And then it came to him. This was not a game; she was serious in her regard and sincere in trying to engage his affections. He felt ashamed, caught between a rock and a hard place. Until Elizabeth came, little could he do to dampen Felicity’s expectations. Felicity deserved better. If it were not for Lady Catherine’s foolish intransigence and the pride of her brother, the earl, then he could speak freely of Elizabeth—her consequence, her intelligence and beauty, and, most importantly, of their love match.
For the remainder of the journey, Darcy smiled and engaged in polite conversation. Often, during breaks for refreshment, he observed Lady Matlock stare at him, her brow furrowed, her face tightening, then looking away as he turned towards her. Did she doubt his sincerity? Of course. In a courtroom, he would display confidence and dissemble—without actually lying—as a good advocate must for the benefit of his client. But for himself, disguise of every sort was an abhorrence. His aunt knew him too well.
At Matlock, they parted ways; the earl and his family went to his estate at Masson Hill, and Darcy and his father headed a further twelve miles north to Lambton and Pemberley.
“Well, that journey’s done,” said George Darcy, once they had made their not-so-sad farewells. “You’ve certainly changed, Fitzwilliam. How you kept your equanimity for the past three days, with Lady Matlock, Milton, and Lady Susan assailing you. Do I perceive the influence of your Elizabeth?”
“She and I had an agreement: that her ease and liveliness would compensate for my solemnity and reserve. Indeed, she is now so much a part of me that when I act, when I engage with others—outside of the courtroom—I hardly know whether it is me speaking or her through me.”
Darcy senior looked at his son, not with amusement, but with compassion. If he lost his Elizabeth, it would be like cutting his heart out. No, they would never allow Matlock to have his pound of Pemberley flesh.
***
The coach gradually ascended the eminence from which Pemberley House could be viewed in its glorious entirety. So familiar, yet so strange—surrounded by woody hills, the stream and lake in front. So different from the modest house atSt. Andrews, which overlooked the Bunbury Curran Creek.
They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door. All his apprehensions fled when he saw, standing on the steps, his sister Georgiana—tall, her figure formed, her appearance womanly and graceful. How could one leave a child of twelve and return, but four years later, to find a youngwoman? Good humour adorned her face as she waited patiently for Darcy to descend from the carriage. But her decorum fled when she ran down the steps and threw herself into his arms.
“Oh, how I’ve missed you, William.”
He hugged her tightly. “And I, you, Georgie. And I, you.”
Chapter 35
Indian Ocean, August 1, 1813
“I intended to take the inner passage between Mozambique and Madagascar, but the winds are variable, and if they were to fail, we would be close to the Comoros Islands—a pirate stronghold. So we shall hold off the east Madagascar coast in the Indian Ocean, and then veer more westerly once we’re beyond Cape Sainte Marie to pass down the southern African coast.”
Captain Coxon sat to dinner with the passengers in the cuddy. As was customary, Elizabeth sat to his right. Her position as the wife of a lieutenant governor, but more importantly, the niece of the ship’s owner, lent her consequence.
“And the journey time? When are we to arrive at the Cape?” A rather pretentious man of about forty years, a former colonial secretary, imperiously questioned the captain.
“By my reckoning, as long as the winds hold, by the last week of September. The monsoon has weakened, and the winds often turn, so our progress is better than if we were fighting a southwesterly breeze. I’m pleased with our progress.” He turned to Elizabeth.
“Mrs. Darcy, would you be so kind as to entertain us this evening? I enjoyed very much your performance during the journey from Port Jackson to Bombay.”
“Certainly, Captain. I know you prefer English airs, but can I persuade you to listen to something Italian or Spanish, perhaps?”
The captain laughed. “Of course, ma’am, we’re at your disposal.”
They made good progress passing the southern tip of Madagascar and then turning southwest towards the African coast. Uneventful, monotonous days passed until their luck changed and the barometer began falling at an alarming rate. The sea became inordinately heavy, the wind rising sharply from the northwest, which threatened to blow the vessel away from its course. But, as had been the case in the Bass Strait, the wind continued to veer and swung all the way around the compass to come from the opposite direction, from the southeast.
This was, at first, greeted with relief by the crew, for it was only a faint breeze, but it kept increasing in strength; soon it began to rain, the atmosphere charged with moisture carried down from the tropics. The wind continued to blow hard, with sleet tearing through the rigging and drenching the sailors who had scurried aloft to shorten sail. Soon, a ferocious gale was blowing.
Captain Coxon was a cautious man, and aware that good, tight ships such as theGrosvenorhad often foundered due to their captains’ blind confidence in the soundness of their vessels. The wind had stabilised but was still dangerously strong. He struck the tops to reduce the profile of the ship, and then, just as he wished for the storm to abate, the gale strengthened, with enormous waves pushing the ship, threatening a broach or capsize.
There was no alternative but to throw out a sea anchor from the stern and run before the wind with bare poles. The rudder was useless and locked in place to avoid being shattered against the hull. Fortunately, the hawser securing the sea anchor held, with the mizzen-staysail keeping the ship turned away from the wind.
“I hate it! I hate it!” Eleanor was shrieking; Elizabeth held hertightly as they lay on her cot. The noise was excruciating; never before had she felt such terror. If it were not for Eleanor screaming, she would have done so herself. A great crashing came from the deck below—a gun come loose. If not secured quickly, it would break through the wooden hull. Once again the sound of splintering and tortured wood assailed her.
Then, to her relief, there was just the wind howling through the bare rigging and the groaning of the ship’s timbers as great waves pushed against the hull, lifting the vessel as though it were a child’s toy boat.
“Hold tight, dearest,” whispered Elizabeth, “the storm will soon blow itself out.” But it continued for hour after long hour throughout the dark night. Seawater was seeping under the cabin door, sprung from the sealed hatches leading to the upper deck, now awash.
Captain Coxon was worried. Before the gale, he had decided to lie close to the southern African coast to take advantage of the Agulhas Current, which would take them quickly to the Cape. But, because of the poor weather, he had been unable to make a sighting to determine his longitude after turning westwards. In fact, he knew he was lost. The strong winds, which had turned from northwesterly to southeasterly, had confused his navigation. There was no choice but to run before the storm and keep their keenest lookout stationed aloft, tied precariously to the foremast.
Miraculously, at the start of the morning watch, four o’clock, the wind lessened—though still strong—and the rain eased. The sea anchor was hauled in, and the ship put under mizzen-staysail and foresail. They were still running ahead of the sea, but now the vessel responded to the helm, and the captain thought to bring the ship around to head south as the wind continued to lessen, to veer away from the coast, which was an uncertain distance to the west.
The air filled with a strange fogginess, and visibility was now much reduced. At that moment, the lookout came swinging down to the forecastle, shouting that he saw land under the lee bow, on the starboard side. Captain Coxon immediately gave orders to veer ship and put her on the opposite tack. The boatswain piped all hands; hurriedly they came up on deck. The helm was instantly put to windward, the mizzen staysail hauled down, and the fore staysail hoisted to get the ship swung around.
