by Don Jacobson
Maria had a suspicion of who this newcomer was. She determinedly started back toward the chocolatier’s dragging Mary and Georgiana in her wake.
Mary called out, “Maria. Hold there. What are you up to?”
“Mary, I think that is M. and Mme Rochet’s son returning all a-dither. He probably was at sea and only heard about the fire when his ship docked. I wager he has only been able to return just now to learn about his family’s welfare,” Maria replied, still marching toward the shop.
Mary gently grabbed her. “Then should you not allow the family a few moments of privacy? After all, I doubt if they have seen their son for more than two weeks these past six years. We have no idea how much time they will have before he must return to his ship.”
For the first time in their acquaintance, Mary saw Miss Lucas (as she was styled since she, too, was now the oldest unmarried Lucas woman), hesitate when confronted with the choice of acting like a hoyden around a uniform and remembering her birth as the daughter of a knight. Maria pursed her lips and frowned. Having spent the past few weeks in the company of both Miss Darcy, her age compatriot, and the older Miss Bennet, Maria had had the opportunity to observe the more accepted behavioral norms. She shrugged off her inner Lydia and lost her scowl.
“As usual, Mary, you talk common sense. Of course, we should let them have their reunion. Perhaps we could send an invitation to the family to join us at Longbourn or Lucas Lodge for a dinner in honor of their son’s visit to the neighborhood.” Maria offered to a smiling Mary.
Before the girls could formulate their next step, the shop door was pulled open and the young man emerged, calling out to the coachman.
“Mr. Higgins, would you please be so kind as to continue to my parent’s house down Longbourn Lane up ahead. There you will be able to unload my gear.” At that moment, he became aware of the three ladies standing nearby and countermanded his previous request. “Belay that Mr. Higgins. Allow me to greet these ladies without you raising another cloud of dust. You will have to tell me someday where you learned to handle a coach. You drive as if the Furies themselves are chasing you unto death!”
“Ah, sor, you know that me pa was a coachman for Lord Cornwallis hisself back when he was getting worried by that Washington feller. He had to scarper out of some pretty techy spots. Then they sent the Lord up to Ireland. Reckon me Irish brothers would have considered it a feather in their caps if they had bagged a Lord Lieutenant. Me pa dinna let that happen. And then they sent the both of them out to India as Viceroy…” Higgins rambled.
The officer grinned as he cut his man short and turned to the women standing nearby.
“I am sorry ladies, but you get Bos’un Higgins going and you will miss tea and dinner. Please forgive my noise and hasty arrival, but Surprise only docked in Portsmouth yesterday. We received our mail, and I found out about the tragedy. This monstrosity was the only chaise I could hire so I pressed Mr. Higgins to help drive. And, here we are.”
He halted his torrent when he realized that three pairs of widened feminine eyes were staring at him. He gulped nervously, pulled himself upright, and tried to brush off his coat’s salt stains and smooth out his cuffs. Running his hands through his hair he realized something was missing from his ensemble.
Hissing between clenched teeth, “Higgins, man. My hat. Give-me-my-hat.”
The older man, enjoying his moment, made to fumble around until he located the missing object and handed it down to his superior who promptly pulled it on.
Turning back to the threesome, he addressed them.
“Please forgive my earlier familiarity, ladies, there is no excuse for my friendly address when we have not been properly introduced. I will take my leave of you and wish you a good day,” he stated formally, tipped his freshly installed headgear and made a deep bow.
Maria stepped forward and addressed him.
“Your graciousness is appreciated,” Mary felt a warmth inside for how Maria was conducting herself, “but I wish to correct you on one item. We are acquainted. Well, you are acquainted with two of us.
“Willy, I am Maria…Maria Lucas, and this is Mary Bennet. Mary, you remember Willy, er, Guillaume Rochet. He’s been in the Navy these seven years, you know,” she awkwardly continued.
