia would grow desirous of more banknotes or more copies of Ackermann’s Repository – likely both – and then she might reply to Elizabeth’s last.
“I hope you are well – both of you,” Elizabeth said, and closed the box.
Chapter 41
Georgiana’s first sense that they were truly home came upon sighting the Spithead anchorage. This she saw from the deck; Bowden had contrived a sort of sailcloth wrap for her, which made it very easy for her to get about the ship with Caroline strapped to her chest, and over the past few weeks she had taken the baby up for an airing in this manner every day the weather was fine. On this day, however, Matthew had indicated they would be raising Spithead, and with an eagerness Georgiana had not fully understood until he said it, she had been up on the deck for most of the day, awaiting this sight.
Lord Amherst had been below, but must have had word that the anchorage had been sighted, for he came up, took a long look over it, then came over to Georgiana and her child, asking how they did. This he had done unfailingly, every day since the baby’s christening, seeming to take his role as godfather seriously. Georgiana wondered whether this would continue once they were no longer living aboard the same ship, but at the least, she thought, there would always be some connexion; one she hoped would prove beneficial to Caroline. This was the only way she could reconcile her mind to the harm she presumed it would do where her brother was concerned.
The shore came into view, a faint haze on the horizon, and Georgiana murmured to her daughter, “You cannot see it, but that is your home. I know you have never been there, my little one, but we shall go there now, and you will meet your family.”
For so long, Georgiana had remained inside the little sleeping cabin, and since, she had still been confined to the limits of the ship, and it seemed a strange thing that she should soon have the entire run of England. She wished she could have some idea of where her family was, but she thought it likely Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth, at least, were in Derbyshire: since the twins had been born, they seemed to prefer remaining in the country. Some of her family might be in town at this time, however, and if she could travel there and see some of her Fitzwilliam relations, or even her aunt Catherine, she would be happy enough, until the reunion she most wished for could be arranged.
Then, however, she realised the ship was drifting to a halt, in an open space amidst the anchorage. She looked about in confusion – wondering if the frigate had again missed stays. Lieutenant Rigby seemed fully in control of what he was about, however, and Georgiana had her answer as to what was happening when Matthew approached her, and said, “I am sorry, dearest, but we did not make the tide.”
“So we shall go in on the next tide?”
“No, it is tonight, and I will not take her into a port so busy in darkness, so we must wait until the morrow,” he said. “I intend to send a boat in with Lord Amherst aboard, however, for he cannot have any delay in reaching London. You may travel with him if you wish.”
This was very tempting, for Georgiana did trust Lord Amherst, and had it not been for Caroline, she might well have taken Matthew’s offer. Yet with Caroline to consider, she did not wish to take her little daughter so far in an open boat, nor journey to London with a man who must wish to do so with expediency, for such a journey was not likely to account for the needs of a baby. Caroline had never been ashore, and her first carriage journey would need to be undertaken in a manner that could see to her comfort.
“No, I shall stay with you,” she said, “but I would like for him to carry my letters.”
“I am sure he would be happy to do so,” Matthew said.
Thus Georgiana watched the barge as it was rowed to shore in the twilight, her daughter freshly fed and changed, and once again strapped against her chest. Matthew came up to her and laid his hand down on her shoulder, then touched a finger to his daughter’s head, gently stroking the drowsing baby.
“I am very sorry you shall have to wait another day,” he said, “particularly when our journey here has been so slow. It is always so much more frustrating, to lose the wind when sailing home.”
“It will be more than another day, I think, before I am able to see my family,” she said, “and I suppose one more day is hardly anything, when compared with how long we have been gone.”
Yet it was something, and Georgiana’s heart ached a little as she looked at the shore one last time before taking her daughter below to lay her down for a nap.
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Those servants who had remained faithful to Archbolds up until its sale had all remained on – with three very active and affluent people putting in such effort to improve the property, they felt their lot about to change for the better. Their number included a housekeeper relieved over having a household budget that had gone from impossible to generous; a butler pleased to be given leave to restock the wine and beer cellars; a cook similarly pleased
to have some true demand of her skills and ample money to spend at market; a head housemaid very glad of Mrs. Kelly’s assistance; and a competent-seeming footman. Henry had, therefore, been deemed most expendable of the Darcys’ servants who had come down, and although he would likely have continued assisting in the care of the horses if so asked, he had instead been given the very pleasant assignment of staying at the George in Portsmouth with no more responsibilities beyond inquiring regularly as to whether the Caroline had been sighted.
