Rawlings turned around at the sound of his name. “Father! What are you doing here? It is too chilly for you.”
Logan ducked below deck as soon as Lord Wolverly caught up to his son.
“Son, I was afraid you had sailed, and I would not reach you in time. I cannot believe you are going.” He leaned against the railing, panting in deep breaths. His face was flush and sweat had formed on his brow.
Rawlings handed his father a handkerchief. He placed his hand on his back. “I am leaving, sir, and nothing you say will cause me to change my mind.”
“I do not understand why you insist on taking this foolhardy trip. You have sufficient wealth to live comfortably without resorting to sailing to the wilderness.” Lord Wolverly wiped his brow, and then grabbed his son’s arm. “This is dangerous, Gerald. Did I not secure your future?”
“Bah! You only concerned yourself because of our family’s embarrassing situation.” Rawlings' gaze bore into the pleading man with the blackest stare he could muster. “You and Thomas attempted to ensnare my friend! My God, Darcy was my guest in your house, Father. I will never forgive you for such deceit.” His father’s firm grip on Rawlings’ arm impeded his effort to walk away.
“I did nothing, other than provide the financial means necessary for a union between you two. You behaved like a rake, son. You trapped her for her money and your friend helped.”
“What a ridiculous idea. Darcy is an honorable man, as am I!” He yanked his arm free.
“Honorable? You? How is that possible when you were the one who compromised that poor, innocent child? Thomas told me Darcy had asked Margaret to join him in his room, which she did. She expected him to come to her. You and Darcy ruined that poor innocent girl.”
“Bah! She was neither innocent nor a child. I was not her first. I acted only to save my friend from a wretched life.”
“Thomas said she loved your friend, and perhaps she was no longer innocent because Darcy had been with her before. I had no part in any deception. I only wished to help you, since I believed you desired her to be your wife.”
Rawlings voice trembled as he spoke louder. “Thomas tells lies when he wants something he cannot have, and you know me well enough to understand all was not as it seemed.”
“I am not as ignorant and accepting of what your brother says as you think! I watched Margaret entice Darcy, and he did, he did, I swear, return her attentions. He danced with her and brought her drinks. He rarely left her side all evening. I make no judgments of a gentleman’s behavior; trysts happen all the time. Your friend is not immune to a pretty face.”
“Not immune? You do not comprehend his character at all. He is a true gentleman, and she used his good nature to monopolize him. I am positive it was Thomas who suggested you to watch Margaret and Darcy. That was part of his plan.”
“You should have told me the truth.”
“I have held back telling you because I could see no point in causing you pain. Father, Thomas, and Margaret planned their trickery after you declared she was not acceptable as a Countess. With our Derbyshire estate adjoining Pemberley, Thomas intended to pawn her off on Darcy, and keep her nearby. Convenient for assignations, do you not agree? Moreover, with Margaret becoming a Darcy, they would spend many social evenings together. You knew her well enough to understand she would never allow herself to be hidden away in a nearby cottage like a common courtesan.”
“Your brother had no such designs on her.”
“Well then, Father, why did Thomas mourn her so deeply? Can you not guess? My wife carried his child, and when she died in the process, he drank to an excess even unknown to him. I heard him calling out to her in the night amongst his sorrowful moans.”
“I do not believe you.” Lord Waverly glared at his son. “Thomas—”
“He is the father. I swear!” Rawlings bellowed.
“Stop. This conversation is not solving the problem before us. You do not need to run off to America. You belong here.”
“I am going.” Rawlings crossed his arms against his chest. “I will not discuss my leaving any longer. I sail today.”
Lord Waverly turned away and grabbed the railing. “I failed you,” he mumbled. “I failed Thomas, too, but I most definitely let you down.”
“You did no such thing, sir. I sought the marriage, regardless of how it came about, but Thomas’ role should not be kept from you.”
“I will piece together the truth if I must hold a flintlock to his head.”
“I own a modified Baker rifle that would work better. A most accurate shot.” Rawlings laughed quietly.
“But if what you say is true about their ruse, then I am truly sorry. I should not have forced you into marriage.”
“No one is to blame. It is the second son’s plight.”
“If only.” Lord Wolverly shook his head, closed his eyes, and gripped the rail tighter. His knuckles turned white. Holding back a sob, he waited to speak until his control had returned.
“Let us not run through the if only scenario again. Thomas was born first. He is the heir, and is entitled to everything.”
“He behaves much in the same way as his mother did—selfishly and with an exaggerated, self-important air. Perhaps, if I had remarried after her death, then Thomas would have had a more kindhearted attitude to you and your friends.”