Lieutenant Rochet tipped his head to one side and considered Maria and Mary. Once he knew her identity, he could easily pick out the Bennet traits in Mary—especially her eyes. She had been three-and-ten on his departure in 1805. But, when he had last seen Maria, she had been a gangling girl of just nine years. About the only recognizable feature was her rich chestnut hair and green eyes. Everything else about her was different. A very good different, but different, none-the-less.
“Miss Mary, Miss Maria. It is certainly very good to see you again. If I may be permitted a compliment; the years have certainly done nothing but add to your beauty. I recall when we would chase around the fields together with the Lucas boys and the other Bennet sisters.
“I must apologize for my appearance, but my best uniform is packed away. I dared not expose it to the rigors of travel. This” he gestured to his outer garment, “is my work-a-day coat,” the young lieutenant explained.
He looked at Georgiana and then at Mary with a raised eyebrow, obviously suggesting a final introduction.
Mary immediately made amends. “If I may, I would like to introduce our friend to you. Miss Darcy, this is Lieutenant Guillaume Rochet of His Majesty’s frigate Surprise. Lieutenant Rochet, this is our friend and my new sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire. She is currently staying with us at Longbourn. Her brother just last month married my sister Elizabeth.”
A curtsey and a bow were exchanged. Mary watched the two younger women interact with the Lieutenant. Georgiana was polite and friendly but evidenced no further interest. Maria, on the other hand, was flushed, her pupils were dilated beneath the brim of her bonnet and her lips were slightly parted. Ah-hah! As Mama would say…there is something here.
Rochet politely inquired about their mission for the day. Upon learning that the girls had spent most of the afternoon shopping and were now returning to their homes, he interjected, “By my eye, the sun is nearing four bells, far too close to the winter horizon. The distance to Lucas Lodge with an added return to Longbourn House is significant. I doubt if you will be able to accomplish your cruise without losing the light if you attempt it on foot.
“I would venture to make a suggestion. Perhaps I could convince my parents to close the shop early, and then we could all bundle into my vehicle here to deliver Miss Darcy and Miss Bennet home before we drop Miss Lucas at Lucas Lodge. What do you think?”
Maria jumped in quickly, but speaking in a well-modulated mature voice, “We would enjoy your courtesy. You have no idea just how tired our feet are after a day in town. I may be speaking out of turn, but with your parents as chaperones as well as Mr. Higgins up top, I doubt if Miss Bennet or Miss Darcy would object either.”
Mr. Higgins rumbled from above in sotto voice, “Third Lieutenant or no, I would re-introduce Mr. Rochet to the gunner’s daughter if he overstepped his bounds.”
Rochet nearly doubled over in laughter that led the three girls to start to giggle.
“What? What did I say? I r’call a few times the young gen’l’man had to take five or ten from a bos'ns cane after he upsot the Cap’n with one thing or ‘nother. And, it usually was ‘nother with Mr. Rochet. Spent some time up in the maintop, too,” Higgins said in an aggrieved tone.
“Now do not go frightening the ladies, Higgins. You will have them thinking I am some hellion only fit to be out at sea away from polite company.
“Allow me to approach my parents with my idea,” Mr. Rochet asked.
Returning to the carriage after a quick family tête-à-tête, he handed each girl up and then waited outside for his mother and father to arrive. After his father locked the shop, Mme Rochet joined the young ladies and settled against the furthest window on Maria’s side. M. Rochet cli
mbed in between Miss Lucas and Mme Rochet. Luckily, all were of slim to medium build. Lieutenant Rochet peered in to see that the only remaining seat was next to Mary across from Maria. With a smile he climbed in. He rapped on the roof and they were away to Longbourn.
Will Rochet smiled at the other five passengers. “You will have to excuse my amusement at how tightly we are packed in here, but as a seaman, I am used to very close quarters. As Third Lieutenant on a 28-gun frigate, my “cabin” is wide enough for me to sling my hammock, stow my sea chest and mount a small shelf with my reference books. I have a small stool and a lantern.
