Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
That night, Elizabeth got in bed with Jane, as she so often had as a child, and they whispered the night away.
In all the bustle and preparations, she had almost forgotten how much she would miss her elder sister, and it took Jane some time and considerable effort to reassure Elizabeth that she did not resent being left behind at Longbourn.
“I know Mama can be difficult,” said Jane.
“But now that Aunt and Uncle Gardiner are to take Lydia back to London, I am sure Kitty, Mary, and I will be able to live in something like rational peace.”
“And Kitty or Mary can always come and stay with me for a while,” replied Elizabeth. “I fear we have neglected them somewhat, and Mary in particular seems never to have had a confidential friend.”
“We shall do better, shall we not?”
“Yes.” She looked at Jane slyly. “And now there is no need for hurry; perhaps you and Mr Bingley will have time to become properly acquainted.” Even though they had only candlelight, Elizabeth could see her sister blush deeply before Jane brought the conversation to a halt by attacking her sister with a pillow.
Mrs Bennet woke them at a ridiculously early hour and then confused them both with a murmured lecture on the duties of marriage, a lecture that required a further discussion with Mrs Gardiner to become intelligible.
Considerably relieved, for she had known nothing for certain before, and her imaginings had all been based on farm animals, Elizabeth suffered her mother to weep over her while she dressed and ate what little breakfast she could manage.
It had been intended that her uncle Gardiner would give her away, as the trip to the church was considered too arduous for her father.
However, about an hour before the service was due to start, an elderly sedan chair arrived—carried by Captain Darcy’s two men—that had apparently been found in the Netherfield stables.
It smelt a little of smoke due to the attempts to air it through but was completely dry, and Mr Bennet announced his intention of going to church, and nothing anybody could say would dissuade him.
So Elizabeth walked down the aisle on her father’s arm, the pews filled with a gay company of family, friends, and dress uniforms. The captain stood waiting for her, gallant in navy blue, the Nile medal on a ribbon in his buttonhole, gold lace and epaulettes gleaming.
She hardly heard the service, except for his deep voice repeating the vows.
Everything else was drowned out by the beat of her heart, a sense that time and place were not entirely real and that she might wake at any moment and find herself once more in bed with Jane.
Afterwards, it was the smells she remembered: the flowers in her bouquet and bonnet, the smoke from the candles, the charcoal from the brazier someone had placed in the family pew for her father, and when the captain bent to kiss her cheek again, the soap he had shaved with.
When they left the church, all the naval guests and their servants had formed up to make an arch of their swords and they bent their heads and ran laughing through them to the coach that was to take them back to Longbourn, only to find that the horses had been removed and her father’s tenants had taken the traces to pull them home in a shower of dried flower petals and good wishes.
The wedding breakfast was scarcely more intelligible to her.
Her mother had done her proud, and there was ample food and drink, including real French champagne, a wedding gift from Mr Bingley.
Perhaps it was the champagne, for despite the fact that there were so many strangers present, there was no awkwardness or polite silences.
The two Captains Hanson made themselves particularly agreeable and were invited to stay for a few days longer to go hunting with Robert Lucas and his friends.
Elizabeth passed amongst the guests on her new husband’s arm, feeling his warm, living strength beneath her hand, and she could not remember afterwards who had spoken to her and what they had said, save that they were happy for her and confident in his care for her.
The only thing lacking for perfection was her father’s presence; exhausted by the ceremony despite the accommodations made for him, he soon retired to his bed.
She went to see him in his chamber, wrapped in his nightshirt and shawls.
At his command, she bent over and he kissed her forehead.
“I am so very happy for you, child,” he said softly.
“I have worried for many years that you might not find a gentleman who would appreciate you. If anything happens to me on this voyage, I can at least be satisfied that you are safe.”
“Sir,” she replied. “I hope to see you return to us restored in health before very long.” He opened his mouth to object, but she laid a gentle finger on his lips.
“And you may safely leave Mama and the girls to Jane and me—with a little help from Uncle Gardiner.” He smiled at this, and she left him preparing to sleep.
There were tears when it was time for her to leave.
Longbourn would never again be her home; she would visit it and be welcome, but it was no longer hers, and she could not help but weep for that a little.
However, as the coach left Meryton, she wiped her eyes and smiled at her husband.
“There,” she said. “I am done.” He handed her his handkerchief, a piece of silk the size of a small sail, and she dried her eyes.
“It seems you are forever coming to my rescue. You must not think I am normally such a watering pot,” she said, returning it.
“I think you a lady of courage and feeling,” he replied firmly. “Such a new life, on such short notice, is enough to make anyone weep. I am feeling more than a little overwhelmed myself. Tell me, did you sleep last night?”
“Not a wink.”
“Nor I. I hope I shall be a good husband. For all that I shall be at sea, I would wish to do my best for you,” he said.
“I have no fear on that score,” she replied.
He smiled at that and came over to sit on her side of the coach, taking her hand. “Have I told you today how beautiful you look?”
“Yes; however, it is a sentiment that bears repetition.”
He took her hand and kissed it gently. “I could hardly believe my good fortune when I saw you walk into the church.”
“You must credit my aunt Gardiner for that, for it was her choice of gown and bonnet.”
“In the navy, we call that ‘fishing for compliments’, for you know quite well that, becoming as they were, I do not refer to your gown or your bonnet.” He laughed. “Are you blushing, my…my dear? And I thought you such a strong-minded young lady.”
“If you can find a young lady who does not blush at such things, then I fear you have not found a lady at all,” she replied and then blushed more deeply.
He raised an arm and tucked her into his side with a murmured, “May I?” and they sat in companionable silence while the coach rocked through the gathering darkness to their new home.
