Chapter 8
Fitzwilliam Darcy was not a fanciful man, but he felt as if he were floating in a surreal world quite divorced from normal reality.
And yet, within this stark world traveled a ship crewed by twenty souls.
It was its own little village, its own city, filled with minor irritations and quarrels, with fears and hopes and dreams, with rum and salt tack and biscuits, with water already slightly mildewed in its casks.
It was a bizarre dichotomy between the savage expanse of sea and the humdrum practicality of life aboard the Riley.
Even more peculiar was the casual acceptance of ship life from the rest of the crew but then, truly it was not surprising.
From captain to ship’s boy, all on board had made the sea their life. He was not one of them.
“Have you ever been to sea before, Mr. Darcy?” First Mate Blyth inquired curiously, breaking into his thoughts.
Darcy blinked in surprise as he looked up from his plate in the small officers’ dining cabin. He ate his meals with the captain and his two officers but they rarely asked him direct questions.
He took a careful bite of the salted meat, swallowed, and shook his head, “No, sir, I have not. I have been on rowboats and the like, of course, but I have never been to sea in a ship like the Riley. Indeed, I have never left England before.”
“Do you own an estate?” the second mate, a Mr. Yates, inquired, his eyes gleaming with curiosity and envy.
“I do,” Darcy replied uncomfortably, aware of how very privileged he was. He had known it for many years, but faced with these men and their difficult, dangerous lives, he was struck anew with the reality of his blessings.
“There are estates and estates,” Mr. Blyth commented. “My older brother works at an estate in Northamptonshire as head gardener. I’d rather be at sea; the master of the estate has been gambling away his fortune for years and my brother has not been paid in several months.”
“He should leave then,” the captain pointed out.
“He still has lodging and food,” the other man replied with a shrug. “It is not always easy to find a position these days.”
“That is true enough,” the second mate agreed.
“Are you journeying to St. Croix for business reasons?” Captain Drayson inquired.
Darcy hesitated. He was a private man and did not care to share his business, but on the other hand he did not wish to lie.
“No. I have an acquaintance in St. Croix who has fallen on hard times. I bear letters of good news regarding the fortunes of the extended family. I have no doubt this news will bring succor.”
“And is the acquaintance a lady?” inquired the captain, his eyes penetrating.
To his supreme annoyance, Darcy felt himself flushing, which resulted in a guffaw from the second mate.
“She must be quite a lady,” the man commented with a grin.
Darcy hesitated again and then decided on honesty, “She is. She is the only woman in the world for me and I would travel to the ends of the earth to find her.”
“And make her your wife, then? Or something else? ” the captain inquired with a curious lift of his eyebrows.
Again, Darcy flushed, this time in anger, “I wish to make her my wife, of course, though I will not force her into marriage. She is an honorable gentlewoman and worthy of the greatest respect.”
His companions exchanged glances and then the first mate lifted his cup, “A toast to your lady then, Mr. Darcy. May you find her and win her heart.”
“A toast!” the other two men cried, and Darcy found himself lifting his own cup, his heart filled with hope and frustration that he was still at least three weeks away from the love of his life.
Briefly his mind turned to Georgiana. He hoped she was well and happy, that she truly was at peace with his decision to follow Miss Elizabeth Bennet across the ocean.
/
“Richard, welcome!” Lady Rachel Matlock exclaimed, stepping forward to embrace her tall son.
“Mother,” Colonel Fitzwilliam replied after kissing her cheek, “You did not need to arise so early to see us off.”
“Nonsense, of course I did! I do not get to see you nearly enough, Richard, what with your penchant for rushing to and fro.”
“I am in the Army, after all,” Richard commented mildly.
“I know, I know,” Lady Matlock admitted, stepping back to inspect her second born carefully. “You look thin. While you are at Pemberley, you must eat well.”
“I believe that will not be a problem. Darcy’s cooks are excellent.”
“Richard!” a feminine voice cried out from their left.
“Good morning, Georgiana. Are you quite ready to shake the dust of London off your heels and carry me off to Pemberley?”
Georgiana, dressed in traveling clothes, chuckled, “Yes, I am quite ready to do so, Cousin. I have enjoyed my time here in London very much, Aunt Matlock, but I long for Pemberley.”