“On top of that, when we clear for action, everything including the door and walls are struck and stored down in the orlop. Lest you think that the superior officers have it any better, Captain Aubrey’s ‘great cabin’ includes two long barreled nine-pound chaser guns. His hanging bed can be tied up against the hull to give us enough room when we set for dinner.
“So, you can imagine the relative luxury we are enjoying even with just the six of us crammed in here.”
To be honest, though, Maria Lucas was not complaining as she sat gazing at the dancing blue eyes seated across from her.
Chapter XXVI
Crunching across the gravel drive in front of Longbourn, the carriage slowed to a halt. Mr. Higgins had kept the team under close control to ensure that his cargo would not be jostled about in the indifferently sprung coach. The lieutenant hopped out to hand down first Mary and then Georgiana. Mr. Bennet stepped out from underneath the front portico, his face opening in recognition.
“By my word, is that the scourge of the Tyrant? Willy Rochet…the last time I saw you was in ’05 all togged out in your Midshipman’s finery. The families in the neighborhood had a dinner, if I recall, and presented you with a pretty little dirk from Thomas Gill. How are you, lad?” Longbourn’s master boomed.
“Well enough, Mr. Bennet. That gift of a dirk has served me well over the years. It was first blooded in ’07 when I was in the Comus off Norway. Since I was not expecting any boarding actions in Hertfordshire, it is safely stowed away along with my brace of Sea Service pistols,” young Rochet replied.
At this point, M. Rochet descended and crossed over to Mr. Bennet to bow in greeting. Mme Rochet and Miss Lucas peered out the open door.
“I can see you have more stowed in your carriage than just edged weapons and firearms. Well met, Rochet. Madame Rochet and Miss Lucas, too. Thank you for conveying my daughter and Miss Darcy safely home. We feared they would become befuddled after relieving Meryton’s merchants of their inventory given the number of deliveries we have seen here in the past few hours.”
M. Rochet quickly replied, “Oh, indeed, Bennet. They stopped for a chocolat in the middle of their expedition. I am not certain if it was modiste first then milliner or the other way around. Guillaume prevailed upon Madame Rochet and me to close the shop early in order to bring the ladies home in his carriage. Once we have finished here, we will be off to Lucas Lodge to return Miss Lucas to the bosom of her family.”
“And then to your house, I imagine, so that your gracious wife can poke and prod your son and quiz him about his adventures, most especially his forays into the realm of the fairer half of humanity,” Mr. Bennet added much to the chagrin of Mary. Miss Darcy bowed her head and coughed to hide her nervous giggle. Miss Lucas darkened about three shades of red.
“I am standing here, you know,” Will said.
“Well, enough chatter,” Mr. Bennet concluded, “You should be on your way to Lucas Lodge before you lose the light. I will let Mrs. Bennet know that Lieutenant Rochet is in town. I am sure she will regret not having Kitty here to throw in your way. But, I am equally certain that she will get together with her fellow chinwaggers and check their lists of available females. Be prepared for a dinner invitation or two before you are able to escape back to Portsmouth!”
The Rochet men tipped their hats to the ladies and bowed to Mr. Bennet before climbing into the much less crowded coach. Higgins snapped the reins and the team leaned into their traces. In short order the carriage had turned toward Lucas Lodge and vanished from sight.
Mr. Bennet looked at the two girls and said, “There is a bit of time before tea. Perhaps you would wish to go to your rooms to freshen up? Mary, before that, could you join me in the library?”
Mary followed her father into the bookroom. Mr. Bennet did not walk behind his worktable as he usually did, using it as a wall between himself and his unfortunate victim. Rather he walked over to one of the leather chairs in front of the desk and, before he took a seat, motioned Mary to the other. There was a large flat paper-wrapped parcel sitting on Lizzy’s footstool.
As Papa began speaking, Mary, sitting nearby, could see that his eyes were reddened.
