Chapter 18
The next morning, Elizabeth woke to a glorious sunrise.
Throwing back the light bedcovering, she quickly readied herself.
By the time Prudence arrived, Elizabeth’s day had already been busy.
Tommy came from the ship for a quick lesson in reading with her father, and she used the time to record in her journal the sights and sounds of Gibraltar.
Far too many paragraphs were devoted to her response to both Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy from the day they arrived.
She noticed that Tommy was particularly proud that he could now spell C-A-T and B-O-A-T. He was practicing his letters, having difficulty keeping b and d straight, so she offered her encouragement. “You are doing amazingly well.”
“Well”―he scratched his head―“I asked the ship’s boy from the Meridian if’n he knew D-O-G spelled ‘dog’ an’ if’n ye put them letters backwards it spells ‘god.’ He didn’t know that at all.
I best not get too big in the head from all this learnin’.
O’course, if’n I did an’ I fell in the water, I reckon I’d float pretty good. ”
They all laughed, and he turned his attention back to her father as Elizabeth left for the markets with Prudence. Mr. Darcy and the colonel followed behind, never letting them out of their sight.
The air was filled with the musical cadence of rapid Spanish punctuated by the occasional English phrase from British soldiers conducting business. Vendor displays were colorful and inviting.
“Remember what your uncle and I told you,” Mrs. Bell murmured as they approached a friendly-looking vendor.
“The items you have to trade are precious commodities here. The garrison wives have been without proper English luxuries for months since most of the supplies the merchant ships bring are for the men.”
Elizabeth nodded. In the small leather pouch she carried were two bars of her finest soap, provided by her uncle's warehouse.
Prudence engaged the stallholder in animated conversation, gesturing toward the soap with the easy manner of one who often negotiated.
The man brought first the lavender bar to his nose and inhaling deeply, then the rose.
A rapid exchange in Spanish followed, with Prudence pointing to various items on his cart while the vendor nodded enthusiastically.
“He is offering two bottles of fine Spanish brandy for your father plus these dried oranges and almonds for you,” Prudence translated.
“For both bars. This is an excellent trade, Miss Bennet.”
While they negotiated, Mr. Darcy and his cousin wandered over to a craftsman who was sharpening his knives. His display of curved scimitars and daggers glinted in the sunlight, diverting the men’s attention.
As the transaction concluded, Elizabeth became aware of angry voices and looked up to see four men apparently engaged in a heated argument nearby.
Their arms flailed, and one of the men pointed directly at the fortress.
The hostility was unmistakable. Other vendors paused to listen, some nodding in agreement.
Elizabeth stepped closer to Prudence. “What are they saying?”
Her friend grew troubled as she listened.
“They are complaining about the British garrison taking the finest products and leaving inferior goods for their families. This is why I suggested you bring the soaps here, so they could benefit by making a small profit.” After one outburst, she grabbed Elizabeth’s arm.
“They are not pleased with our presence here.”
The disturbance had already caught the attention of their protectors, who quickly approached. The colonel stepped between the ladies and the men, as did Mr. Darcy, and the group quickly left the marketplace.
Approaching their temporary residence, Elizabeth spotted her father near a group of British officers.
He stood beside a wooden crate filled with books where a couple of men were examining the volumes with enthusiasm.
“Gothic novels!” one of the officers exclaimed.
“Where did you find these? My wife has been desperate for new reading material.”
“At the recommendation of my wife’s brother, I brought them specifically for trading purposes. Though I confess I had not anticipated such enthusiasm.”
The second officer eagerly reached for another volume. “What are you asking for them?”
Before her father could respond, a third officer appeared, drawn by the commotion. “Are those novels? English novels? My good fellow, name your price. My wife will have my head if I return empty-handed again.”
What had begun as a simple trade rapidly escalated into an auction. More officers gathered around her father, each making increasingly generous offers. Her father’s posture straightened with growing confidence as he realized the extent of their desire.
