"I don't imagine we will ever get to read it," replied Captain Price playfully, "although I must admit I am curious as to its content, given that you rate it dearer to you than the diamond earrings he bought you for your birthday."
Mrs Wentworth let out a clear laugh.
"I am sorry! I forgot that you helped him pick them."
"I wouldn't say as much, Mrs Wentworth. I was more like a mute witness to his decision making. Captain Wentworth has excellent taste, as you well know."
"No doubt, he will be delighted to hear that you have downplayed your contribution. But it is your turn. What objects do you treasure the most, Captain?"
Captain Price immediately looked at me.
"Us sailors are uncomplicated. Our life on board gives us but limited room for our wares, and we grow used to living with little. However, there is a particular item that I am rather attached to: a silver hip flask that was a present from my dear sister Fanny."
Guilt enveloped me.
"Unfortunately the hip flask is no longer in my possession," he continued. "I gave it to a friend who subsequently promised to return it to me, and has failed to do so. As a result, I am forced to believe that this particular person is perhaps much less thoughtful and considerate than I initially believed."
"Those are harsh words, Captain," said Mrs Wentworth's in a gentle tone. "Surely your friend has not found the occasion."
"Oh, there have been many opportunities, Mrs Wentworth, believe me. Perhaps I am seen as too lowly, and hence not worthy of attention."
His words were like daggers. My eyes tingled, but the Fitzwilliam spirit my aunt had called upon earlier came to my rescue. I took a deep breath.
"I, too, have a favourite possession, Captain Price," I said in a steady voice.
"Of course you do, Miss Darcy. Which one of your many precious treasures is it? Is it this jewel-encrusted brooch, perchance?"
Mrs Wentworth looked mildly alarmed by the Captain's hostile tone. With all the dignity I could muster, and unable to stop the tears from appearing in my eyes, I replied,
“My most cherished possession is the miniature of my mother that my father had made when I was not yet born. It was her last portrait before she died at my birth."
The Captain's expression turned from mockery to shame, and he lowered his gaze.
The first bell announcing the end of the intermission rang. There were rushed ends to conversations, hushed voices, laughter. The crowd began to move towards the concert hall, and us with it. Colonel Fitzwilliam was walking ahead of us, with Captain Wentworth by his side. Mrs Wentworth, Captain Price and I followed behind.
Then I saw him.
Wickham was standing by one of the windows, watching me. When he was sure I had caught his eye, he came in my direction. His figure was wearier, less elegant than I remembered, and I quickly detected a limp. As he got closer, I also noticed his thinning hair, his red and swollen nose, and above all, the change in his eyes. Once lively and full of mischief, and so dear to me, they were now bloodshot, with a yellow tinge that denoted ill health.
I felt panic rise inside of me and I looked around for my cousin. I cried his name, but my voice was swallowed up by the noise of the crowd. Wickham was now right in front of me. I thought my legs would fail me, but Captain Price, who had kept to my side upon noticing that I was agitated, was holding my arm, his firm grip steadying me.
With a smirk that showed a gap where one of his incisors should have been, Wickham gave me an exaggerated bow.
"Dearest Georgiana, what a pleasure to see you after all these years."
Before we could continue, a shrill female voice cried.
"Captain Price, what a surprise!"
Lydia.
She practically ran towards us, her low-cut gown barely able to contain her bosom. Oblivious to any tension in the air, she proudly introduced Captain Price to her husband, who gave him a hostile smile. The Captain's face I could not see, but I noticed the muscles in his body tense up.
"Kitty will be so disappointed to have missed you when I tell her that I saw you tonight," Mrs Wickham added.
Captain Price mumbled some formulaic form of regret, but Lydia insisted.
"My sister is quite taken by you, Captain, and I dare venture that the feeling is mutual. Oh, come, do not pretend it isn’t, you are amongst friends! But do not despair, you do not have long to wait until you speak to her again. You will see her at Lady Dalrymple's ball tomorrow. Did you know I’m going as well?”