Henry proved he had done this one duty with goodly diligence, however, when he came galloping in on a hired hack early one morning, demanding an immediate audience with his employer. This resulted in stunned silence from the Archbolds servants, but while they did not know whether they should assist such madness, nor did they make any attempt to stop him – for how could they know whether this was how things were done at Pemberley? Thus, after trying a few rooms within the house, Henry eventually found his master and mistress breaking their fast with Lord Anglesey in a sombre old panelled dining-room, and said,
“Beg pardon, my lord, sir, madam, but I set out as soon as I heard – the Caroline anchored at Spithead last night. Sent off a boat, with a Lord – Lord – oh, I’m sorry, I forgot the name of the lord, but anyway, there was a boat landed in the evening and the lord and some others went off in a chaise and four to London.”
“Was there a lady among them?” asked Darcy, in a most keen tone.
“Nay, sir, I asked particularly. Mr. Ombersley said there weren’t no lady, and the ship likely anchored to wait for the tide, so she’ll be expected in today.”
“Thank you, Henry, very well done,” said Darcy. “Will you do one more thing, and go to the stables and have them ready the phaeton and Lord Anglesey’s horse?”
“Of course, sir,” said Henry, bowing to take his leave.
This necessarily broke up what little of a breakfast party there had been – Darcy and Lord Anglesey had long since finished eating and were lingering over coffee, and Elizabeth could do no more than take a little tea and toast.
The phaeton, carriage horses, and hack, which had all been sent down from their respective London mews, were brought around to the front of the house in a most expeditious manner, and thus within an hour of Henry’s entrance into the dining-parlour, Elizabeth was being driven in an aggressive fashion down the Portsdown Hill and around to Portsmouth itself. It was beyond the pace she was accustomed to – generally she had known this phaeton for genteel outings in Hyde Park and Richmond – yet as every move of her husband’s hands, every flick of his whip, every word spoken to his team showed him in complete mastery of the situation, she did not feel inclined towards concern.
He brought the phaeton down to a walk on the crowded Hard, Lord Anglesey reining in behind him, and began inquiring of every person with a sufficiently nautical look about them as to whether the Caroline had come in yet. It might have been cause for mirth, for Elizabeth, to see her husband querying every seaman he saw, and those seamen reacting in such a startled manner to be addressed thus by a gentleman. But his queries were clearly borne out of a certain desperate eagerness to see his sister, to know, surely, that she was well, and thus no amusement could be had out of them.
Finally, one grizzled old man pointed toward the entrance to the harbour and said, “That’ll be her there, milor’. Comin’ in on the tide, an’ ain’t she got grace, the barky! Served on her, in the American war, an’ wish I had again. Went to Chinay, she did – can ye imagine?”
“I can imagine better than most,” Darcy said. “My sister is Lady Stanton, and so her captain is my brother-in-law.”
“Oh, aye? Ye be brother to Captain Stanton?” The man gave Darcy a particularly respectful look.
“Yes, I am, and I am very much appreciative for your assistance thus far, and would wish to pay for your assistance until such time as I am able to be reunited with my family,” Darcy said, holding out his hand to slip a coin into the old seaman’s palm.
The man turned open his hand only long enough to recognise that instead of the expected shilling, the coin was one of the new sovereigns. “Milor’, an’ that’s verra generous of ye, an’ I’ll gladly help ye.”
“Thank you,” said Darcy, his eyes still on the frigate, drifting in on both breeze and tide. “Should we hire a boat, to go out to the ship?”
“Milor’, an’ I’d wait a little, a’fore hiring any boat. If’n a captain is gone so long as Captain, err, beg par’m, Commodore – the barky’s wearin’ a broad pennant – Sir Stanton has been, he’s like to wish to come ashore quick as he can, an’ I’d bet it’s the more so for his lady. Give it a bell, an’ see if any boats put off wi’ yer sister or the like.”