“Mary, first let me reflect on our meeting with the Rochets a moment ago. Please know that I intentionally left you out of consideration as being eligible to be thrown in the way of Lieutenant Rochet. You are in a courtship with Mr. Benton even if it is unannounced currently. But, I was concerned you might mistake my omission as disdain, and there has been enough of that toward you to last more than a lifetime,” Mr. Bennet noted.
Mary smiled gratefully at her father.
“Now, I have here a package which was sent to you. I cannot tell you who sent it at this time, just that it comes from a person we both can trust. I have no idea what is inside. But, since you are nearly twenty years of age and for all purposes a grown woman, I see no reason for me to hold your hand. Whatever you discover is yours to know.
“I may be able to explain some of what you will find, but much of it may be a mystery to me as well. If you wish to share it with me, I will do my best,” Mr. Bennet concluded by picking up the package and placing it across Mary’s lap.
Hesitating for only a moment, Mary gathered the parcel into her arms and rose from her seat.
“I will open this in my chamber, if that is acceptable, Papa,” Mary asked. He nodded.
As Mary departed, Mr. Bennet stood and walked over to the French window overlooking the back garden. He gently released the latch and stood with his hand on the glass, watching the last rays of the sun vanish from the purpling paths and lanes before returning to his chair and book.
Chapter XXVII
Once upstairs in her room, Mary lit two candles and placed them on the stand beside her bed. Sitting on the comforter, she cut the brown twine with her penknife. Unfolding the paper wrapping revealed a morocco leather case, perhaps crown folio[xxxii] size. Gusseted, the pouch was clearly expandable to hold several documents. A flap came over the top and was restrained by a clever brass latch that popped open after a button was pushed. Finally, the front of the portfolio was embossed in gold with three gold initials:
J M R
When Mary reached inside, she felt a modest stack of papers. Withdrawing them, she spied what could only be sheet music. Mary emptied the entire portfolio and subjected each object to examination. She found:
Two multi-paged music scores
A small letter
A card-like object with an intricate illustration
A small box with the words embossed on it.
A small leather-covered book with Agende de Poche 1932 embossed on the cover
Arranging the items on the bed cover, Mary examined each one as if she was one of Mr. Fielding’s Bow Street constables.
While the pocket-sized book offered the most information at first glance, she was attracted to the illustrated item that upon a closer view was like no other portrait she had ever seen before. With a glossy surface and no visible brush or pen strokes, the item was about five inches high by seven inches across. Written in ink on the back was
Fried, Gauthier, Ravel, Tedesco, Gershwin
Anniversaire de Ravel, New York, 1928.[xxxiii]
The men were strangely but uniformly dressed. The clothing looked formal and reminded Mary of one of Mr. Darcy’s best outfits—black in color with dark waist
coats, pantaloons and a considerable amount of white shirtfront. One of the gentlemen held a cigar. That, too, spelled a different set of social rules in 1928 as opposed to 1812 for gentlemen only smoked when the ladies withdrew after dinner. As for the woman’s gown: it was daring beyond belief with no lace reducing the skin she showed at her neckline.
Yet, the posing of the group reminded Mary of similar scenes in many post-dinner drawing rooms throughout the county and in Town. They were gathered around a pianoforte. Based upon the caption, it was M. Ravel’s birthday that was being celebrated in New York in America.
But in 1928? That was over 100 years in the future!
Laying the picture aside, Mary picked up the box. Its top was embossed with the words “Waterman’s Ideal Fountain Pen.” There was also a little gift tag glued to the box itself. The salutation read
Pour Maestro Ravel
De Seconds Violons
Again, the name “Ravel.” She looked back at the picture. The man seated at the piano must be Ravel—or since everything is in French, Monsieur Ravel. On top of that, M. Ravel must be a conductor—Maestro—as the Second Violins honored him with this gift.
The container weighed more than its size suggested. Opening it, she discovered a compact golden cylinder, about five or six inches long nestled atop a printed sheet that turned out to be “Directions for the care of a pen.”[xxxiv] Setting the paper aside, she hefted the shiny item.