Chapter 8 #2
The men wore breeches that ended at their knees and nothing more below that, the supply of stockings being long exhausted. They all became adept at remaking old clothing into garments they could use—clothing that would have been thrown into the ragbag at home.
Phillip, already sixteen, and Tommy who was fifteen, were almost as tall as Jamey.
Given how much manual labour there was, combined with the fact that if they wanted to go anywhere on New England it was with their own legs, they looked very fit and well built, as did the rest of the men.
When Jane looked at her younger brother, she saw a younger version of her beloved father.
There had been some sad happenings, however, besides being stranded for about three years.
About a year earlier, one of the massive storms such as the one which caused them to be stranded on New England, hit the island without warning.
The sky had blackened, but that was not unusual when it was about to rain.
Rather than rain, it had been a massive storm.
One of the three crewmembers, the seaman, had been returning from his watch on the hill when the storm struck.
Part of a tree had cracked off the of trunk and had fallen on the unfortunate soul.
They had buried poor, unfortunate Jack Sparrow a few hundred yards from the dwellings, and the carpenter had fashioned a cross as a marker for the man’s grave.
Then there was the monotony. Each day was almost the same as the one that came before it, so it sometimes seemed they were living the same day over and over and over again.
Thankfully, Jane had the company of her cousins—Cassie, who was one and twenty, and Allie now nineteen.
Jane was always close to her cousins but was even more so now.
Jane and her female cousins would assist Aunt Amy in making over old clothing for all of them to wear, sometimes combining two old items to make one.
Some months before, Phillip was on watch with Tommy keeping him company.
The two had always been close, but now they were much more like brothers than cousins.
Tommy spied a sail, and when Phillip looked in the spyglass, he saw the unmistakable skull and crossbones flying proudly. The boys were extremely frustrated.
They heard a boom in the distance and saw a Royal Navy ship; the pirate ship was obviously running from them.
The boys debated whether or not to light the fire and decided against it.
They were sure the navy ship would not break pursuit to investigate, and if the pirates evaded their fate and returned after seeing the smoke, it could spell disaster for them.
More importantly, the ships were sailing away from them and making the chances of the smoke being seen almost naught.
The two friends watched until the ships were out of sight, after having noted the navy ship was gaining on her quarry. They were relieved by the Earl, who agreed they had made the prudent decision not to light the fire with a privateer in view and the direction the ships were sailing.
Jane had been working on clothing repairs with her aunt and cousins when the two lads returned from their watch and relayed what had happened. It was now four months later, and not another ship had been sighted.
‘Papa, Lizzy, we are here, alive and well! Please do not give up hope,’ Jane beseeched the expanse of sea before her.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Charles Bingley hated his life as a parson, especially as he had to bow and scrape to Lady Catherine de Bourgh. More than two years previously, he had quickly learnt that his patroness required a sycophant in the position, so that is how he presented himself, which earned him the living.
With his glebe lands and the money he received from his parishioners’ tithing, he had an income of over five hundred pounds per annum.
It was a Godsend, as he had managed to lose the rest of his legacy at the tables, and at the time owed more than five hundred pounds to men one pays back—if he values his life.
It had taken two years to pay back a little more than six hundred pounds, but he was finally debt free.
In this at least, Bingley had learnt his lesson; other than playing for small amounts, and never more than her had on his person, he kept away from the tables.
He dined at Rosings twice a week, and from what he could tell he was the only guest that ever visited the ladies who resided at the grand house.
When he either dined or joined her ladyship for tea, he very seldom had to talk, as Lady Catherine did not require answers, just someone to listen to her thoughts on many subjects—for most of which she had no idea of what she spoke.
The subject the lady pontificated on most often was the failure of her nephew, some duke or the other, to do his duty and marry her daughter. Personally, Bingley could understand why this duke, or any other man who did not need her fortune, would not be interested in marrying Miss de Bourgh.
Said sickly daughter, the heiress of Rosings Park, was present when she was well enough to attend.
Bingley thought about how he could compromise the insipid woman to gain all he surveyed.
Yes, the decoration was gaudy, the furniture overly ostentatious and uncomfortable, but he thought it was the way of upper society.
If he were able, it would not stop him getting his hands on all of this.
From what he knew, the estate’s profits were more than five thousand pounds per annum.
An income of five thousand a year was more than he could imagine earning and it would allow him to do so much. He might even help his mother—a little. He had not come up with any workable plan as of yet.
It did not take long to realise that Miss de Bourgh’s companion, who was more of a nurse, never left her mistress' side. The only time Miss de Bourgh was not securely ensconced in the manor house was when she drove her pony-drawn small phaeton. The problem was, she was never alone.
He tried to charm her, but his charms had no effect on her and only earned him a glare from the companion, Mrs. Jenkinson. His effort earned him a severe tongue-lashing from his patroness as Mrs. Jenkinson reported all to her, and he had endured a lecture about breeding and the distinction of rank.
When he was allowed to get a word in after half an hour, he had prevaricated, saying the companion misread his intention as he only wanted to be friendly, as he was to all.
His patroness had accepted his explanation to a certain degree but warned him—she would not tolerate another instance of familiarity with her daughter, no matter the reason.
After leaving his patroness in high dudgeon, Bingley had slithered back to the parsonage to consider other plans that would net him an easy fortune.
He knew although the appointment was for life, Lady Catherine could make that life very unpleasant and could also apply to his bishop, allege wrongdoing, and have him removed or even defrocked.
Given this, he knew he would have to be much more circumspect.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
For the last few years, they had been spending more time in Town than the Duke had wanted to, in order for his sister to be able to study with Signore da Funti.
As much as he hated it, the Duke would accept the occasional invitation, but only to dinners or a musical evening, never a ball, where he would be obliged to dance.
Thus, it was a great relief when his man of business informed him of Netherfield Park, an estate just over twenty miles from London in Hertfordshire near the market town of Meryton, that was for sale. Lord William had his man find all the information possible.
His man returned after viewing the estate with Mr. Philips, who was the agent and a local solicitor.
He reported how it was in all ways perfect for what the Duke was seeking.
The manor house had been rebuilt within the last thirty years as there had been a fire and was thus in excellent condition.
Most importantly, there was a large music room where Lady Georgiana would be able to practice and study with Signore da Funti.
The Duke trusted his man, as he did his stewards at his various estates, but he had learnt from his father that, when making an important decision, he should have all the facts and that meant viewing the property for himself.
The day after he met with his man, Lord William set off just after daybreak on his stallion, Zeus, accompanied by his two enormous personal bodyguards, Biggs and Johns.
Just over three hours later, the Duke and his bodyguards rode up the drive leading to the manor house at Netherfield Park.
So far, his man of business had been correct.
Everything he saw told him this would be the ideal place for his needs.
Mr. Philips met him on the front steps after their horses were led away by grooms.
“Your Grace,” Philips bowed low, as was befitting courtesy to one of the Duke’s rank.
“Thank you for meeting me on short notice, Mr. Philips,” Lord William returned.
Philips introduced the Duke to the butler and housekeeper, Mr. and Mrs. Nichols.
Mrs. Nichols led the tour of the house and, when they were done, the Duke of Derbyshire, Earl of Lambton saw nothing that would inhibit him from purchasing the estate.
His final task was to ride the estate. After refreshments were served in a wonderfully comfortable drawing room, furnished as the Duke preferred with understated elegance, the steward was introduced, and he led the Duke and his men on a ride to view some of the fields and tenant farms.