“Oh no, Capitán, I am English. But I have learned much of your country, particularly your music and songs. And your art! How I envy you, who have seen the frescos of MarianoSalvador Maella in the Toledo Cathedral—I heard they are magnificent!”
Mrs. Macquarie looked to her husband; he was as astonished as she at Miss Bennet speaking rapid and fluent Spanish, laughing with the Spaniard as though they were old acquaintances, not just introduced. The Capitán of the visiting frigate—which only that day set anchor in Port Jackson—was invited because Spain was a strong ally of Britain in their war against France; this was the diplomatic thing to do, but he came without his lieutenant to translate. None in the governor’s entourage spoke the language, and his English was singularly poor.
“Miss Bennet,” said she, “perhaps you could play some Spanish songs for the Capitán when we retire.”
Elizabeth translated for the Capitán, and his smiles and gesticulations showed the Macquaries he well appreciated their condescension. Mrs. Macquarie relaxed. She knew Miss Bennet spoke Dutch and Portuguese and supposed Spanish was similar to the latter. Did she speak other languages? Such competence would be of great assistance in managing entertainments for visiting dignitaries from other countries. As though knowing her mind, Mr. Darcy spoke wistfully as he watched Elizabeth speak animatedly with the Spaniard.
“The lady is also fluent in Latin, French, Italian, and German. If your husband requires it, her understanding of law Latin and law French exceeds mine.” He smiled. “When we first met, at the Court of Chancery in St. Albans, she quoted from Cicero, Rousseau, and the Bible, and knew both Dutch and Italian sayings. I thought these the utterances of an automaton, learned by repetition with but shallow understanding. I stand humbled, ma’am. Miss Bennet is a polyglot, a true proficient.”
Mrs. Macquarie stood, and the ladies retired, leaving thegentlemen to their port and cigars. They had scarcely entered the drawing-room when Mrs. Putland complained to her hostess of Miss Bennet’s rudeness in carrying on a conversation with the Spanish captain that no others at the table could comprehend.
“It was extremely rude of her; she displays an offensive sort of conceited independence, such indifference to decorum.”
“On the contrary,” responded Mrs. Macquarie, “it shows a consideration for a guest of the governor that is particularly pleasing. None other at the table can speak Spanish with any facility. The captain is a plenipotentiary of the Spanish government; a favourable report of the British treating him with respect and dignity, notwithstanding the distance between New Holland and Spain, will be to both our governments’ advantage. If you’ll but excuse me, Mrs. Putland, I must see to the coffee and tea.”
Mrs. Putland was not pleased with this reply; she sought another lady to whom she could complain of Miss Bennet. Perhaps Mrs. Bent, who had shown some displeasure with Miss Bennet in the past, notwithstanding the Bents’ sponsorship of the lady’s journey to New South Wales. She found her in conversation with Mrs. Palmer, the wife of the Commissary.
“This is my third child, but the sickness is much worse than when I bore Henry and Beth. I am now six and twenty; I supposed I was still young enough to carry without great discomfort.”
“My last, Sophia, was delivered in ‘03 when I was some two and forty.” Mrs. Palmer rolled her eyes at the memory. “I knew little sickness, but, dear me, the aches and pains! Mrs. Bent, you are still young. Find yourself a good midwife who can soothe your fears and help you carry the child.”
“I’m told ginger and lemon tea help with the morning sickness—have you found it so?”
“Sound advice. But I wager that remedy didn’t come from Mrs. Sims.”
Mrs. Bent replied rather hesitantly. “No, I visited with Miss Bennet. She sat with me, talking of my time with Henry and Beth. She asked what foods made me ill; whether I ate rich meats or lean; whether I drank much wine or spirits; advised that I should heat milk before drinking it, and that all water from the Tank Stream should be boiled, both for drinking and for toilette.” Mrs. Bent spoke almost in a whisper: “I am so ashamed. From the Cape to Sydney, all the care of the children was left to her. Mr. Bent and I travelled on theDromedarywhile she remained on theHindostan, where she also had the care of the regimental wives. And yet, despite my neglect of both her and the children, she treated me with the utmost kindness and deference.”
Coming near, Mrs. Putland overheard the conversation and turned away. It was unaccountable. All were blind to Miss Bennet’s impertinence, her shrewish manner, her lack of fashion, her impropriety for associating with the wives of the common soldiers, and, indeed, the ill-bred girls of the orphanage. That she, the governor’s daughter—for she believed her father was the rightful governor of the colony—should give way to a person of so little rectitude and consequence.
The gentlemen returned. Colonel O’Connell accompanied her father, Commodore Bligh, and they made their way to her.
“Darcy is a good fellow,” said the commodore. “His father knows Sir Joseph Banks and suggests that, with his letter of introduction, Mr. Darcy senior will arrange a dinner for myself with Banks, Castlereagh, Matlock, and Yorke, the First Lord. By Jove, with such support, I shall be an Admiral of the Blue! The same as Bertie at the Cape, what a scoundrel that man is!”