“Such as Bingley and Kent?” Rawlings forehead furrowed, and his eyes turned dark until his father lowered his head.
“True. I own that fault as well. But tradesmen, Gerald? Can you trust them? Believe me when I say I speak from experience when I emphasize the problems with associating with them. Bah! You will do as you want which as has been your behavior since your mother died.”
Father and son leaned against the railing, staring at the horizon and did not speak until a sailor interrupted their reverie.
“Mr. Rawlings, sir? The Captain invites you to dine with him tonight.”
“Tell him I accept.” Rawlings brushed his jacket and straightened his cravat.
Lord Waverly squeezed his son’s shoulder. “Gerald, I… do wish you the best.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I… will worry for your safety. Is there anything you need, or something I can do?”
“No. Logan is traveling with me. We will be fine. All is well.”
Lord Wolverly wiped his eye. “Damn salty air.”
Rawlings studied his father with a fresh mind. He discovered gray strands nestling among his thinning hair, deep-set wrinkles framing his eyes, and large brown freckles dotting his father’s hands. And he did not stand as tall as he had remembered. When did he get so old? He felt his throat tightened and quickly reached and squeezed his father’s shoulder. Why is his breathing so shallow? Is he ill? Should I stay?
The two men spoke in calm, hushed tones for a few minutes, each man gathering strength from the other until they ran out of impersonal topics to discuss. When Lord Wolverly approached the gangway to depart the ship, he turned for one final look at his son. “Write as soon as you arrive.”
“I promise. Take care, Father.” A lump in Rawlings’ throat burned. He failed to utter the words he wanted to say and the Lord wished to hear. As his father walked down the gangway, he felt the urge to run down and hug him just as he had done as a toddler. Instead, he grabbed the railing when his father turned, waved, and then got inside his carriage. Rawlings watched the horses pulling him away, returning his father’s wave too late. He spied Darcy’s carriage pulling up, he tried to swallow the lump in his throat and quicky wipe away the mist in his eyes.
Logan rejoined Rawlings on deck and waited for the men to alight. Long before boarding the ship, Rawlings had decided to introduce Logan as a gentleman acquaintance, and planned to call him Mr. Logan throughout the trip. The subterfuge was for Logan’s protection from the British Royal Navy. However, he did expect Logan to perform usual duties, albeit in secret. Logan had agreed to the plan.
Darcy stepped out first, and located Rawlings
standing on the deck near the gangway. Bingley and Kent followed close behind. Darcy and Bingley headed towards Rawlings while Kent sought out Captain Pierce.
“Is everything as I requested for Mr. Rawlings and Mr. Logan?” Kent nodded towards the gentlemen on the starboard side.
“Everything is in order, Mr. Kent. Although your friends have been given the best, I worry the staterooms are not what they are accustomed to having.”
“Fear not. They do not expect luxury.” Kent turned his gaze upon his friends. “Both gentlemen will take the voyage without complaint, being pleased they could travel on this marvelous ship that crosses the ocean in forty, and not the usual sixty-two days.”
“Yes, the Lively is fast, which may cause bouts of seasickness.”
“Well, it is good then, that it is such a short journey.”
By the time Kent caught up with the travelers, Blake had arrived. The five men exchanged their final goodbyes. Many months would pass before Rawlings was due to return home and they felt it keenly.
Bingley patted Rawlings on his shoulder. “You will miss my dinner party. When on their best behavior, the invitees can be exceedingly interesting.”
“Who are these interesting people?” Rawlings asked.
“James Watt is one. You could have shared your negative opinion of the steam engine and the locomotive, and then he would have enlightened you on the future of transportation.”
“I am sorry to miss an evening of pistons and governor things.” Rawlings winked to Bingley.
“They are called flyball governors,” Bingley grinned. “Never let him discover you do not understand his life’s passion. Uncle Watt would expound up the subject you until you could describe the intricate workings of one. I speak the truth. I was cornered over a discussion of flyballs years ago.”
“I am sorry to miss the party just the same.”
Bingley turned to the others. “I invite you all on Thursday night to the dinner for my family and friends and a few members of Kent’s as well.” He eyed Darcy and added, “Oh, and my Aunt Watt will be my hostess, so please bring Miss Darcy. I can assure you, it will be a different conversation, an enlightening evening.”
“I must decline,” Blake answered quickly. “I have dinner plans with my Uncle Harrowby. Lord Liverpool will be there, and I should attend, with the rifle sale proceeding. It will be a much different conversation than yours, but I imagine an enlightening as well.”
