Yours, Fitzwilliam Darcy
Swiftly, she turned to the second letter.
My Dear Elizabeth,
What on earth is this Georgiana writes about you all being attacked? I read your letter, and I was charmed and soothed by your description of life in an English country town, and the next thing I read is that there was an attempt to cut her out and carry her off!
Please write at once and let me know what really happened. Georgiana wrote something about your wearing her coat, then Puttnam and Anderssen beating some London roughs and turning them over to the Press. I have read the letter half a hundred times and can make neither head nor tail of it.
My only consolation is that you appear to have emerged unscathed. Please extend my thanks to all concerned, but please do not ever hide such things from me again. At least your (very welcome) letters are intelligible, and I would rather by far know what is happening at home to those I love than have to guess it from my sister’s letters (perhaps you ought to engage a writing master).
Please write and tell me immediately that you are all safe and well. I have made some more money available. Tell Anderssen to call in a few more shipmates, decent reliable men like Haslam and Rattray if he can find them, and billet them in the stables. A couple of guineas a month and all found would not be too much for my peace of mind and your safety.
It took several more paragraphs like this before the letter calmed down enough to contain any news, and Elizabeth was convinced that the first page had been added to another, rather calmer letter. Her father continued well, and to everyone’samazement, Jessup was now walking out with the widow of Mr Chambers, the former gunner of theAgamemnon.
The lady runs a laundry in Valletta and is a much larger woman than he is a man. However, this does not seem to worry either of them, and they have been seen in the marketplace, carrying her basket between them, exchanging tender glances over the handle.
The crew continued to settle, with only a few exceptions.
One poor fellow has gone completely mad and has had to be left at the hospital. An exceptionally brutish man disappeared overnight, and I suspect the crew gave him a Jonah’s lift over the side. Of course, no one will tell me anything, and I have had to log him as ‘lost at sea’.
However, the majority are shaping reasonably well, and when word comes that we must sail, we shall be as ready as any other ship in the fleet. We had a short convoy duty last week, with the wind in just the right quarter and the sea like milk, and it was the sort of day you dream about on land, when the ship moves like a living thing and needs only a light hand to give you her best. Half a dozen silly little galleys tried to cut out the weakest of the convoy, but we soon settled their hash, which pleased the hands and showed the new men why the gun exercises are so very important.
We also picked up a French merchant ship on the way home. The cargo was mostly wine and horse furniture, bridles and such, for the French army. So what with that and the head money, you and I shall be better off by another thousand pounds or so as soon as the Admiralty court stirs its stumps and condemns the ship. I am supposed to wait until thenbefore paying anything out to the men, but I have advanced them all a little money from my own funds, which has cheered them even more than the fact that they made four months’ pay in one afternoon.
I am sending you and Georgiana some lace I picked up on shore. I am no judge of ladies’ requirements, but this strikes me as very handsome, and if it does not suit, perhaps you will accept the wish for the deed. Your father gave me another list of books, but I pointed out that now he has an address on shore, he can write for them himself. I would not say my esteemed father-in-law has shown himself a reluctant correspondent, but I do not feel an incentive would come amiss.
Then on the last page, after a description of a concert at the Port Admiral’s lodgings, came the news she had not wanted to read.
My orders have arrived at last and I leave on the tide. All being well, I should be back to port within the month, two at the utmost. I am not anticipating any trouble, merely a lack of success; however, we are at war, and no one can know what might happen. If you have not read my will, please do so. I know you will do your best for my sister and her mother, but I want you to be sure to do your best for yourself as well. You deserve so much more than I or the world have given you to date, and if the worst should happen, I will go happier in the knowledge that you are safe, well, and happy.
Please do not forget to write and tell me of your adventures. I hope to be in Malta to read all about it in a few short weeks.
I will only add that you and Georgiana have my dear love and my prayers.
God Bless You,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
Such a letter was not to be soon recovered from, not least because, when she opened the parcel, she found two beautifully worked but quite different shawls, and she wondered how many men would have taken the time and trouble not to buy identical ones. She had scarcely calmed herself when the request about his will sent her to the bureau. There she found, to her further distress, that he had left her everything he had accumulated in a lifetime at sea, reserving only his godfather’s bequest for his sister. If he never came home, she need never be beholden to anyone ever again. With a fortune of over thirty-five thousand pounds, she would be able to assist her mother and sisters and buy her own house and even a small estate if she wished.
She did weep then. The thought of that dear, kind, unassuming man so far away, in such a dangerous profession, seemed to her quite suddenly the saddest thing she had ever heard, and it was only the sound of someone rapping on the front door that forced her to recover her countenance and prepare to receive visitors.
Hephzibah came in and bobbed a curtsey. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Mr Collins,” she squeaked, and a large, imperious-looking woman swept into the room with Mr Collins bobbing uneasily in her wake.
“This room is too dark,” she said without making or waiting for any greeting. “And that material for the chairs is not at all practical.”
Considerably startled, Elizabeth rose, curtseyed, and offered her guests seats. Her offer of tea was refused by the lady, although the gentleman looked as though he would have dearly loved to accept.
“You can be at no loss, Mrs Darcy, to understand the reason of my journey hither,” said Lady Catherine as soon as she was seated. “Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I come.”
“On the contrary, madam, I am completely at a loss,” replied Elizabeth firmly. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mr Collins blench and shake his head at her. She turned her face so she could not see him.
Lady Catherine was checked for a moment and then continued. “Very well, since you refuse to understand me, I have come to ensure the return of that ungrateful child Georgiana to her proper home. When I heard from Mr Darcy that she had been enticed away from Pemberley by promises of a life independent of the guidance necessary for so young a girl, I was horrified enough. When I heard from Mr Collins that she had been left in the care of a girl only slightly older than herself, I resolved to fetch the child away immediately. Where is she?”
Despite her best endeavours, Elizabeth could see her cousin’s look of triumph, and it was this, as much as the lady’s incivility that decided her actions. “Georgiana and her mother are currently at the rectory, taking tea with the vicar’s daughters,” she replied.
“Then you may send someone to fetch her away. Her packing can begin immediately.”