All the while, Wickham was watching me like a hungry tiger, completely ignoring his wife. Had I been alone, I would have been easy pray for him, but the Captain's arm gave me strength. Lydia didn't seem to mind his behaviour, and continued her monologue as if the conversation was perfectly pleasant for all present.
"And Miss Darcy is here as well, Wickham, just as you said! How did you know?"
Her words came as no surprise to me. I could easily picture Wickham carefully planning the encounter, hoping that I would be left without a protector in a moment of confusion. I began to tremble, I thought I would surely faint, but the Captain had me, and I held on to him as if I was a shipwreck survivor and he the only floating piece of wood in the ocean. Captain Price immediately excused us with perfect manners and the pretext that the performance was recommencing, and he steered me towards the stairs. As we were leaving, I could feel Wickham's gaze still on me, with a mixture of glee, anger and something deeper and more disturbing I couldn't quite place.
When we were out of the Wickham's view, Captain Price made me stop.
"Miss Darcy, you are unwell," he said in a hushed voice, his blue eyes tinged with worry. "Allow me to find you a seat, and fetch you a glass of cordial to restore your spirits."
"No!"
In my agitation, I buried my head in his shoulder.
For a split second, I feared he would tease me about my distress, but he didn't say a word, and we remained standing in the corridor until the musicians started playing again. When I finally plucked the courage to look up at him, there was concern in his clear blue eyes, but above all kindness.
"I promise I will not leave you, Miss Darcy,” he said in a solemn voice, offering me his handkerchief. “I will remain by your side as long as you desire."
The words were the balm my heart needed. I wiped away the tears from my face, took a deep breath and willed myself to recover my self-command. I was suddenly embarrassed and began to apologise, but the Captain wouldn't hear of it.
"It is I, Miss Darcy, who should apologise for my earlier behaviour. My snares were uncivil and rude, and most unjustly aimed. I am so very sorry I ever caused you pain."
At that moment, Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared, a look of concern on his face. He saw us, the handkerchief, the tears.
"What is the matter, Georgiana?" he asked, giving Captain Price a most severe look.
I couldn't have the man who had now twice come to my assistance be unjustly seen as the cause of my misery, so I forced myself to speak in spite of the shock I was feeling.
"I was in some distress," I said in a whisper, "and Captain Price came to my assistance."
My cousin's eyes narrowed.
Captain Price kept his gaze on Colonel Fitzwilliam and addressed him with perfect calmness and collection.
"I am afraid that Miss Darcy's spirits have been sorely tested. She needs a rest. If she so wishes, I will fetch her shawl from your box so you can take her home."
The Captain looked at me, and I nodded, and with that, he departed. When I was sure only my cousin could hear me, I spoke to him in a low voice.
"I saw Wickham. He was downstairs."
Colonel Fitzwilliam stiffened, his lips tweaked for an instant, and his face reddened. He started to ask me questions, but I did not find the energy to answer, and simply let him pat my hands, just as he would pat one of his hounds to calm her down. Captain Price was at our side in an instant and he put the shawl around my shoulders. He had informed Lady Catherine that I had su
ddenly taken ill and that the Colonel would escort me back to Grosvenor Square. A moment later, my cousin and I were in the carriage and Captain Price had waved me goodbye.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was bitter and deeply troubled all the way back to my aunt's house.
"Wickham would not have dared to address you directly, or even make his presence known, had I been with you. I will never forgive myself for not having prevented this encounter, Georgiana. I am sorrier than I can express."
I wanted to assuage his feelings but I truly couldn't. I was too agitated to try to calm another.
A half hour later, alone in bed, my temples tingling due to the lavender water that Jones had most expediently applied at the sight of my pale face, the events repeated themselves behind my closed eyes.
