“Then let us about someovercoming.” Darcy kissed her lips; her arms pulled him to her. “Am I wanton, sir?” she whispered, opening her mouth to his.
Elizabeth awoke in the late morning; she seldom slept so long. Once again her mind was occupied elsewhere. Dear Mama, if I were to write you now, William’s and my evenings would be spent neither reading Greek nor singing Italian duets—but more pleasantly engaged…
Chapter 18
Government Wharf, August 12, 1810
Elizabeth and Darcy discovered marriage to be very much to their liking. Elizabeth found he exactly suited her disposition. Her ease and liveliness compensated for his reserve, his outlook on life became less severe and rigorous, and from his judgement and knowledge of the world, she became less impetuous and more inclined to moderate her actions in consideration of her rank and position in society.
Each evening, on returning to their home, they would sit in the private parlour and talk of the day: she, about the orphanage and the women who came to her for counselling; he, about the cases being brought before the tribunals: the frivolous, the inculpatory, and the wretched. She would take her guitar and play some light English and Scottish airs, her soft voice filling the room, calming him if he became agitated over the day’s proceedings. Afterwards, having taken a light supper, they would retire to their chamber.
Darcy became adept at slipping Lizzie’s dress and petticoat off her shoulders, unlacing her stays, and removing her chemise. But the undressing that gave him the most pleasure was rolling her stockings down over her knees, her calves, and sensual ankles. Then, lying in each other’s arms, if their debate veered into argument, they would kiss, and all thoughts of disagreement would disappear into the cool night air of the town. If there was no argument, their views in concordance, they would caress and, as was always the case, give pleasure to each other.
Thus Elizabeth knew some anxiety of mind when William,who hitherto was all that was amiable and gentle towards her, became short-tempered and unable to converse about seemingly commonplace things. She knew she had little experience of men, and being a confidante to one was completely outside her realm. While close to her father, theirs had been a familiarity of the mind and intellect, but not of temperament—her father’s was an odd mixture of quick parts, wry humour, reserve, and caprice. She understood Mr. Darcy’s reserve, but not his temper nor the episodes of taciturn uncommunicativeness that frequently, and more so as time passed, came over him.
He enjoyed her singing of an evening, which allowed him to relax, shedding the worries that beset him. After, they would share the intimacy of the marriage bed. One night he seemed particularly troubled, his muscles stiff, his silence unnerving. They undressed and lay together on the bed.
“William, let me share your burdens,” said Elizabeth, pulling him to her.
In some desperation he entered her, seeking surcease from a torment of which she knew nothing. The coupling was uncomfortable, painful as he sought relief without first pleasuring her.
“William, please stop! You’re hurting me!” Tears welling in her eyes, Elizabeth looked to Darcy as would a cringing dog enduring cruelty from its beloved master.
Darcy flinched, his body immediately motionless. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to his chest.
“Oh, my Lizzie,” he sobbed. He clutched her to him, Elizabeth gently stroking his back.
Enough! I must discover what vexes William. Her fear thatshewas the source of his troubles, that he regretted their marriage, tore at her heart. But had not Lao Tzu said:There is no illusion greater thanfear?
Lamenting and lying adrift in their bed would not assist them. Elizabeth arose. “Come, sir, let us walk; there’s a full moon, and even though it’s mid-winter the night air is surprisingly mild.” They both dressed. Darcy assisted Elizabeth into her pelisse, and donned his greatcoat. They took their gloves and exited to the street. Darcy told the constable who guarded their house to follow.
“Is the constable stationed here all night?” asked Elizabeth, surprised at seeing the man standing there.
“Of course,” replied Darcy, “I am judge-advocate—many fear and resent me, for I hold much authority over them. A lesser man in my position, should he be of resentful character, could accuse, try, and sentence any man—innocent or not—and none could gainsay him apart from, perchance, the governor who is the true autocrat of the colony.”