The seaman did not make it clear what length of time a bell was, but as they all dismounted phaeton and horse, respectively, and stood on the shore waiting, he indicated his name was Bailey, and observed the ship’s activity. “They’re takin’ in the broad pennant, now, so the commodore’s back to bein’ a captain, but if her journey’s done it’s to be ‘spected.” Bailey continued to explain those nautical matters visible to him until eventually he said, “Aye, there, she’s lowerin’ down a boat, an’ we’ll jus’ see as who gets innit.”
The frigate drifted still closer, the boat approached the waterline, and Elizabeth could finally make out the people on board the Caroline’s decks sufficiently to see a woman in a bonnet with a bundle seemingly tied to her chest. Every posture as regarded this bundle seemed most maternal, and within a minute, Elizabeth had concluded this was her sister, and was sharing this with the men around her.
+++
“Be very careful,” instructed Matthew, once his wife was seated in the bosun’s chair. It was the first time Georgiana had ever heard him give such an instruction – normally it was presumed that care would be taken, when his wife was in the bosun’s chair, that his crew would row dry when she was in one of the ship’s boats – yet it seemed proper that particular care be taken on this day, for it was the first time his wife had sat down in the bosun’s chair with her baby strapped to her chest.
Georgiana certainly felt some nervousness, to be swung through the air with her child, and she kept one hand clamped tightly around the rope of the bosun’s chair, as the other held her daughter close. Bowden’s and Moll’s were among the numerous hands that steadied her, as she set her feet down within the barge and was aided to a seat.
While this operation was conducted safely, it was not done without some significant upset on Caroline’s part, and Georgiana was thus forced to contend with the mewling of a child who had been little before in such a state. She rocked the baby, sang to her, and made every other endeavour possible to calm her, thinking all the while of how strange this must be to Caroline, who had spent her first months in a strange little world, and was now leaving it for a much larger and likely overwhelming one. Thankfully, Caroline was very receptive to her mother’s comforts, and so by the time the boat had pulled up alongside a quay, the baby was returned to good humour.
Again, numerous hands steadied Georgiana and her daughter as she stepped up onto the quay and looked about to orient herself. She intended to take rooms at the George for the night, to settle her daughter into some sort of land-based life before they should set out for somewhere else. Indeed, the lone piece of furniture that had been given berth on the barge was Caroline’s cradle, which was Bowden’s burden now that Georgiana and her servants were walking toward the George.
It was not a particularly short walk from where they had landed, and briefly, Georgiana considered attempting to hire a carriage, but she had no desire to initiate anything that might upset the present contentedness of her daughter, and therefore they all walked, Caroline close against her chest. It was as they were doing so that Georgiana heard someone calling her name – not merely her name, but her Christian name – and she turned with confusion towards the source of such sounds.
Georgiana’s constitution had vastly improved since
her birth, so that it was approaching what it had been before her pregnancy, and still, her knees nearly buckled at what she saw: Fitzwilliam! In shock, she gaped to see him running up to where she had halted, stopping just before where she stood with her arms wrapped about Caroline and her mouth open. “How – how could you be here?” she asked, in the moments before he approached further and drew his arms about both sister and niece.
Still utterly confused, but at present resigned to merely thank Providence for whatever had managed to place her brother in Portsmouth to greet her at the end of such a long voyage, Georgiana leaned into his embrace.
“Are you well, Georgiana? Are you truly well?” he asked, his voice tight. “You look it, but – I have had such worries, over your health.”
“I am very well, I promise. What I endured was difficult, but I have survived it, and I have my little Caroline to show for it.” Georgiana pulled aside the sailcloth wrap as best she could, to show him the baby. “Here is your niece – is she not the dearest, sweetest little girl?”
Fitzwilliam laid his hand upon the baby’s head and said, “Yes, of course she is. Of course she should take after her mother in that regard.”
For some time, Georgiana was overwhelmed with tender happiness, which was only renewed as Elizabeth and Lord Anglesey approached together, to be reunited with her and introduced to their niece and grand-niece, respectively. Exceedingly confused as to how the three of them should all be in Portsmouth to greet her, Georgiana repeated her queries, and this time received a response from Lord Anglesey, who indicated that an estate had come up for purchase, Archbolds, that met with all of their requirements, and as Lord Anglesey had favoured the estate well enough to wish to keep it if his nephew and niece did not favour it, he had gone ahead with the purchase.
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