Chapter 4 #2
They walked the rest of the distance to the village, talking as they went.
Richard spoke of his earliest unsuccessful musical training, and how later in his youth, after his voice deepened, he had learned to sing.
He spoke then about taking up the violoncello, and his moderate success on that instrument, and was delighted when Emily said there was a ’cello in the buildings of the fort, as well as a violin and a flute.
“Many of the musical officers and men have their own instruments, but these seem to belong to the fort. If you wish to play one, it is yours for the duration of your posting with us.”
The conversation continued, both speaking more freely than ever they had within the confines of the fortifications at the Dockyard.
Richard recounted his earliest days in the military, to which Emily replied with tales of her different experiences in various locations, and they compared their contrasting childhoods.
He was the son of wealth and prestige, growing up with a score of nursemaids and tutors on a country estate, and then at prestigious schools, whilst she and her brother and sister were dragged from field to fort and back to field, being taught what they could at their mother’s knee.
She had spent only five years in society in London whilst her father was on the Continent, there to complete the requirements of a respectable education for girls.
It would never do in the finer echelons of society. Here, it was enough.
And yet, despite these differences in background and experience, there was a growing commonality that bound them with every word.
They had all but reached the village when Richard blurted out the question he had repeatedly told himself not to ask.
“Why are you not married, Emily? Have you left a string of broken hearts behind you?”
Her steps did not falter, neither did her voice change its tone.
“I was always too plain-spoken for the tastes of my suitors. They wished for a woman to agree with their every word and bolster their sense of self-worth, and I am not that woman. I have the bad habit of saying what I think, and of meaning what I say. If that bothers a man, then I am happier without him. I meant what I said: I will be quite content to live my life as a spinster, pleased with my own company and my chosen pursuits, not having to pander to some husband’s whims. I might ask the same of you, Richard.
Why are you not wed?” She turned the tables quite smartly on him, and he found himself answering candidly.
“I had hopes,” he sighed, “in a beautiful young heiress whom I thought liked me. But her interest was feigned, merely to incite jealousy on behalf of another to whom she soon became engaged. I decided right then that I had no more interest in romance. Like you, I shall be most happy unpaired, free to live my life as I see fit. If that life is somewhat less luxurious than it might be had I married into wealth, I am more than prepared for the sacrifice. I cannot abide perfidy.”
“Once more, then, we are matched. I am glad we understand each other so well.” She linked her arm through his and they walked the last paces across the bridge into the village.
Richard was only slightly alarmed at this sudden intimacy with a woman he had so recently met.
Only two weeks ago she had all but refused to speak to him.
Now she was sharing matters quite personal.
He had never shared such a sympathy with Miss Ingalls—why, he had hardly spoken a word of substance to her in all the time he thought he was wooing her—and even his cousin and close friend Will Darcy scarcely knew all these things of which he now spoke so openly.
And yet it felt right and natural, and in this strange and exotic place, it was good to have a friend.
For a friend she would be, and only a friend!
He had no interest in another affaire de coeur, and she had stated quite clearly that she was on the shelf and was not interested in marriage.
They could enjoy a friendship with no alarm on either side that the other might have different thoughts on the matter.
As they reached the village, he pondered that perhaps Bermuda might not be such a poor place for a posting after all.
Somerset itself was well enough provided for his tastes and for Emily to complete her errands.
Her mother was to host a musical event such as she had spoken of in a few days, and she must visit the florist to order flowers for the tables, and the baker to see about sweets that the fort kitchen was not expected to supply.
Such was the nature of a civilian family living in a military encampment: most of their needs were supplied by the garrison, but luxuries must be procured independently.
As Emily enumerated her other tasks for the day, Richard grew more impressed at her common sense and competence.
“We shall need extra wine for the supper, but not so much that the officers have difficulty rising the next morning. Father would have me water the wine, but I prefer to offer smaller amounts of better quality. Further, good wine is sipped to enjoy, rather than gulped to quench thirst, and the men know not to over-indulge. Their commanding officer is watching their every move, after all!” She laughed, and Richard laughed with her.
It was a lovely sound, as free and refreshing as the great ocean that surrounded them.
Emily discharged her obligations to her mother whilst Richard wandered through the village, looking into haberdashers and blacksmiths, and wandering down one street and up another, until both were satisfied.
They returned to the Dockyard together, talking easily as the miles slipped by beneath their feet.
When at last they parted ways, it was with the sense that a solid rapport had been forged. Friendship with Emily would more than make up for the antipathy he felt from so many of the men. This would be no burden after all.
Indeed, it seemed Bermuda would not be such a bad place to spend this next commission!