Page 32 of Affectations of Candour

Miss Althea, walking along with a spring in her step, waved about a stalk of angelica. “It would be such fun if the three of us and Miss Darcy could all be assigned to the same punt.”

“Yes,” agreed Miss Hughes, “but you already promised that you would go with my uncle, my aunt, and me in the Cliff House boat.”

“We shall know soon how we are to be assigned. Look.” Elizabeth pointed to a glistening ribbon of water not far ahead, and they hurried towards it.

Dreading the moment when Mr Darcy would realise that she had not given her consent to go in his punt, Elizabeth had no intention of debating the matter with him. In any event, it was most likely a moot point. By the manner in which Miss Wright clung to the gentleman, like a barbed bur, it was evident he would be stuck with her for not only the remainder of that afternoon but for the rest of his life as well.

It gave Elizabeth a small degree of satisfaction that Miss Wright was destined to sit with a malodorous creature during their boating excursion. Secretly smiling, she asked herself whether she had meant Hector or the gentleman. But, were she being honest, she would have to admit that Mr Darcy was anything but malodorous. Whatever captivating fragrance he used, she found herself deeply breathing in the scent and savouring the woody-spiciness of it. I hope Miss Wright cherishes it. Or, better yet, that it makes her sneeze.

It was not, however, the redolent gentleman who then stood facing her in the middle of the meadow’s footpath but his sister. “Miss Bennet, my brother was remiss in gaining your agreement to go in his boat. So I am asking you, begging you, to please say that you will come with us, for Miss Wright will not if Hector does.”

“I would go with you, Miss Darcy,” Miss Althea volunteered, “but I already promised Miss Hughes and her aunt that I would go with them in Mr Baker’s punt.”

Miss Darcy continued in her appeal to Elizabeth, and such an earnest and pertinacious application was more than could be withstood. Unable to think of any tolerable pretence, she reluctantly capitulated. “Very well, Miss Darcy, you may inform your brother of my acquiescence.”

How awkward I shall be in his company. And how naive I was to think Mr Darcy might feel the same way about me as I do—did—about him. Even if Miss Wright’s claim proves to be a falsehood, I must not allow myself to believe such a gentleman might have designs on me. Sorely disappointed in herself, she was also angry for having been so callow.

Although Elizabeth acknowledged that she had not yet been violently in love with him, she had hoped that her budding feelings towards Mr Darcy might blossom into something more intimate during the course of the summer and be requited. Miss Wright had dashed nearly all hope of that by speaking of their precious understanding and declaring that connexions must prevail. Yes well, to that I say ‘Balderdash’!

And what do I actually know of Miss Wright? What might be her true character and motives? She seems shallow, without much substance. Proud, boastful, and so supercilious that I tend to be guarded around her. But it is difficult to trust my own discernment when I was initially mistaken about Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham, both of whom I knew for much longer than I have Miss Wright. First impressions can be so terribly wrong, and by now I should have learnt from my errors.

However, if a pledge, a promise to one another, had indeed been made, then Elizabeth dared not interfere with it.

She recalled a piece written by the celebrated writer Samuel Richardson. It was something to the effect that if a young gentleman’s love is undeclared, then a young lady should not yet dare to be in love with him. To do so would be a deviation from accepted conduct and must not be allowed. Elizabeth had always thought it was senseless writing, but perhaps it might have saved a naive, hopeful young woman—herself—from disenchantment.

From ahead, Mr Baker beckoned and called out to his followers. “Not far now. Do come along.”

To Elizabeth’s surprise, Mr Darcy had somehow managed to rid himself of the prickly bur that, until then, had clung so tenaciously to him. Without a word or even a glance, and looking distraught, his future bride, parasol in hand, brushed past Elizabeth’s party and hurried back towards the others.

Looking over her shoulder, Elizabeth saw that ‘Miss Wright the Bur’ was clinging to her father’s sleeve. Words were exchanged amongst the group, then Miss Baker walked away, leaving Mr Wright alone with his two eldest daughters.

“Aunt,” said Miss Hughes, as the woman approached, “is aught amiss?”

“No, dear. The Wrights simply required a moment of privacy.” With a sideways glance at Miss Althea, Miss Baker added, “Apparently, there is a little dispute about the seating arrangements on the boats. But come along, girls. Leave them be. They will find us at the stream soon enough.”

“If you will excuse me, I had best discover what my family is about.”

Elizabeth watched Miss Althea hurry away. Poor Miss Wright—having to choose between sharing space with a wet, smelly dog or sharing her gentleman with me. Stifling a smile, she followed the others to the landing place.

Claws clicked on grey, weathered wooden boards as Hector eagerly trotted towards the end of the dock. About to jump into the water, he was forestalled by Miss Darcy, who restrained him by fastening an embroidered leather lead onto his matching soft collar. “Sorry, Hector, but there will be no paddling about in there until later.” The panting dog then fell into an ungainly sort of sprawl, evidently thinking the time and place was ideal for a restorative afternoon nap, unmindful of the fact that the humans would have to step round or over him to access the punts.

Together, the two Darcys quietly spoke awhile, and Elizabeth assumed it was about her, for the gentleman’s smiling eyes often strayed her way. What was he about, looking at her in such a beguiling manner when he had an understanding with another? Botheration! I never should have agreed to go on his wretched boat with him.

Once the Wright family had arrived, Mr Darcy called for everyone’s attention. “We shall be underway presently. As the person here most familiar with Willow Bourn, its side streams, and the wetland, Mr Baker will lead the way in his own punt, which will carry his sister, his niece, and Miss Althea.”

Far more utilitarian than the two boats from Strandsmere Park, Mr Baker’s sturdy, flat-bottomed punt with its square-cut ends was, Elizabeth had learnt, primarily used to transport not only the apples from his orchard but the resultant cider, too.

“Now, Mr Wright,” Mr Darcy called out, “who will be going in the boat of mine that you will steer?”

“What? Me?” The gentleman looked about him as though thoroughly confused and affronted. “Surely, Darcy, you cannot expect me to do such a menial, manual task as that. Besides, how could I possibly two-handedly wield a pole while holding an umbrella?” He held up the item in question, which, to Elizabeth’s eye, resembled the parasol Miss Wright had previously carried.

The factotum from Cliff House, who had remained to assist the boating party, cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, Mr Darcy sir, I’m capable of taking out one of your punts. After all, I brought over Mr Baker’s boat this morn.”

“Excellent, Tom. And thank you. You will travel in the middle. Take the farthermost punt with Mr Wright, Miss Wright, and Miss Margaret. That leaves the final boat, mine, to bring up the rear where I can spot any problem encountered by the other two. With me will be Miss Bennet, my sister, and”—he gently nudged Hector with the toe of his boot—“this snoring, slobbering beast.” Having been rudely awakened, Hector sat up by Mr Darcy’s side. “Ladies, if you have no objection, Mr Baker, Tom, and I should remove our coats for ease of movement.”

Having done so, each man folded his coat and stored it in a box on his assigned boat. Mr Darcy then continued. “For those of you unfamiliar with punts, they are primarily employed by farmers and merchants. However, I could think of no reason why they should not be used for fishing and leisure, especially along the inland waterways of my own property and that of my good neighbour. You might have noticed the decorative design of my uncle’s punts, somewhat akin to the gondolas he saw in Venice during his Grand Tour. However, neither of these boats has a cabin scandalously used for privacy in bygone days.”

Behind Elizabeth, someone snickered.