“Gentlemen, please,” he said. “There are sufficient volumes for everyone, though I fear the price must reflect their apparent value to you.”
“Anything!” the first officer declared. “You must understand, sir. The ladies have been starved for proper entertainment. The usual goods are typically practical items.”
When Tommy came to investigate, her father sent him back to the ship for another crate of books they had stored under their bunk.
Within minutes, her father sold his entire supply of Gothic novels for what Elizabeth calculated to be a substantial profit.
He grinned with satisfaction as the coins clinked into his purse, and Elizabeth was pleased to imagine the additional space the books’ absence would create in their cramped quarters.
“I say,” one of the officers remarked as he tucked his purchases carefully under his arm. “You would not happen to have any other luxury items? Soaps? Or candles? The ladies would have us pay handsomely for such things.”
Her father’s eyes found Elizabeth across the small crowd, and his smile widened. “As it happens, my daughter brought precisely such items.”
Being the focus of so many men at once unsettled Elizabeth.
Prudence stepped forward with practiced efficiency.
“Miss Bennet has the finest English soaps aboard the Mary Catherine,” she announced.
“Made with lavender and rose, they are perfect for ladies who miss the comforts of home. She has tea, British cloth, and fine chinaware.”
The group of officers followed them as they made their way to the pier.
Tommy and another sailor helped Mr. Darcy and the colonel carry crates from the ship onto the dock.
Another enthusiastic round of bargaining ensued, leaving Elizabeth with considerably heavier pockets and even more room under their bunks.
When the officers had dispersed with their prizes, her father grinned with delight. “My dear Lizzy, your uncle’s advice has proven invaluable. This is almost as much as Longbourn receives for our quarterly rent!”
Elizabeth was about to respond when movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. Near the wine merchant’s stall, partially concealed behind hanging curtains of preserved meats, stood a familiar figure.
Mr. Wickham.
Her blood turned cold at the realization that he had witnessed everything—their profitable trades and the evidence of their monetary gains. When he noticed her looking in his direction, he melted into the crowd with the practiced ease of someone accustomed to avoiding detection.
“Papa,” she said. “Let us return to our rooms.”
Although Mr. Darcy and the colonel had accompanied them to the ship, they were turned away from Mr. Wickham and thus, were unaware of his presence. The two men needed to know without delay.
Once they returned to their lodgings, Darcy listened to Elizabeth’s account of seeing Wickham hiding, and he considered the implications of Wickham’s interest in their financial dealings. “He was definitely closely observing the transactions?”
“Without question.” Elizabeth’s brow creased with worry. “He would not be so foolish as to plan something that involves the garrison personnel or us, would he?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded. “He would rob you blind without blinking an eye.” He shook his head. “This fits with what Mrs. Bell overheard. If Wickham is collecting information about our activities as well as that of the British military personnel, he may be working with French agents.”
“Or planning to approach them with valuable intelligence,” Darcy added angrily.
“Wickham left England with his pockets full of whatever he was able to get from Viscount Levinson. From experience, I am certain that he has already lost most if not all of it from gambling. By now, he must be looking for the means to support his travels, and he has no scruples that would prevent him from betraying his country if it would profit him.”
“Perhaps we should inform the garrison commander about the hostile sentiment among the merchants and the presence of this man,” Mrs. Bell suggested. “It may be relevant to the military situation here.”
“Under these circumstances, we must be even more cautious about our preparations,” Elizabeth said.
Darcy studied her profile as she spoke, noting the determined set of her chin. Lieutenant King’s advice echoed in his mind. Some moments, once lost, never come again. Richard’s counsel pressed at him as well. Show her who you really are when you are not trying to impress anyone.
“Miss Bennet, might I speak with you privately? I would seek your opinion on a personal matter of some importance to me.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose. She nodded. “Of course, Mr. Darcy.”
He escorted her to the small courtyard outside their rooms and struggled to find the right words. “What I wish to tell you concerns Wickham…” he began and then stopped himself. “No, that is not entirely true. It concerns Wickham, but more importantly, it concerns us.”
