“No – nothing. Why do you ask?”
“I still remember you, when we were at Rosings that first Easter of our acquaintance. You cared not a jot, for my aunt’s position in society, for her wealth. I shall never forget how you fended off her impertinent questions. It vexed her exceedingly, of course, but I found it alluring.”
“I am not very alluring now, am I?” she sniffled.
“At present, your nose is rather red, I will admit,” he said, kissing it in a manner that drew forth a weak smile. “That is not what I meant, however. What I want to understand is why you cared so little for her good opinion then, and you care so much for it now, from these other ladies.”
Tears filled her eyes once more, and spilled down her cheeks. “Because then I had nothing to lose, and now I have everything. That is why I was crying in front of the children, because I was watching them and I thought, what if I harmed their futures?”
“Oh, Elizabeth,” he laid his hand on her cheek, gazing at her with the deepest sympathy. “They have hardly thirty words between the two of them. Do you think anything you could say or do now would truly cause lasting harm to them when they finally come out in society?”
“I believe Lady Stewart has harmed her children.”
“Lady Stewart harmed her children by virtue of being their mother, regardless of anything she said or did in society,” he said. “I have no hope for them with such a mother as an influence. But James and George have a mother of such love and warmth, and you, Elizabeth, you could never – never – put yourself in the place she has put herself. You have a sharp wit, that I do not deny – indeed I adore it – but you are not cruel. You allow yourself to be amused by people you do not like, but I have never seen you act towards them with malice.”
Elizabeth nodded, feeling exceedingly comforted by his words.
“And do you truly think, my darling love, that even if you did – unintentionally, I am sure – say the wrong thing at the wrong time, to be overheard by the wrong person, do you think that I of all people would be in a position to judge you for it?”
Elizabeth chuckled and shook her head, but the chuckle turned into a sob before she could complete it, and he drew her into another embrace. In time, they separated, and he gazed at her, asking, “When you said you had everything to lose, was I included in that statement?”
“Yes. I know you would always be honourable, you would never leave me, but the thought of losing your respect, your love – that is the most unbearable.”
“Then do not ever let it cross your mind again.” He kissed her deeply. “Three years married, and I do not think you fully understand the power you have over me.”
Elizabeth gave him as questioning a gaze as she could muster, given how her emotions had been ploughed under in the last half-hour.
“There is nothing you could ever do, to make me lose my love for you, Elizabeth. You can break my heart – that is within your capacity, and indeed, you have done it once. I deserved it, of course, but I hope you will not do it again unless I deserve it again, and I would appreciate some warning that I ought to mend my ways before things reach that point. But you cannot make me cease loving you. I have since early in our acquaintance, and I will never stop.”
“Oh, Darcy, I love you. I wish I could say it so well as you did just now, but you know, I hope you know,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said, drawing her close again. “I know, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”
He slid his handkerchief into her hand, and rose to ring the bell, telling whomever answered it that Mrs. Darcy was unwell, and tea and toast should be brought for her. Then he returned and sat beside her on the chaise, taking up her hand and saying, “I have one more thing to ask you, my love. Are you with child?”
She looked up at him in surprise. “I believe so. I won’t be sure until I miss my courses. How did you know?”
“I guessed, rather than knew. When you did not eat anything at breakfast, I worried at first that it was town, wearing on you, and I was intending to have the post-chaise readied to take you back to Pemberley. But then I recalled all those breakfasts at Pemberley, when you could not eat, and you are a trifle more emotional than usual.”
Elizabeth sniffled. “I did not want to tell you until I was certain. I knew it would add to your worries.”
“I have become a little better at managing my worries, since my very wise wife lectured me on returning to optimism. And I promise if you do not do so yourself, my dearest Elizabeth, I will do as you threatened to do to me, and teaze you into it – even if I am not so good at teazing as you are.”
Chapter 36
St. Helena appeared from the sea as a vast, barren mountain of rock split by a narrow crevice, with the town of Jamestown tucked within, spilling out like a river toward the harbour. Georgiana held Caroline, now done nursing and drowsing quietly against her mother’s shoulder, and gazed out of the gun-port at the town. Somewhere well up within the crevice was Longwood House, and within Longwood House was Napoleon Bonaparte, who was currently receiving a call from Lord Amherst and several other men from the embassy, as well as Commodore Sir Matthew Stanton.
Matthew had been reluctant to go – claiming he held no curiosity for the man – but upon being applied to by Lord Amherst, and upon his wife telling him that she held a great deal of curiosity about such a man, and therefore he must go since she could not, he had acquiesced.
Georgiana felt herself growing as drowsy as her daughter, but what she could see from the harbour held enough interest for her that she did not wish to rest yet: the boats plying between their ships and the shore, the petrels overhead, the people walking along the streets of the town. She had been improving, slowly but steadily, but she was not ready to go ashore. As she had not even been churched, Georgiana still kept mostly to the sleeping cabin of the Caroline. Yet being confined to such a small space did not trouble her. She had her sweet little girl – and Caroline did seem to have as sweet a disposition as a baby of one month could – and Matthew and her female assistants, and at present, she needed no world beyond this.
