Page 41 of Affectations of Candour

Mr Wright came in for a chat, but that paragraph about Mr Morse demanded more of Darcy’s attention than any retelling of a connexion to someone who had something to do with a king.

Following that, Darcy sat awhile, debating with himself. One side, the one he hoped would lose, took the opinion that Elizabeth had a lover. The other side argued that, given her fondness for Hector and Heiress Tottle, Mr Morse was likely a beloved dog or cat. But it was the tender embrace that gained points for the lover argument and roused raging jealousy within Darcy’s heart.

Upon being bid entrance, Mrs Carter apologised for intruding and said there were concerns regarding a maid-of-all-work called Molly. After a discussion, the housekeeper agreed to assign the girl to the kitchen.

There were too many interruptions. Darcy required a long application of solitude somewhere private and cool to think. And he knew just the place.

He found his sister and Miss Althea in the courtyard, seated at a table while Hector snoozed at Georgiana’s feet. Working from pencil sketches done while on Willow Bourn, they painted with watercolours upon wove paper. Georgiana’s was of a mute swan pair at the riverbank.

Miss Althea smiled and shook her head. “Please do not peek at mine, sir. I would like this to be a surprise.”

“Very well. I have only come to see whether Hector might like to go down to the beach with me and have an s-w-i-m.”

The dog’s ears pricked up, either upon hearing his name or because he had learnt to understand spelt words. Lumbering over, tail wagging, he looked hopefully up at Darcy.

“Do you really need to ask whether he wants to go with you, Brother?”

Seeking a piece of driftwood that would meet his rigid requirements as to length, width, and heft, Darcy kicked through piles of decaying seaweed, shells, and stranded crabs that high tides had deposited. Finding the perfect stick, he threw it a fair distance along the shore.

Hector looked up at him as if to say, ‘Why take fifteen minutes to choose that particular stick, only to throw it away? If you think I am about to run over there and fetch it for you, then you are barking up the wrong tree.’

Striding east, with the dog trotting at his heels, Darcy found again that perfect piece of driftwood and flung it out into the briny. Without the slightest hesitation, Hector bounded in after it. “And there will be no more needless rescuing of disgruntled seals,” the gentleman shouted. “Do you hear me?” The dog kept swimming, and Darcy feared he might not stop until reaching Newfoundland.

With webbed paws and a double layer of thick, insulating, impermeable fur, Hector was well adapted to being in North Atlantic waters. On land he was adept at lounging about, drooling, eating, and shedding the aforementioned fur. However, after the Ramsgate incident, the Newfoundland dog had been chosen for Georgiana because of the breed’s protective, intelligent, and affectionate nature.

How would Elizabeth respond were I to say that she and Hector share the same three qualities? Humph! I pray that this Mr Morse person has not benefited from her affectionate nature. Tender embrace, indeed!

Breathing deeply of the damp sand’s earthiness, of the salty air’s sharp tang, and of wet dog, he stepped aside while Hector shook after his swim. Continuing along in the direction of Cliff House, Darcy realised he had unconsciously made the decision to go towards Elizabeth rather than turning and walking away.

The day was dull, yet Somerset’s coastal beauty was undeniable. Two seaworthy fishing vessels, laden with their catch, navigated in the village’s direction. Overhead, gulls followed in their wakes, wheeling and making their raucous calls as the fishermen sailed homewards, safe and sound, to their loved ones.

Longing to have a special loved one to return home to, Darcy thought about love and marriage and what he wanted in a wife. Well, that requires no great mental effort. I want Miss Elizabeth Bennet to become Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy.

The peacefulness of the shore was the perfect place to allow his mind to wander. He was done with the life of a bachelor. At the very least, he wanted female companionship, a mistress for Pemberley, and a model for Georgiana. And he wanted children. Miss Wright would have been a means to an end, but he realised he had been unhappy when he met her. And she was an unhappy person. What kind of marriage would that be?

Was Bingley correct? Am I a killjoy? No. He had been joyful since Elizabeth was back in his life, and she was uniformly happy. Had he married Miss Wright, she would have made him miserable again. In addition, her personal spending and poor management of her father’s households had played a part in the Wright family’s financial problems, and she had no dowry. Most importantly, she was not Elizabeth. But, before he could make his own amorous approaches, he had the affair of the letter to investigate. Affair. Poor word choice.

Lost in thought, he had not noticed that Hector had outstripped him until he heard the dog’s deep, happy bark that sounded like ‘woo-woo’. Not only the dog’s tail was wagging, but his entire back end wiggled. So enlivened was Hector that, at first glance, Darcy assumed the lady approaching had to be Georgiana.

But it was Elizabeth walking towards him, scratching behind Hector’s ear. The dog looked up at her with love in his eyes. I know exactly how you feel, boy. Woo-woo!

“Mr Darcy, did you lose this?”

“I tried. But, like the proverbial bad penny, he keeps turning up.”

The sky was still grey, but Darcy’s dull day had brightened considerably.

They took turns asking after the health of those at their respective houses. Then Elizabeth said, “Your sister sent round an invitation for the Bakers, Miss Hughes, and me to dine at Strandsmere tomorrow, and we have accepted.”

“Excellent. I shall look forward to it.”

“As shall I.” She glanced back towards Cliff House. “The Bakers and Miss Hughes are entertaining Mr Clark, a frequent caller, so I wished to give them some privacy.”

“Were you going much farther along the beach?”

“No, I should have turned back a moment ago, but a wet dog had other plans for me.”

Darcy searched for a way to carefully broach a couple of subjects. Instead he just blurted, “Would you agree that you and I have become friends during our time here in the cove?”