Fair Stands the Wind

by Catherine Lodge

  “Sir,” she replied. “I hope to see you return to us restored in health before very long.” He opened his mouth to object, but she laid a gentle finger on his lips. “And you may safely leave Mama and the girls to Jane and me—with a little help from Uncle Gardiner.” He smiled at this, and she left him preparing to sleep.

  There were tears when it was time for her to leave. Longbourn would never again be her home; she would visit it and be welcome, but it was no longer hers, and she could not help but weep for that a little. However, as the coach left Meryton, she wiped her eyes and smiled at her husband. “There,” she said. “I am done.” He handed her his handkerchief, a piece of silk the size of a small sail, and she dried her eyes. “It seems you are forever coming to my rescue. You must not think I am normally such a watering pot,” she said, returning it.

  “I think you a lady of courage and feeling,” he replied firmly. “Such a new life, on such short notice is enough to make anyone weep. I am feeling more than a little overwhelmed myself. Tell me, did you sleep last night?”

  “Not a wink.”

  “Nor I. I hope I shall be a good husband. For all that I shall be at sea, I would wish to do my best for you,” he said.

  “I have no fear on that score,” she replied.

  He smiled at that and came over to sit on her side of the coach, taking her hand. “Have I told you today how beautiful you look?”

  “Yes; however, it is a sentiment that bears repetition.”

  He took her hand and kissed it gently. “I could hardly believe my good fortune when I saw you walk into the church.”

  “You must credit my Aunt Gardiner for that, for it was her choice of gown and bonnet.”

  “In the navy, we call that ‘fishing for compliments,’ for you know quite well that, becoming as they were, I do not refer to your gown or your bonnet.” He laughed. “Are you blushing, my…my dear? And I thought you such a strong-minded young lady.”

  “If you can find a young lady who does not blush at such things, then I fear you have not found a lady at all,” she replied and then blushed more deeply.

  He raised an arm and tucked her into his side with a murmured, “May I?” and they sat in companionable silence while the coach rocked through the gathering darkness to their new home. Miss Darcy and her mother were staying at Netherfield for the night and no one was at the Hatfield house save for the servants, but it was warm and welcoming, the scent of lavender and beeswax showing that time and care had been taken to make it ready.

  In the parlour, they sat down to tea and business. “I am afraid there is much we must discuss before I leave,” he said, spreading papers on the tea table. “I have opened accounts for you at two banks, and the dividends from your settlement will be paid half into each. The County Bank failed last month so it is best to divide one’s risk. I have placed money in both for housekeeping and your use until the dividends fall due next month and shall continue to deposit money for the household bills and your expenses.”

  She murmured her thanks, but he waved them away. “I have arranged for a good man to keep the garden. His name is Puttnam, and he will arrive tomorrow or the day after. He lost a foot, poor fellow, but he was a market gardener before he took the bounty, so he should do well for you. Anderssen has been my cox’n these many years and can be trusted absolutely. His language may be a little coarse, but he is discreet and honest. Here is his sick ticket. He picked up a nasty splinter wound and should not be at sea. He will need the ticket if the Press come calling. A prime seaman like him is worth his weight in gold.”

  Business took up another hour. As for why there was no horse and carriage: “I have arranged a contract with the King’s Head to hire you a carriage and driver whenever you wish to go to Longbourn. I did not think there would be enough use to warrant buying an equipage outright, although if there is, you can always make your own arrangements.” What to do about letters: “Grace will know my direction, and if you hand your letters to him, he will know how to see I get them. Ship-to-ship is much more reliable that the post, although if you do write, please ensure you date and number your letters so I can see whether any have gone astray.” News about Mr. Bennet: “I shall write here in the first instance, and you can decide what and how much to pass on to Longbourn.”

  Most distressing, however, were the details of what should happen if he were killed at sea. “This is my will. You may read it when I am gone. Suffice it to say that I would wish you to look after my sister until she is settled. I put no other obligation upon you. You will receive any arrears of pay, my books, and anything else you wish to keep. I have a small inheritance from my godfather, Judge Darcy, which is largely untouched, and this will go to Georgiana but not before she is five-and-twenty. I do not want any more fortune-hunting parsons sniffing round her.”

  When at last it was all done, they looked round the house together. She was touched to find her father had sent all her favourite books from his library, with some she did not recognise including The Midshipman’s Remembrancer—Being a Manual of Seamanship, Navigation and Conduct at Sea and one or two others. She realised the latter were of the captain’s providing in fulfilment of a promise she herself had quite forgotten. There was a brand-new cabinet piano for Georgiana’s use, and all the bedrooms were newly painted, with fresh hangings on the beds.

  They dined together, simply but well, still talking of all that needed to be said between them. Elizabeth was a little concerned that the captain’s older brother, Mr. Darcy, might attempt to regain custody of his sister. “I cannot think it at all likely,” replied her husband. “Not only is he idle in the last degree, but I have a temporary injunction remitting her to my custody while the issue is still at law, a matter I do not expect to be settled for many months, if not years. If worst comes to worst, Grace will get you both passage to the Mediterranean on a suitable ship, and my brother and that sot of a parson of his can whistle for her money.”

