Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
By the next morning, Elizabeth had scolded herself into a more sanguine state of mind.
She could not imagine why she had wept, for the worst had been averted and the future looked much brighter than had seemed possible only hours before.
No doubt, it was merely the relief of spirits overwhelmed by worry.
She had always prided herself on her common sense and practicality, and it would be the height of childishness to pine for the sort of declaration found in novels that the Bennet daughters were not supposed to read.
No. She was engaged to marry a gentleman she could esteem, look up to even—a gentleman who seemed disposed to appreciate her and to repose his trust in her.
That was a great deal more than many young ladies could look forward to.
Breakfast took place in stony silence, and Elizabeth escaped to her father’s library as soon as she could.
Mr Bennet had said little to her the previous day and took the opportunity to congratulate her on her conquest. Although he was still weak, Mr Bennet was obviously cheered by the prospect of his favourite daughter’s marriage to an excellent gentleman.
“I would welcome the chance to talk to him again,” he said, “for he seemed to be a man of good sense and proper feeling.” He smiled and patted Elizabeth’s hand.
“Although I suspect I should regard any man as such who was not Mr Collins.”
Elizabeth was about to protest when the captain was announced.
He too appeared much improved in health since the previous day, there being no accompanying sailor to take his arm.
He had brought with him a copy of the letter to his attorney in London, detailing the terms of the settlement that had been agreed upon.
Although she was somewhat embarrassed, Elizabeth insisted on staying with the gentlemen while matters were decided, it being further agreed that, in view of the need for haste, Mr Gardiner should be authorised to deal with the attorney in any minor matter that might arise.
As the captain said, “I am due aboard by the twenty-sixth at Portsmouth, so I must leave here not later than the twenty-third, and there is much that must be arranged before then.” The date for the wedding was set for two weeks hence on the twenty-first. Meanwhile, the captain was to see about leasing a house in Hatfield.
“Should you prefer to be nearer to Meryton, I can easily arrange it; however, I know how difficult it is to set up a new command when you are surrounded by people who knew you as a child. I shall never forget my first ship as captain. I went aboard to find the bosun, the gunner, and the carpenter had all known me as a youngster, and I could never shake the conviction they still saw me as such.”
Elizabeth was glad to see that he was prepared to consider her wishes; in all the haste, she could see only too well how easily they could be set aside. “No,” she said. “Hatfield would suit admirably—near enough to call for advice should I need it but not so near that I have to take it.”
Mr Bennet’s laughter had the unfortunate effect of making him cough, and once he was settled, Elizabeth and the captain resolved to take a brief ride in the Netherfield curricle.
It was a bright sunny day, if somewhat cold, and as they trotted along the country lanes, accompanied only by a single groom behind, Elizabeth determined that it was time she came to know the man she had agreed to marry.
“It occurs to me, sir, that I do not know your Christian name, and I really cannot marry a man I know only as Captain Darcy.”
He looked at her, apparently a little startled, but answered readily enough. “I do not think anyone has called me by my first name since my mother died. It is Fitzwilliam. It will be pleasant to hear it again after all this time.”
They rode a little farther, Elizabeth pointing out such small sights of interest as the locality afforded.
After a few minutes, he spoke again. “I am sure you must have many questions; I have many myself. We have so little time to settle everything that, while question and answer is hardly a polite form of conversation, perhaps we should dispense with the formalities in favour of exchanging as much information as possible.”
“Very well,” she replied. “May I start by asking what ails you? You seem very well today, but yesterday you needed the support of a strong arm. Were you wounded or is it an illness?”
To her surprise, he laughed. “I think calling it a wound would be stretching the definition. It was merely one of those mishaps common on board ship. The vangs of the b— That is to say, a portion of the rigging parted. The free end swung free and struck me from behind, quite knocking my wits astray.” He drew the curricle to a halt and looked down at her.
“You must not worry about it. I am well on the way to recovery, and the problem grows less every day. When it happened, I was unconscious for two days and spent a fortnight in my cot with the world reeling about my head. Now, it is merely a question of feeling dizzy occasionally. It is worse when I am tired and, for some reason, worse when I am unsure what I ought to do.” He slapped the reins and the horses moved off again.
“Perhaps that is why I continue to suffer on land. I am rarely at a loss at sea.”
“And the spectacles?”
“The surgeon’s prescription. They are supposed to help the balance, although I have never understood why.
They cannot hurt, and so I wear them.” They passed the Reverend Carter in his gig at this point and stopped to exchange courtesies and to broach the subject of their wedding.
Elizabeth had known him since her childhood and received his heartfelt and kindly blessings, which for some reason made her feel rather shy, although she did her best to respond appropriately.
The parson drove on, and as they left him behind, Elizabeth said, “Now it is your turn to ask a question.”
“Very well. Do you think your father strong enough to travel to the Mediterranean with me?”
This was not at all what she had expected, and she hesitated long enough for him to elaborate.
“I understood from your mother that the doctor considers that he needs a warmer climate. Although my mission is confidential, my ship is currently refitting at Gibraltar, and it is generally expected to join the Mediterranean fleet. I shall be travelling out on the Renown, a seventy-eight-gun ship of the line, which must also call in at Gib. The captain is a particular friend of mine and will be happy to take along my guest. There would be room for your father and his man, Starkey can look after all of us, and I happen to know the new Physician to the Fleet is travelling with us, so your father would not lack medical attention.”
“But what would he do in Gibraltar? He does not speak the language, and Jessup most assuredly does not.”
