Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
She had never before shared a bed with anyone quite so large, and several times in the night, she turned over and bumped into an unexpected shoulder or knee.
Once she awoke with a large, heavy arm round her waist and lay awake for a moment wondering whether he had awakened too and whether this were a preparatory move before…
but she must have been more tired that she had thought, for she fell asleep again before she could decide whether or not she would welcome his attentions.
When she awakened the next morning, she was alone.
She sat up, suddenly afraid he might have left before bidding her goodbye, until the sound of someone singing softly in the dressing room reassured her.
Farewell and adieu to you Spanish ladies
Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain
For we’ve received orders to sail for old England
But we hope in a short time to see you again.
He had a pleasant, tuneful voice, and she lay in bed for a few minutes listening to it until a glance at the curtained windows showed it was getting light, so she hurried to wash and dress, anxious to make the best of what little time they had left.
She passed Starkey on the landing with her husband’s shaving water and stopped to have a word with him, only to find that she could think of nothing to say that would not sound foolish.
It was obvious, however, that the man was no fool, for he ducked his head to her and said softly, “Never you mind, missus, I’ll look after ’im.
” Then he bolted before she could express her thanks.
They had breakfast in the little dining room, and she was startled to see what a six-foot sea captain considered a proper breakfast. Her own little plate was quite dwarfed by the beefsteak, eggs, bacon, and toast he devoured.
When he reached for his sixth slice, he caught her looking at him and grinned.
“Once you’ve lived on ship’s biscuit, you can never get enough soft tack,” he said, and she made a mental note to always have new bread in the house when he came home.
The clock in the hall, a gift from her aunt Philips, chimed eight.
The coach would be arriving soon. “Fitzwilliam, are you sure you are well enough to go to sea? After last night, I wonder whether you should not be given a sick ticket as well. Can you not leave your ship with another captain until you are quite recovered?”
He drained his coffee cup and took her hand over the breakfast things.
“I wish I could. It is difficult to explain because my mission is confidential.” He bit his lower lip and then said, “This is strictly entre nous, you understand?” She nodded.
“I am ordered to make contact with…certain forces on land that might change their allegiance and join with us against the Corsican.
These people know me personally and are not disposed to deal with anyone else.
It is not a question of the great powers, merely of smaller principalities and such that might be persuaded to offer us aid.
You can have no idea how much wood and water a ship requires, and any assistance I can obtain will be extremely useful.
“Frankly, I consider the whole business a great nonsense, and if anything comes of it, I shall be amazed. However, the attempt must be made, and it is up to me to make it.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“There is little enough in this war that is not,” he replied and then raised his head at the sound of a carriage stopping in the street outside. “I think it is time.” Starkey came in with his greatcoat and hat, and she flung a shawl about her shoulders and followed him into the street.
Her father was sitting in the carriage, swathed in shawls and rugs. His man Jessup, who was scarcely any younger than his master, sat on the box looking glum.
Elizabeth climbed into the coach to bid her father farewell and extract a promise to write often and at length about his journey.
There was a net of books beside him on the carriage wall, and a bag of all his various medicines under the care of Lieutenant Playford, who was to ride down with them.
She could think of nothing more she could do for his comfort since they were to pick up newly warmed bricks at the inn, so they exchanged kisses and goodbyes and did their best not to think this might be their last meeting.
Surprisingly, it was not difficult to do so.
Mr Bennet looked frail, but he was not coughing, and his face shone with all the excitement of a boy on an adventure.
Then it was time to say goodbye to him. When she climbed out of the coach, she saw him embracing his sister, who was weeping and trying hard not to.
Their eyes met over her fair head, and he smiled and bent down to kiss the girl.
“Now then, my dear,” he said gently. “You must let me say goodbye to my wife.”
Freed from his sister’s embrace, he came over to stand by Elizabeth. “It seems so unfair that I have to leave so soon,” he said.
“But if you had not had to leave so soon, we might never have…I do not want you to go.” She had not meant to say that.
“Neither do I, but I must.” He bowed low and kissed her hand. Then when he straightened, his breath hitched and, before she knew what was happening, she was in his arms. “I would give anything,” he muttered and kissed her.
Their noses bumped and she could feel the buttons on his greatcoat pressing into her, then he turned his head slightly and it was warm and wet and shockingly intimate.
She clung to his shoulders, opened her mouth to him, and suddenly it felt as though she had lived all her life behind thick glass walls.
Everything was nearer, brighter, louder and more alive.
He tightened his grip, his tongue touched hers, and her throat filled with something unbearable but beautiful.
Then one of the horses stamped its foot and snorted, and the moment was over.
They let go of one another, and it felt like something breaking.
He kissed her briefly on the cheek and turned to do the same to his sister.
As he turned to climb into the coach, she remembered.
“Wait a moment,” she called and ran back into the house and returned a moment later with a soft bundle she thrust into his hands.
“It is a comforter. I knitted it for you.”
Her father heard her, and from within the coach she could hear him laugh.
“You knitted it? Must be a Job’s comforter.
” And she knew her husband would be regaled with stories of her various failures in the womanly arts on his journey to Portsmouth.
He, however, thanked her warmly and promised to wear it at sea.
And then there could be no more delay. He climbed into the carriage next to her father, and it drove off down the street, Georgiana and Elizabeth waving their handkerchiefs until the carriage turned the corner and was gone.
The house felt empty without him, but there was much to do, and if she did not keep them both busy, the pair of them would sit down and cry like babies. So she dried her eyes, shook herself, and took her new sister on a tour of their new home.
Mrs Darcy, who had scuttled indoors the moment she and Georgiana had arrived, had already possessed herself of the best of the two remaining bedrooms and had commandeered Maria to open the trunks that had been delivered the previous day.
Elizabeth had intended the room for Georgiana, but that young lady was delighted with the remaining room and its view over the garden, so she let matters lie.
The piano nearly overset Georgiana’s composure, but she managed to master herself and finish the tour. She pronounced it the prettiest cottage ever, and Elizabeth wondered anew about Pemberley. What sort of a place must it be if Georgiana thought this substantial house merely a cottage?
Meanwhile, there was much to be done. Mrs Manning, the cook, wished to discuss the menus for the week; Anderssen announced that the roof of the room over the stables, where he and Puttnam were to sleep, leaked; and Mrs Darcy wanted something done about the smell of pigs, and so on and so on.
Elizabeth had never been in sole charge of a household before and found the whole business much more complicated than she had thought.
Hill and Cook had known their jobs perfectly well without direction and, in any case, Jane and her mother were there to do their part.
Now she had to do it all herself, and for a moment she was daunted.
But only for a moment. Mrs Manning was requested to ragout the remains of last night’s joint, Anderssen was given half a crown to buy pitch and nails, and Mrs Darcy was informed that the pigs in the next-door garden were an unfortunate fact of life and would have to be borne.
Once those matters were dealt with, Elizabeth settled down to the job of working out how to run a household.
Anderssen was of enormous assistance. It seemed that the man could turn his hand to anything, from mending the roof to rehanging a door.
Within the week, every unsteady shelf, rattling window, and squeaking hinge had been dealt with.
Although he was never impolite, he did not talk much, and when he did, the loss of his front teeth made much of what he said unintelligible, but he was willing and blessedly competent, and Elizabeth never had to worry about the house.