  “You place a great deal of trust in me, sir.”

  He smiled and placed a hand over hers. “I do. I suppose many years at sea have accustomed me to assessing at speed the character of those I meet. I have known you to be a person of intelligence and decision since first we met. There are many things in this life I am uncertain of; you are not numbered amongst them.”

  It was time to retire. The information from her mother and Mrs. Gardiner was running through her mind. He had said he would make no demands, but perhaps she might offer? No, that would be beyond bold, and even if she had not feared to look in some fashion unladylike or even wanton, how did one say it? She undressed and got into her second-best nightgown, for somehow she had never retrieved the one Jane had borrowed. Maria came in, brushed her hair, and removed the warming pan. Then she giggled, wished her mistress a goodnight, and vanished.

  Elizabeth could hear him moving in the dressing room next door. There was a bang, the sound of something metal hitting the floor, and a muffled something that was probably an oath. She dared not get out of bed, so she called out, “Is everything all right?” Gathering her courage, she added, “Fitzwilliam?”

  He appeared in the doorway in his dressing gown and nightshirt, gripping the side of the door. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I am afraid it’s the da…dashed dizziness again. I knocked my purse onto the floor and when I bent down to pick it up—there it was. My own fault for not sleeping properly last night.”

  “Where will you sleep?”

  He came into the room and gingerly made his way to the bed. “You must not think I have come to make a nuisance of myself, but it occurs to me that it would be as well if I spent the night here. It would not do for word to get out that I did not, as it might raise suspicions about the marriage that my brother’s lawyers could exploit.” She must have looked alarmed or something, for he quickly added, “I can easily sleep in that armchair. One thing about a life at sea is that it teache
s one to sleep almost anywhere.”

  She looked at his face. He appeared sincere, and why should she doubt his word now? He had never been anything but kind and considerate of her feelings. He closed his eyes and held on to the covers, his knuckles whitening. She made up her mind. “This is a great nonsense, sir. We are married, and the very least I can do is offer you a bed in your own home.” She held up one side of the covers and then hopped out of bed, went round the other side, helped him out of his dressing gown and then into bed.

  When she climbed back in, she found him lying on his back, his eyes still tight shut. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it.

  “You are being very kind,” he said softly.

  “It is no more than you deserve,” she replied. “How is your head?”

  “No worse than before. I can usually sleep it off.”

  “Then you should do so now. Goodnight, Fitzwilliam.”

  He raised the hand he held to his lips. “Goodnight, my dear.”

  Somewhat to her surprise, they were both asleep in minutes.

  Chapter Eleven

  She had never before shared a bed with anyone quite so large, and several times in the night, she turned over and bumped into an unexpected shoulder or knee. Once she awoke with a large, heavy arm round her waist and lay awake for a moment wondering whether he had awakened too and whether this were a preparatory move before…but she must have been more tired that she had thought, for she fell asleep again before she could decide whether or not she would welcome his attentions. When she awakened the next morning, she was alone.

  She sat up, suddenly afraid he might have left before bidding her goodbye, until the sound of someone singing softly in the dressing room reassured her.

  Farewell and adieu to you Spanish ladies

  Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain

  For we’ve received orders to sail for old England

  But we hope in a short time to see you again.

  He had a pleasant, tuneful voice, and she lay in bed for a few minutes listening to it until a glance at the curtained windows showed it was getting light, so she hurried to wash and dress, anxious to make the best of what little time they had left. She passed Starkey on the landing with her husband’s shaving water and stopped to have a word with him, only to find that she could think of nothing to say that would not sound foolish. It was obvious, however, that the man was no fool, for he ducked his head to her and said softly, “Never you mind, missus, I’ll look after ’im.” Then he bolted before she could express her thanks.

  They had breakfast in the little dining room, and she was startled to see what a six-foot sea captain considered a proper breakfast. Her own little plate was quite dwarfed by the beefsteak, eggs, bacon, and toast he devoured. When he reached for his sixth slice, he caught her looking at him and grinned. “Once you’ve lived on ship’s biscuit, you can never get enough soft tack,” he said, and she made a mental note to always have new bread in the house when he came home.

  The clock in the hall, a gift from her Aunt Phillips, chimed eight. The coach would be arriving soon. “Fitzwilliam, are you sure you are well enough to go to sea? After last night, I wonder whether you should not be given a sick ticket as well. Can you not leave your ship with another captain until you are quite recovered?”

  He drained his coffee cup and took her hand over the breakfast things. “I wish I could. It is difficult to explain because my mission is confidential.” He bit his lower lip and then said, “This is strictly entre nous, you understand?” She nodded. “I am ordered to make contact with…certain forces on land that might change their allegiance and join with us against the Corsican. These people know me personally and are not disposed to deal with anyone else. It is not a question of the great powers, merely of smaller principalities and such that might be persuaded to offer us aid. You can have no idea how much wood and water a ship requires, and any assistance I can obtain will be extremely useful.