“You need not concern yourself on that score. There is a large English community at Gibraltar or even, if he wishes to sail further with me, at Malta. All the servants, shops, and lodgings he might want, even books and concerts and such if he is of a mind.”
“I am not at all sure he is well enough to travel.”
“Might I suggest then that we consult the doctor? Nothing can be decided without his opinion.”
They drove a little further in silence. “Have I distressed you with this idea?” he said eventually.
“Oh no!” She turned to him. “It is merely that I am not accustomed to sharing the burden of decision. I seem to have spent the last few months trying to decide what ought to be done from an ever-narrowing selection. It is a great relief to share that burden and yet I feel oddly…” She struggled to find the words.
“Resentful?” he suggested cheerfully. “I know the feeling well. I have sailed on independent cruises, thinking that nothing would be quite as comfortable as having someone with whom to discuss the various decisions I must make, only to find when I returned to the fleet that I deeply resented having someone over me making those decisions.”
It was, thought Elizabeth, very cheering to be understood.
Even dear Jane would sometimes look blank when Elizabeth tried to explain her feelings.
“Very well,” she said. “We will ask Doctor Wallace and then, if he thinks fit, we can ask my father. For I do not trust my papa not to decide he ought to go merely because he thought it might be better for us all at home if he went.” She put a hand on his arm.
“It is very good of you to think of this. I am quite sure you are discounting a great deal of trouble and inconvenience.”
Doctor Wallace, when applied to, seized the idea and recommended it to the hilt.
Mrs Bennet vacillated between declaring that he should not go and that they should all go together.
Elizabeth and Jane had considerable difficulty in getting her to understand that four unmarried daughters and a wife could not possibly be accommodated on a battleship.
Mr Bennet declared that he was eager to go, had often wished to travel, had been to Ireland as a young man, and had not suffered from the motion at all.
However, in view of his condition, it was agreed that the party should leave a day earlier, the day after the wedding, to allow longer for the journey.
A house was found in Hatfield next to the church, with a garden and a space to keep hens. They all travelled out to see it one day, and even Mrs Bennet had to agree it lacked for nothing. A cook and a housemaid were engaged, and Hill’s cousin Maria came from Netherfield to look after the ladies.
It seemed to Elizabeth that the days before the wedding vanished before her eyes.
She saw Captain Darcy—Fitzwilliam—only every other day or so, hardly long enough to discover that he liked cake and apples and, despite a life at sea, could not abide the smell of fish.
It did not seem nearly long enough to come to understand him more deeply, and she wanted to understand him more as each day passed.
She had never met anyone with whom conversation was so easy or whose principles, at least as far as demonstrated in those conversations, so nearly matched her own.
As she watched Mr Collins guzzling his meals, making unnecessary work for the servants, and fawning after Lady Catherine, her heart filled with what she told herself was gratitude and relief.
One day, as they walked in the garden with Jane as attendant, Elizabeth asked whether he was sure that he was well enough to go back to sea.
“What if you become unwell when climbing around the masts and such?”
His reply was light-hearted enough. “Luckily, we captains are not expected to go aloft, having a ship full of men and junior officers to do that for us.” If she was not wholly reassured, she was at least cheered by his promise to find her some books to help her understand his life at sea.
She knew she was lucky to be marrying a man so ready to consider her worries and do his best to assuage them and did her best not to repine at the lack of time they would have together.
She wondered whether he too regretted their imminent parting but found herself reluctant to ask, although the reason for this reluctance quite escaped her.
Her aunt and uncle Gardiner and their children came for the ceremony, bringing a delightful dress and bonnet for her trousseau.
The inn at Meryton filled with such of the captain’s friends who were at liberty, including an immensely tall Captain of Marines and his tiny, doll-like wife, two sea captains so absurdly alike they had to be brothers, a man who looked like a prosperous farmer but turned out to be the new sailing master of the Achilles, and a deeply shy young man called Playford, who was to be its new third mate, having recently passed his examination for lieutenant.
The night before the wedding, Mr Bingley held a dinner in honour of their marriage.
All the guests from the Netherfield ball and more were there; Miss Darcy and Mrs Darcy came down and did their best to express their hopes for their future happiness.
Miss Darcy even followed Elizabeth into the ballroom to say how very glad she was that her brother had found her and then found herself being introduced to Lieutenant Playford, who summoned his courage to solicit his captain’s sister as a dancing partner.
Elizabeth danced with Mr Bingley; she danced with Jack Catteral, whom she had known since childhood; and finally she danced with her intended.
She was so proud of him, so tall, handsome, composed, active and successful in his profession and in scenes of life so far from anything she had ever known.
He was attentive and considerate to her and patient with her mother and Mr Collins, who could not politely be missed from the invitation.
Over supper, as her friends and acquaintances interrupted to congratulate them, he told her something of his travels, of Africa and the Orient, of strange people and animals, of friends and enemies made and lost. She saw him fully as a man of consequence and power and regretted ever more deeply that he must leave so soon after she had come to know him.
They closed the ball together, and every time they touched hands, her heart warmed.
He had a slight smile on his face as they danced, and she hoped that he was feeling as happy as she was.
They hardly spoke; it did not seem necessary.
All had been decided, and all that remained was the ceremony; she refused to consider the parting that would follow.
As he bade her farewell at the door of Netherfield, he kissed her hand and then bent and kissed her cheek.
She felt his warm breath and the pressure of his lips and could not restrain a small sigh of happiness.
As the coach took them back to Longbourn, she relived their dances and that moment at the door and did not feel the cold at all.