It had been shocking to see Wickham, but also enlightening. Reality had brusquely shown me that the man I had thought him to be was a figment of my imagination. My memories of Wickham, his handsome looks, his graceful countenance, his spellbinding conversation, these all remained, but they were forever tainted by the recent sighting of the person he had become. The final scraps of chivalry and dignity he still had when I met him last had been lost forever. Best of all, the weight that had been oppressing me since that day in Ramsgate had finally lifted. I was finally free from him.
In the small hours, when the streets were as silent as they get in London, I went towards the window and drew the curtains back, allowing the moonlight to flood the room. Carefully, I opened the trunk at the foot of the bed for the second time that day. After some rummaging, my fingers struck metal, and I took out Captain Price's hip flask. I held the silver item in my hands, feeling its weight, its rounded edges, its scratches and imperfections due to years of travel and service in the Navy. It was flawed but dignified and beautiful at the same time.
It was time to return it to its rightful owner.
I hid the hip flask in the reticule I was planning to take to Lady Dalrymple's ball. I would see him there, and even if he was busy dancing with Kitty Bennet, I was sure to find a moment with him. Satisfied with my decision, I closed the curtains and tiptoed back to bed.
Chapter 16
On the morning of Lady Dalrymple's ball, the sun was out, and for once the London streets didn't seem so bleak. I eagerly jumped out of bed and went straight to the wardrobe. My new blue gown was hanging inside, the beautiful silk soft and shiny, the lace and ribbons perfectly ironed and ready for tonight's entertainments. I checked the azure slippers I had bought in South Molton Street: they matched the rest of the attire perfectly. I reddened at the memory of the expedition with Mrs Gardiner and the Misses Bennet. I could not change the past, but today arrived with the opportunity to make amends. I dressed in my morning gown and went downstairs.
My aunt wasn't at the table. My cousin, who was finishing his meal, looked up from his eggs, his eyes tinged with concern.
"Good morning, Georgiana, I hope you have recovered from last night."
I nodded.
"The encounter was unpleasant in the extreme, Cousin, but I am in better spirits today."
Colonel Fitzwilliam rested his knife and fork on the edge of his plate and put his hand on mine.
"I am happy to hear, Georgiana."
He seemed bewildered by my speedy recovery. Of course, he couldn't know that the encounter with Wickham had given me clarity. I may never be able to declare in public my affection for Captain Price, but I could return to him what was rightly his and keep his friendship in the bargain. A wave of anticipation was building inside of me. I would see him again in just a few hours.
The Colonel coughed.
"Unfortunately, I am afraid to report that the evening didn't agree with our aunt."
"What do you mean, Cousin?”
"Lady Catherine has taken to her bed. I have called for a doctor, and he should be here presently. Of course, her illness means that we will not be able to go to the ball tonight," he added in a matter-of-fact voice. “I have taken the liberty of writing to Lady Dalrymple and excusing us from attending."
"But –"
"I am sorry, Georgiana, but it would be improper to attend in the present circumstances."
My eyes tingled. There would be no ball for me after all. We both fell silent. I forced myself to eat, but I had no appetite. Then, the footman came into the breakfast room holding a silver tray. On it was an envelope addressed to my cousin. Colonel Fitzwilliam took it with a sharp gesture, slashed it open with his penknife and read the contents with impatience. His manner alarmed me.
"Is it from Pemberley, Cousin? I hope it's good news."
My cousin swiftly stood up, his face visibly pale.
"Apologies, Georgiana, but I have some urgent business to attend to."
And with that, he left. I had no inkling of the affairs he was involved in, but it all sounded very disturbing.
The rest of the day dragged on miserably. I tried to read a novel from my aunt's library, but I didn't manage to get beyond page fifteen. I picked up my sewing box but was unable to do concentrate. All I could think of was the dancing and falling in love that would happen between Captain Price and Kitty, all of it away from my gaze. For some reason, imagining the events instead of witnessing them seemed infinitely worse. Furthermore, there was the hip flask. My plans to return it had been shattered. I was feeling utterly miserable.