  “Frankly, I consider the whole business a great nonsense, and if anything comes of it, I shall be amazed. However, the attempt must be made, and it is up to me to make it.”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  “There is little enough in this war that is not,” he replied and then raised his head at the sound of a carriage stopping in the street outside. “I think it is time.” Starkey came in with his greatcoat and hat, and she flung a shawl about her shoulders and followed him into the street.

  Her father was sitting in the carriage, swathed in shawls and rugs. His man Jessup, who was scarcely any younger than his master, sat on the box looking glum.

  Elizabeth climbed into the coach to bid her father farewell and extract a promise to write often and at length about his journey. There was a net of books beside him on the carriage wall, and a bag of all his various medicines under the care of Lieutenant Playford, who was to ride down with them. She could think of nothing more she could do for his comfort since they were to pick up newly warmed bricks at the inn, so they exchanged kisses and goodbyes and did their best not to think this might be their last meeting. Surprisingly, it was not difficult to do so. Mr. Bennet looked frail, but he was not coughing, and his face shone with all the excitement of a boy on an adventure.

  Then it was time to say goodbye to him. When she climbed out of the coach, she saw him embracing his sister who was weeping and trying hard not to. Their eyes met over her fair head, and he smiled and bent down to kiss his sister. “Now then, my dear,” he said gently. “You must let me say goodbye to my wife.”

  Freed from his sister’s embrace, he came over to stand by her. “It seems so unfair that I have to leave so soon,” he said.

  “But if you had not had to leave so soon, we might never have…I do not want you to go.” She had not meant to say that.

  “Neither do I, but I must.” He bowed low and kissed her hand. Then when he straightened, his breath hitched and, before she knew what was happening, she was in his arms. “I would give anything,” he muttered and kissed her.

  Their noses bumped and she could feel the buttons on his greatcoat pressing into her, then he turned his head slightly and it was warm and wet and shockingly intimate. She clung to his shoulders, opened her mouth to him, and suddenly it felt as though she had lived all her life behind thick glass walls. Everything was nearer, brighter, louder and more alive. He tightened his grip, his tongue touched hers, and her throat filled with something unbearable but beautiful.

  Then one of the horses stamped its foot and snorted, and the moment was over. They let go of one another, and it felt like something breaking. He kissed her briefly on the cheek and turned to do the same to his sister. As he turned to climb into the coach, she remembered. “Wait a moment,” she called and ran back into the house and returned a moment later with a soft bundle she thrust into his hands. “It is a comforter. I knitted it for you.”

  Her father heard her, and from within the coach she could hear him laugh. “You knitted it? Must be a Job’s comforter.” And she knew her husband would be regaled with stories of her various failures in the womanly arts on his journey to Portsmouth. He, however, thanked her warmly and promised to wear it at sea.

  And then there could be no more delay. He climbed into the carriage next to her father, and it drove off down the street, Georgiana and Elizabeth waving their handkerchiefs until the carriage turned the corner and was gone.

  The house felt empty without him, but there was much to do, and if she did not keep them both busy, the pair of them would sit down and cry like babies. So she dried her eyes, shook herself, and took her new sister on a tour of their new home.

  Mrs. Darcy, who had scuttled indoors the moment she and Georgiana had arrived, had already possessed herself of the best of the two remaining bedrooms and had commandeered Maria to open the trunks that had been delivered the previous day. Elizabeth had intended the room for Georgiana, but that
young lady was delighted with the remaining room and its view over the garden, so Elizabeth let matters lie.

  The piano nearly overset Georgiana’s composure, but she managed to master herself and finish the tour. She pronounced it the prettiest cottage ever, and Elizabeth wondered anew about Pemberley. What sort of a place must it be if Miss Darcy thought this substantial house merely a cottage?

  Meanwhile, there was much to be done. Mrs. Manning, the cook, wished to discuss the menus for the week, Anderssen announced that the roof of the room over the stables, where he and Puttnam were to sleep, leaked, and Mrs. Darcy wanted something done about the smell of pigs and so on and so on. Elizabeth had never been in sole charge of a household before and found the whole business much more complicated that she had thought. Hill and Cook had known their jobs perfectly well without direction and, in any case, Jane and her mother were there to do their part. Now she had to do it all herself, and for a moment she was daunted.

  But only for a moment. Mrs. Manning was requested to ragout the remains of last night’s joint, Anderssen was given half a crown to buy pitch and nails, and Mrs. Darcy was informed that the pigs in the next-door garden were an unfortunate fact of life and would have to be borne. Once those matters were dealt with, Elizabeth settled down to the job of working out how to run a household.

  Anderssen was of enormous assistance. It seemed that the man could turn his hand to anything, from mending the roof to rehanging a door. Within the week, every unsteady shelf, rattling window, and squeaking hinge had been dealt with. Although he was never impolite, he did not talk much, and when he did, the loss of his front teeth made much of what he said unintelligible, but he was willing and blessedly competent, and Elizabeth never had to worry about the house.