Elizabeth placed her hand in Darcy’s, which he pulled against the warmth of his coat. While the temperature was mild, they felt a chill in the air with a slight breeze blowing from the southeast. They made their way down the hill to the Government Wharf. Elizabeth had not realised how powerful a man her husband was. Certainly, he stood below the governor in rank, but only he had the authority to convict and sentence those accused of felonies or other crimes, or decide reparation in civilian actions.
“William, you must tell me, honestly, for I cannot bear my incomprehension. If you regret our marriage, if there’s some deficiency in my behaviour, please speak of it. I need not stay as matron or as midwife; the school is perchance merely an affectation. You’re so distressed—if I am the cause, please say so. My character is not resentful—I respect and admire you too much for me to continue as the source of your distress. If you wish me gone…”
Darcy stopped abruptly and stepped back. He stared atElizabeth, his voice shaking with disbelief. “You believe I could reprove you, my dearest, sweetest Lizzie? Oh, what a fool I am, what a selfish, selfish fool! I, who think of myself as so sensible and intelligent, I’m as stupid as that boorish oaf, Mr. Collins!”
“Elizabeth,” said Darcy, “this day I presided over the Court of Criminal Jurisdiction. I find myself very conflicted—I’m at once committing magistrate, public prosecutor, jury, judge, and must decide for myself the legality of the proceedings. Ofttimes I question my judgement; but ‘tis mine alone to pass sentence and, too often, to determine the prisoner’s guilt or if a crime indeed has been committed.”
Elizabeth moved to him; she took his hand in hers. “Oh, William, but English law does not allow such: what is become of trial by jury? Surely a prosecutor should not be judge at the same trial? Had you known of such disregard of English justice—I believe you would never countenance it and stayed in England.”
“And not wed you!” Darcy kissed her hands; held them tightly to him. He stared across the cove, marshalling his thoughts.
“Nevertheless, you are correct. I came to New South Wales to escape the capriciousness of the application ofequityin England, and now find I’mhoist by my own petard. Blackstone has said that immediately settlers founded the colony,their invisible and inescapable cargo of English law fell from their shoulders and attached itself to the soil on which they stood.” He walked towards the end of the wharf, shrouded in darkness. “Yet he further stipulates that if the country is uninhabited, thensuch colonists carry with them only so much of the English law as is applicable to their new situation and the condition of the infant colony.”
Darcy turned back to Elizabeth. “You see my dilemma. We need merely look to the Eora peoples fishing in the cove toknow that New Holland was inhabited. But, by King George’s commission, the fiction ofterra nulliusis not mine to dispose of. What must be determined, though, is how much of English law to apply. According to Governor Macquarie, such ismydecision; and, as judge-advocate, mine alone!
“You could not know it, but today, for the first time, I pronounced a sentence of death. I have long resisted imposing such, for the scriptures say: ‘thou shalt not murder’. Is the gravity of his offence such as to justify his judicial killing? Could there have been a lesser sentence? The man was a recidivist, and his intent was to feloniously steal goods to the value of seven and forty pounds. Under English law, theft of goods worth more than forty shillingsfrom a dwelling house is a capital offence.His sentence would have been lessened, or a recommendation of mercy, but the prisoner is, and acted, an unrepentant villain.
“My darling, Lizzie. I’m confounded—I hardly know whither to turn. I’m with Sir Samuel Romilly to abolish capital punishment, but I’ve sworn an oath to uphold English law. I’m no reformer, at least not here in the colony.”
They turned to walk along the beach, which was illuminated by the full moon and the flickering lights of an Eora campsite near Bennelong Point.
Elizabeth leant into his side and took in his worried countenance. He’s so serious a man; there are few of such integrity who would stress so over the correct application of the law. Most judges take their fees and look only to the next good dinner, ball, or other entertainment. How she admired him for it, yet it would be her undoing unless he finds some resolution. She feared that his, or her, well-being would not endure such torment were it to last to year’s end.