In the afternoon, the doorbell rang, and to my surprise the footman announced Mrs Wentworth. She came in, dressed in a green cotton gown that brought out the hazel in her eyes. She smiled at me gently as if she needed to excuse her presence.
"I happened to be at Lady Dalrymple's with my father and sister when your aunt's footman brought the Colonel's note excusing you all from tonight's ball. I did not wish to intrude, but I imagined that you may welcome some company."
I was delighted to see her. There was a gentleness, a caring nature in her that, although entirely different from Elizabeth's, was missing in my life since my departure from Pemberley. I asked the maid to bring some tea. While it was being served, Mrs Wentworth handed me a card.
"I also wanted to invite your party to a gathering the Captain and I are hosting at our residence in Cavendish Square Gardens on Saturday night. It will be a much less grand affair than Lady Dalrymple's ball, but I thought perhaps you would appreciate the chance to be out in society, even if your aunt is unable to accompany you. Surely Colonel Fitzwilliam will do the honours."
I assented with some reserve. I would have to speak to him first. These days I no longer knew what was possible and what wasn't.
"I must enquire after Lady Catherine," continued Mrs Wentworth. "How is she?"
"She is in her rooms, in need of rest. I fear that she has been overexerting herself since I arrived in London."
My voice was faltering. Mrs Wentworth gently pressed my hand.
"Do not blame yourself. Lady Catherine has an enviable constitution for someone her age, and she will recover. And as for the ball, I know it is of little consolation to you, but there will be many more such nights. In London, there is always something happening, and you would be surprised at how often one encounters the same familiar faces over and over again."
She meant Don Cosimo, of course. The gossip on his deception had not yet reached her, and she thought me in love with him. I had an overwhelming urge to explain it to her myself, to say how wrong I had been, how little I cared for him now, and how my affections had a much more worthy recipient, even if I dared not dream of a future with him. But I couldn't. My sense of pride and duty, mixed with my natural timidity, made the disclosure impossible, even to such an amiable ear. Mrs Wentworth seemed to acknowledge that there was a fight of some description taking place inside of me, but her discreet manner prevailed.
I suddenly realised that I would not see Captain Price tonight, but she surely would. I must give her the hip flask. It was the only way to convey to him the message that I was thinking about him. I stood up in haste.
"Mrs Wentworth, would yo
u be able to wait here for five minutes?"
She assented, slightly confused.
I rushed upstairs and fetched the reticule that I would not need that night. Back in the drawing room, I opened it and extracted the hip flask, which was folded in one of my embroidered handkerchiefs.
"Would you do me a great favour and hand this back to its rightful owner, Captain Price?" I asked Mrs Wentworth, placing the object in her hands.
She looked at the hip flask and then at me with wide eyes. She did not ask, but I felt compelled to explain to her how the object had come to my possession.
“Captain Price came to my assistance when I needed it most, and was generous enough to leave this hip flask with me at the time. I have been meaning to return it to him for some time, and had finally settled in doing so at Lady Dalrymple's tonight. However, it won’t be possible, and hence my appeal for your help. I know I can trust your delicacy and discretion."
Silently, she took the object and put it in her reticule.
"I may have been surprised to hear your story if it had involved anyone else but Captain Price," she said after some reflection. "He possesses a kind heart and the determination and courage to assist those in need. My husband told me that, a few days ago, upon seeing a bunch of street urchins wearing Navy gear, Captain Price didn't satisfy himself with giving them generous alms. He spoke to them, found out that their departed father once served under an acquaintance and is now determined to raise funds to assist them."
It couldn't be the same children I had spotted from my carriage, surely? I remembered the frantic obstinacy of the eldest child, the cloudy and useless eyes of the toddler, and prayed it was indeed them.
"Captain Wentworth thinks very highly of his friend," continued Mrs Wentworth. "He often says that Captain Price is the bravest and most loyal of his colleagues, but more importantly, a good man, and that if only there were more people like him in the world, it would surely be a better place."
Miss Darcy's Beaux Page 13