Her aunt embraced her fondly, “It has been a pleasure to have you here with us, my dear, but I understand the desire to escape the summer heat and enjoy the glories of your birthplace. We will be leaving for the country in a few days ourselves. Travel well, both of you.”
“Thank you, Aunt.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
Richard held out his arm and Georgiana took it. Together, they descended the steps into the comparative cool of an early summer morning. Richard carefully handed his charge into the carriage waiting in front of Matlock House, which was located in the most exclusive area of London.
Once Richard had climbed in and taken his seat across from Georgiana, the horses jolted into motion and they were on their way.
Georgiana gazed at him curiously, “Are you truly well, Richard?”
“I am, Georgie. I confess to being rather tired. I had several tasks to complete before I could flee with you to Pemberley. I am looking forward to many weeks of relaxation, my dear.”
One of his tasks had been to advocate for the hanging of a certain Mr. George Wickham, who had ended his degenerate career by entering the militia and then running off with the young wife of the Colonel of his regiment.
The young wife in question had eventually been abandoned by Wickham in London and found her way to her family, whereupon the cuckolded Colonel Forster had made it his business in life to track down his wayward lieutenant.
Only a week ago, Wickham had been arrested and taken to a military prison in London.
Since Wickham had deserted his regiment in time of war and had stolen not only his Colonel’s wife but also his horse, the man had been found guilty of desertion and theft.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, pleased that his tender-hearted cousin Darcy was on a boat sailing for the Caribbean, had advocated for execution, with the concurrence of Colonel Forster.
Only two days previously, Wickham had been hanged at dawn.
Richard pulled himself out of his reverie, aware that Georgiana was gazing at him curiously.
He smiled at her and resolved to inform her of Wickham’s fate shortly after they arrived at Pemberley.
Now was not the time; the girl might well need some privacy to process the death of the man who had attempted to seduce her into a runaway marriage.
“Richard?”
“Yes, my dear?”
“Can you tell me about Miss Elizabeth Bennet? My brother tells me you know her.”
Richard smiled broadly, “I do indeed. She is a marvelous young lady. You will like her.”
“Tell me, please.”
“Well,” Fitzwilliam mused, leaning back in his carriage, “I think first of all you must hear of the young lady’s interactions with our aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
Georgiana winced, “Oh dear, was Lady Catherine unpleasant to Miss Bennet?”
The Colonel laughed, “Oh yes, in her usual imperious way, Lady Catherine was entirely rude and condescending, but Miss Bennet handled her marvelously. She was always polite, but she refused to answer Lady Catherine’s impertinent questions.
Somehow, I know not how, Miss Bennet couched her answers in an arch and delightful way which robbed her answers of any insolence.
She is a marvelous young lady. I hope that Darcy is successful with her. ”
This was entirely true, though Colonel Fitzwilliam admitted to a mild stab of envy.
If Elizabeth Bennet had been a wealthy heiress, Richard would have been sorely tempted to make her an offer.
But no, Miss Bennet had a nearly nonexistent dowry, and Richard was too used to the trappings of wealth to offer for a poor woman.
Nevertheless, the young lady was thoroughly charming.
Ah well, if he could not have her for a wife, he hoped he could have her as a cousin by marriage.
“I hope so too,” Georgiana responded dreamily. “I hope so very much.”
/
Darcy strolled up to the rail and leaned against it, his eyes on the distant horizon to the west. His cabin was dark and unpleasant, and thus he spent most of his hours on the deck enjoying the fresh air and watching the stately march of the waves.
The crew worked around him cheerfully enough, and he was only sent below when the weather grew tempestuous.
He had often heard the crew singing; no doubt it was an excellent way to bring pleasure to the hours of tedious work.
The bosun began a song that Darcy had not heard previously.
It was a melancholy tune, matching his mood as he contemplated his love for Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
The conversation at dinner had been one more reminder of his desires, dreams, and hopes that she would accept his proposal this time.
Though the song seemed to be about a sailor leaving his ship behind as opposed to his lady, it still made his heart ache.
Leave Her Johnny, Leave Her
Oh I thought I heard the old man say
Leave her Johnny, leave her
It’s a long hard pull to the next payday
And it's time for us to leave her
Leave her Johnny, leave her
Oh, leave her Johnny, leave her
For the voyage is done and the winds don't blow
And it's time for us to leave her
Well the work was hard and the voyage was long
Leave her Johnny, leave her