She did, of course, occasionally think of home, of her brother and sister and the rest of their family, but they all seemed so distant. It had seemed alien, to steal away the time and finally take up the continuance of her old letters to Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth while the ship had approached the island, although Georgiana was glad Matthew had encouraged her to do so. He had said merchantmen frequently stopped there, to take on water and provisions, and there was every chance one might do so and precede them home, and he had been right: the Caroline’s letters had been carried off by the Nancy Jackson, a squat little tub of a merchantman whose letters still had a chance of beating the frigate home, for the Caroline intended a stay of some days, while the Nancy Jackson was immediately bound for the pool of London, not far from the very heart of the Royal Mail.
Little Caroline was now asleep, and Georgiana gently rose and laid her down within her cradle, then walked over to her own cot, to claim a little sleep. She was not nearly so sore as she had been, but she was also nowhere near what she would have called well before her pregnancy. She was well enough to be content, though, to feel herself improving and to feel intense happiness in the simple matters involved in caring for and loving her child.
+++
Matthew returned some hours later, after Caroline had awakened both herself and her mother in her need to be nursed. He entered to find his daughter covered with the rug Georgiana used to preserve her modesty, and his wife gazing at him with sleepy eyes, which became more animated following his entrance.
“So, what was he like?” she asked.
He smiled, amused at seeing her so enlivened by curiosity. “I believe I was not expecting much of his manners, but they did exceed my expectations – we were all surprised by how affable he was.”
“Affable, truly?” she asked, then continued without waiting for a confirmation, “What did he look like?”
“Tall
er than I expected, but still short.”
“Almost everyone is shorter than you, Matthew.”
He laughed. “A little shorter than you – is that better context?”
“Yes. What was his countenance like? What was he wearing? What did you speak of?”
“So many questions, dearest. When did you develop such a curiosity about this man?”
“When you had an opportunity to visit him,” Georgiana said. “For almost my entire life, we have been at war with him, so I suppose I have always had some curiosity. My governess used to use him to scare me – be diligent in your studies, she said, or Napoleon will come and get you. For a time, I was more scared of him than any monster.”
He laughed more deeply. “Oh, Georgiana, I wish you had been well enough to see him. Still more, I wish you had told him that story. To answer your questions, I found his countenance surprisingly placid, given his downfall from power and whom he was speaking with; he was wearing civilian clothes, trousers, not breeches; and we did not so much converse as experience a lecture. He reminds me of your aunt Catherine, in that manner, and he seemed to presume we were all there to note down his words of wisdom, so we could share them with English society.”
Georgiana considered his words, considered the thought of Napoleon’s visage espousing the sort of wisdom her aunt usually did, and erupted in giggles. “Oh, I miss her. I know she is not the most pleasant of my relations, but from a distance all I can recall are her foibles and quirks.”
Matthew smiled, but did not comment on his aunt-in-law’s foibles and quirks. What he did say was, “During the journey there, Mr. Griffith queried me on Caroline’s christening. He would perform the office, whenever we wish to do so. And – Lord Amherst kindly offered to be Caroline’s godfather.”
“I had thought Fitzwilliam would be her godfather.”
“He will not be able to attend her christening unless we leave it for a month or two, and Lord Amherst is – well – I do not know how we should turn down Lord Amherst, now that he has made the offer. It would surely be of benefit to Caroline. Our daughter will have many excellent male connexions through her family, but to tie her in such a way to Lord Amherst would be to give her another.”
“I understand your reasoning – I suppose Fitzwilliam would, too, for he understands the power of such connexions – but still, I think he would be disappointed.”
“I know, Georgiana, but until she is baptised, her soul is at risk. She will need two female godparents, and as long as one is present – Mrs. Travis, I am sure, would be honoured – I believe Elizabeth could be the second, so at least there would be one godparent within the family.”
“We could christen her now, and leave the full ceremony for later, when all of her godparents may be present. I was christened the night I was born – my parents were not sure I would live.”
“I am exceedingly glad that you did, dearest, and had Lord Amherst not offered, that is what I would wish to do. Yet now that he has, it would be very difficult, politically, to turn him down. Even if we were to do so, I cannot say it would be to Caroline’s benefit. This means nothing, as regards guardianship of her should anything happen to me. I will name your brother and my uncle to that role – I know they would honour your wishes.”
“I do not like to think about such a thing happening.”
“Then do not – I will handle those matters when I update my will. What I meant to say is that I believe it would greatly assuage not being made her godparent, were I to ask Fitzwilliam to take on that responsibility.”
Georgiana nodded, feeling his arguments to be right, even as she loathed the thought of hurting her brother. “That is a good thought. Where would it be done? In Jamestown?”
“No, we will wait until the ship is underway, so she need not go ashore. I will speak to Mr. Griffith about a date for the christening, and for you to be churched.”
“Need I be? It is not as though there is anywhere else for me to go.”
“No, but you ought to be blessed, and soon enough we will be home again. You will surely wish to go ashore once we reach Portsmouth.”