At that moment, Mrs. Putland understood her following the commodore to England would lead to further loss ofconsequence. Her mother would resume the role of hostess to her father; she herself would scarcely be recognised in society. Through this lens, she now saw the present company in rather a different light. Though not handsome, Colonel O’Connell was a rather dashing fellow dressed in his full regimentals. His countenance was pleasant, as was his conversation. But, more importantly, his rank of lieutenant governor made him completely charming.
Mrs. Macquarie was well pleased with the evening. The commodore had remained civil, no doubt due to Mr. Darcy’s efforts on his behalf in London and also to Miss Bennet flattering him. She spoke of his success in bringing breadfruit trees from Otaheite to Jamaica in ‘93. This was a topic very dear to him; surprisingly, she knew of his receiving a gold medal from the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufacturers and Commerce. For the entertainments, Mrs. Putland and Mrs. Bent exhibited on the piano forte; she herself played her violoncello to much acclamation; and Miss Bennet sang some beautiful Castilianseguidillas, a form of Spanish love song. The music had the character of improvisation, remarkable for strange and sudden modulations. Mrs. Macquarie saw tears trickling down the cheeks of the Capitán as he mouthed the words of thecoplas—the love poems, both serious and comic—sung by Miss Bennet’s enchanting soprano.
***
“Well, my dearest Betsey, how did you find Miss Bennet?” Colonel Macquarie was relaxing in the private parlour with his wife after their guests departed. “Should I talk to Darcy, or should we lend them our full support?”
“Oh, she’s most accomplished, genteel, and very refined inher speech. She’s truly well-bred, more so than Mrs. Eliza Bent or Bligh’s daughter. Notwithstanding it’s indelicate to be a midwife, she follows a grand tradition of women such as Madame du Coudray and Justine Siegmund, who was midwife to the Brandenburg Court. Yes, we’ll support her—I like her exceedingly and will seek her friendship.”
Chapter 16
Sydney, April 21, 1810
From: Sydney, New South Wales
Dearest Mama—
You’ll not know whether to laugh or to cry when you discover what I’ve done. I’m discombobulated myself. That having fled so repulsive a marriage in England, I’m to marry in New South Wales! If you can guess with whom, I shall think you psychical. But do not fear, I’ve not been compromised and am most willing. Papa’s consent is not required, though I do believe he would approve of my choice. Apart from Papa, there’s only one man I respect and admire, though at first I thought him very proud and he disliked me. Yes, you may have guessed it! I’m to wed Mr. Darcy! He does not yet know I will marry him as we’ve agreed but a courtship—he is to woo me first. But such wooing! We walk out together, attend dinners and soirees, and even some balls aboard the vessels anchored in the cove. He’s all gentlemanly, so proper, so reserved. But he’s so light on his feet when dancing, and, being so handsome, all of the ladies wish to be his partner. Am I not fortunate!
I didn’t intend to marry—well, not so soon. Through my employment as matron of the orphanage, I wished to amass fortune enough to purchase my fare back to England. But I had not realised my vulnerability. Dear Uncle Gardiner told me—of course, I didn’t listen—that in a penal colony, there would be many more men than women; thus, an unmarried woman, young as I, would be at risk. Of course, he was correct, and I’ve been importuned several times by officers of the 102nd and 73rd, and also by others. (Have no fear, my virtue is intact!) Even though I’ve no dowry,my ability to manage an estate and my being niece to your brother, Uncle Gardiner, who is known even here in New South Wales as an astute merchant and trader, has made me a valuable commodity. That is what I’ve become: a commodity! A bargain! A chattel! Yes, I’m more valued for ‘my assets’ than for my accomplishments—my being matron, my being warden of the school, my gentility and my education. I was about to say ‘refinement’, but that would scarcely be the truth. Naturally, I’m still the impertinent Miss who aroused Mr. Darcy’s ire at the court in St. Albans—oh, that was so long ago.
The truth of it is Mr. Darcy is required to marry. Mr. Ellis Bent, under whose protection I journeyed to Sydney, is poorly and is to resign his position as judge-advocate. He and his wife, Eliza, will return in May, accompanying Commodore Bligh on theHindostan. As deputy, Mr. Darcy must step up, but both he and Governor Macquarie agree he should marry: a single gentleman could be compromised by a woman of loose morals should she appear in his court.
I do not love him, though I’ve a certain affection for him; he makes me feel safe. Perchance I’m too young to marry; that I do so only to escape compromise by men who I cannot respect, who have the intellect of a potoroo (a small, endearing kangaroo). But ‘tis done—though nervous of my future, nervous of my ability to be a good wife such as you are to dear Papa—I am committed. I’ve taken a new motto:Audaces fortuna juvat—fortune favours the bold.Dear Mama, he’s the nephew of an earl—who’d have thought that I, lowly Lizzie Bennet of Meryton, could reach so high! But, maybe, as Lizzie Darcy of Sydney, I shall rise in consequence.
