He almost gave his heart away… There was only one such woman, and he could hardly boast of her accomplishments here.
“Nor I, I’m sure,” said Miss Bingley. “No one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the wordwill be but half deserved.”
“All this she must possess,” added Darcy, “and to all this she must yet add something more substantial. To be able to converse amiably with merchant, admiral, or lord alike. Mrs. Macquarie, Governor Macquarie’s wife, was one such woman. She was knowledgeable of world affairs, gained through extensive reading, and well able to support her husband in his vice-regal duties. Such makes the ideal governor’s wife.”
Miss Bingley and her sister, Mrs. Hurst, were not so entirely satisfied with this speech, for they read little apart from novels, only scanned the gossip section of the newspapers, and had never met an admiral. Of merchants they knew plenty—and they desired to move up in society, which made their new acquaintance with Mr. Darcy so appealing. He was of the first circles, the nephew of an earl, of vice-regal rank—and, most advantageously, Charles’s friend. Nothing could be more perfect. At that moment, Miss Bingley decidedshewould be the next mistress of Pemberley. Mr. Darcy’s rank of lieutenant governor made him completely charming.
Chapter 33
Bombay, June 25, 1813
Apalankeen, or litter, carried Elizabeth to the office of the mercantile house, Forbes and Co., located in Bombay town, next to the Fort. The two-storey building, painted in a vibrant turquoise with lattice windows and doors of pale green, was well maintained, as befitted that of the premier trading house in India.
“Ma’am, how may I assist you?” Charles Forbes rose from his desk, making a polite bow to the English lady who, as they had not previously met, was certainly a new arrival in Bombay. She was uncommonly handsome, wearing an elegant morning dress of jaconet muslin, appliqued with a narrow border of lace.
“My apologies, sir, for introducing myself, but I’ve only this day arrived on theGrosvenor. Mr. Coxon, the captain, was otherwise occupied, and only a midshipman was available to accompany me.”
Mr. Forbes smiled. “Perhaps we should forgo the formalities, being far from London—I am Charles Forbes, Principal of Forbes and Co.”
“Mrs. Darcy, recently from Sydney, New South Wales. Please, it would be best if you read these letters of introduction.”
Mr. Forbes took the letters and suggested that the lady sit. “Perhaps some refreshment?”
Tea was delivered, and Elizabeth settled back in the rattan chair. The trip across the town had been unsettling. She was well protected in the palankeen with its windows and slidingdoors, but the streets were crowded with men, women, and children in all manner of strange dress, as well as bullock-drawnhackreysand horse-drawn carriages. It seemed impossible for the vehicles to get along without colliding.
As he read, Forbes occasionally glanced at Elizabeth, his brow furrowing. “Oh, my—you are the wife of the lieutenant governor of New South Wales. But that is of vice-regal rank. Surely, you should be introduced to the governor, Sir Evan Nepean?”
“You must pardon me, Mr. Forbes, but my visit is not official. My husband, Mr. Darcy, returned to England by packet in February, and I’m to rejoin him there. I intend to stay aboard theGrosvenor…”
“Indeed you will not! You must stay with my wife and me. How could we fail to offer you the best hospitality in Bombay? And you’re also the niece of Mr. Gardiner. He and I do much business together, with the likelihood of more now that the East India Company has lost its monopoly.”
Mr. Forbes stood and walked briskly about the room. “This is so exciting. Mrs. Darcy, you’re very welcome indeed.”
Forbes cancelled all business for the day and escorted Elizabeth to the vestibule, where he requested she wait for his carriage. Seated at a mahogany reception desk, two Indian clerks showed great respect to Mr. Forbes, having stood and bowed to him immediately upon his entering the room. But, after he exited to the plaza, whispering to themselves in their local language, they made little attempt to disguise their indelicate admiration of Elizabeth’s well-formed figure.
Elizabeth was feeling irritable. The oppressive humidity—the tail end of the monsoon—was uncomfortable after the refreshing breezes onboard ship. Thus, she was in no mood to ignore the clerks’ vulgar, unguarded comments. Before following Mr. Forbes, she turned and addressed them directly.
“Gentlemen, a moment of your time.” Even with such ashort acquaintance, her ear had picked up the nuances of Marathi as spoken in the town. The men looked at her with astonishment and some trepidation. “While I’m tall for a woman, I believe neither my bosom nor my buttocks are overly large. Mayhap I should ask the opinion of my husband, the judge, or, perhaps, Mr. Forbes.”
She smiled, that false smile so often used in the Orient to disguise displeasure. She let the implication of imminent censure hang in the air. The carriage arrived at that moment, and Elizabeth followed Mr. Forbes outside.
“I caught none of your conversation with my clerks. But you speak Marathi? You are full of surprises, Mrs. Darcy.”
After being given the direction of Mr. Forbes’s residence at Tarala, three miles from the Fort, the midshipman returned to theGrosvenorwith instructions to forward Elizabeth’s baggage to the house.
Upon arrival at the residence, a tall, turbaned servant opened the carriage door and assisted Elizabeth out. Mr. Forbes followed. As they ascended the stairs to the wide verandah, which enclosed all four sides of the building, a young girl of about eight years came hurtling down the steps. She looked up, surprised to see Elizabeth standing directly in her path, but her momentum was too much. She tripped and fell headlong into Elizabeth’s arms, who, with much stumbling, managed to prevent the both of them from toppling down the stairs.
“No! No, out of my way! I hate you, I hate you!” The girl’s eyes were red-rimmed; she scowled at Elizabeth and tried to pull free.
“Miss Eleanor,” remonstrated Mr. Forbes. “You must control yourself; Mrs. Darcy is a guest in our house.”
“Sir, I’ve much experience with children,” said Elizabeth, now recovered from the shock of the collision. “If you will, I’ll see to the child.”
Holding firmly to her, Elizabeth knelt down so her eyes werelevel with the girl, whose fair hair was in disarray; tears spilled down her cheeks.
“You’ve lovely eyes, it’s a shame they are hidden by your tears.” She withdrew a handkerchief from her sleeve. “Let me dry them for you.”
Clearly confused, the young girl looked at Elizabeth, nodded, and allowed her eyes to be gently wiped by the soft cloth.