Bingley grinned. “I understand. Perhaps next time.”
Blake turned toward Rawlings. “Oh, Uncle Harrowby warned me of the likelihood of another war with America soon. He is working on avoiding future hostilities, but until then be on the lookout and watch your backside over there. Heed his words—these are dangerous times.”
“Thank you for the caution, Blake. Let us hope your uncle is successful. I do not know if England is able to fight two wars at the same time, and to be honest, victory over Napoleon is our first priority. I suspect nothing will happen in America until we finish with the little corporal.”
“Darcy, will you be able to attend?” Bingley asked.
“I, too, have plans.”
Rawlings noted Bingley’s grin fell into a frown when Darcy declined, and once everyone spoke their parting words, he requested Darcy remain behind to clarify something about Astor. Blake bid Rawlings God speed and disembarked with Bingley and Kent.
Rawlings turned to Darcy. “Bingley is your loyal friend, and meeting his family meant a great deal to him.” Rawlings eyes narrowed into tiny slits and sent the heat from his glare towards Darcy. “Do not treat him this way.”
“I cannot attend, Rawlings.” Darcy stood straighter and returned Rawlings’ glare.
“When will you stop being so damn haughty, and cease to look down your nose at people beneath you? You need to lower your chin, Darcy, and raise your attitude towards those not in your sphere. Would it be so difficult for you to show the tiniest particle of respect to your friend? Must you always treat him as an unequal? He admires you, and when you decline his invitation without attempting to provide a sincere explanation, such as Blake did, then you are not as convincing. He detected your mendaciousness, as did I. How is that for a four syllable word?”
Darcy said nothing. “You are correct. I do not have plans, but I declined for my sister’s sake. I do not wish to expose Georgiana to strangers. She… is shy, even with acquaintances. Without a doubt, she cannot find comfort in conversing with different kinds of people.” He glanced at the docks where Kent just shrugged in response to a comment Bingley made.
“Perhaps that is true, but you have no excuse. I warn you as a friend, you must address this facet of your character before the Bingleys of the world look down and reject you. One day they will rule us all!”
Reluctantly, Darcy nodded and the two spoke about the looming voyage and the business aspects of the trip. Afterwards, Darcy returned to the dock, where the other three men were waiting.
Rawlings, accompanied by Logan, watched his friends talking on the dock. Logan, however, focused his attention on the stranger hidden by the crates, acting in a clandestine manner, and pointed him out to Rawlings. The person slinked into the shadows.
Darcy, Bingley, and Kent waved goodbye and climbed in the carriage as Blake mounted his stallion. The men headed towards different locations.
Rawlings waved, again too late. He turned to Logan. “Shall we partake of some food? I believe they have refreshements in the dining compartment for the passengers. Perhaps we might meet the other passengers making the trip.”
***
Darcy’s carriage pulled up at the Custom House where Kent and Bingley planned to discover the procedures and proper documentation for trading a variety of products. Custom House, two hundred feet in length and consisting of two floors caught Darcy by surprise. He had expected a less imposing structure, something to match his perception of the subordinate role of trade. Alas, this was the opposite, a most significant structure.
Kent and Bingley climbed out of the carriage and headed inside while he continued on to the Royal Exchange in search of insurance underwriters. They ascended the staircase in search of the customs officers in the Long Room. All British custom offices are so named even if the actual space was a short, small, and cramped room. Nonetheless, this one lived up to its name, running the length of the building. They located the appropriate custom agent and spent several hours becoming proficient in shipping activities.
The Custom House may be the home of the shipping documentation, but the Royal Exchange is the centre of the country's shipping industry. Darcy ventured up the staircase to the Lloyd’s Room. open to underwriters and brokers. Having himself been involved in underwriting ships over the years, Darcy was well known by the patrons. He spent the afternoon drinking coffee and cajoling two particular underwriters to join in his new venture and was confident of their secrecy, having worked with them before. Several other gentlemen showed an interest in the bundling of different types of insurance. They expressed the necessity to be first group to do so. Lloyd has had a reputation for being first. By the day’s end, he was satisfied a sufficient number had agreed to underwrite their shipping and liability insurance.
He left in search of Blake, who had also traveled to Threadneedle Street to the Stock Exchange where the buying and selling stocks and raising the money for new enterprises took place. Just as Darcy approached the Stock Exchange, Blake emerged from the front door.
“Were you successful?” Blake asked.
“Exceedingly. I have found six underwriters. They asked to be kept apprised of our plans as we go forward. And you?”
A World of Expectations_Book 2_The Confrontation Page 14