Portsmouth. How very foreign that English town sounded, after so long away. It prompted a certain stirring of homesickness in Georgiana’s heart, something that had not been roused in a very long time. From Portsmouth they could go anywhere: to London, to Pemberley, to Stradbroke, even to Rosings. Anywhere they could be reunited with family held a great deal of appeal for Georgiana. Yes, she ought to be churched, for in a month or two it would be time for her and Caroline to leave this little world within the sleeping cabin, and for Caroline to be introduced to those in the home country she had never known, those who had never met her but would surely love her.
Chapter 37
Elizabeth recovered quickly, after the morning in which she had broken down in the nursery. The effects of her husband’s soothing of her fears had proven both beneficial and lasting, and she had begun returning calls the day following with both his reassurances and Lady Tonbridge’s advice firm in her mind. Both had been put to good use, and in the time leading up to the ball at Almack’s, she was uniformly declared to be charming, and always returned to find more cards had been left for her at Curzon Street. Aside from this, the time passed much as it could be expected to; the Darcys dined with both the Gardiners and the Fitzwilliams, and Elizabeth’s dresses began returning from the modiste.
There were two events of significance, however. The first was that Lady Stewart, whose call Elizabeth had been debating returning, committed the shocking act of calling again before her first call had been returned. Elizabeth was at home this time when she did so, and forced to make an immediate decision as to whether she wanted to continue the acquaintance, when Miller – who, like any good London butler, paid close attention to his mistress’s society and the gossip pages – came into the drawing-room to dubiously ask if she was at home for Lady Stewart.
Elizabeth had chosen to accept the call, and Lady Stewart had come fluttering in, complimenting her on the room, on her dress, on her choice of streets in Mayfair, and then taking up her hands in an attempt at familiarity that proved exceedingly awkward for the both of them. Yet Lady Stewart had pressed on: “I am so glad you are at home today – I had been wishing to speak with you about the little misunderstanding that occurred the night of the Castlereaghs’s dinner.”
Elizabeth had agreed to allow Lady Stewart in, and had been prepared to forgive, if not forget, but this remark immediately incensed her, and this formed her reply: “I would not call it a misunderstanding. I understood you perfectly, as did the other parties present.”
“Oh, but what I said was not what I meant, of course. I am sure just a few words from you to the right people would ensure that was better known.”
“Are you in the habit of saying things you do not mean? How am I to know whether you mean what you say now?”
“Now, of course, I mean everything. You know how things can be, at those parties. But I am sure you will help me, will you not?”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Why should I come to your defence to my friends, when you insulted my cousin and show absolutely no remorse for it, aside from what it has cost you in society?” Elizabeth had said, rising. “If you truly wanted my assistance, you should have begun by apologising. Not to me, but to Mrs. Fitzwilliam. Do you know, I pitied you – I thought the extent of your punishment did not fit the crime, and everyone I said this to thought you had got what you deserved. And they were right. Please come and see me if ever you learn to be less selfish.”
“Mrs. Darcy, please – ”
A bout of grovelling would no doubt have followed, but Elizabeth had left the room, leaving poor Miller to another guest he must awkwardly see out of the house. Elizabeth, however, had felt even lighter, even more reassured. Everyone had been right, that she was different from Lady Stewart: she would not commit the crime, and therefore would not be sentenced to the punishment t
hat lady had been.
The second event had a far greater resonance upon the Darcy household, and it was that the morning of the ball, another thick packet of oiled silk was finally delivered. Elizabeth had been bathing when this occurred, and when finally dressed, came down the stairs to find the house seemingly empty, save Miller, who told her Mr. Darcy was in his study. “He received one of those large packets of letters,” he added helpfully.
“Oh, from Lady Stanton?” Elizabeth asked.
“I presume so, ma’am.”
Intensely relieved, Elizabeth had burst into her husband’s study to find him seated in one of the chairs there. He held a letter in his hand, and the expression on his face was shock, not relief.
“Georgiana’s letters, from Bombay,” he said. “She – she writes of being in the family way, as though it is a thing I should already know of. I suppose she must have informed us in letters we have not received yet, and that must mean she was pregnant at least some months before she sent this. Elizabeth, she has very likely already had the child by now – God knows where, God knows what her health is. God knows if she is even alive.”
“Oh, Darcy, do not think that,” she said, coming to kneel before him, and taking up his hands.
“I know, I know, optimism – but optimism seems impossible right now, Elizabeth.”
She nodded and squeezed his hands.
“Will you – will you come up here and let me hold you, let me be grateful for what I do have?” he asked, softly.
Such a plea could not be denied, and Elizabeth seated herself in his lap as he drew his arms tightly around her, holding her close. He did not cry; she felt herself on the verge of it, in the infectiousness of his worry and the depth of her sympathy for him, but although tears came to her eyes, they never spilled over.
They sat there in this manner for so long Elizabeth drifted into sleep, and found herself being awakened by him stroking her temple and murmuring her name. “Hmm?” she asked, unsure if he had said anything else.
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