Elizabeth leant over the taffrail and gazed in amazement at the town before her, and the myriad shore boats, painted green, white, blue, and yellow, which gathered around the ship, selling all manner of produce: eggs, bread, butter, strawberries, cherries, pomegranates, lemons, oranges, peaches, nectarines, and bananas—a veritable cornucopia of exotic fruits and vegetables. At that moment, she was very glad indeed she had come aboard theHindostanfor the journey to New Holland. What delights she would experience—not shallow and faulty impressions gleaned from books and travellers’ journals, but direct, immediate sensation. She thought briefly of her father, his mind trapped in his body in the dower house at Longbourn. Oh, that he could be with her now—what joys they would share!
She listened to the chatter of the mahogany-coloured boatmen, jabbering in very inharmonious Portuguese, each one louder than the other. Fluent in Spanish and Latin, she could hear the similarities between their speech and Spanish. Listening more carefully, she could distinguish the cognates orroot words—the most commonly used phrases appeared the same as those of Spanish, though of a dialect closer to Galician rather than the Castilian she spoke.
“Bom dia!” she cried to the boatmen. They laughed, “Bom dia, Bonita—good morning, beautiful!” Elizabeth blushed—a loose knot held up her rich chestnut hair, but several curls escaped, framing her face now lightly tanned by the sun and wind spray of the journey from England. One bold, bare-chested man threw an orange, which she caught as it flew over the rail. He bowed to her, and the other boatmen cheered and whistled as she curtseyed to them.
“My pardon, Mrs. Bent. I meant to welcome them, but they think I’m flirting. Are all Portuguese men so forward?”
“No matter, Miss Bennet. But I’d enjoy some of that orange. So rare in England, but the juice is delicious.” A midshipman immediately offered his sharp knife and, with a few deft strokes, sliced the orange into pieces, which were handed to Mrs. Bent, the children, Hannah, and Elizabeth. She insisted the young boy—for the midshipman was no older than twelve years—also take a slice.
As they sucked upon the astringent flesh, they watched the commodore’s barge row towards the shore, but the surf appeared too high for them to safely land. The boat turned and made its way along the beach, past a quite remarkable rock, singular from its excessive declivity and its total separation from the land, and came to an artificial landing at the base of yet another rocky prominence. They observed the men climb possibly a hundred steps cut into the very stone itself and then walk along a very steep road towards the town.
“Oh my!” declaimed Mrs. Bent. “I’m sure the children will never make such an ascent.”
Elizabeth was watching the native boats make their landing on the beach at an easy distance from the town.
“Look! Their boats are flat-bottomed—once in the surf, theboatmen swing the boat around, jump into the water, and run it high and dry onto the beach. Ours will be the easier crossing.
“Come, let’s go below for breakfast—the cook has bought eggs, bread, and ham. What a welcome change from the ship’s heavy bread. And fresh eggs! Our hens have forgotten how to lay these past ten days!”
***
The ladies were invited to reside at the house of the Consul, where they were received and entertained with much hospitality. That evening, the Consul held a dinner in honour of Colonel Macquarie and his lady. Elizabeth was much occupied with little Henry and Beth, who were fractious and nervous about staying in a strange house. She settled them, left them in the kind care of Hannah, and hurried to the drawing-room before being led in to dinner.
Dinner had been announced, with little time for introductions to her hosts and the passengers from theDromedary, including Colonel Macquarie. Being perhaps the lady of least consequence, she accepted the arm of a captain of the 11th Regiment of Foot and was led into the dining-room following the other guests. Mr. Veitch had already led in Mrs. Macquarie, with Mrs. Veitch following on the arm of Colonel Macquarie.
“Ma'am,” the captain turned to Elizabeth, “we’ve not been introduced, but it would appear strange to sit as neighbours at table and not converse. May I introduce myself? Captain Grant of the 11th.”
Elizabeth smiled up at him, for though she was tall for a lady; he was perhaps a head higher. “Delighted, Captain… Miss Bennet. I’m accompanying Mrs. and Mr. Ellis Bent, who takes up the position of Judge-Advocate for New South Wales. Are you stationed here in Madeira, or do you travel onward elsewhere?”
The captain appeared to be an extremely pleasant man, of good countenance and excellent manners. During their conversation, Elizabeth found he had made himself a perfect master of the Portuguese language and could talk with interest and knowledge of the inhabitants of the place. In a very short time, Elizabeth was quite at ease. On her left was a passenger en route to the West Indies, who appeared more interested in the soup and excellent wine than in conversation. Her attention was almost exclusively focused on Captain Grant’s lively repartee.