“Us?” Elizabeth’s posture stiffened, but she remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
Darcy took a deep breath, abandoning his usual careful reserve. “George Wickham was not always the man you see today. When we were children, he was my closest friend…my only friend other than Richard. He was charming and funny, quick-witted and brave. I admired him tremendously.”
“What changed?”
“Choices.” He sighed. “As we grew older, Wickham began choosing immediate gratification over long-term effort. He chose to charm his way out of difficulties instead of facing them honestly. He chose to blame others for his failures rather than examine his own actions.” The old pain appeared like a familiar weight.
“I made excuses for him…kept believing he would change. Finally, I could no longer ignore what he had become.”
Elizabeth’s initial stiffness eased, and Darcy was emboldened to continue.
“I need you to understand that I know the price of making poor choices. I chose pride over kindness. I chose to judge you and your family by unfair, prejudiced standards. I chose to interfere in your sister’s happiness.”
“Mr. Darcy―”
“Please allow me to finish.” He stepped close enough to see the golden flecks in her dark eyes.
“Wickham’s example has taught me the importance of choosing differently if I want to become better than I was.
I now choose to become a man worthy of your regard, Miss Bennet.
I want to court you properly, to spend time learning more about you while allowing you to see whether you might overlook my considerable flaws. ”
The silence that followed stretched for an eternity. Surprise, uncertainty, and hopefulness cycled through her in quick succession. He could see it clearly. She took a small step back and then forward again, as if her body could not decide whether to flee or approach.
“A courtship,” she repeated slowly.
“A true courtship. Time spent together. Conversation. Shared experiences. An opportunity for us to discover whether we might suit.” Darcy pressed his lips together before forcing himself to be at ease.
“I know I have no right to ask this of you. My past behavior has given you every reason to refuse. But I am asking anyway, because the alternative—continuing as mere acquaintances when I love you beyond all reason—is simply unbearable.”
Elizabeth caught her breath at his frank declaration. She turned away, paced several steps, and then returned to stand directly in front of him. Her breathing quickened.
“You speak of love,” she said. “How can that be possible with so little true knowledge of each other? Over the course of our acquaintance, we have been at odds more often than in harmony.”
“This journey is an opportunity for us to remedy that,” Darcy urged.
“Let us spend the months ahead getting to know one another. Let me show you who I am when I am not trying to maintain appearances or protect my pride. Let me learn who you are when you are not defending yourself against my prejudices.”
Elizabeth studied him, and he forced himself to remain still under her scrutiny. Her internal struggle was visible in the play of emotions across her features. Doubt, curiosity, caution, and possibility.
“A courtship,” she said again. “With no promises beyond the agreement to know each other better?”
“None,” Darcy confirmed, the word nearly sticking in his throat. “Though I cannot profess that my feelings are uncertain. I love you, Elizabeth. That will not change regardless of what you decide about us.”
Another long pause followed. Darcy held his breath and prepared himself for disappointment.
Elizabeth walked to the edge of the courtyard, gazed out at the sea, then returned to him. “Very well,” she said with certainty. “I agree to your courtship. Let us see how we manage together when we are not armed against each other.”
The relief flooding through Darcy nearly buckled his knees. “Thank you,” he whispered. Then he caught himself and straightened. “I mean to say…I am honored by your willingness to consider my suit.”
Elizabeth’s mouth curved in a relaxed smile, the first she had directed toward him since their reunion. “We shall see if your gratitude survives the experience of actually knowing me, Mr. Darcy. I may not be nearly as agreeable as you imagine.”
“And I may be far more difficult than you anticipate.” He grinned joyfully in response to her tease. “With that said, I expect we shall muddle along together.”
As they walked back to where the others were gathered, Darcy felt lighter than he had in months. He was courting Elizabeth. Whatever dangers lie ahead suddenly seemed manageable in the face of this one miraculous development.
Elizabeth Bennet had said yes.