Miss Darcy and her mother were staying at Netherfield for the night and no one was at the Hatfield house save for the servants, but it was warm and welcoming, the scent of lavender and beeswax showing that time and care had been taken to make it ready.
In the parlour, they sat down to tea and business.
“I am afraid there is much we must discuss before I leave,” he said, spreading papers on the tea table.
“I have opened accounts for you at two banks, and the dividends from your settlement will be paid half into each. The County Bank failed last month so it is best to divide one’s risk.
I have placed money in both for housekeeping and your use until the dividends fall due next month and shall continue to deposit money for the household bills and your expenses. ”
She murmured her thanks, but he waved them away.
“I have arranged for a good man to keep the garden. His name is Puttnam, and he will arrive tomorrow or the day after. He lost a foot, poor fellow, but he was a market gardener before he took the bounty, so he should do well for you. Anderssen has been my coxswain these many years and can be trusted absolutely. His language may be a little coarse, but he is discreet and honest. Here is his sick ticket. He picked up a nasty splinter wound and should not be at sea. He will need the ticket if the Press come calling. A prime seaman like him is worth his weight in gold.”
Business took up another hour. Why there was no horse and carriage: “I have arranged a contract with the King’s Head to hire you a carriage and driver whenever you wish to go to Longbourn.
I did not think there would be enough use to warrant buying an equipage outright, although if there is, you can always make your own arrangements.
” What to do about letters: “Grace will know my direction, and if you hand your letters to him, he will know how to see I get them. Ship-to-ship is much more reliable that the post, although if you do write, please ensure you date and number your letters so I can see whether any have gone astray.” News about Mr Bennet: “I shall write here in the first instance, and you can decide what and how much to pass on to Longbourn.”
Most distressing, however, were the details of what should happen if he were killed at sea.
“This is my will. You may read it when I am gone. Suffice it to say that I would wish you to look after my sister until she is settled. I put no other obligation upon you. You will receive any arrears of pay, my books, and anything else you wish to keep. I have a small inheritance from my godfather, Judge Darcy, which is largely untouched, and this will go to Georgiana but not before she is five-and-twenty. I do not want any more fortune-hunting parsons sniffing round her.”
When at last it was all done, they looked round the house together.
She was touched to find her father had sent all her favourite books from his library, with some she did not recognise including The Midshipman’s Remembrancer—Being a Manual of Seamanship, Navigation and Conduct at Sea and one or two others.
She realised the latter were of the captain’s providing in fulfilment of a promise she herself had quite forgotten.
There was a brand-new cabinet piano for Georgiana’s use, and all the bedrooms were newly painted, with fresh hangings on the beds.
They dined together, simply but well, still talking of all that needed to be said between them.
Elizabeth was a little concerned that the captain’s older brother, Mr Darcy, might attempt to regain custody of his sister.
“I cannot think it at all likely,” replied her husband.
“Not only is he idle in the last degree, but I have a temporary injunction remitting her to my custody while the issue is still at law, a matter I do not expect to be settled for many months, if not years. If worst comes to worst, Grace will get you both passage to the Mediterranean on a suitable ship, and my brother and that sot of a parson of his can whistle for her money.”
“You place a great deal of trust in me, sir.”
He smiled and placed a hand over hers. “I do. I suppose many years at sea have accustomed me to assessing at speed the character of those I meet. I have known you to be a person of intelligence and decision since first we met. There are many things in this life I am uncertain of; you are not numbered amongst them.”
It was time to retire. The information from her mother and Mrs Gardiner was running through her mind.
He had said he would make no demands, but perhaps she might offer?
No, that would be beyond bold, and even if she had not feared to look in some fashion unladylike or even wanton, how did one say it?
She undressed and got into her second-best nightgown, for somehow she had never retrieved the one Jane had borrowed.
Maria came in, brushed her hair, and removed the warming pan.
Then she giggled, wished her mistress a goodnight, and vanished.
Elizabeth could hear him moving in the dressing room next door.
There was a bang, the sound of something metal hitting the floor, and a muffled something that was probably an oath.
She dared not get out of bed, so she called out, “Is everything all right?” Gathering her courage, she added, “Fitzwilliam?”
He appeared in the doorway in his dressing gown and nightshirt, gripping the side of the door.
“I am sorry if I disturbed you. I am afraid it is the da…dashed dizziness again. I knocked my purse onto the floor and when I bent down to pick it up—there it was. My own fault for not sleeping properly last night.”
“Where will you sleep?”
He came into the room and gingerly made his way to the bed.
“You must not think I have come to make a nuisance of myself, but it occurs to me that it would be as well if I spent the night here. It would not do for word to get out that I did not, as it might raise suspicions about the marriage that my brother’s lawyers could exploit.
” She must have looked alarmed or something, for he quickly added, “I can easily sleep in that armchair. One thing about a life at sea is that it teaches one to sleep almost anywhere.”
She looked at his face. He appeared sincere, and why should she doubt his word now?
He had never been anything but kind and considerate of her feelings.
He closed his eyes and held on to the covers, his knuckles whitening.
She made up her mind. “This is a great nonsense, sir. We are married, and the very least I can do is offer you a bed in your own home.” She held up one side of the covers and then hopped out of bed, went round the other side, helped him out of his dressing gown and then into bed.
When she climbed back in, she found him lying on his back, his eyes still tight shut. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it.
“You are being very kind,” he said softly.
“It is no more than you deserve,” she replied. “How is your head?”
“No worse than before. I can usually sleep it off.”
“Then you should do so now. Goodnight, Fitzwilliam.”
He raised the hand he held to his lips. “Goodnight, my dear.”
Somewhat to her surprise, they were both asleep in minutes.