Further down the table, Darcy found himself seated next to an older lady who had just arrived from the Port of Rio de Janeiro on her return journey to England. On his other side was Miss Spurrell, who was travelling as the lady’s companion. Miss Spurrell was of a rather quiet demeanour. From their limited conversation, Darcy concluded she was the daughter of a clergyman and had only recently taken the role of companion. On asking her impressions of Rio de Janeiro, he learned that, in company, she had met Major Johnston and Mr. MacArthur from New South Wales, who were returning to England. That the ringleaders of the rebellion had fled showed some semblance of law had been restored in the colony. This intelligence he would pass on to Colonel Macquarie.
While the soup was being removed for the next course, Darcy glanced along the table and was pleased to see Miss Bennet in attendance. He had looked for her prior to being called to dinner, but she had been absent from the drawing-room, and he had anticipated she may have remained on theHindostan. At that moment, she glanced towards him; he was rewarded with a wide smile, which, to his eyes, lightened the room, that had turned rather gloomy as dusk had fallen without the lamps being lit. Her fine eyes flashed, but ratherthan the anger he had seen in the courtroom of St. Albans, they were full of pleasure and welcoming recognition. He returned to his meal; he would talk to Miss Bennet once the men rejoined the ladies in the drawing-room.
“Mr. Darcy, have you met Captain Grant of the 11th?” Darcy turned towards Miss Bennet, who approached him with a tall officer by her side.
“My pleasure, sir. Mr. Darcy from Derbyshire.”
“Captain Grant, now an itinerant soldier but formerly from Nottinghamshire—which would make us neighbours. Would you, perchance, know Willie Harrison, the barrister? A good friend of mine who’s from your county.”
“Yes, indeed. Willie and I attended Trinity together, though several years apart. I last met him in London, but he chose criminal law, whereas I went into Chancery. Not my wisest choice, I’m afraid.”
“Ah, Willie talked often ofLord Endless—though he finds saving felons from the gallows equally unedifying. But enough of the law. I’ve just met the charming Miss Bennet, and I understand you are acquainted.”
Elizabeth blushed. “A minor acquaintance, captain. Mr. Darcy was kind enough to save my family from being cast from our home in Hertfordshire. I meant to thank him for helping us, although such wasn’t his responsibility. In fact, I mean to apologise to Mr. Darcy for some rather harsh thoughts I had of him at the time.” Turning to Darcy, she looked to him: “I trust, sir, you’ll forgive me, although it would be improper of a lady such as I to expose myself by relating my sentiments then, which have changed markedly from my sentiments now.”
Darcy chuckled. “I understand you completely, Miss Bennet. We shall speak no more of it. I take it your family is safe andthatgentleman found the manor rather bare?”
“Forgive me, sir! I received letters from my mother and sister telling howthatman came to claim his bride. But, as you are aware, she was gone. I do believe, however, he may marry a spinster from the village, as her father took him under his wing and offered him sanctuary in his home.”
At this moment, Mrs. Bent came up to Elizabeth and requested she entertain the guests with a performance. Both Mrs. Bent and Mrs. Macquarie had already performed on the piano forte, which, in the warm Madeira climate, was a little out of tune, and the action of the instrument needed attention. Elizabeth called to a footman to retrieve her guitar from her chambers.
Taking the instrument from its case, she quietly tuned the six strings of the Spanish guitar. Darcy watched her intently—would a country Miss, of little consequence, expose herself before the guests of the Consul? Darcy himself had heard the famous Madame Catalini sing in the Haymarket—he had attended when she made her London debut. Miss Bennet played the first bars of the introduction. Darcy tensed. Indeed, a piece by Bortolazzi—surely beyond the skill of all but the most gifted singers. And then, the pure strains of Bortolazzi’s personal arrangement for Catalini of hisLa pena ch’io sentofilled the room. All conversation ceased; all eyes turned towards Miss Bennet. Her clarity, the purity of her Italian, filled the space—she was incomparable; her tone, the lightness of her expression, and the virtuosic graces of which, hitherto, he believed only Catalini could aspire, spilled out through the open windows of the house and into the air of the Madeira night. Her audience stood stunned by her virtuosity—this was a performance that only a special few would ever hear. Her heart poured into her music; this was her soul made transcendent.
***
A few days later, Colonel and Mrs. Macquarie invited the Bents to view the Church of the Lady of the Mount, and in this endeavour, they were attended by Captain Grant and Mr. Darcy; the children were left in the care of their maid. The scenery of the island was best seen on foot or by mule; the use of carriages impracticable, owing to the steepness of the roads. Since neither Mrs. Macquarie, Mrs. Bent, nor Miss Bennet felt confident enough to drive a mule, the ladies were carried in hammocks, but Miss Bennet elected to walk, despite the severe incline and the path being littered with sharp stones. The hammocks consisted of finely textured netting, slung on a single pole and carried on the shoulders of native men. A good supply of cushions made them a luxurious conveyance.
